Hostage | Chapter 17 of 33 - Part: 1 of 8

Author: Kay Hooper | Submitted by: Maria Garcia | 4037 Views | Add a Review

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TEN

Luther was still too shaken to say much on the way back to the cabin, but once they were there, he asked one of the many questions swirling around in his mind.

“It’s Friday? You said it was Friday.”

“It’s Friday,” she confirmed, using an antiseptic wipe from her first-aid kit to clean the almost invisible cut on her neck.

Almost invisible. To Luther, it looked like a murderous slash. And it could have been; that was what scared him. Callie had picked up his knife and carried it back here because he didn’t want to touch it. He looked toward the door, where Cesar lay on his accustomed rug, watching Luther but without apparent malice or even visible tension.

The other three dogs, who had remained in the cabin during an outing whose purpose and destination was still a blank to Luther, were lying around the living area of the cabin, each on a thickly folded blanket or rug that served as a bed. They all looked completely calm and relaxed.

In fact, Lucy was snoring.

“What happened to Thursday?” Luther asked.

Callie frowned slightly and, finished with her neck, went to pour out two cups of coffee. She brought Luther’s and set it on the coffee table in front of him, then sat down in the chair opposite him and sipped hers.

“Callie?”

“Well, I’m no doctor so I don’t know the technical term, but my guess is that you experienced some kind of whiteout.”

“I’ve never heard of that before.”

She shrugged. “It’s known to be a side effect of some drugs. And we’ve documented a few cases on the psychic end of things, apparently caused by exposure to energy, electrical and otherwise. It’s the opposite of a blackout, in a sense. You walked through yesterday, and as far as I could tell, you were completely yourself. Acted normally. Spoke normally. Nothing to indicate you weren’t completely here. Mind you, I had and still have my shields up; maybe I would have noticed something odd otherwise. Or maybe not.”

“I don’t remember anything.”

“Yeah, that’s what makes it a whiteout. To everyone around you, you’re behaving normally. To you, it’s like you dozed off sometime late Wednesday and slept all the way through Thursday and through this morning. What’s the last thing you remember?”

He thought about it. “Lunch. Wednesday. We’d more or less arrived at a plan to stick close to the cabin for at least another day to give my leg a chance to heal. I thought we should call for backup and/or haul ass out of here. And you were going to contact Bishop. In fact, you started to contact him.”

Callie sipped her coffee again. “Yeah, about that.”

“What about it?”

“You don’t remember?”

Luther concentrated, searching through maddening wisps of memory or knowledge. “You were . . . There was a shot I was supposed to give you if something went wrong when you contacted Bishop.”

“Except that never happened.”

“The shot?”

“Or any contact with Bishop.”

Luther stared at her, then said, “Christ, I didn’t do anything to hurt you then, did I?”

“You’d have more than a leg wound to worry about if you had. Cesar was watching, remember. And I hadn’t given him a hold command.”

“You told me . . . he’d react if something negative happened.”

“Yeah. And he didn’t. But when I dropped my shields to make contact with Bishop and Miranda, there was . . . definitely something wrong. Something out there. Almost but not quite pushing back. Not close exactly, but wherever it was, it was a kind of barrier preventing me from reaching out. It was like tuning in to a radio station but getting nothing except static. I couldn’t get through.”

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Alice
Great book, nicely written and thank you BooksVooks for uploading

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