“I came in earlier, but you were sleeping, so I thought you might like something to eat now. It’s late,” the girl said as she rolled a portable table up to the bed, placing the tray on top. “If you want more, just hit the call button, and the nurses will get you whatever you want.”
Alison stared at her. “Another Coke?”
The girl laughed. “Tell you what—my shift is over, but I’ll run down to the cafeteria and grab a couple Cokes. You can keep them in your room.” She picked up a pale green ice bucket. “And I’ll get you more ice. Be right back,” she said and whizzed out the door.
In her seventeen years, Alison had never been treated this way. Anything she wished for, and it magically appeared. She used her good hand and reached beneath the cover, where she pinched her thigh as hard as she could. “Ouch!” she said.
This wasn’t a dream. She hadn’t died and gone to some strange wonderland where people were kind and thoughtful. No, this is what normal people do, she thought as she dived into the mashed potatoes and gravy. She gobbled down all the food, including the small fruit cup. There was a chocolate cookie wrapped in paper beside her plate, so she ate that, too. Taking another drink of her Coke, she’d never been so satisfied with a meal in her life. Closing her eyes, she was content for the moment. When the door opened, she smiled to herself. The young girl bringing her Cokes was fast.
Opening her eyes to say thank you to her, she was shocked when she saw her visitor was not the young nurse.
Her worst nightmare stood in the entryway.
He had found her.
Dried blood stained the gauze bandages wrapped around his neck.
“Thought I was dead, didn’t ya?”
Chapter Eighteen
Ali could smell her hair as it burned. Flames scorched her arms and legs, her skin an inferno as the firestorm traveled the length of her body. The flames blazed toward her face. She let out a piercing scream as the flesh fell away from her bones.
“Shut up,” said an unfamiliar voice in a harsh whisper.
Ali drifted in and out of consciousness, though in a moment of clarity realized she’d been dreaming. Her hands were tied behind her back. She yanked as hard as she could in order to free them, but only succeeded in deepening the abrasions on her wrists. Her legs and arms numb, she struggled to a sitting position. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm her thoughts. She turned her head left to right, searching for a way out. Not even a sliver of light illuminated the room. Shifting her position, she lay down, lifting her legs as high as she could, flipping her body so that her hands were now in front of her. Her shoulder was on fire. She remembered this pain, its intensity, from another injury in her past.
After another deep breath, she focused on her hands. The rope felt like thick jute, though not so thick that she couldn’t bite through the fibers. Bringing her hands forward, her shoulder igniting in pain, she started chewing on the rope. It tasted salty, a slight fishy taste. A fisherman’s rope. She bit the fibers until they began to unravel. Using every ounce of her mental fortitude, taking another breath, she managed to yank one hand free. Closing her eyes, pain reverberating throughout her entire body, she removed her other hand from the rope. Feeling the ropes tied to her ankles, she shimmied one ankle loose, then the other. Her body pulsed with pain, her shoulder throbbing, but she managed to stand.
With no visible light, she held her hand out in front of her, touching the walls. The room was much smaller than she thought. Sliding her hands up and down, she touched metal. A door handle. Slowly, she turned the knob, surprised it wasn’t locked. Careful not to alert her kidnappers, maybe even would-be killers, she tried to be as quiet as possible. She had no clue where she was, save that it was dark and damp. She pushed the door aside, stunned to find a set of steps above her. Light filtered in through the bottom of the door at the top of the staircase.
She was in someone’s basement. No one had basements in Florida. This had to be an underground space, built specifically for reasons she wouldn’t even allow herself to imagine. She didn’t want to know what had taken place in this room; it was too gruesome. She took one stair at a time, stopping at each step to listen for her attacker. When she reached the top step, she again gently twisted the knob, opening the door to a small room.
Ali was in an old-looking bedroom. Boards were stacked against the wall, and a box spring and mattress, along with junk she didn’t have time to identify, littered the room. A broken lamp lay on its side, the shade smashed in. The room looked as though a tornado had passed through.
Fearful of her captor finding her exposed like this, she searched for a door that she could escape through. She had no clue if she was still on the beach or elsewhere. She didn’t care; she just had to get out. Scanning the small space, she saw light coming through a dirty window. The sun wasn’t completely up yet. She had to get out of here before daylight. Her shoulder was swollen, so stiff it hurt just to touch. She didn’t care about the pain. The window was the same sliding style as at the bait shop. Could that be where she was?
She ran her good hand around the edges of the window, searching for the lock. Finding it, she pulled back on the lever, freeing the window. Thankfully, there was no screen. Every second counted, so she placed both legs outside the window, then dropped to the ground below. Catching her breath, doing her best not to focus on her shoulder or the wounds on her ankles and wrists, she spied a dumpster and a rusted boat trailer. It took a few seconds for her to recognize the area. Once she did, she knew all the rumors she had once questioned were true. She was behind the Courtesy Court motel. She recognized the orange building and the green roof. She’d been inside one of the rooms that no one in their right mind would stay in.
Before she had a chance to overthink her situation, Ali ran toward the wooded area behind the hotel. She had to get to a phone to call Kit. Or Val, but she didn’t have her cell phone or the slip of paper she’d had with her cell number on it. The only place she knew of that might have a friendly face and offer to help her was the dollar store. Unsure if they were even open, she’d head there and wait. With somewhat of a plan, she weaved in and out of the tall pine trees, glimpsing the backs of dilapidated, rusty mobile homes where people actually lived. Cars without tires were in some of the yards, along with swing sets that’d seen better days and garbage scattered on lawns. This was a bad part of town, just as Val said.
The sun was now up, which gave her a rough estimate of the time. When she reached the intersection of Highway 41 and Pondella Boulevard, she ran across the road, not caring that car horns were blaring at her as she weaved around them at a traffic light. Once she’d made it across, she went to the plaza where, if she were lucky, she’d find Tammy. Hiding behind the strip mall, she leaned against a concrete block, then eased down onto the ground. Safe, at least for the moment, Ali allowed herself to feel every emotion and thought she’d held back since she’d been dragged from the parking lot at the beach.
The fire. The people wearing red and gold robes. The chanting. If she had to guess Betty’s part in this sick game, she guessed that she found and drugged victims, then later housed them in the hotel. From there, Ali suspected some sick ritual took place, and its ending couldn’t be a happy one. She was unsure of Tank’s involvement but positive he wasn’t the one who’d dragged her down the beach. That person was strong and definitely a male. Who had it been? And why did they take her? Did she have an invisible target on her head? She’d been struggling most of her life just to stay alive. She’d kept up hope, despite all the horror she’d experienced growing up, in and out of foster care. She’d worked hard, as she truly believed one day her life would be just as she’d imagined, as long as she refused to give up. Not giving in to the cruel intentions of so many people who’d been in her life, Ali was a fighter. But right now, she wasn’t sure how much fight she had left in her.