CHAPTER FOUR
She was running along a path, following it as it twisted and turned, someone hot and heavy on her heels. Vegetation surrounded her. Not a forest, but a garden, full of bushes trimmed into monstrous shapes. She had the vague notion that they were watching her, whispering her whereabouts to whoever was chasing. She’d never get away. Not here, where there were eyes everywhere. Suddenly, something hot tore into her chest, agonizing pain ripping through her, and she was falling, falling—
“Noelle!”
She sat up with a jolt, a scream on her lips, looking around wildly as she attempted to get her bearings. Bars surrounded her. She lay back down, letting her head hit the cement floor. Oh God. This is real. I’m still here.
The horror that swept through her each time she woke would never diminish. How could it? Tears threatened. For a moment she considered praying to die. She’d had the thought several times since she’d first woken in darkness but stopped herself each time.
“Food delivery,” Evan said from beside her.
She sat up again, smoothing her hair back. She’d been dreaming of her mother. Of the night she died. She’d been her mother, a bullet tearing through her flesh. She pulled herself to her knees, looking at the tray sitting inside the small compartment on the wall behind her cage. The sound of the door opening had been what woke her from her dream. A quick glance told her Evan had a compartment just within his reach as well.
She crawled toward hers. This was the first time she’d been able to see her food, and unlike all the other times, when she’d reached for the bread and water, this “meal” came served on a tray made of soft plastic. A yellow children’s tray. She reached, grasping it with her fingertips, and then carefully pulled it forward, her hands confirming what her eyes had already told her. It had rounded corners, nothing that might be filed into a weapon, even if she broke it into pieces.
There was a slice of plain white bread, a paper cup half-filled with water in the corner, and sliced peaches in the portion of the tray that curved into a small bowl. Her eyes widened, and she put her other hand through the bars, dipping her finger into the pale-yellow peach juice and licking it off. She moaned, picking up one of the four pieces of soft, syrupy fruit and bringing it to her mouth. The sweet taste burst on her tongue, and she took a moment to savor it. It was the first thing she’d been served that contained any real flavor in what felt like years. She reached for another one, eyeing the white fabric napkin on the side of the tray. Her first peripheral glance had made her think it was unfolded and just sort of crumpled in a messy pile. But upon closer inspection, it appeared to be sloppily wrapped around something.
“What’d you get?” Evan asked.
She glanced over at Evan, who was holding his own piece of white bread. He brought it to his mouth, practically inhaling the whole thing in one bite. “Peaches,” she murmured.
He stopped chewing. “I didn’t get any peaches.”
“And I think there’s something under my napkin.”
“Napkin?”
He crawled toward where she was in the back of her cage and placed his head between two bars to get a closer look. And now that he mentioned it, she’d never gotten a napkin before. Why would a jailer, keeping her in a cage and feeding her bread and water, add the nicety of a napkin? She eyed it for a moment, almost expecting it to move. It didn’t, but still, fear filled her, and she reached out tentatively while holding her body as far away as possible.
Noelle grabbed the edge of the napkin, and with a sharp intake of air, she pulled the piece of fabric off the . . . thing beneath, immediately yanking her hand back and flinging the white cloth.
“It’s a rope,” she said.
“What the hell?” Evan asked.
She reached out, picking up the white nylon rope. It felt silky between her fingers.
“Let me see that,” he said excitedly.
Noelle hesitated. She’d been given this rope, not him, and she wasn’t going to give it up so quickly. “No,” she murmured, frowning down at it. Had someone smuggled this to her under the napkin? Or was it given to her on purpose? And if so, for what reason?
Evan made a sound of frustration in the back of his throat. “Fine, but try to use it to lasso that ice pick. Hurry up.”
Noelle glanced at the ice pick and back to the rope. She didn’t know if she had any lassoing skills, but she might be able to fling the rope at the tool and somehow knock it off? Evan was at least onto something. It was worth a try.
She crawled to the front of her crate, and instead of attempting a lasso on the end of her rope, she tied a double knot, something she hoped would provide enough targeted force to knock the ice pick off. “Tie a lasso,” Evan instructed again. He’d crawled to the front of his own crate too.