Chapter One Hundred Eleven

Corin woke from a dream about Sammy protecting a wounded sea turtle that had washed up onto the beach. The memory was a good one, a moment of innocence and love that seemed so alien to her now. The voice summoning her from her slumber was also one that she remembered well, but not one that she recalled fondly. It was Derrick Gladstone saying her name. She tried to hold on to a more pleasant reality, but a spray of water into her face brought the fantasy crashing down.

She opened her eyes to a sky of reds and purples and heard Derrick say, “I’m very disappointed with you, Corin.”

She tried to sit up, but a terrible pain in her right shoulder brought her back down to the smooth concrete. Then she remembered the gunshot wound inflicted by the Gladiator. But that had been inside. Where was she now? She was obviously no longer indoors, and she lay upon a sloping surface of stamped brown concrete.

In response to Derrick’s message of disapproval, Corin groggily whispered, “I’m not too happy with you either, Doc.”

“I’m sorry to say that your little coup attempt was less than successful.”

She pushed herself up onto her left elbow and looked into the face of her tormentor. Derrick sat in his wheelchair several feet above her on a railed platform. Beside her, on the concrete which seemed to slope off into oblivion, was Tia, the young woman with no tongue. Sonnequa stood atop a similar platform on the opposite side of the open space, in front of some type of small control panel.

Fearing that Derrick had already taken her to his private island, Corin asked, “Where are we?”

“My apologies,” Derrick said, “I’d forgotten that you’ve only been with us a short time. It truly feels like we’ve known each other for much longer. Your sisters and I dined here last week, but that was while you were still undergoing insemination.”

Corin had discovered that the closer she came to death, the more the filter between her thoughts and her words had broken down. But now was not the time for rash action. She halted the urge to hurl obscenities and stopped herself from once again telling Derrick how she was going to end him. Instead, she gritted her teeth and, sensing what was coming next, latched on tightly to a piece of nearby metal—some sort of sprinkler or fountain system embedded into the concrete.

Derrick said, “If you had enjoyed the privilege of dining with us last week, you could have experienced this magnificent view under better circumstances. We’re about five stories up in a restaurant that was once called Ristorante La Cascata, which is Italian. It means simply ‘Waterfall Restaurant.’ I’ll give you one guess in which part you’re currently resting.”

Glancing over her shoulder at Tia, Corin said, “Grab that metal nozzle and hold on for your life.”

Derrick laughed. “Clever girl. Sonnequa, if you would be so kind . . .”

Knowing what was to come, Corin didn’t look to the Good Wife for a plea of mercy. She merely closed her eyes and squeezed the small fountain mechanism with all the strength she had left, which wasn’t much. Her right hand had grown numb and weak from the wound in her shoulder, and her left arm felt like a limp noodle.

A second later, she heard the rushing of water. A second after that, she felt a gentle stream cascading over her. The cold water actually soothed her ruined extremities, but even the slow trickle was enough to begin pulling her down the slope toward oblivion.

She didn’t open her eyes until the flow abated, and Derrick said, “You may have noticed the chain around your ankle.”

In truth, she hadn’t realized that her right foot was ensnared by a thick metal chain. She had little feeling in her feet now. As she looked down the slippery slope of the man-made waterfall, she realized that the chain had been wrapped through a pair of cinderblocks, which rested precariously on the edge of the five-story drop off.

“The chain is connected to enough weight to easily pull you over the edge of that precipice and into the darkness beyond. You’ve actually seen what lies at the end of your fall . . . the lake beyond the glass adjacent to your living quarters. What you may not realize, however, is that this lake is not natural. It was actually an old quarry and is several hundred feet deep. Imagine what it would be like for those cinderblocks to be swept over the edge, pulling you with them. The five story fall wouldn’t be the death of you. No, you would ride that train all the way to the inky depths of the pit. There you would drown and die and ultimately be consumed by the creatures of the dark. And, as I’ve told you, our actions have consequences beyond ourselves, and so poor Tia has been chosen to share that fate with you. I don’t enjoy this sort of thing, Corin, but you’ve given me no choice. Believe it or not, darling, this is truly going to hurt me more than it hurts you.”

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