CHAPTER

Forty-four

Up and at 'em, Mildred Johnson!”

Mildred almost jumped out of her skin.

In front of her stood a blurred figure. After she reached for her glasses and slipped them on, a tall white woman—or at least Mildred thought it was a woman—came into view.

“You were supposed to meet me in the lobby to begin your training. It is now exactly ten minutes past that time!”

Her eyes moved from the bulldog-faced he-she down to the long bamboo stick it held and then up to the blond hair that had been cut close, military-style.

Mildred jumped. “Wh-who are you?”

“I'm Drill Sergeant Baxter. Miriam Baxter.”

Whack!

Miriam brought the stick down hard onto her palm.

Mildred jumped and cast a frightened look at the stick.

“You'll be next if you don't get your rump up and out of the bed!”

Mildred released a nervous laugh. She must be dreaming. That was it. The lack of food, the swinging bed, and the new environment—all of that had brought on this crazy nightmare. If she could just wait for a moment, she would wake up and this, including what had happened before this, would all just fade away with the morning light.

Mildred closed her eyes and waited.

Whack!

The stick sliced into the comforter wrapped around Mildred's body, and her eyes popped wide open again.

She guessed it wasn't a dream.

Miriam Baxter leaned in, her steely blue eyes penetrating Mildred's soupy brown ones. “I don't like to repeat myself, soldier—I mean, Mildred,” she said before turning on her Nike running sneakers and marching out of the room.

“Five minutes!” she yelled over her shoulder.

By noon, Mildred was hiding in the garden behind an old spoked wheel, desperately trying to get a signal on her cell phone.

She'd been there for close to an hour before the aroma of food caught her attention. Her stomach groaned. All she'd had for breakfast was a small bowl of raspberries and a protein shake.

She hadn't signed up for this. She wanted out, and now!

Standing up, she moved as swiftly as possible between the trunks of the palm trees, weaving in and out, making her way to the dining room area, where she then slipped quickly into the kitchen.

The staff looked up and someone said, “You know we're not allowed to give you extra portions, don't you?”

And then someone else added, “And we're armed.”

Mildred wiped the sweat from her forehead. “I just want to make a call, that's all.”

The staff watched her with wary eyes.