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Thirty-Three

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AUBREY STRUGGLED TO regain consciousness, her efforts hampered by a crippling lethargy. Her thoughts were sluggish and uncooperative, but she persisted, coaxing herself awake, degree by gradual degree.

Her mental fog ebbed out like a reluctant tide, and the first of her senses to return was hearing. Her ears felt plugged, adding to her disorientation. The faint noises were muffled, at times more vibration than anything else, but there was sound.

She concentrated on identifying what she heard. A punishing wave of dizziness answered, the nausea competing with the pounding in her head. In its own odd way, the headache was an encouraging sign. She was winning her fight for consciousness.

She lay still, waiting for the vertigo to pass. She felt depleted, as if her energy had been drained in some mysterious way. She couldn’t remember anything which could explain where she was or how she got here. A new bout of panic threatened to overwhelm her.

Concentrate, Aubs. She imposed self-control on her skittish imagination, taking stock of her surroundings.

A thick, viscous liquid covered her eyes and cheekbones—she felt its gooey weight on her eyes. One thing at a time. For now, just open your eyes.

It was all she could do to force her reluctant eyes to open. Aubrey was surprised by the effort required, but she persisted until her eyelids grudgingly parted.

No change. She couldn’t see anything. She was blind.

Terrified, she raised her hands to her face. Or rather, she tried to move her hands, only to discover she couldn’t. Her left arm tugged against some kind of restraint, as if someone had tied her arm down. Her right arm . . .

A bolt of piercing, fire-tinged pain raced from her fingertips to her shoulder, wringing a gasp from her weakened body. A second stab of pain spiked just below her sternum, merging in a fiendish combination with the torment in her arm.

But she’d heard the sound, heard herself cry out in pain. Somehow, even that was enough to steady her chaotic thoughts.

Calm down, Aubs. She tried reasoning with herself. Thrashing around isn’t going to solve anything.

She forced herself to remain still, and the agony gradually subsided. She tried, a second time, to take a mental inventory. I can’t move, but I’m alive. If I can feel pain, I’m still alive.

Her eyes began to adjust. She wasn’t in complete darkness, after all. A faint light source—probably artificial—provided a diffused glow, but she was aware of it.

Something rasped lightly against her eyelids whenever she blinked. She felt it through the sticky liquid covering her eyes.

It felt odd, as if . . . Yes, a bandage covered her eyes. She was just able to make out the coarse weave of the cloth in the dingy, filtered light.

So, she wasn’t blind after all. She hadn’t realized how much her heart was racing until it subsided with the discovery that—at least to some degree—she still possessed her eyesight.

Her right arm was a different story. She couldn’t feel movement in her fingers, or anything below her elbow. She experienced a brief moment of panic as she imagined her right hand was gone—amputated—but even the slightest twitch reawakened searing waves of pain.

Now she could feel her fingers, although her relief was tempered by the fiery agony racing up to her shoulder.

She focused on her legs next. They felt heavy and weak, and there was a sharp pain in her left foot as well. But she could feel her legs, all the way down to her toes. She flexed the muscles in her thighs and calves, moved her feet from side to side in a cautious experiment, and was relieved to find everything worked.

Her left arm was restrained, and her right was a world of pain, but she seemed to have all her limbs. Her hearing was improving, as if her ears were only now beginning to clear after a swim in the lake. The faint rustling of the blankets when she shifted her legs was a welcome confirmation.

Aubrey turned her head, and aside from a throbbing pain just behind her eyes, everything seemed to be in working order. The inability to move her hands, coupled with the masking bandage, provoked another involuntary muscle spasm.

The agony in her right arm left her gasping again. She inhaled with shallow breaths in deference to a stabbing sensation just below her sternum.

She had no recollection of being injured, but it was clear her wounds were significant. She must remain calm, despite the restraints and her inability to see.

You’re still here, Aubs. You’ve been seriously injured and somebody’s holding you prisoner. But at least you’re alive.