Maddy groaned. Her head pounded a painful rhythm and she lifted a hand to her temple as she tried to force her eyes open. At first they didn’t want to cooperate, but finally, she got her lids up. Slits, but at least they were moving on demand. What had hit her?
Light filtered through her lashes and she finally took note of her bed. Only it wasn’t her bed. It was a hard surface. She moved her fingers. Concrete. The pounding in her skull intensified and she shut her eyes again as she struggled to remember what had happened. Had she fallen and hit her head? Did she have a concussion?
She lay still as the minutes passed. Finally, the painful vibrations receded and she was able to blink her eyes open once again. She slowly eased her way into a sitting position, but the nausea that swept her nearly took her back down.
She focused on the far wall and took several deep breaths, and gradually the feeling passed. She raised her hands to her head and pressed her fingers to her skull, massaging, touching, looking for anything that would indicate she’d been clobbered.
Nothing. She processed that. She had no head wound. Okay, if she hadn’t hit her head, why did it hurt so bad? Drugs? The aftereffect. That seemed most likely.
She took note of her surroundings. The wall she’d fixed her gaze on was concrete, like the slab she now sat on.
She let her eyes travel upward. Probably about ten feet tall. Her gaze skimmed the ceiling. It was a blank slate with tiny holes dotting the surface. So where was the light coming from?
Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned her head. Another wall greeted her. A large mural, perhaps five feet by six, covered part of the surface. She stood and walked over to it, touched it. It was a painting of an island, a very skilled, detailed piece of work.
She studied it carefully, even kneeling to get a closer look at the bottom part. But her mind was foggy and she couldn’t seem to process the painting. On her knees, she turned ninety degrees to her left and found a third wall that held a toilet, a sink, and what looked like a blank digital clock. And finally, the fourth wall that was exactly the same as the first wall.
Only it had a body on the floor near it. He lay faceup with his eyes closed and his complexion a pale gray.
“Quinn,” she whispered. He lay still. Very still. She stood to go to him, only this time the nausea won. She launched herself at the toilet just in time and lost what little she had in her stomach. When she could move again, she rinsed her mouth in the sink, then crawled on all fours and pressed her fingers against Quinn’s wrist.
A steady pulse beat and she nearly wept with relief. Again, she scanned the room. Where were they? How had they gotten here? Where was here?
She pushed the ball cap from his head and ran her hands through his hair. Also no injury that she could feel. “Quinn, wake up.”
No response. Panic pushed her adrenaline into overdrive. Again, she had to stop and take deep breaths. When she had her pulse somewhat under control, she turned her attention back to Quinn.
Maddy cupped his cheeks, felt the stubble under her palms. “Quinn. Come on, please. I need you to wake up.” Her voice cracked on the last word and she realized just how scared she was.
Because it was obvious. They’d been drugged and kidnapped. She didn’t even bother feeling for her phone or her gun. Whoever had taken her wouldn’t leave those where she could find them.
A groan from Quinn had her squeezing his hands. “Wake up, Quinn.”
“No. Go ’way.” He didn’t open his eyes.
“Quinn Holcombe, we’ve been kidnapped. If you don’t open your eyes right now, I’m going to—to—” What? What would she do? “Cry,” she finally whispered.
Another groan slipped from his lips, but at least he cracked an eye. “Maddy?”
“Yes, yes, keep waking up.”
“Man. Did I drink too much or what?”
She stifled a sob and pinched the bridge of her nose. “No. You don’t drink anymore, remember?”
“Oh. Right. What happened?”
“You don’t remember?”
“No. Do you?”
“Not all of it, but I’m getting flashes.” She bit her lip and closed her eyes. Quinn sat up, pulled her to him, and wrapped his arms around her. Then immediately shoved her away.
She blinked. “Wha—? Oh.”
His green face spoke to her. She helped him to the toilet. Then heard him being sick. Maddy grabbed some toilet paper from the roll and handed it to him. He rinsed his mouth and fell back to the floor.
“So, yeah,” she said. “That’s a side effect of whatever we got hit with. Give it a minute or two and it’ll pass.”
He groaned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I think we were drugged.”
“Drugged?” He scooted to the other wall and leaned against it, his elbows on his knees, head lowered against his right forearm. “Yeah, that feels about right. I’ll go with that.” She slipped up next to him and he grasped her hand. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I know I’m scared.” The admission tasted like dust on her tongue but was true nevertheless.
His eyes bounced from wall to wall just like hers had moments ago. “Okay, I’ll admit to being a member of that club as well.”
“You? I didn’t think anything scared you.”
His eyes flashed with a pain she’d never seen before. “A lot of things scare me.” His nose twitched. “I smell food.”
She grimaced. “That’s not what I smell.” But then she did and her stomach rumbled. “Where’s it coming from?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head and pointed. “Are those speakers?”
Maddy looked. In the ceiling corners of the room, there were four little black boxes. “Possibly. Or cameras?”
“Or both.”
“But . . . why?”
He shrugged. “So whoever did this can communicate with us, probably.” He stroked her hair, his hand gliding down to rest on her shoulder. “How’s your head feeling?”
“Better.” She liked his touch. Right now, it gave her a security, a sense of gladness that she wasn’t alone. Not that she wanted him to be trapped in this nightmare, but if she had to be stuck with someone, she was glad it was with someone who knew how to fight back should it come down to that. And she had a feeling it would. “How’s yours?”
“Getting better by the minute. I wonder what he hit us with?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even care at this point.” She touched his cheek, then the bridge of his nose. “You have lines right here. Like you were wearing a mask.”
He studied her. “You do too. Light ones, like they’ve faded. It’s probably how he kept us from waking up until he had us where he wanted us.”
Scenes flashed in her mind. “He was inside my house,” she whispered. “In the coat closet just outside my bedroom. Now I remember. He sprayed something in my face.” She frowned. “How did he get you?”
“I came looking for you. He ambushed me at the back of your house.” His eyes continued to roam the room. He muttered something and she missed it.
“My memory is like fragments, but it’s starting to come back to me,” she said. “We were at dinner and we fought.”
“Yeah, you left me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You let me leave.”
He grunted. “Just for a moment. I told you I came looking for you.”
He sounded distracted. “What are you thinking?” she asked.
“The door,” he said. “Where is it?”
She sniffed again. “I don’t know, but there’s ventilation. I still smell the food you were talking about and it’s a lot stronger now.”
Quinn rose to his feet and walked to the far corner of the room. He placed his hands on the wall and felt every inch of the wall and floor that he could reach, then moved on to the next. “There are grooves in this wall,” he said of the one opposite the painting. “They’re faint, but they’re there.”
“What do you think they’re for?”
“Probably to deliver things into the room without fear of being attacked by the occupants.”
“Like a prison cell, only without the bars.”
“Exactly.”
She nodded to the map on the wall. “What do you make of that?”
He blinked and walked over to it. Touched it just the way she had moments before. “It’s a painting.”
“I figured that part out.”
“Of an island.”
“Yes, I got that far on my own.” He shot her an exasperated look and she shrugged, then hugged herself and clasped her arms. “Sorry, I’m a bit off-balance right now.”
“Can’t think why,” he muttered. He reached out to squeeze her hand, then continued to study the mural. “Tell me your thoughts. What do you think it’s for?”
“Could it be a representation of where we are? Like a map?”
“Could be. But why put it on the wall?”
“So we’ll see it?”
“You’re feeling better, you’re getting feisty.”
“Greetings, my friends.”
Maddy jerked and Quinn’s arm came around her shoulder to huddle her next to him. A gravelly voice filled the room, compliments of the speakers. “So glad to see you’re awake with only a few nasty side effects from the medication. It wears off pretty fast, though. Have you had ample recovery time?”
Maddy’s fear swept back. Along with anger. She refused to be a victim again. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Just someone who’s been waiting a long time for this day. I apologize for the lack of privacy, but I haven’t kept more than one person at a time in there until now.”
“Why are you doing this?” Quinn asked. He returned his gaze to the map.
Maddy did the same, doing her best to memorize it. She didn’t know why, but she had a feeling she needed to.
“All in due time, Detective Holcombe. All in due time. But for now, you need to eat.”
A space in the wall opposite them opened up. A rectangular area with dimensions that allowed a tray laden with food to slip through. Four chilled water bottles lay on their sides next to the tray.
“What’s this for?” Quinn asked, his eyes still on the map.
“Just a little something to make things a bit more even. You have an hour. Be ready.”
“Ready for what? Why are you doing this? Who are you?” Maddy demanded.
Silence echoed and for a moment Maddy wondered if he would answer.
“You may call me the Chosen One,” he finally said. “I’m doing this because I’m a hunter. I wasn’t always one, but then certain things happened in life to show me that this is my calling, my purpose. There are many choices outside of those walls you’re trapped within for now. Choices that will determine whether you live or die. Because, you see, I also like games. If you play the game and play it well, you will discover the way off the island. However, should you play poorly, then you will die. And just for the record, no one has managed to beat me at this game.”
“Probably because you don’t play fair,” Maddy said. “Why are you hiding behind those speakers? Get in here and face us.”
Silence. Then a chuckle. “Yes, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? But you see, I know all about your martial arts skills, so I think I’ll pass.” Another pause. “As for not playing fair, that’s not completely true, is it? I did give you a good meal to fortify yourself with, didn’t I?”
“Why do I need to be fortified?”
“For the games, of course.”
“What are the rules?”
“Hmm . . . no one’s ever asked that before. I suppose there’s really only one rule. If you survive, you win. Now, my dear friends, the clock is ticking. Eat up.”
A soft click told her he’d disconnected. Maddy stood still. The feel of Quinn’s arm around her shoulders brought comfort. “If he’s the hunter, does that mean we’re his prey?”
“That kind of sounds like what he was saying, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t think I like this game very much.” She heard the shakiness in her voice and rubbed a hand over her eyes.
Quinn moved away from her and she bit back a protest. He reached out, snagged a water bottle from the tray, and twisted the top off.
She rushed to him and caught his arm. “Don’t drink that! Are you crazy?”
Quinn hesitated. “You think he would poison it?”
“Of course I do. Or drug it with something. He seems to be pretty handy that way.”
“But why? He told us we have an hour. And to be ready. If he needs us to be ready, he wouldn’t do something to make us not be ready. Would he?”
“Who knows?” She threw her hands up. Fear had been an ever-present lump in her chest since she’d awakened to find herself trapped in the room. She wanted to sit on the floor and just cry. She wanted to wake up in her bedroom and find this had all just been a bad dream. She wanted her gun. “Maybe it’s a trick. Maybe he just wants us to think we need to—”
She stifled a gasp and stared as he took a swig from the bottle. They waited. The minutes ticked by. He shrugged and continued to drink until he’d finished off half the bottle. He handed the rest to her. “Here.”
She chugged it, then tossed the bottle to the floor. “There. Happy?”
“Yeah.”
“Now what?”
“We eat.”
She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He reached for the plastic steak knife and fork, then met her eyes. “Wasn’t about to give us weapons, was he?”
He cut into the steak and stabbed it with the plastic fork. He examined the utensils like he’d never seen anything like them before. “They’re not bad. Not good enough to defend ourselves with, but good enough to eat the meal.”
She put a hand on his. “You’re really going to eat it, aren’t you?”
He turned serious eyes on her. Glanced at the speaker/camera in the nearest corner. “Yes. I don’t know how much time has passed between getting knocked out and waking up in here, but my stomach says it’s past time to eat. I think we should.”
Her fear multiplied. She pressed a hand to her head. She had to start thinking. She’d been in tense situations before. Life-and-death situations. She could handle this. She took a few more deep breaths. “All right, he said be ready in an hour. That was eighteen minutes ago.” She glanced at the clock on the wall as she picked up the second fork. “We have forty-two minutes left.”