Two quick addendums. First, special thanks to my buddy Robert Wright. Bantering with him led to the idea for this story. Kudos! Second, this is my 300th post! Hooray!
Alyxa woke up to a splitting headache and eyes that refused to work. Oh, come on. I didn’t even drink that much last night. She took inventory of the sensations her body was feeding her brain. Her muscles ached, her arms and legs were so stiff that they even felt tight in a few spots, and she’d fallen asleep in her clothes.
Water. Water and–
She told her body to stand up. It didn’t. Her arms didn’t move. Her legs didn’t move. Her head wouldn’t move. The sensations rearranged themselves, and panic filled her as she realized what they were telling her now.
Her limbs weren’t working because she was tied to a chair. Her eyes wouldn’t open because she was blindfolded.
She screamed. All around her, voices echoed in reply. Cries for help, shouts of anger, whimpers of fear. They wanted to know what was going on. They wanted to know where they were. They would kill motherfuckers unless they were untied right this goddamn second.
There were at least a half-dozen that she could hear, and who know how many other people there might be that were too scared or frightened to say anything, or gagged, or something?
She tried to calm herself. Okay, think. Think. You were at The Circuit with the girls, you were flirting with the cute guy with the oculars, you only had two drinks and–
Oh, fuck me. They drugged me. Somebody drugged me.
“Cat!” she screamed. “Maye! Are you guys there?”
The sound of metal squealing in protest answered her cries. The room went silent, and a loud slam crashed against Alyxa’s ears. The sound of footsteps echoing off concrete walls. More than one set, it sounded like. At least two, maybe three.
“This is last night’s haul,” a woman’s voice echoed out. She sounded bored. “Get to work.”
A snort. A chuckle. A thick, phlegmy, lisping voice. “With pleasure.”
Oh, no. No, no, no.
It’s a sniffer.