Hours later, the criminal dubbed “Scarface” by Zoey sat down in his posh hotel room to talk with Doctor Zeitgeist over a secure line via the secret transmitter in a false bottom of his briefcase.
“Pretty smooth thinking, boss,” said Scarface. “Nobody would look for a kidnapper in a five star hotel.”
“Focus, Anton,” spoke Zeitgeist. “Have Rogers and Lynch reported in yet?”
“No, not yet. But what’s one broad going to do that they can’t handle?”
“Don’t underestimate her. It’s her ingenuity that I need. If she didn’t give the two of them any trouble, then I’d have no need for her at all.”
“But we got her friend hostage. She don’t dare do nothing,” replied Scarface.
“Yes, that’s why I’m counting on you to keep her in check,” said Zeitgeist. “And watch those double negatives.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you made sure you weren’t followed?”
“Yes. We drugged the girl and rolled her out in the large luggage trunk. We could have rolled it right by Sara, and she would have been none the wiser.”
“See that she stays that way.”
Zoey rolled her eyes as the two schemers continued their discussion. She was more worried that they were making no effort in disguising their identities or intents. “That means,” Zoey muttered to herself. “That I need to get out of here before I’m no longer useful to them.” Not that she could go far with her hands handcuffed behind the bed’s headboard. Scarface had only undone the cuffs twice since she woke up here. Once to let her use the bathroom and other to eat a modest lunch.
Zoey was surprised they weren’t starving her, but perhaps they were going to continue to move around, and for that, they needed Zoey to have her strength. Zoey closed her weary eyes and went over her options. What little she had, that is. There was no way for her to get free of the handcuffs, unless they released her. But then what? Make a run for it? Zoey didn’t even know where she was, much less where help could be found. She tried a simple breathing exercise in order to calm herself. She could feel her enhanced mind reach out to the surrounding net of electronic data.
She was jolted out of her reverie when a large hand clasped onto her shoulder. Her heart quickened with fear as Scarface looked down at her. “Still a little drugged up, huh, girly?” he asked with a wolf’s grin. “Don’t go anywhere.” He went out onto the balcony and started lighting a cigarette.
Zoey closed her eyes again, trying to still the panic within her. Blocking out the familiar stench of tobacco, Zoey returned to her mind’s eye with the flow of data all around her. She couldn’t find anything useful in the room around her, so she let her consciousness expand outward. Frustration welled up inside of her as her options looked bleak. Then, she noticed the fire alarm system.
The alarm had a traditional pull lever action, but it also featured a sensor measuring the temperature around it. If Zoey could mimic the signal, she could trigger the alarm, allowing her a small chance to escape. After a few moments of struggling, she was rewarded with the rattling sound of the hotel’s fire alarm.
Opening her eyes, Zoey saw Scarface toss away his cigarette. “What the hell?” he shouted.
“Oh my God,” said Zoey trying to sound genuinely scared. “That’s the fire alarm. I just know it is! We got to get out of here!”
“There’s no fire,” said Scarface. “Where’s the smoke?”
“Do I look like I want to find out? We’re like on the twentieth floor!” Zoey played up the “damsel in distress” act in the hopes that Scarface would buy into her ruse. “Get me out of here! I don’t want to be chained to a bed in a burning building!”
Scarface hesitated and then undid the cuffs, only to quickly snap them on her other wrist after untangling them from the bed. “No trouble, okay, lady?” He showed her the holster under his coat. “Any funny business and it’ll be all over.”
“Can we just leave already?” said Zoey, wondering if she was overdoing it now. “I don’t want to die.”
“You’re just lucky my boss agrees with that,” replied Scarface as he opened the door. The hallway was considerably vacant, considering the current situation. Zoey was hoping for more of a crowd that she could slip away in. “This way, to the elevator.”
“Are you crazy? During a fire?” replied Zoey, carefully taking two steps backwards.
“I said there was no fire. It’s probably some nut who set it…” His voice trailed off, and Zoey watched his beady eyes narrow to slits. Zoey took a deep breath and went into action. She slammed her elbow into his face and then kicked him in the stomach, sending him to the ground. Zoey, then, made a break for the stairs on the other end of the hallway.
Scarface had the wind knocked out of him, but that didn’t stop him from reaching for his gun. Unfortunately, he had to hastily tuck it back into his jacket as a pair of bewildered tourists came out of their room. He pulled himself up and went after Zoey who had already made it to the stairwell.
By the time he reached the door and peered down the stairwell, Zoey was already half-running, half-falling down three flights of stairs. Scarface cursed to himself and went back to the elevator to cut her off at the lobby.
Meanwhile, as Zoey neared the bottom, she slowed down, flushed from the exercise. Slowly, she tried to regain her breath as she opened the door to the third floor. And ran into a strange man covered in a white padded suit.
“Are you okay?” came the man’s muffled voice. She couldn’t see anything but his blue eyes from a thin slit in the suit. “Did you see any fire?” Zoey tried to respond to the firefighter but nothing came out between her gasps of air. She took a step forward before collapsing into the confused man’s arms.
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Written by J M Emmons. The story and all characters are copyrighted by J M Emmons.
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