Chapter III
ill became aware of a sound in the darkness, but could not make out what it was. He thought he was just hearing things at first because of the flashback he was having. A flashback of another time in his life when it seemed all hope was gone. Somehow, he had come through it unscathed.
Right now, he had a lot of time to reflect. I mean, he wasn't going anywhere, now was he? So he just thought. Somewhere in that time he suddenly flashed back to the time when he was standing behind Greg Wheaton while he lay there with his wife. Will did not know he was awake, but he was. He was just lying there with his eyes closed.
The instant the weapon touched Greg's neck, it fired. A micro-second later, he lay dying, his life flashing before him. At the last few instants, he remembered what he had done to Gilroy Hastings, but it was something he could not fix now. He would be nothing but a lifeless corpse in less than a minute.
William still wondered at the amazing power of the knife. The blade slid straight out the end of the handle like a plunger, it's sharpened blade honed to the edge of a straight razor. It cut through bone like it was paper, neatly and concisely slicing clean through the spinal cord rendering the man totally paralyzed.
The sound was closer now, and it brought Will out of his flashback again. His adrenaline was pumping and his senses were extremely high at this point. Then he heard it again. What could that sound be? Was it just another mind game or was it something he was imagining? At any rate, it heightened his senses. There, there it was, again, only now, it was closer.
A whisper, barely audible, came up to him from directly in front of him. "Will," the disembodied voice said, then softly, spoke again. "You don't know me, but I know you. And I know a lot about you. We can talk about that later."
A pause, then the voice continued, barely above a whisper. "I want you to slowly rotate around so I can reach your hands. Then, I want you to step up on the bucket you've been hearing slide. Work and move very slowly. You've got plenty of time. We just don't want to set off the motion detectors."
Will couldn't even determine whether the voice was of a woman or a man.
Another pause, this time longer. Finally, the voice spoke again. "Don't answer, just keep your head down and slowly spin. Don't look up, don't open your eyes, just slowly turn. Stop completely when you feel the restraint fall from your feet. Then I'll losse your hands."
At that Will started ever so slowly to turn. After what seemed an interminable amount of time, he felt a little movement at his feet, and felt the restraint loosen. Then just as suddenly, the restraint fell from his hands. He waited until his hands stopped tingling before he slowly moved them up to loosen the knot on the hangman's noose.
It took a while to loosen the hangman's noose enough to slip it over his head. And it seemed as if he'd been working at getting free since hearing the voice for hours. After slowly lowering the noose down to his side, he stood ever so still. He waited for another command from the voice, but it never came.
He ventured a slight whisper. "What do I do now?" he asked, but no answer. He tried a second time, this time a little louder, then a third time. At that he ceased. He then wondered in which direction should he go; backwards, toward the direction from which the voice came? The thought then occurred to him. Should he get down on all fours? Should he lie down and crawl?
He could see absolutely nothing in the pitch blackness, so he didn't know if someone was watching him via infra-red camera. He decided to just crawl. If someone were to fire at him, he'd hit the dirt and hope for the best! At that, he slowly lowered himself to the ground on his hands and knees, and without risking turning around, slowly, methodically, eased backwards.
He tried his best to remember what had been in front of him in the brief time the lights had been on. He remembered there was nothing but a wall there, about thirty or so feet away, and tried to calculate how long it would take him at the speed he was crawling.
He'd been told he had plenty of time, but, what did that mean? Was it night time? Was there a guard, and was he sleeping? He had no clue, and then his thoughts turned to his attire. He chanced a feel and found he was still in his clothes, but his pocket knife, wallet, pen and keys were all missing.
Wills foot touched the wall and he slowly aligned himself with it. He remembered there was a door at the right end of the building when he was facing this very wall, so he turned to it. He wondered where the person owning the voice had gone, how he (or she), had gotten away so quickly and noiselessly. Who was it? Why had they helped him? Was it the enemy? Was this just another part of their mind games?
Finally Will reached the end wall where the door was, reached up and took hold of the handle. It turned easily and Will eased the door open enough to attempt a peek. Total darkness. But the air seemed stuffy, so it was another room. He felt no fresh air whatsoever. He was in a quandary over whether or not to enter the new area.
With the rest of the building totally unknown to him, he decided to risk it. At that, he felt around to see if the handle on the other side of the door would work giving him the option to return should it close unexpectedly. He opened the door just enough to squeeze through, and quietly shut the door.
Having gained a little courage, he stood up, felt for the light switch, and flipped it up. The room was immediately flooded with light, but what he saw sickened him. There on the floor by the wall lay the corpse of the woman, obviously the result of the gunshot he'd heard earlier. Her hair was nearly identical to Sharons, but she was a little more chunky than Sharons lithe, lean and clean figure.
And she probably did not die instantly, but later as she bled out. Probably conscious till close to the end. Will didn't think it was possible so much blood could be in the human body. The mystery of the woman's identity only deepened at this discovery. Will was quite certain he'd never seen her before, or whether or not she was even connected to him. But, she did seem vaguely familiar.
One thing he did see that really puzzled him was the pistol lying on the floor near the door that obviously led to the outside. Now why was that left? He reached for the gun, but something stopped him. Instead, he pulled out his handkerchief, picked it up and slid it behind a box on the top shelf over in the corner.
He'd have it, or at least know where a weapon was if he needed it. Will was no stranger to firearms. He owned several, and was a crack shot with them. This was a .38 revolver by Ruger. There was only one spent shell in it. Other than that, it was loaded.
Something was gnawing on Wills brain. This whole thing was beginning to look like a setup. He would have to be careful. He turned the light back off in the room. Nothing he could do for the woman in the corner. He stepped over to the other door, opened it, and finding it opened to the outside, quickly slipped out into the warm night air of the Nevada desert.
He had no idea where he was, no idea as to how he was going to get out of here, but, he knew he had to do something. He eased around the corner and found two off road motorcycles. After disabling the smaller one, he pushed the larger bike out onto the road in the only direction it went, and started running with it. He wanted to be as far away as he could before he started it and possibly arousing someone from sleep.
Finally, after several minutes of running full out with the motorcycle, he flipped the ignition switch on, jumped onto it, popped it into gear and dumped the clutch. The engine noisily barked to life. He opened her up and started going through the gears, feeling the wind rushing past his face was as exhilarating as his escape. But, to what did he escape? And where was Sharon? What was her fate?
At that instant, she was wondering the same about him.
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