What the bloody hell am I doing here?
That was the primary question that was hammering through my mind as I was held down – not roughly, but very, very firmly – and tied to the wooden support holding up one side of the tent.
The chap giving the orders knew what he was doing. My wrists were tied not together but to either end of a short, stout stick – keeping them apart. Another, longer stick tied to my right wrist kept me away from the cord that secured me to the support. I had limited use of my hands for things such as eating and drinking, but no way of getting at my bonds.
If I put up a struggle before they got me secured, I reckoned I had a good chance of taking the two blokes down, and the woman … well, she was about twentyish, average face and figure, but I got the impression she was nice, even if she was a bit worried-looking. Unfortunately for me, I already knew there were other men outside, and the numbers didn't add up. There's a time for heroism, and you have to know when courage tips over into stupidity.
Plus, some bastard had nicked my boots and I was clad only in my underwear. Not optimal conditions for survival when you're up against an unknown number of people who for some reason don't like you very much, don't speak English and have bladed weapons, which they presumably know how to use.
What was I doing here? How did I even get here? I tried tracking back into what might possibly have happened to bring about a set of circumstances that I was absolutely positive didn't fall under the heading of 'normal', and came up with …
Nothing.
Totally, absolutely, twenty-four-carat, one hundred per cent Nothing.
Zilch, zip, zero. Nada. Dada. Not the faintest sodding idea, in other words.
You take it for granted that you remember things. It's just part of the world view, the past. Something you open like a computer file, and there it is, laid open to inspection, with all the relevant documents ready to hand.
Except that the programme had switched off.
That realisation scared me more than being tied down did. I might be able to make sense of where I was if I could remember how I'd got there.
What was I doing here?
What had happened to the rest of my life?
Who was I?
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