Chapter 3: Not so easy now is it?
It occurred to me as I slowly came back to myself that I'd never actually woken up after being drugged before. I gotta say it was nothing like I would have expected from watching numerous episodes of General Hospital. I felt dizzy, disconnected and unfortunately on the edge of embarrassing myself by vomiting. Swallowing hard I held myself still for a few moments, waiting for everything to settle, all the time wondering where I was but not really sure I actually wanted to find out.
Squinting my eyes open just a crack didn't reveal anything familiar. With a groan I forced my eyes open fully, shifting my head from side to side to check out my surroundings. Frowning in confusion I sat up slowly, surprised to find myself not even restrained. When someone grabs you right off the street you'd expect some kind of cell or equally unattractive prison right? Instead I found myself in a 'guest room' – you know, the kind of bedroom people keep ready for visitors who rarely stop over? Pristine furniture, non descript decor, all very comfortable and hotel at home.
Putting my hands down on the mattress to push myself up I discovered my next woe. My left arm was stiff and sore, like someone had been digging around in there. Considering I now had a bandage directly over the place where my subcutaneous transmitter was supposed to be, somebody probably had. John had insisted I have that transmitter inserted so that he could find me if there was ever a need – obviously he'd forgotten about thugs with big knives!
The fact that my kidnappers had known I even had a transmitter worried me ... but not as much as the fact that they'd known who I was, who John was. They had a clearly defined reason for taking me which was more than enough to have my mind swirling with unpleasant thoughts. I had no doubt it was me they wanted either ... they could equally have used the same threats to get John to go with them. So there was either some personal reason for taking me or they believed someone else would pay their ransom of choice to get me back.
Finally getting myself upright I walked to the door, not expecting I'd be able to open it. But I could ... poking my head cautiously out into the hallway my confusion grew. There was no one even standing guard. Who the hell were these people and why were they so confident they didn't feel the need to restrain me? I needed to know more about where I was before I went any further.
Moving back into the room I crossed to the window to look outside.
"Oh that is not good," I muttered under my breath, taking in the view with a sinking heart. I couldn't see much, just enough to know I was on some kind of ranch, probably miles from anywhere else, including a public telephone or any kind of help. How was John going to find me all the way out here?
The sun was low in the sky and we'd arrived at the airport just after lunch so I was guessing at least four hours, maybe more had gone by since they'd drugged me. Rescuing myself seemed just as likely as expecting a rescue from John - how could I find my way to anywhere when I had little information to help me? I didn't know what method of transport we'd taken to get there or even if we were in the same state anymore!
Realising I'd just have to brave whatever I might find outside that room I headed back out into the hallway again. There were other doors but I didn't bother checking any of them out. At the end of the hall were the stairs leading down to the ground floor ... and the front door.
The sight of a way out spurred me onwards. I ran down those stairs and had my hand on the door knob in seconds. Again it turned when I tried it ... this was getting more and more worrying by the second. Hoping my captors were just really, really bad at holding someone prisoner I took the opportunity presented and walked through the door, onto the porch and then down into the front yard. I no longer had my jacket and shivered slightly in the early evening breeze. I'd forgotten how cold it got at night out of the city – it was too late to go back for anything so I'd just have to hope the physical exertion of walking out of there would be enough to keep me warm.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a too familiar voice grated out. Great – Mr Gravelly Voice had decided to hang around after delivering me.
"Why is that?" I asked casually, turning to get a look at him.
He was sitting in a wide backed chair on the porch ... it was almost dusk but I would have noticed him if I'd bothered to look around before dashing off the porch. Apart from that distinctive voice he was pretty non descript – a trait I'm sure came in handy in his profession – brown hair, average build, and eyes a colour I couldn't see from my position.
"Because Doctor Walker won't like it," Gravelly replied complacently.
"And I could care less what he wants," I retorted snidely. "It's been nice and all but I have to be going now." With that I turned away and started walking across the yard - I say yard but really it was just an expanse of dirt with a few shrubs on the outer edges. To be honest I had no idea where I was going ... just that it was away from that house and that guy.
Gravel Voice had silent moves to go with that non descript exterior ... I didn't hear him come up behind me until he was almost on me. Turning swiftly I faced him just in time to deflect the arm he'd reached out to grab me. He stumbled before straightening and turning back towards me.
"You don't want to do this," he said grimly.
"Oh but I think I do," I replied just as grimly, already setting myself into fighting position. I didn't have fighting sticks which would have made me feel much more confident ... but since the whole testing thing with Major Lorne I'd concentrated on improving my hand to hand skills enough to at least take this guy on.
Gravel launched a kick towards my midsection much faster than I would have expected but I was able to evade him. The next few minutes involved more of the same – him attacking and me evading as I assessed his skills and looked for a weakness. Unfortunately, apart from a slight height advantage it seemed we were pretty evenly matched.
The next kick Gravel launched caught me off guard, slamming into my side hard enough to throw me to the ground. Scrambling up quickly I spotted something in the shrubs guaranteed to give me an edge. Ducking the next attempted blow I grabbed the rake handle - minus metal bit at the end - that someone had carelessly left behind. It was too long to make an effective fighting stick and after John had admitted to hurting his leg trying to break a branch I knew I wouldn't be able to break it without assistance.
The next few moments were all about me avoiding Gravel voice's attacking moves as I searched for a way to turn one rake into two sticks. The only thing I could come up with was the old lever trick ... sprinting in a sudden change of direction straight for the porch I slammed the rake handle between two porch rails hoping they'd hold. My opponent followed me as expected, launching a swivel kick straight at me. I moved the handle at the last minute and was rewarded with the sound of splintering wood as the kick meant for my stomach slammed into the rake instead. Ripping both sticks from the railings I jumped off the porch and reset myself back in the middle of the yard.
Swinging each stick in a flowing circle of motion to get a feel for their weight I watched in amusement as Gravel voice looked on, appearing confused at the sudden turn of events. Keeping the left stick swinging I held the other in my right hand, motioning for him to attack me ... if he dared. I know – it was a pretty smart arse move straight out of the Matrix but I couldn't resist – I needed to get this guy off stride somehow, and nothing else I'd tried evoked any kind of emotion in him. Beckoning him over seemed to do the trick though – with a yell of rage he surged away from the porch and charged me.
Of course I took great delight in stepping aside at the last moment, hitting him in the arse on his way through and sending him sprawling into the dirt.
"Not so easy now is it?" I taunted him. "You should just let me go before I hurt you."
Instead of replying Gravel strode back to his seat on the porch and reached down for something underneath it.
"Okay, mystery escalating here," I thought as I caught sight of what he had. Fighting sticks ... and if the way he was rotating them was any indicator, he knew what to do with them.
I stood silent and still as he approached me. Rather than wait for his attack I launched one of my own, fast enough that he blocked the first few moves but couldn't block them all. I got a nice hard hit in to the thigh and another to the shoulder before he could get himself clear.
The next move was his – he swung the sticks in a series of alternating strikes. He was fast, but I was faster and easily evaded every hit ... those daily practice sessions were paying off in a way I'd never imagined they would. We took it in turns for the next few minutes – he took as many hits as he blocked from me while I continued to evade all of his. Obviously he knew about my arm wound ... for all I knew he'd been the one wielding the knife. Like any good bad guy he focused on that weakness, trying more than once to hit me there over any other target. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling the injury, but the longer the fight went on the more limber I got and the easier it was to ignore the pain. I'd even held a bit back up till then, hoping he'd tire enough that I could finish him off.
That turned out to be the right plan ... I'd never used the fighting sticks to bring someone down like that before, most bouts ending in an unbreakable hold and someone conceding. Gravel Voice wasn't going to concede though ... he just kept getting up for more, forcing me to turn brutal in an effort to get him to stay down. In the end I resorted to luring him to drop his defences below chest level ... a hit to the thigh blocked by him, and a turning hit to the knee also blocked left him open for me to ram an elbow into his gut. When he was doubled over I slammed the fighting stick across the back of his skull and was rewarded with him crashing face first into the dirt without another sound.
Panting harshly my heart skipped a beat when the next thing I heard was the sound of someone clapping. Getting control of my breathing first I turned slowly back towards the porch. He hadn't been there the whole time but it was clear he'd watched for long enough to observe most of my stick fight with Gravel Voice. Still clapping he rose from his chair and walked down the steps until he was standing in front of me.
After giving him the quick up and down glance his identity seemed obvious – pin striped expensive looking suit, polished shoes also expensive, general air of blonde polished grooming, gaudy class ring on one pinkie finger. Even his unusually vivid blue eyes looked like he'd purchased them from a high priced catalogue.
"Doctor Walker I presume," I said sarcastically.
Author's Note:
Next Up? "The Other Side of the Story: John's Point of View" Interlude 2