A/N: I tried to make the Rift effects and descriptions as accurate as possible, since the effects of the people who came through in the real Out of Time and Adrift were significantly different in comparison - the former being undamaged and the latter being physically deformed. I'm assuming though since Jonah was transported to a burning planet while the other three only changed time periods, not planets, that there would be no lasting effects, so that's how I wrote this one.
They were just four houses down from Charlie's babysitter's house when she felt a sharp shock on her hand. Startled, she spilled some of the coffee she was holding on her jeans, the cup falling out of her hands. She stared down at the coffee cup, assuming that the thick metal coating on the outside of the cup was what generated the static electricity.
Suddenly she was overwhelmed by a bright white light. She hadn't seen let alone heard a vehicle big enough to cause a light that white approach them, but she didn't dwell on it. She shoved out her arms, pushing Charlie out of the line of fire. She heard him shout before she heard the thud as he hit the pavement. She didn't even have time to try to get out of the way. She couldn't even see which way she could move to get out of the way - the light was blinding, so blinding that she couldn't even open her eyes.
She waited for the impact to hit her, for the fall as the car slammed into her, trapping her on the ground. She braced herself for the pain, but it never came. Instead, she felt herself falling. She fell so far that she felt like there was an endless chasm forming in her stomach. Her stomach was in her throat, her chest in her back, her eyes fallen into her brain, swimming in the space between her lobes. It was hard to move, like there was no gravity surrounding her. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The light no longer blinded her. Instead, all she could feel was darkness, covering her, enveloping her, swallowing her whole. She felt like she was never going to stop, like she was going to fall right through to the Earth and maybe beyond it into the void in space, beneath the planet itself...
The falling came to an end as feeling settled back into her body. She felt herself land on something-concrete?-with a hard thud. She landed on her arm, and she felt the burning sting of the avulsion to her skin. She struggled to open her eyes, but they felt like they were pinned shut from having them clenched shut for so long. She managed to pry them open.
She was not on Satinwood Street. She wasn't surrounded by houses or trees or any other sign indicating suburbia. She was in a city. It wasn't the middle of the afternoon with the bustle of schoolchildren running from the school to their homes; it was nighttime, with only the occasional sound of a car passing by. She blinked, sure that she was seeing things, disoriented. There was a sharp pain down the side of her head. She must have hit it during the fall before her arm could block the impact.
What happened? she thought. She couldn't tell what time it was or even what day it was. She didn't even know where she was.
Was I mugged? she thought. It was the only conclusion that made sense, or rather, the only conclusion that she could come to. Yes, she thought, that must be it. The car ran me over, robbed me, and then dropped me off somewhere else after knocking me unconscious. She instinctively looked in her pockets.
Strange, she thought. Her wallet was still there.
Then she remembered, and she felt the panic set in.
"Oh God," she mumbled, forcing herself into a sitting position, ignoring the pain in her arm, the pain in her head. "Charlie..." She looked around, but her brother was nowhere to be seen. She tried to stand, but a sharp wave of pain erupted from her leg. She must have sprained it in the fall. She tried to shift her weight to her other leg, but her knees wobbled under the pressure, and she fell to her knees, scraping them on the pavement. Grabbing hold of the nearest thing she could find to hold onto-the railing next to a set of concrete stairs-she struggled to get to her feet, feeling sharp stabs of pain down her arm, in her knees with every time she moved them.
Wiping her eyes, she struggled to get to her feet. This time, she ignored the pain, unwilling to let it beat her. The effort left her breathless, and she doubled over the rail, struggling to regain control of her breathing.
"Miss?" a man's voice shocked her out of her grief. She looked up at the man in front of her. He seemed out of place for that time period. His clothes, instead of the late 80s, resembled the forties, maybe even the thirties or twenties. His appearance stunned her somehow, even with everything that had happened since that afternoon.
"Are you all right?" he asked. His eyes, deep blue, were full of pity, genuine concern even.
"I—I don't know," she found herself saying. It was odd, but her disorientation seemed to be affecting her neurological inhibitors, making it impossible to function properly or even be aware of the potential danger she was in.
"Do you know where you are?" the man asked her.
"I—I don't…" she trailed off, realizing only as she started speaking that she didn't know. The way she was talking—stammering incoherently at simple questions probably made him think she was drunk.
"Listen to me," the man said carefully, "I can help you, but I need you to come with me."
Even through her disorientation, his words sent warning bells ringing through her head. She resisted the urge to run, knowing that it would only provoke him.
"I-I need to...I have to-" she stammered for a reason. She could feel herself already backing away slowly as not to alarm him, wanting to put as much distance between them before she tried to run.
"I think you need to come with me," the man said, but there was something in his voice, something authorative, commanding almost, that made her feel as if he wasn't asking.
Through her haze of disorientation, Samantha felt panic rise in her chest. In a rush she looked around for signs of someone, anyone who could help her, but the street was empty. She found herself backing away involuntarily.
"Stay away from me," she said warningly, but her voice wavered.
"Wait a minute, Samantha," the man said.
Samantha froze, a wave of fear crashing over her. She didn't even ask why he knew her name. The fact that he knew it was enough.
"Just stay away from me!"
She whipped around and broke into a run. Instead of getting far, she slammed into someone who seemed to have been standing right behind her, as if waiting for her.
As if she were being cornered.
The person who she collided with grabbed her by the arms. She struggled against him, but he was stronger, so much stronger, but also as if he had been expecting to have to fight her.
"Get off me!" She thrashed wildly, trying to shake him off. He only increased his hold on her. "Let go!"
She heard the retreat of footsteps from behind her before she heard the screech of tires, like the sharp turn of a car before stopping abruptly. She heard running footsteps before the sharp thud of a car door sliding open. The man who was holding her forced her into the van. No sooner had he forced her front first onto the seat, knocking the wind out of her, pinning her arms forcefully behind her back did the door slam shut and the other man jumped into the driver's seat, starting the engine with a slam so hard that she could hear the gas pedal thud against the floor.
She struggled to free herself from the hold of the man beside her, but he merely pressed down on her arms even harder. She cried out, the pressure sending waves of pain so great up her arms that it felt like they were being split down the side. The pain mixed with the adrenaline made it hard for her to catch her breath. White spots flashed before her eyes.
"I-can't-breathe...please-don't-" she managed to choke out before the wall in her throat cut off her speech.
"Owen, take it easy!" the man in the front shouted back at his partner.
"That's proving sort of difficult right now, in case you haven't noticed!" the man called Owen said with irritation as he struggled to keep his grip on her. "If you'd just let me Retcon her-"
"I already told you; no," the driver said with authority, "I want her awake for this."
His words sent a wave of panic through Samantha. She didn't know what they were going to do with her, but whatever it was, from his voice, it was going to be bad. Unknown horrors passed before her eyes, sending fresh waves of fear through her. "Oh God," she felt herself saying. She couldn't stop the choked, strangled sound of fear that escaped her throat.
A few moments later, the van pulled to an abrupt stop. The screech of tires echoed painfully in Samantha's ears. She heard the sound of the driver's seat door slam shut before the back seat door was slid open. Owen pulled her off of the seat, not releasing his hold on her arms, shoving her forward. She tried to scream as she struggled to shake him off, but the wind had been knocked out of her when she was slammed face first onto the seat. She couldn't find her breath, much less her voice.
Everything after she was pulled from the car was a blur. In the rush of colors surrounding her, she could make out that they were next to a dock, surrounded by boats. She was being dragged toward a small shop bordering the closed off waters. The other man ran ahead of them, opening the door. Samantha started to panic and knew she had to act fast; the chances of her escaping once they got her inside decreased terrifyingly.
She stopped struggling for a split second, just long enough to get him to loosen his grip. In one quick motion, she whipped around, kicking him as hard as she could in the leg. He keeled over, from pain or shock, she didn't have time to deduce. She started to run, but her grabbed her arm, pulling her back toward him and resuming his tightened grip.
"Help!" she screamed as loud as her deprived lungs would let her, "Please, somebody, help me!"
"No one can hear you, love," Owen said as he recovered himself, "I'd save your breath if I was you."
As he her pushed her towards the threshold, she kicked her legs up against the wall, trying to avoid being trapped inside as long as possible while simultaneously trying to use the force of her body to push him backwards, maybe physically weakening him further. She could feel him straining under the pressure.
"Owen, I'll take her from here," the other man ordered his partner. She felt Owen loosen his grip before shoving her to the other man. His grip wasn't as rough, but he was stronger, so much stronger.
"I want you to check and make sure Mfwanwy isn't in sight," the man ordered Owen, "I don't want any surprises and I don't want her to panic."
"It's a little late for that," Owen mumbled before disappearing into the shop.
Samantha took advantage of the man's distraction by thrusting her elbow into his stomach with all the strength she had left. She could tell she took him aback, and she didn't waste the opportunity. Shoving her arms out of his weakened grip, she blindly ran as fast as she could in the opposite direction without so much as a second thought, ignoring the pain that shot up the side of her leg and the lack of oxygen in her lungs.
She didn't get far before she felt his hand on the arm she hadn't fallen on. She tried to shake him off, but he was stronger, larger than she was. She was outsized and outmatched and she knew it, but she still had to try. She spun around and moved to kick him, but he caught her leg. She lost her balance and he took advantage of her lack of control to grab her arms, shoving them behind her back. He held them there, blocking her movements, and pushed her towards the small tourist shop. She struggled, but she couldn't stop him from pushing her inside the shop.
The shop was vacant, the lights off and looking rundown, as if no one had been in it for years. Still keeping his grip on her, he flicked a switch and a panel opened in the wall next to the door. She froze at first before she struggled harder, knowing that if she didn't get away then, the chances of her escaping at all were decreasing by the second. He didn't loosen his grip, forcing her through the panel and down a series of cold corridors, half lit with low-watt bulbs.
Samantha knew that trying to improvise physically was usless - she was outsized and outmatched drastically - and she knew that negotiating with the man would be easier now that he was alone.
"Please," she begged as he pushed her forward, "You don't have to do this. Please, just tell me what you want."
"Don't make this hard," the man said, his voice surprisingly remorseful. His breath felt hot in her ear, making her shiver.
At the end of the corridor, a large, round door resembling a gear slid to the left, revealing a large room, one like Samantha had never seen before. It looked like a run-down laboratory with computer equipment filling every section of the room and several strange pieces of equipment littering the space in between. A large staircase leading to an elevated platform was in the center of the underground room, where two people were stood talking. They looked up when they entered, their eyes flicking from the man to Samantha in shock.
"Jack, what the hell is going on?" the dark haired woman with glasses demanded in a thick Welch accent. She and the other woman next to her ran down the stairs.
"A little help here, please?" Jack grunted as Samantha's struggling increased. He forced her up another set of stairs on the side of the room, parallel to the one in the center.
"Jack, what's going on?" the woman with curly black hair asked.
"Can we do the explanation thing when I'm not trying to talk and restrain someone all at once?" the man holding her - Jack - demanded.
The two others looked at each other before following them up the stairs.
"Where are you taking her?" the woman asked.
"My office," Jack said, "Suzie, get the door-"
The woman called Suzie went over to a door on the right, holding it open. Samantha struggled harder, kicking her legs against the threshold of the door, trying to use her lower body strength to push him off of her, but he prevented her easily.
"Please," she whispered, "Don't do this..."
Jack stopped briefly. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly. She was surprised to find his voice was full of...what, pity? Regret? Sympathy?
He pushed her through the door, and she fell to the floor with a thud. She looked up at him, but before she could get to her feet, he slammed the door just as she reached the door. She tried the doorknob, but he held it fast.
"Please-please just listen to me!" she cried desperately through the door. "I have to find my brother! Please!"
She pounded on the door, knowing that it was fruitless but trying to knock it down if she couldn't open the door. She heard a clicking sound on the other side of a key scraping metal.
As she heard their retreating footsteps, the anger, the will to escape drained out of her. Devoid of any strength, she turned her back to the door and slid to the floor in defeat, burying her head in her hands.
"Stupid," she cursed herself through her tears, "Stupid, stupid..."
How could she have been so stupid? How had she gotten herself into this predicament? What use was she supposed to be to her brother if she got herself captured by a stalker or a serial killer? Suddenly, the fear for her brother was replaced by a fear for herself. If they didn't have him, then he was safe somewhere. She was alone, defenseless, and a prisoner of people she didn't know anything about. What did they want with her? It had to be something. Somehow, they knew who she was and they knew almost exactly what had happened hours ago, what felt like only minutes ago when she first regained consciousness but what now seemed like days.
How did this happen? she thought. How could I let this happen?
She tried to calm herself, steady her ragged breathing, the panic that was making her hyperventilate, but she couldn't. All she kept seeing was her brother, lying in a ditch or wandering around a strange city, lost and alone, or even worse...and she was trapped, alone with no way of helping him, let alone finding him. That revelation being made, she allowed herself to sink into misery before curiosity replaced her grief. Through blurry eyes, she stared at her surroundings, taking them in for the first time.
She was in an office. The man called Jack's office, she assumed, remembering his earlier words. If she was going to be trapped there, she needed to find out who these people were, what they wanted with her.
Wiping her eyes, she got to her feet and wandered over to the desk parallel to the door. Papers were scattered everywhere, stacks of files lined up the edges of the table, waiting to be sorted through. She groaned; this was going to take forever.
A small voice in the back of her mind echoed to the surface, replacing her frustration with determination.
'Well, I guess I'd better get started.'
