Page 25 of Undying Resilience
“His captions. He usually says which trail he takes in his posts. There’s no pattern—looks like he decides on a whim. But he never takes the easy trails, and he always avoids one of the advanced ones.”
“That’s still four trails,” Rhett says. “And there are only three of us.”
“Yes. But some of the trails join at certain parts. Like here.” Elliot points to a spot on the map. “If we place ourselves strategically, then one of us should be able to get to him. And we have the radios to communicate.”
I perk up. “We could do this tomorrow morning.”
That gets Rhett’s attention, too. He glances between me and Elliot. “Seriously?”
Slowly, Elliot nods. “No guarantees. Odds are, this guy will be out on the trails early tomorrow. But his routine could change. We may have to wait.”
“So if this goes the way we want it to, we’ll kill him tomorrow,” I say. “And then what? Be on a flight out of here ASAP?”
“Depends on what the airport can manage,” Elliot says. “We’ll probably have to wait a while.”
“I don’t care. It’s still way better than how long we thought we’d be out here originally.”
“Agreed,” Rhett murmurs.
We wanted to give ourselves time—thought this job could take up to a week. But since Elliot was able to find so much information on this guy’s schedule online, things are looking up.
We could be home to Wren in a day.
For a couple more minutes, we talk through some details. But then we end our planning session early. We’re going to need to get up before the sun in the morning, especially since we’re going to have to scout out good hiding spots.
“If we can get home by tomorrow night, I’m not passing up that chance,” Elliot says, standing from the table. He kisses me and then Rhett. “C’mon. Let’s get some sleep.”
Chapter seven
Wren
I stay inside the empty room all night. At some point while it’s still dark outside, I wake up crying from a nightmare. The light is still on, but it barely helps with the fear.
Saturday morning, I stare out the windows, trying to figure out where I am. I can’t see much except a small front yard, a gravel driveway, and loads and loads of snow-covered trees. So probably the middle of nowhere.
Fuck.
I didn’t get much rest last night. Not only is this floor really damn uncomfortable, but it’s freezing in here. If I was in more than shorts and a flimsy tank top maybe I’d be fine, but they didn’t even give me a blanket.
Sometime in what I think is mid-morning, the door to the bedroom opens and two men step in. Well, one man and one kid who looks like he’s barely a legal adult. Panic fills my chest as they back me into a corner before grabbing my arms.
“Leave me alone,” I shout, trying to yank myself from their grasp.
It’s no use. This time, they drag me down two flights of stairs and into a dark, damp, unfinished basement. They take me into what looks like a cellar. There’s a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, illuminating a stainless steel trough of some sort. It’s filled with water.
They dump me in front of it, and my knees hit the concrete floor. Pain shoots through my legs, but I try to get to my feet anyway. It’s no good—they shove me back down in a split second.
“The more you struggle,” Jordan says as he steps into the light, “the harder you’ll make it on yourself.” He taps the screen of his phone, which is on a stand with the back camera pointed this way. “How many videos do you think we’ll be able to make before I get to them? How do you think they’ll feel while they watch you almost drowning over and over again? I think they’ll feel pretty helpless.”
“Don’t,” I plead.
“Don’t almost drown you? What, you’d prefer I kill you now? No, no. They’ll be here in person for that.”
One of the men grabs my arms and yanks them behind my back. The other secures my wrists together with a zip tie, tightening it so much that it digs into my skin.
“So you don’t try to push yourself up the way you did last night,” Jordan says. Then he kneels behind me, pressing his body into mine until I’m right up against the trough.
“How could you be so cruel?” I whisper.