Who had brought me to this place?

Angry vessels pounded the inside of my skull.

My mind offered only disconnected recollections.

Synapse: A narrow gap between haulers. Footsteps in the dark.

I raised my head.

My stomach lurched. I tasted bitterness and felt a tremor beneath my tongue.

I eased back down.

I smelled loamy earth. Vegetation. Felt cold hardness beneath my cheek.

Synapse: A body pressed tight against my back.

A real-time sensation intruded. Heat on my right ring finger.

I moved my hand. Tested the surface on which I lay.

Solid. Sandpaper-rough.

Concrete.

Synapse: A chokehold squeezing my throat. My fingers clawing, my lungs desperate for air.

I breathed deeply.

Opened my eyes.

Saw nothing but variations on darkness.

Using both palms, I raised one shoulder and shifted my hips.

Before I could sit, nausea overwhelmed me. I hung my head and threw up until my stomach muscles ached.

When I’d finished, I backhanded my mouth, rolled, and rose to all fours.

And vomited again until I could only spit bile.

I sat back on my haunches, listening.

Over the drumming rain, I heard what sounded like grinding gears, the thrum of an engine. Muffled by walls.

And another sound. Soft. Barely audible.

A moan? A growl?

Close.

Dear God!

Some other being shared my prison!

I felt a flutter in my chest, as if my heart had broken free and was beating at my rib cage.

I strained my ears. Heard no movement. No further sign of another presence.

Was I mistaken?

I rose to my knees and waited for my eyes to adjust. The only break in the inky blackness was a hairline strip of gray at floor level off to my left. Too little light to dilate my pupils.

I got to my feet. Paused again.

My gut cramped once more, but there was nothing left to purge.

Arms extended, I inched blindly toward what I hoped was a door.

My fingertips soon brushed something hard and smooth. Metal. Vertically ribbed.

I stepped to my right. The steel ribs now ran horizontally.

I felt around, found a discontinuity. Traced it up, over, down to the floor. A rectangle.

Aiming my shoulder at what I assumed was the rectangle’s center, I lunged.

Metal rattled, but the door held.

I tried again and again until my shoulder ached. Then I dropped to my back and kicked with my feet.

My efforts were useless. I hadn’t the strength of a toddler, and the door was metal.

I lay on the floor, limbs trembling, breath rasping in and out of my lungs.

My mouth was a desert. My head pounded. My gut was on fire.

Get out! Find the bastard who put you here!

The orders came from deep in my brain.

I rose again on rubber legs.

Dizziness sent the world spinning and triggered new nausea.

When I finished dry-heaving, I lurched forward once more.