Without opening his eyes, he knew there was blood on his face. Spots were still warm and sticky, especially around the gash in his brow, but the rest was drying and cracked with the slightest twitch of a facial muscle. There were bruises too, all over him—he didn’t have to move to know they were there. But at least nothing felt broken. His left eye was nearly swollen shut and his jaw felt rubbery, though he couldn’t remember being struck in either place. He couldn’t remember much of anything, in fact. Not yet, anyway.

He knew he was on the bed—the detergent scent of the sheet and pillows was a sharp contrast to the gastric odor still lingering in his nostrils. He was flat on his back, spread-eagle, and could not change his position. Taut nylon (your own rope, goddammit!) cut into his wrists and ankles with the slightest movement.

The room was silent except for the TV. He opened one eye just enough to look around.

He couldn’t make out much at first; the only light was that of the television, and its snowy picture rearranged the shadows with each flicker and roll, making the room seem alive with phantoms. What he could see was a shambles. The bureau was tipped against the wall, its drawers askew and spilling clothes onto the floor. One of the Walnut Suite’s two lounge chairs seeped fiber entrails from a mortal wound in its upholstery. Even the bed he was on had suffered a broken leg, so it lurched to the left like a sinking raft. The walls were a mess; at least the extensive cracks and dents and streaks of blood explained his further injuries. He’d been bounced off those walls more than once.

The memory of it was suddenly upon him then—the pain swelled in response, and so did his panic. His eye scanned the room frantically, searching, for not only was his raft sinking but there was a shark still out there in the darkness, waiting . . . Easy. Slow and methodical or you’ll give yourself away. Now think, dammit. There has to be a way out of this.

“Sur-prise, sur-prise, sur-prise!” Gomer exclaimed, and the canned laughter rose appreciatively. It and one other. The accompanying chuckle was deep and distinct and only a few feet away.

A sudden chill raced along Stiles’s spine.