And, of course, it’s Captain Finley who comes into view on the other side of the room. What an even more annoying turn of events.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
Reluctantly planting my gaze on her, I see she’s very much the same. Smug, dressed in a rumpled soldier’s uniform, shirt untucked and unbuttoned.
“Hello, Captain Finley.”
Captain Finley is an objectively attractive woman around my age, with amber-colored hair and brown eyes so dark they’re nearly black. Muscular, tall, with a thick athlete’s physique. Both arms are covered shoulder to wrist in tattoos, various tribal designs and depictions of nature. Her flirtations are a waste with me, but I can see why she has the confidence to continue.
Captain Finley grins, stretching her face wide. She tousles her hair and props one foot on the seat of a chair. “How are you?”
“Been better.” I barely hold back an eye roll at her posturing. “What am I doing here?”
Captain Finley raises her eyebrows. “Shit if I know. Boss says to keep an eye on you.”
“Right. This elusive ‘boss.’ Which I am not entirely convinced isn’t a magic eight ball you shake for advice.”
The captain snickers and wags her finger at me. “That’s a good one.”
Impatiently, I sigh. “Am I the only one captured?”
“Worried about your little blond friend? She’s a cutie.” It is only through rigorous training I am able to keep my expression neutral. “You might wanna consider letting the paint dry on that one, eh?”
My patience has never been legendary, and it thins rapidly with her stupid riddles. “What paint? Are you telling me Private Frank is here?”
“Her and your other friend, the big one.”
“I want to see them.”
She snorts. “Well, that’s too bad. You’re a prisoner and you don’t call the shots.”
“I cannot imagine you do, either. How do I speak to someone that matters?”
Captain Finley swings her leg over the back of the chair and saunters to my bedside. “You are fucking bold, you know that? Here you are, chained to a cot without any idea of where you are, in the clutches of the enemy, making demands. The audacity. The sheer impertinence.”
“What would you have me do? Beg? I would genuflect, but as you can see, I am a little tied up.”
The hardness in Captain Finley’s face relaxes and she genuinely chuckles. “Something tells me you’re not the begging type.”
“No, and I am sure you are not, either.”
“I don’t think so, but to be honest, I’ve never had the opportunity to test it.”
“You might surprise yourself.”
On a chair a few feet away my rucksack is open, obviously having been pilfered. Captain Finley follows my gaze and strolls over to my bag. “Not a whole lot in here. You pack light.”
I look down at my bare wrist. “Did you take my watch?”
Captain Finley rummages in the bag and pulls out my watch. Its official name is the DT44, but I’m not certain it stands for something. Sounds like Javier made it up so Theia would think it did more than it does. However, it did survive battles and explosions, so it’s worth the considerable weight it hangs on my wrist. “This guy? Why, this important to you?”
“I would not ask if it wasn’t.”
“None of us could figure out how to turn it on, so, it’s safe.
Inwardly, I sigh in relief. “That is for the best. If you turned it on, it would ping my location to Theia.”
Captain Finley makes a cartoonishly exaggerated grimace and pitches the watch into my bag. Availing herself of my things, she slides her hand in and out of pockets and slots but comes up with very little other than pedestrian survival supplies: flashlight, water, compass, dehydrated ration, and a miniature first aid kit.
