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“Ben is your dad awake yet… hey,” Ethan said when he saw me sitting upright. “Your son, I mean Ben, is here, safe.”
“Given he’s sitting right there...” I wanted to sound sarcastic, but all that came out was a slurred mumble.
Ethan winced. “Get a shower,” he said. “There are clothes in the closet, something that will surely fit, and come find me out here.”
“Out where?”
“Here,” Ethan said, the fucking asshole. “Hey Ben, you want to bring Oreo out for breakfast?”
“Sure,” my gullible son said.
I tried to reach him to stop him, but he headed out of the door with complete confidence, ducking Ethan, who went to tousle his head. “Ben—”
“It’s all good, Josh. I have him. Get a shower,” he sniffed the air. “You need one as much as I did!”
He laughed at that, but it wasn’t a cruel laugh. Was he teasing me? Was this all some kind of game? I wanted to ask him, but he shut the door, and Ben was out there with Oreo and Ethan, and I was in here feeling like my strings had been cut. My bladder protested that I wasn’t moving, and I knew I was no good to anyone all over the place like this. I stumbled into the bathroom, blinking at the space-age shower, and pressing buttons at random until I had water hot enough to scrape off the funk of however long I’d been escaping from the FBI, running away, and fucking sleeping forever. The water was hot, and there was an array of gels and shampoos, and by the time I brushed my teeth using a new brush from an extensive collection, I was half human. Wrapped in a towel, I headed to the closet behind the bed in a nook I hadn’t even noticed before, and I opened the doors to reveal an array of clothes, all in different sizes.
Overwhelmed, I found underwear still in new packaging and sweats that fit, but I didn’t have the energy to check T-shirt sizes, so I yanked the first one I found, pale pink with a tropical sun logo. Very stylish.Not. It was loose, probably meant for someone bigger than me, but it was worn and soft, and I began to feel human again.
Dizzy, but human.
I found socks and located boxes of trainers at the bottom of the closet, all the same, dark, in various sizes. Finally dressed, I closed the closet door and turned to face the mirror over the dresser. I looked like shit.
Exhausted. Sick.
I smoothed my hair as best I could and practiced a smile, all so I didn’t frighten Ben, and then with that smile pasted on my face, I opened the door Ethan had used, expecting to find a carpeted corridor with a ton of rooms off it.
Instead, there were six doors, each with a keypad, but there were uncovered pipes and wires, very industrial chic, or at least that is what I thought industrial chic might look like.
It was a guess which door to try, but I took the one set at a different angle than the others, assuming it was an exit. Fear bubbled like acid inside me. Where was Ben? I opened the door, poised (as much as possible) for action, and found myself in a kitchen with sofas and a large table.
Was this an apartment?
“Dad!” Ben exclaimed and appeared from a small area with more sofas and came straight to me to hug me. There was no sign of Oreo, so I assume he was off doing critical cat business.
“Hey, Ben? Do you want to rinse Oreo’s bowls and put down fresh water? I think he’s done.” Ethan had followed Ben out and, for some reason, wanted Ben focused on something else. I grasped my son’s top.
“Where are we? What the f—hell is going on?”
“Ben, go check on Oreo. Your dad and I need to talk.”
“Let go, Dad!” Ben wriggled, and I released my hold on him and watched as he disappeared through yet another door leading to a laundry room.
“Where are we?” I asked again.
“Safe house thirty-two,” he waved a hand as if that explained everything.
“The fuck is—”
“You’re safe, the kid is safe, but you know what, coffee, something to eat, and then we’ll talk. Okay?”
I wanted to demand to know everything now, but who did I trust, what did I say? Ben seemed chilled out here, Oreo was happy, and Ethan hadn’t hurt me, so… what now?
He made me coffee, and I sat at the counter, eyeing the caffeine and toast he handed me.
“Don’t worry, this stuff isn’t drugged,” he reassured me.
A ton of memories assaulted me all at once. “You drugged me!” I snapped.
