“Wer bist du?”
Amelia gasped and spun around. A man she hadn’t noticed before was crouched in a corner, huddled into a ball. He was swathed in shadows, so she couldn’t make out anything about him. She scooted until her back hit a wall.
“Wer bist du?” he repeated.
He was speaking German. She spoke Spanish fluently, which was one of the factors in being assigned to a country with Spanish as the national language. She could get by in French, though she understood more than she could speak. But all she knew of his language were numbers one through ten. Her fourth-grade teacher made the students learn to count in a dozen languages. She remembered German because the number six was sechs, pronounced sex, and all the boys in the class would nudge each other and snicker every single time.
She moved a fraction closer until the light bulb dangling from the ceiling in the hallway lit upon him and she could sorta make out his features. His shaggy brown hair stuck up at all angles and his bushy beard was unkempt. She wondered if he’d had one before he was captured or if he’d been here long enough for it to grow. “Do you speak English?” she asked. A shake of his head. “Spanish?” Another negative. Since those were her only fluent tongues, they were out of luck—unless he spoke pig Latin, or igpay atinlay. She chuckled. Her head wound must be worse than she thought for that to be funny.
He barked out a flurry of words complete with hand gestures she didn’t understand, but the menace behind them was obvious. She would’ve had a hard time keeping up with the translation if she did speak the language. Maybe he thought she was laughing at him.
She thought about trying to convey that she was a doctor, but with the evil glare he was sending her way, she didn’t think it would matter. He didn’t appear to be in any physical distress, so he could stay in his corner and she’d stay in hers. No harm, no foul.
Allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim interior, she could see that the cell was maybe ten feet by ten feet with no windows. Other than the low wattage bulb in the corridor, there were no other lights. She glanced around, studiously ignoring the bucket in the corner, but there were no personal belongings. They’d confiscated her medical bag. She knew without checking that they’d snatched her phone, too. Would they allow her to make a call like when someone was arrested in the United States? If so, she was using it to call Wyatt. He’d find her, with the help of Pete and Tyler and the rest of the tech geniuses who worked with him. The only drawback was that it would take him time to get here. She wanted out of here now.
She hadn’t had the chance to memorize Ieshia’s phone number or either of the other two nurses. Besides, what would she tell them? She had no idea who took her or where she was being held.
Keys rattled and the cell door swung open. She’d been lost in her thoughts and didn’t hear the German move until an arm wrapped around her throat and she was brutally yanked to her feet. The movement caught her off guard and she clawed at the forearm pressing against her trachea. The overwhelming stench of body odor clogged her nose, her only available air passageway at the moment. The German was yelling, as were the guards, but it sounded far away. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears and dark spots danced before her eyes. She couldn’t take in any air. Blackness edged around her vision. If she didn’t get a breath soon, she was going to pass out. A gunshot sounded and then she fell to the ground.
Crawling on her hands and knees, she moved from where the guards were now beating the German man and plopped against the wall. She wanted to tell them to stop, but no sound would come out. She could only watch in horror as they drug him out of the cell by his arms and slammed the door shut, leaving only a trail of his blood.
Her lungs gradually refilled with air, but her pulse was still too high. This couldn’t be happening. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on breathing in and out until she felt steady again. Hysteria threatened, but she forced it away by picturing a remote island with palm trees swaying in the breeze. She was lying in a hammock listening to the sound of waves crashing against the sand. She wasn’t alone. Wyatt was beside her, his arm wrapped around her as she snuggled against his side.
The imagery worked and she felt calmer. Sounds drifted to her: men laughing; the deep notes of music in the distance; a radio of some kind crackling. Maybe it was a walkie-talkie. If she could get to it, she could call for help.
“Hola?”
Her eyes blinked open. Was there another person in the cell with her? She was pretty certain she hadn’t fallen asleep and even if she had, she’d have woken up if someone else had been brought inside. A quick scan assured her she was alone. Then she heard it again…whispered words, faint, but close.
“Hola?”
In Spanish she asked, “Hello? Is someone there?”
“Yes,” the voice said.”
“Where are you?”
“Come closer to the wall.”
She crawled over and noticed the small hole near the ground. She crouched down to peer through it, but it was too dark. “Are you being held captive?”
“Yes, I am.”
“What’s your name?”
“Manuel Perez.”
“Are you hurt, Manuel?”
“Just my head where I was hit, but I’m okay.”
“Good. How long have you been here?”
“I’m not sure of time. I was unconscious when I was brought here, and I don’t know how long I’ve been out. But I would guess four days at least.”
Amelia covered a gasp. She didn’t want to upset Manuel, but she didn’t think she could stand to be locked up for four hours, let alone four days. “Are you okay, Manuel? Have you had anything to drink or eat?”
The rule of threes was that you could survive for three minutes without breathable air, three days without water and three weeks without food. Water was vital for the human body to function correctly. Dehydration could happen quickly with extreme thirst, leading to fatigue and, ultimately organ failure leading to death. Several factors affected how much water an individual person needed, including age, overall health, height, weight, sex and activity level. But sticking to the three-day rule was always the best bet.
“A little. They bring me a tray twice a day, but the food is unappetizing. I’ve been drinking the bottled water, though.”
“Good. Keep drinking as much as possible. You need to keep your body temperature regulated.”
“You sound like a doctor.”
“I am. I’m on a humanitarian mission with Doctors International.”
“I’m impressed. Truly. That’s very noble.” It was until she was captured. “From your accent, you sound American.”
“I am.”
“What is your name?”
“Amelia Howell.”
“I would say it’s nice to meet you, Amelia, but the circumstances aren’t the greatest.”
She smiled, as she was sure Manuel intended. “No, they aren’t. Do you know where we are or why we’ve been taken hostage?”
“No, I do not. I’m a professor at the National University in Colombia. I was conducting research with a group of students. We were studying a rare species of small wasps called fairyflies in the rainforest when I was separated from the group and taken. I don’t know what happened to them. I don’t think any of my students are here…at least not that I can tell. I pray that they are safely home.”
“Are you alone in your cell?”
“I am now. There was a man here when I arrived, but they took him a few hours later. He never came back, so I don’t know what happened to him.”
“There was a man in here, too.”
“The German. I tried talking to him, but he was very short with me.”
“Same here.”
“I heard the gunshot. Did they…kill him?”
“I don’t know. I think he was trying to avoid being grabbed so he attacked me. I couldn’t breathe but after the gun went off, he released me. They removed him but he was bleeding. Do you have any idea where they might’ve taken him?”
“No, but we were briefed by the Colombian government on safety protocol before we left. There have been groups of bandits that kidnap tourists for ransom. My group was careful, and I thought we took precautions, but maybe that’s why we’re here. If so, I might be in trouble. My salary barely pays the bills. My wife wouldn’t be able to come up with money. We recently had a baby.”
“Congratulations.”
The sniff was audible through the hole and Amelia’s heart went out to the man.
“Thank you. I miss them so much.”
Amelia had no doubt that her emergency contact, Maggie McQueen, would pay her ransom. But her former collegiate roommate and best friend would also come for her, kicking ass and taking names. Thank goodness she’d put down Maggie’s name on the forms she’d filled out instead of her parents. They’d have a heart attack knowing she’d been abducted. They weren’t excited that she’d volunteered for the trip to a third-world country, though they understood her desire to give back and help those less fortunate. She’d learned from them.
“If that’s why we’re here, and my contact comes through, I’ll pay your ransom to get you out.” Or more accurately, she’d call Wyatt and the others to break him out. She had no doubt they’d be able to handle the task.
A throat cleared and then Manuel spoke softly. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me. You don’t even know me, yet you offered to help.”
“I would never forgive myself if I left you here, Manuel.”
“I always try to look for the positive of any situation, good or bad. Until you arrived, I couldn’t find any good in this. I’ve been abducted, tossed in a cell for who knows what reason, separated from my family and my students. Now I think it’s the Lord’s way of having our paths cross, when we probably would’ve never met otherwise.”
Amelia smiled and felt tears gather. “I like that thought.”
“Me, too.” Another pause. “I was going stir crazy. It’s hard to be alone in the dark for so long. I tried to keep my mind occupied by reciting the Periodic Table, but disturbing thoughts kept creeping in before I could stop them.”
She stiffened when she heard someone approach. “I hear footsteps.”
“Don’t panic. It’s probably dinner time.”
Pushing to her feet, her gaze darted around for a weapon, but the room was depressingly empty. Not even a chair or bed. Except for that bucket…
A man appeared, looking like he belonged in high school. He couldn’t be older than eighteen. Keys rattled and then the door slid open. “Stay back,” he ordered in Spanish, emphasizing his command with a hand gesture.
“There’s been a mistake,” she responded. She held out her hands as she stepped closer. “I’m a doctor. I work at the hospital. I help people.”
“Americano?”
“Yes.”
He spit on the ground and she danced back to avoid the wet assault. Then he dumped a tray by the door and slammed the door shut.
“Wait!” She grabbed onto the metal bars. They were cold in her grip. “I’m a doctor,” she repeated, but he’d already disappeared down the shadowy hallway. She glanced at the tray he’d left for her. Muddy looking beans in a tin cup, two slices of unbuttered bread and a bottle of water. No silverware. She jerked the bottle and untwisted the cap. The tepid liquid felt good on her battered windpipe. She’d have ingested any fluid they provided to keep her body working properly. Thankfully she didn’t have to worry about not having any of the purifying tablets in her medical bag since the bottle had been sealed.
Maybe the captors learned their lesson with unfiltered water. Montezuma’s revenge wasn’t pretty for anyone involved. The intestinal infection that caused an abrupt onset of diarrhea was a real concern for travelers, usually caused by E.coli bacteria. She’d treated patients for it before, most after they’d just returned from a developing country like Santigo.
A quick perusal of the offerings resulting in her wrinkling her nose. The bread was unappealing as were the mushy beans. She still felt nauseous from being conked over the head, so she moved away from the tray and leaned against the wall, sliding to the ground.
She was pretty sure she could take the man—no, boy—who delivered her food. If she used the element of surprise, she’d have a bigger advantage. She could toss the beans in his face. It wouldn’t stop him, but it might give her the edge she needed. But what if he alerted his comrades before she incapacitated him? They might come running with guns blazing.
Still, at some point, there would be a chance to escape. She’d have to be ready.
Sometime later, she was lying beside the hole in the wall. “I don’t know how you’ve stood this for four days,” she told Manuel.
“I don’t have a choice,” he replied. “Thoughts of my wife and eight-month old baby boy are what keep me going. I have to believe I will get out of here and return to them.”
Amelia didn’t have a husband or child to focus on, but she did have a hot Aussie who occupied her thoughts, day and night. What she wouldn’t give to have Wyatt here by her side. He’d not only figure out how to get out of here, he’d keep her safe, too. Not that she needed a man to fight her battles. She was a strong, independent woman. Still, as the hours ticked by and the quietness wrapped around her like a tomb, she wished she had his strength and calm competence to keep her company.
It was quiet for so long, she thought Manuel might’ve fallen asleep until his voice broke the silence. “Amelia?”
“Yes?”
“I know we don’t know each other, and unfortunate circumstances have thrown us together. But can I ask something of you?”
“Anything.” And she meant it.
“If something happens to me, will you tell my wife and son I love them?”
Amelia was not a crier. She’d never been one of the sentimental girls who bawled at Hallmark movies or sad commercials showing shivering animals in need. She felt immense empathy, but she was more pragmatic. She wrote checks instead of shedding tears. But they flooded her eyes at the heartfelt question. She had to swallow the lump in her throat before she answered. “Yes, I will.”
Manuel’s sigh was audible. “Thank you.” He recited their names and address and she committed them to memory. “That’s a huge relief. Now if something happens, they’ll know how much I love them and that they were in my thoughts at the end.”
“Don’t talk like that, Manuel,” she said sternly. “You’re getting out of here. We both are. And you can tell your wife and son yourself.”
#
Amelia barely closed her eyes, afraid of what would happen if she fell asleep. The German hadn’t returned, so she was alone in her cell. All was quiet. Manuel had fallen asleep hours ago. She could hear his soft snoring through the hole. There had been no activity outside that she could tell. The crackling from the walkie-talkie quieted hours ago and no one had been around since the boy delivered their dinner. Once she thought she heard arguing, but it was over before it started so she decided she imagined the sounds.
There was no way she’d be able to sleep. Her mind had conjured all sorts of nasty scenarios and her nerves were strung so tight, she might snap. She was afraid she’d go mad if she had to stay locked up for very long. She was an active person, always on the go. Working the emergency room meant that the action was non-stop. She wasn’t even able to relax on vacations—not that she’d taken any in the last few years. She’d attended work conferences or seminars, but an excursion to just relax and rewind hadn’t happened.
Pushing to her feet, she started with basic stretches to loosen her muscles. The cargo pants were comfortable but not exactly yoga pants. She thought about stripping off the button-down shirt to the tank beneath, but she didn’t want to seem provocative to the guards. No need to give them any ideas. Her hiking boots were still comfortable—for now. She tried to break them in before the trip and they fit well, so hopefully she wouldn’t suffer any blisters.
Next, she warmed up with jumping jacks and run
ning in place. Then she dropped down to push-ups, followed by planks. If she didn’t eat soon, she might not have enough energy to keep her strength up. She needed to remain in top physical condition for when the time came to escape. And it would. She just needed to be prepared.
She worked up a sweat with her exercise routine, which was something she hadn’t thought about. If she was here for any amount of time, she might not be able to stand herself. There wasn’t a shower in the cell. Just a bucket that passed for the toilet and activated her gag reflex. It took a lot to make her, a doctor, nauseous. She’d seen more blood and guts than she could recall and had even held a beating heart in her hand and a diseased lung. She’d changed bedpans and gangrened bandages, but a honey bucket in a remote jungle cell had her stomach threatening to hurl. She’d made the mistake of checking it out earlier and the stench overwhelmed her. Her bladder might explode before she attempted to use it.
Pushing the disgusting thoughts aside, she warmed down with stretches on the floor, wishing she hadn’t guzzled the contents of the water bottle hours ago. Working up a sweat meant she needed to rehydrate and there wasn’t anything to drink.
She plopped on the ground and felt tears sting her eyes. Dammit, more water she couldn’t afford to lose. But she was in a situation she wasn’t sure she could get out of by herself. If only Wyatt were here. She closed her eyes, picturing his handsome face, telling her to suck it up and figure a way out. She wanted to listen to him, but how was she supposed to do that when she had no means of escape or a weapon? The best she could come up with was the sole of her hiking boot and she wasn’t sure she could put enough weight behind an attempt to smash it into someone’s face. She cringed. Even thinking along those lines made her uneasy. She didn’t want to harm anyone. But the longer she was locked away, the more her ethics and morals flew out the window.
Without a Trace (COBRA Securities Book 18) Page 5
