Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
The thought didn’t calm him in the least–it only fed the Rage growing inside him and made him run faster.
Kiera, he thought wildly, racing toward the Docking Bay and the waiting shuttle. Hold on, sweetheart–I'm coming!
And may the Gods help anyone who got in his way.
29
KIERA
Kiera was shivering so hard her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering.
The cold had gotten to her fast—much faster than she would have believed possible. It bit through her t—shirt and jeans as though they were made of tissue paper instead of cloth and sank straight into her skin and bones. Her fingers felt clumsy and numb already. Her nose burned every time she inhaled. Even the inside of her mouth tasted cold, metallic and sharp–as though the freezing air itself had a flavor.
She hugged herself as best she could with her bound hands and forced herself to think. She had to get a grip–panicking wasn’t going to help.
The first thing to do was get untied if she could. Then she could get up, move around, maybe find a way out…or at least keep from freezing to death before anyone came looking for her.
Though who would come looking? she thought miserably. Iyanna would think she was waiting at the sanctuary for the shuttle. Brux—oh, Brux—was still on the Mother Ship. Nobody knew where Higgs had taken her.
No, don’t think about that, she lectured herself. Think about the ropes and how to get out of them.
Kiera looked down at her hands. They were tied in front of her, at least, which was something. Higgs had apparently decided that her wrists bound together and her ankles tied were enough to keep her helpless. He probably thought the freezing cold would do the rest.
Well, maybe for some girls, she thought fiercely. But not me.
Clumsily, because her fingers were so cold they barely seemed to belong to her anymore, she bent forward and began fumbling at the cord around her ankles.
The synthetic line was slick and stiff and bit into her fingertips, but after several agonizing minutes of tugging and twisting and swearing through chattering teeth, she managed to loosen the knot enough to get one boot free.
“Oh, thank G-g-god,” she whispered.
The words came out in a little white puff of vapor.
She worked the other foot loose more quickly after that and then sat there for a moment, bent double and breathing hard, while the refrigeration units droned around her and the hanging carcasses swayed faintly on their hooks.
The sound was awful–a constant deep mechanical hum undercut by occasional icy hisses from the vents and the soft, almost polite creak…creak…creak of metal hooks carrying dead weight. Every now and then something dripped and froze with a tiny brittle click.
It smelled even worse than before now that she was more awake. Not just blood and cold meat–though there was plenty of that. There was also the sour stink of old fat, the chemical tang of industrial cleanser, the coppery reek of slaughter, and underneath all of it that stale, dead smell of frozen flesh that had been hanging too long.
Kiera swallowed hard against another wave of nausea.
Don’t think about it–just concentrate on getting out of here! Your hands might be tied but at least your legs are free. Use them to carry your ass to the exit, girl!
She forced herself to her feet.
The concrete floor was slick beneath her boots, and she nearly fell at once. The wall at her back had leeched whatever warmth remained in her body and every muscle in her legs felt stiff and shaky. Still, she managed to stand.
“All r-right,” she whispered to herself, her teeth chattering. “All right. N-now find the d-door.”
That should be simple, right?
Wrong. The warehouse was bigger inside than it had looked from the outside—much bigger. Huge rows of hanging canthor carcasses made aisles and corridors between them, and the ceiling vanished into darkness overhead where the rails and hooks ran in endless lines. The refrigeration vents blew slow ribbons of freezing mist through the dim overhead lights, making the far end of the place look vague and dreamlike and strange.
It was like wandering through a maze made of death.
Kiera started forward carefully, hands still tied in front of her, peering around the nearest row of split carcasses.
The canthors hung there head—down and skinned, their flesh a terrible slick greenish—white under the harsh lights, their two necks ending in severed stumps or frozen slack—jawed heads depending on how far along Higgs had gotten with butchering them. Dark green blood marbled the concrete beneath them in frozen fans and puddles.
Every time Kiera brushed too close to one, the cold flesh bumped lightly against her shoulder or arm and she had to fight the urge to scream.
Keep it together, girl—just keep it together and keep going, she told herself.
She turned left. Then right. Then left again. Where was the exit?