Recreated

Chapter Five: Adria

I woke up on a hospital bed. At some point, I had been changed into a paper hospital gown. I assumed we were at 'the warehouse', wherever that was. My arms, legs and torso were restrained by rough Velcro straps.

    It suddenly hit me, like a wave, and I remembered. Waking to the barrel of a gun, and man choking, and syringe stabbed into my arm....

    Oh my god. I thought. I was the one choking that man. Me. And the other blond one..... Slamming against the door, because of me.

    A dark-haired man stepped into the room. "Hello Adria." He said menacingly. "I see you're awake. Outstanding, that little show of power in the ambulance. Though it is obvious you don't know how or why.

    "I just want you to know that we mean you no harm as long as you follow our instructions." He signaled with some hand gesture, and a nurse stepped into the room. She stared at me with cold, unsmiling eyes. "Now, let's go for a walk."

    The nurse lifted me up and gently set me down in a wheelchair that had seemingly appeared out of thin air, right next to my bed. Grayson seized the handles, nodded to the nurse, and pushed me out of the room.

    I tried to move, maybe look around a little bit more, but my head felt like it weighed so much, like the rest of my body. Grayson chuckled, apparently noticing my attempts at movement. "That's just the after effect of the drugs we used to sedate you. Somehow you managed to wake up from some heavy drugs, so we had to raise your dosage....." he paused for a second, as we approached a large oak door, very out of place in the clinical, white-washed hallways. "You should regain full use of your muscles in a few hours. Until then...."

    He turned my head, and it flopped against my right shoulder as he reached for a keypad. As he had moved my head, I couldn't see the combination, but I could hear the beeping of buttons being pressed, and a final beep gave us admittance to the room beyond.

    A ceiling soared far ahead, the short, cramped ceilings of the hallway traded for a tall, roomy ceiling, worn tile underfoot traded for dark hardwood. The room spoke of power, wealth, and prestige. My eyes drifted to a desk and I realized it was an office. Based on the air of confidence and his condescending speech, I could tell this was his office. Stacks of folders stood neatly on the surface of the desk, and books were neatly arranged on towering bookshelves.

    The lights above turned on, and he started to study my face.

    "Do you know anything about your great-great-great grandfather?" Grayson started. "He's the reason you're here, you know."