Spy School: Oneshots

One Right Turn

Little late because I've been with family in the ER and then the hospital for a few days, everyone is totally okay, but i accidentally finished next month's chapter around 11:55 and realized that i couldn't get this one done in time. figured it'd be better to end the 3 part story you've been reading that to throw in an entirely new story haha. going to try and stay on track this month, sorry about the past while lol been doing my best. I won't leave you in suspense any longer, enjoy!

Erica's POV:
"Walmart?" Trixie questioned.

"Large, non-government building, warehousey, easy to hide a sub-level under. And look at manager John Hill. It's him."

"It is. That's him." Mike agreed, voice low and steady, though I could tell that took a great deal of control. "Let's go get our boy."

Ben's POV:
I again woke to a dark room. My eyes slowly adjusted, and I realized it was the same room as before.

I heard a clanging clunk growing closer, until the door clicked and Joshua walked in.

"Rest time is over."

"Why didn't you kill me?" I asked.

"You know that I need the information you have."

"But not even after-" My voice fell silent. My escape attempt never happened. It was just a cruel trick of the mind. They all were.

The whole time I was there, I'd had hallucinations. Some mild like the uno game or conversations with my family. But then there were the others. The ones like that one, the hundreds of escape attempts I thought I'd tried, but had never left the room.

I had regained my knife not too long into my capture. Night after night, I sobbed or screamed in agony, facing the wall, to cover the sound as I scraped away enough at the mortar between the large, corroding bricks, to loosen one. I now had a large brick, but also a hiding place for my knife, when I didn't keep it in my pocket.

"Hey! I'm talking to you. Get up." He demanded, bringing me back to the present.

I tried to stand, but could barely push myself up.

"Now Ben."

I tried to speak but coughed, and blood spattered the ground, barely visible in the dim light.

"Get. Up."

"I'm trying, dickwad." I choked out.

He kicked at me and I looked up, glaring, blood all over my lips, running down my chin.

"Watch it."

I tried to muster enough strength to get up but failed. I was on my stomach, trying to push up against the thin mat and bring my knees forward, but to no avail.

"You're weak." He spat. "Pathetic." He shamed. "You always have been. Now get up."

"I'm trying, okay?" I croaked out. "I can barely move jackass, give me a second."

I could tell he was growing annoyed, but there was nothing I could do.

I continued struggling, my limbs tingly and weak, no stronger than noodles.

I hung my head down, and I sighed frustratedly, when I felt cold metal against the back of my head.

A click.

My heart sank. I knew that feel, I knew that click.

"You either get up now Ben, or I kill you right now."

"I'm trying!" I exclaimed.

"Try harder." He steeled. "I grow impatient. Get up, or die."

I pushed myself up with every last ounce of strength I had and made it most of the way up, when I saw the ground coming closer again, and everything went dark.