Gangs Aren't My Style (A Black Death Novel)

Chapter 3 - Life and Death

Gangs Aren't My Style

Book I of the Black Death Trilogy

PART ONE: Tears Fall When You See The Truth

Chapter 3 - Life and Death

Ally's eyes felt heavy as she slowly rose from her fitful sleep. She had been teetering on the edge of consciousness for the last hour but the drugs still lingering in her system kept her from waking completely. She was left with the blank screen of the underside of her eyelids and an uncomfortable, flat surface digging into her back as she struggled to wake from her stupor.

She finally forced one eyelid open, blinking rapidly in an attempt to block out the bright light that immediately assaulted her unfocused eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut once again, turning her head to the side and fighting to stretch her aching limbs across the uncomfortable bed she'd been afforded, already feeling the stiffness seeping into her muscles from her uncomfortable position. Her bangs slid over into her face and she unconsciously lifted her arm to move them out of the way only to realize that he wrists were bound with a thick length of rope.

Hastily, she attempted to sit up, only noticing at the last second that her feet had been bound as well, causing her to fall back onto the small cot with an exasperated sigh. She grumbled under her breath, attempting to free her aching wrists from their restraints but only succeeded in further irritating her already chafed skin and tightening the grip that the rough material kept on her wrists.

Her eyes shot around the room to survey her surroundings, only able to see a portion of the room from her position on the tiny cot while unable to sit up. The only features she could identify were the stone walls, cracked and seeping water from the Earth surrounding the damp quarters, that enclosed around a dirt floor. Puddles characterized the pitiful conditions, gathering mostly along one corner of the cell, and shadows flickered across the walls. Iron bars stretched across the entrance and the only light was coming in through a small, barred window placed high on the back wall. The entire prison was covered in a film of grime and the outside passageway seemed extremely narrow. Looking around her meager conditions, Ally couldn't help but feel like she was looking at a scene pulled straight out of a novel set in the Medieval Times when there had still been dungeons, with the only thing missing being the chains hanging from the wall and rodents scurrying across the floor.

Letting out a drawn out sigh, she let her head drop back to the thin, hard cot in defeat. For the first time in six months, she felt the familiar prodding of repressed memories in the back of her mind as she realized that once again, she was to be at the mercy of a gang and this time, she knew exactly what kinds of horrors she would face.

Daniil rounded the corner, his eyes searching for the door to the interrogation room that he knew to be the third door on the left of the hall even as he lazily flicked through his prisoner's file, once again in his element. He knew that the man who had been found with the girl would be waiting, already inside by the time he would arrive, and reveled in the chance to make him nervous by stalling his inevitable questioning.

Finally spotting the metal door, Daniil pushed it open and slipped into the small room. A cruel smile spread across his face as he noticed that the man was in fact tied to the metal chair chair placed before the long, rectangular table in the middle of the room. His satisfaction was only dimmed when he realized that the man was out cold, slumped over in his seat with his head hanging precariously over his wide chest. Suspecting that the man had been given a higher dosage of the sedative, Daniil released a long sigh.

Dropping the file onto the table, he retraced his steps down the hall to the small water dispenser at the end of the long corridor. Filling a cup with ice cold water, he dutifully walked back to the room he had just vacated and shut the door firmly behind him.