The Planck Factor

Chapter 22

Jessica Evans

The sun was setting. I realized that my morning bagel and granola bar lunch weren't cutting it. I needed food now.

I saved my story, backed up my files and shut down the laptop. I'd spotted a few restaurants, but wasn't sure I wanted to go out. Room service would be more expensive, but possibly safer.

Thinking of the extra cost as a form of insurance, I phoned down for a hamburger and side salad. The salad inflated the tab, but I really needed to eat something healthy. I didn't know how long I could afford to stay here or how many chances at a healthy meal I'd get in the days to come.

I turned the TV back on and paced, tossing glances out the window. The sun had slipped low enough to cast the street in blue-gray shadow. Commuters scrambled past each other on the sidewalks and intersections. Lighted windows scattered across the facade of a nearby office building. Cabs and cars and buses and trucks crawled through the street several stories below me like blood through clogged arteries.

I kept my ear tuned for news about me or Fred, but they were still going on about terrorist threats and Homeland Security. I muted the sound and turned on the radio, continuing to pace as I watched the anchor speak to the sound of the Beatles singing "Help!" I couldn't have said it better myself.

A knock on the door brought me to a halt, before I went to answer.

"Yes?"

"Room service," an accented voice said.

I opened the door with the chain still in place. A Hispanic-looking man with black uniform pants and a white jacket and shirt smiled at me from behind a rolling cart with a covered tray on it.

I closed the door to unlock the chain and reopened it. The man rolled the cart in and placed the tray on a desk. I lifted the lid, saw the burger and salad, and my stomach audibly rumbled.

I blushed, and the man smiled again. He handed me the bill, in a faux leather holder. But there was no pen.

"Got a pen?"

The man's grin widened. I noticed a gold incisor winking in the corner of his mouth. He spread his hands and looked confused.

"Sorry?"

"A pen. There must be one around here." I checked the desk. No pen. The side table had no pen, either. I dug through my purse, seeking anything to write with.

Something pressed against my mouth and nose and pulled my head back. A hand jammed something soft against my face. An acrid, medicinal smell burned my nostrils. I struggled to get free, then everything went dark.

* * *

I awoke sprawled across the bed, with a mild headache. I blinked, propped myself on one arm and looked around the room. My food was still on the table. I sucked in a quick breath and let it out when I saw my purse and laptop were still there.

"What the hell just happened?" I muttered. My throat felt raw and my voice had a raspy edge to it.

I sat up, causing the room to tilt momentarily. Pausing, I got my bearings back before venturing to my feet.

Room service. Who was that guy with the gold tooth? He must have used something to knock me out. Why? Hopefully, nothing had been stolen.