Twenty-Seven: Captive

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Daylight filled James' view, the balmy sun filling the space around him. He stayed still, terrified the sound of his racing heart would draw unwanted attention. He could feel the rumble of an engine beneath him and the rough carpet that lined the cramped space he had been placed. His head was propped on an old jumper which was a welcome change but it meant little to him in the end. A numb, tingling ache held his legs in place where they had been bent up to allow the door close behind him.

He glanced around, afraid of who may be watching him. He had long learned that there was always somebody watching him.

One of the girls lay beside him, her eyelids still heavy. She looked pale, but at least in sleep she was escaping some of her reality.

For once he found that his arms and legs weren't bound, but even then he couldn't chance moving too much. The radio was playing music, maybe enough to disguise his movements, but he couldn't risk drawing his captors' attention again. Not now that they had forgotten about him for a few moments.

With the slightest movement, James lifted his hand and touched the other girl's face. For the life of him he couldn't remember her name. He was sure he had known it, but then maybe he hadn't. Names meant nothing in captivity.

Her eyes darted open at his touch, wide, pale-green, terrified and furious all at once. He lifted his finger to his lips and signalled for her to remain quiet. She relaxed a bit when she realised she knew him, that he was a prisoner like her.

"Are you okay?" he mouthed, not allowing a syllable of sound to pass his lips.

She stared at him for a long moment, before nodding. She pointed at him, signalling the same question. He nodded. He actually felt good, strong even. The pains he had known had left him.

Glancing back at the girl, he wondered where the others were. There had been others, he was sure, but then there had been so many people.

"It's up here," somebody called from the front of the car. "On the left - can't you make this thing go any faster". He didn't recognise the female voice. He tried to remember his female captors but their faces blurred together, making no sense.

"Leave off criticising this beauty. It's an antique," a voice growled in response.

James took a steadying breath, reaching out and taking the girl's hand on instinct. She swallowed, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. "We'll be okay," he breathed. "We just need to be faster than them. When they open the door we run - got it?"

She nodded, her eyes wide again. "Don't let go of me," she whispered in reply.

James forced a half-smile, trying to reassure her. She was so delicate and frightened. He wondered what she would have done if she had woken up alone. Would she have had any means of defending herself? Would she have been brave enough to escape?

"I won't. It's you and me in this. We'll get away," he breathed, his pulse racing.

The terrain beneath the car changed, smooth asphalt replaced by rough stone. The sun faded too as trees became denser on either side of the car, blocking out the light that had given him such comfort at first.

"Where are the others?" the girl breathed. "There were others right?" She wore a confused expression, trying to recall what had happened.

"I...I think so," he replied. "But right now they don't matter. We can't worry about them. It's us and..." James fell silent as the car pulled to a halt.

"Is she still asleep?" the female voice asked.

"She needs it. I don't think she has slept at all since this began," the male voice replied.

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