Run. (Team Crafted Fanfiction)

Chapter 8- Interrogation and Swedish

Jerome's POV

For about the millionth time, I strain and stretch, trying to reach that cursed rope.

I grit my teeth as the rope tantalizingly brushes against my fingers, and the ones securing my hands dig further into my wrist. My shoulder burns as I dig my fingers into the rope and begin pulling at it. Soon....soon....almost.....

"What the heck are you doing?"

I slide back down onto the couch with a huff.

"I'd have thought it evident I was trying to escape. Given that I've been tied up for, what? Few days? How long has it been since you nearly drowned me?"

"Idiot."

Next thing I know, she had thrust me onto my back and had severed one of the ropes. I bite my tongue as my shoulder protests.

There's a snap, and I am loose from the couch. I immediately roll over and hit the floor with a groan.

"Patience, idiot. Now get up."

She grabs my collar and pulls me up. I stumble slightly as she pushes me forward.

Forward, left, forward, right, right, stop.

She comes to a halt behind me and I nearly trip. She yanks me back and clears her throat.

"Good. Sit him down and take that off."

My head shoots up wildly at the voice. However, I can't figure out where it came from before she is shoving me down in a chair and securing my hands behind it.

The blindfold is ripped off, and I blink for a moment, dazed, as the room comes into focus. There's a long table in front of me, surrounded by chairs. Each chair is filled with an extremely athletic looking person, except for the three chairs that are empty.

The girl walks around from behind me, and I can finally get a good look at her. Long, sexy legs easily identify how athletic she is. I stare at her as she sits in one of the three chairs, until I realize everyone is watching me. I shift uncomfortably and glance down.

"Where's Martin?" She asks.

A rough, husky voice answers, from right in the middle of the table. "With the other one. He'll be along in a moment."

The other one? They have another prisoner here? What if it's Jason? What if it's any of the guys?

The room is silent for a while, until the door opens and a slightly overweight, old man comes in pushing another guy. The other guy is forced into the chair next to mine, and his blindfold is taken off. He too stares around for a moment before coming to rest on me. He raises an eyebrow. I shrug, and we both look at the man sitting at the center of the table, who spoke before, and appears to be the leader.

He clears his throat. "First off, you were both captured on one of our patrols, and we decided to make use of you. I am going to assume you both have groups?"

I frown. "A group?"

He rolls his eyes. "The people you travel around with, fight zombies with, live with. Strike a bell?"

I glance at the guy next to me, but he looks just as confused as I do.

"Um, you mean, like, my friends?"

"So you do have a group. How about you?"

He glances at the guy next to me. He turns a bright red and quickly shakes his head.

He looks disappointed for a moment but then continues. "So, here's what's going to happen. We're going to make it well known that we have you. If your group hears it, and meet us at the designated place, they can pay us and get you back. So, you will want to cooperate with us if you want to leave. As for you," he says with a glance of indication to the guy next to me, "we're going to inform the army of you. They have been paying well for more soldiers and lab rats, I hear. So, cooperate."

I nod, and see the guy next to me does too.

"Names?"

I clear my throat. "Uh, Jerome."

"Felix."

Is that a Swedish accent?

He scrawls them down, and continues to write stuff down for several minutes.

Finally he looks up at us. "Anything else we should know, before whatever happens to you does?"

Felix shifts in his chair. "Jag hatar dig. De bros kommer att hitta mig."

Yep. That's Swedish.