Salvage

Thirteen - Part 2

The sound first shattered into her dreams. Then it shattered into her reality. Her eyes popped open and she lurched upright, gasping in a deep breath. Terror thrummed through her veins, sending her up from her bed swiftly.

It was still pitch dark, only faint light coming from the starlight through the window. It seemed quiet. But she'd been woken by something. A noise.

Not a scream. Not a loud noise. Something muffled. Shattering. Why was that word... Shatter...

Glass. Glass breaking. It clicked into place. Maybe just someone dropping something in the kitchen. But all her instincts were on fire, telling her to move.

Then she heard another noise. She widened her eyes in the darkness, straining, trying to take in more than she physically could. Swiftly she crept to the door and pressed her ear against it. Muffled thumping, and a soft cry that was cut short. It sounded like one of the younger girls.

Aurora's breaths came faster yet, and she could barely hear over her heart thumping. Best course of action: assume violence, apologize later if wrong. There were security guards stationed outside all night, on the windows and doors. If they were in place, she needed to alert them. Immediate course decided, she went to the window and as quietly as she could, wincing at each squeak, unlocked the latch. Placing her palm on the cool glass, she pushed it open, sucking in a breath as the cold night air chilled her to the bone.

She was still wearing her clothes and boots. Thank goodness for small miracles. Reaching up, she hooked her hands on the top of the window frame and swung her legs through, dropping down the six feet to the ground and into a crouch.

Her gaze darted up and down the side of the house. Her room was in the very back corner, and two guards should be stationed near the back door. She pressed her back to the side of the house and began edging around the corner, peering as carefully as she could. She felt her stomach drop and fought the urge to be sick as she saw two dark shapes, bodies, still on the ground. She wanted to run to them, check on them, but priorities first. She should go around to the front, check on the other guards. Ascertain the kids' safety. She turned to start back towards the front of the house, and froze in her tracks.

There just behind her, and coming towards her silently at a breakneck sprint, was a dark clad and bulky masked figure. Aurora was quick too, but not quick enough this time. The man was on her, towering over her, his fist raising towards her face, before she could blink. Aurora felt a sharp crack of pain in her cheek and temple, before stars exploded behind her eyes, and she collapsed back once more into unconsciousness.

***

Stay. Still.

It was the first thought that popped into Aurora's head when she woke. Her whole face throbbed, and her arm felt heavy and cold. Probably drugged, she wouldn't have stayed unconscious long from just a punch. She kept her eyes closed and body relaxed, as she took stock. There was light shining on her, she could tell even through her eyelids, bright, like late morning sunshine. She was laying on something hard, cool, maybe metal. Arms at her sides, bound at the wrist. Pressure around her ankles, too.

Logic dictated whoever took her and attacked a safe house was there for the subject group. Not for her. She was collateral, maybe an accident.

Aurora felt the color draining from her face as that thought passed into her mind. If she wasn't an intended kidnapping victim they would have no reason to keep her alive. People who captured and experimented on children would have no qualms in killing just another nobody orphan like her.

She was making a lot of assumptions. The room around her was silent. She'd been waiting for voices, anything, but there was nobody in here with her, she could feel it now. Carefully she tested her muscles by lifting one finger. It moved! Relief flooded her, but as she went to lift the rest of her arm, the cold metal binding her brought her crashing back to reality. Right. She wasn't paralyzed, but she still was effectively pinned helpless on this table, like a moth ready for the slaughter.