The garage was between her and the house. It allowed her to creep up without being in view of any of the windows.
There was still a pile of melting snow in the shadow of the building. Amber’s feet squished in the saturated grass before she reached the garage and pressed herself against the wall so she could creep towards the front. The long shadows of the trees were just reaching the driveway when she rounded the corner.
The garage door was open—just around fifteen inches or so. Amber glanced towards the front of the house. The way the two buildings were situated, the windows of the house didn’t have much of a view of the garage. She hoped that nobody inside could see her where she was standing.
Slowly, she removed her pack and lowered herself to the pavement so she could peek under the door.
Soft light was filtering into the garage through the side window. It projected a bright rectangle on the truck and for a moment that’s all she could see. Then, as her eyes adjusted, she saw the legs of a table that was set up next to the truck. It looked like a massage table. Someone was strapped to it. She didn’t need to see anything else to guess who the captive was.
Amber debated for a moment—wondering if she should try to somehow communicate with Ricky. There was no time. She crawled under the door, dragging her pack behind her, and pressed up to her feet.
She was right—it was George strapped to the table. Amber rushed to him. His arms and legs were securely bound. A strap across his ear was forcing his head to the side, leaving his neck exposed. Amber could see the strain in his muscles as he tried to turn to see who was approaching. The vein on his neck throbbed with his pulse.
“George,” she whispered. “It’s me.”
“No! Get out!” he shouted. His voice was ragged and hoarse.
Amber’s hands were halfway to the straps on his hand when she froze. Before she could even process what he was saying, she heard the garage door descend. Purple light flooded the garage from above. Amber spun and saw a shape emerge from behind the truck. The lights were so bright that they made fuzzy edges around everything. Amber backed away from the approaching form and her hand reached inside the pack. The only real weapon she had was the stake. She closer her fingers around it and pulled it out. When he stepped beyond the truck, Amber saw the old man and the creaky way that he moved. Her eyes went to his hands—they were empty.
“We’ve called the police,” she said. “They’ll be here any second.”
He took another step towards her.
“Get in your truck now and you’ll have a head start.”
He didn’t respond. He was almost within her reach. Amber feinted a jab forward with the stake. It slowed him for only a moment and then he was pressing forward.
“Stay away from me.”
No response.
“I mean it—I’ll hurt you.”
She intended to make contact. Not a lot, but she wanted him to know that she was serious. Her stake pushed into his flannel shirt, dimpling his soft torso and he twisted away from her. His hand was faster than she would have guessed. It disappeared behind him and then came back out holding a black object. Until it sparked, Amber didn’t have any idea what it was. The thing gave her arm a minor shock before Amber was able to pull away. She darted left, away from the zap, and kicked over a paint can as she fled for the back of the garage.
“No,” George said. He jerked and tugged at the straps that held him down. “Don’t go back…”
That’s all she heard.
Amber tripped on something that was impossible to see under the fuzzy purple lights. The wire tripped her and she was tumbling towards the floor. Unwilling to let go of the stake that she was clutching, she tried to twist herself away from the approaching concrete as she fell. Her elbow hit first and a numb wave of pain shot up through her arm. She had just enough time to flip onto her back, holding the stake out in front of herself, ready to impale the old man if he tried to descend on her.
He didn’t.
Amber tried to kick his hand away, but his device made contact with her ankle. At first it didn’t seem to have any effect other than to paralyze the leg that it was zapping. Then Amber realized that her thoughts were resetting in quick bursts and she couldn’t move.
# # #
The overhead lights were so bright that they seemed to drive purple spikes directly into her brain. Amber squeezed her eyes shut but could still see the purple fuzziness through her eyelids. Somewhere close, she heard a moan and wondered if it was George.
Her mouth tasted like copper. She moved her tongue around, opened her mouth as much as she could and screamed for help.
The moaning stopped.
With a thunk, the lights went out.
Amber tried to turn her head. The strap came from behind her ear, crossed over her cheek, and was held in place by a cup on her chin. She worked her chin around, trying to get free. Her head was twisted to the side, just like George’s. As her eyes adjusted now that the lights were off, she could see the back of his head.
From the cold air, she knew that her own neck was exposed, just like his.
Another moan came from behind her.
“Quiet,” George whispered.
Amber strained her arms and legs
