“I have agoraphobia.”
“Ah. That explains a lot.”
Ray waited for the tone he usually heard when he shared the intensely personal information. Most people had no patience with silly phobias that made no sense to them. The fear of being outside was not something the average mentally healthy individual could wrap his brain around. But ‘the tone’ was nowhere to be found in Fergus’s voice.
“You’re familiar with it?”
“Oh yes. I’ve known a few people who suffered from it. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
“It’s been a struggle my entire life. I took medicine for it...before. But I ran out a year ago, then realized I no longer needed it. Not in the warehouse, at least.”
“Going up on the roof to fly your drones didn’t seem to bother you.”
Ray nodded. “The difference is, when I’m up on the roof, there’s really no chance that I’ll have to go beyond the building. Beyond what’s familiar and safe. I had to condition myself to it at first. And there was some discomfort in the beginning, but watching the drone footage is worth it.”
“I see. It took a lot of courage to venture out here to hunt Lizzy.”
“Yes,” he said simply. Anyone who didn’t suffer from agoraphobia would never understand just how much.
Fergus nodded, done with the subject. “On to our pressing and somewhat dire situation. In my jacket pocket is a handcuff key. I must get this cord off so I can stand up.”
“You carry a handcuff key with you?”
The twinkle had returned to the blue eyes. “I’m a man who likes to be prepared.”
“I think there’s a lot more to you than what you’ve told me,” Ray said, then felt a pinch in his neck.
As he began to lose consciousness, he heard Fergus say, “Damn it. So close.”
***
When Ray awoke the second time, the shadows had lengthened. It was late afternoon. He must have been unconscious for most of the day. He didn’t feel as loopy this time; perhaps Lizzy had used less sedative. His limbs were stiffer though, so twisting his neck toward Fergus took some determination.
His friend was gone.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“Tsk, tsk,” came a familiar voice from behind.
“What did you do with him?” he demanded, trying to exude a ferocity he didn’t feel. His mouth was so dry he could barely get the words out.
“I took him elsewhere. Away from you. Away from us,” she said from behind, but closer now. “We need to get you to a more suitable location. What I have planned requires privacy.”
“Water. Please,” he said. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the wetness in his crotch. It was especially aggravating that Lizzy would likely notice the smell of his urine.
When he opened his eyes, she stood in front of him, wearing the trademark grin. In the daylight, he was able to see her clearly, unlike the night before. She looked healthy. The chilly temperature, or perhaps the exertion of dragging Fergus off somewhere, had brought a flush to her normal pallor. He wouldn’t have imagined the woods to be a comfortable habitat for someone like Lizzy, but after reading her journal, he knew she was capable of rustic living. She’d grown up in Appalachia, after all.
“All in good time. I’m going to remove the cord now, and then you may stand up. The handcuffs remain. You’ll be stiff and sore, so go slowly.”
“Water first.” It was a pivotal moment. He understood that he must exert some of his old authority over her or all would be lost.
The black hair, pulled back in a girlish ponytail, bobbed to one side while she considered his request. The grin had thankfully vanished. Without speaking, she reached into the omnipresent cross-body bag and withdraw a Yeti thermos. He recognized it from the warehouse; it was one he had designated as hers from the first week of her captivity. It had frequently held water, sometimes coffee, and occasionally hot chocolate — when he’d felt especially guilty about her captivity.
He tried not to picture all those Lizzy germs as he took greedy sips of cool water. “Thank you,” he said.
“It’s the least I can do. As far as prison wardens go, you weren’t too bad.”
“I had to restrain you. Surely you realize that.”
“I’m not sure that I agree, but we’ll shelve that conversation for another time. Stand, please.”
He did, but not without discomfort. During his time in the warehouse, he’d exercised daily, but even the fittest of individuals would feel near-crippled after being handcuffed and tied to a tree in forty-five-degree temperatures for hours.
“Now, walk in front of me. We’re going that way.” The ponytail dipped as Lizzy indicted a northerly direction.
“Where are you taking me? Is Fergus okay? What about the child?”
“So many questions.” The sly tone was back. He felt something hard poke his shoulder blade. Probably the SIG Sauer she’d taken from the warehouse.
“Please, Lizzy. Just tell me.”
After a dramatic sigh, she said, “They’re fine. For now. How long they stay that way largely depends on the Whitaker Holler hillbillies. There are rules, you know...” An odd undercurrent had replaced the sly tone.
“What do you mean?”
“Rules that govern my...behavior. My choices.”
“You mean your killings?”
“Yes.”
“Can you elaborate?”
“I can, but I won’t.”
“How far are we going?” he asked, almost tripping over some thorny vines. They seemed to reach up and grab his boots like living, malevolent barbed wire.
“Those are roundleaf greenbriers, a sub-species of the pervasive smilax,” Lizzy offered. She might have been a sixth-grade science teacher. “There are worse thorny plants in
