August 20, 2056 – Captivity
Davis awoke with a start; she was cold, clammy and her head pounded with a pain worse than anything she had ever known before. Davis tried to reach up to her head to wipe some of the sweat away. However, she was unable, quickly seeing her hands tied down to the bed. She moved her legs a little bit and found her legs were tied down as well. Davis tried to strain her eyes; in the middle of the ceiling, a dull bulb emitted a pale yellowish light, but it wasn’t enough to see much. Confusion swirled around her—where was she? What was this? It took a few seconds for her to remember, and then she gasped as she remembered and simultaneously realized there was no blue light. Nothing to kill the germs, nothing to protect her from whatever was in this room she found herself in.
Quinn walked into the room. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”
Davis scoffed. “Am I okay! How am I feeling?” she yelled, even though it made her head pound even worse. “Are you kidding me? You’re crazy! You kidnapped me! And now, I am in extreme danger. Just let me go, let me go now, and I won’t turn you in for anything. You should, however, consider turning yourself in for your betterment.”
Quinn gave Davis a minute to get out what she needed to get out; she knew how this felt, the confusion and being so scared. “I promise you; you’re all right. You are not in danger at all. I brought you some water. I can help you drink—”
Davis stepped over Quinn’s words. “You are insane. I will not have anything to do with anything you give me,” Davis said with angry indignancy.
Quinn patiently waited. “I know this is scary. I again promise you, you’re okay. I’ll come to check on you in a little bit, but you should think about having some water.”
Davis snorted and glared; if she could only throw daggers with her eyes, she would kill that hateful girl.
Davis eventually drifted into sleep, of sorts. She kept waking up and would try her arms and legs for movement, hoping that what was happening was a nightmare and not reality. She did notice that her throat was dry and scratchy, but it wasn’t just her throat. It felt as if a vile fire was smoldering at the bottom of her lungs, the smoke rising up her throat, irritating it, drying it out, and leaving an acrid taste. Poisoned or not, that water was sounding better and better. She imagined it being ice cold, refreshing, and soothing. She thought she might start crying, something she never did. She had never been in so much pain or had been so confused. Her pleasantly laid out life was, in her opinion, well-appointed. And she never had any concerns before now. However, thinking and deducing hadn’t exactly been a part of her daily life. Sure, she had to occasionally figure things out, for example, at work, decide what room to put people in, but her computer would always show her what spaces were vacant, so even that wasn’t a deep thought. She decided to stop thinking; that was much easier. But thoughts kept creeping in, and one was that the girl didn’t return as she had promised. It gave her enough time to figure out that the water was probably safe; if that insufferable girl were going to kill her, it wouldn’t likely be by poisoning her water.
Finally, after what seemed like hours to Davis, Quinn came back in the room and quietly spoke. “Hello, Davis. I’m just checking on you and wanted to see if you felt like any water now.”
Anger had dwindled in Davis as her thirst had increased. She simply had no energy to growl and fight. She let out a big sigh, and even that made the fire in her throat flame up with scratch and burn. “Yes, I would like some water,” she got out in a dry voice. She purposely left off the please, and that gave her a bit of self-satisfaction.
Quinn walked over to the bed and tipped the cup to Davis’s lips. Davis noticed that her lips felt dehydrated and parched. She rolled her eyes at the thought of being given this water by this horrible girl, being taken care of like a child, and the water was room temperature.
It was as if Quinn read her mind. “My name is Quinn, by the way. I know this must seem scary and weird to you, and for that, I’m sorry. I promise it will all make sense soon.”
Davis just simply had nothing else in her to fight this, to argue anything. She did manage to ask if it was possible to get colder water, though.
Quinn replied, “Honestly, room temperature is better right now. The cold will upset your stomach. And, I hate to say it, but you are about to get sick. Very, very sick. You will not die; remember that. But you will feel like you are dying. Every comfort we can give you, you will need it. I’m going to bring you some food in a minute. We do not have nutrition biscuits here, so we’ll start with simple foods that will be easier on your system.”
Quinn left the room but came back after a few minutes. She sat next to the bed and very patiently fed Davis some dry crackers that were not that far different from nutrition biscuits and a few spoons of rice and applesauce and, in between, sips of room temperature water. At first, Davis hesitated to eat anything, but hunger took over, and she relented after a
