…What’s My Game?
By Daniel T. Stevens
Copyright 2009 by Daniel T. Stevens
The woman woke with a terrific head ache, no doubt after-effects of the chloroform which had put her to sleep. She had awakened several times during the long ride to wherever she was now, but soon fell asleep again. The drug had worn off, but the after-effects remained.
She never had a good sense of direction, but she was sure she was no longer in Florida—perhaps Alabama, or Georgia. She tried to look around, but couldn’t move too much because her hands and feet were securely tied. Whenever she did try to move, the ropes cut into her skin causing pain and bleeding.
Light seeped under the door and through cracks between the wall boards of the old barn; however, it was enough light for her to see the floor around her was strewn with hay mixed with liberal amounts of dust. Whenever she moved she wound up with dust in her nose, causing her to have a sneezing fit. With no hands free, she couldn’t blow her nose, and sniffling only made matters worse.