Slow Burn, Chapter 8/21

CHAPTER EIGHT

At first, Virginia thought she was dreaming.  It was as though she had been curled up on a fluffy, stainless cloud, which was now breaking up in flyaway tufts as consciousness returned.  She felt like she remembered a headache, but it seemed far off.  Much more immanent was the pleasant sensation of someone gently massaging her chest.  It felt heavenly, and she nuzzled her head and sighed.  “Mmmm…”

As consciousness began to gain the majority, however, thoughts of uncertainty began to penetrate the cloud.  Mmm…who’s…hm…doing that?  Then she realized the feeling was unprecedented – she had never let anyone do this to her before.  She’d lost her only boyfriend to date – of extremely short duration – for refusing to let him do this very thing.  Her brow furrowed.  What’s…mm…going on?  Then she realized the touch was quite cold, and was in fact drawing her out of sleep.  And the headache was returning, too.

Virginia opened her eyes to find herself staring into a black mask, mere inches from her face.  She was propped up in a sitting position, clad in nothing but her simple white bralette and matching bottoms.  The intruder’s ice-cold hands were on her breasts.  In an instant, all of it – the break-in, the confusion, the terror – came flooding back.

The young medic screamed, jerked fully upright, and scrambled away, recoiling in fear.  She didn’t stop retreating until her back hit the side wall of the kitchenette.  “Wh – what are you doing??”

The tall man turned his head as she moved, but didn’t immediately stir from his squatting pose.  “Relax, babe, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Virginia drew her knees up and crossed her arms over her chest.  The shy girl was almost always painfully self-conscious, but this took the feeling to a whole new level.  She looked tearful.  “What’s going on?” she whispered meekly, almost to herself.

The man worked his way over.  “Oh, you’re just mixed up in something that doesn’t really concern you at all.  Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”  He plopped himself down uncomfortably close to her.  “But right now we need you.  Boss asked me to wake you up.  That’s why I untied you.”  He gestured around the rest of the room, and for the first time Virginia noticed what had become of her companions.

Every one of the girls she saw was bound and inert.  Lieutenant Thompson was tied by her wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of one of the kitchenette’s wooden chairs.  Her head lolled to one side.  Another chair held Antonia, who was done up in similar fashion, placed back to back with the lieutenant.  Her head drooped forward, dark curtains of hair hiding her face.  Both were further restrained by a single loop of rope which bound them together, secured around their arms at the elbows and passing just beneath their breasts.

On the other side of the room Augusta was restrained in the same rolling office chair which had carried her there during the initial attack.  Since the chair had no arms, her upper limbs had been pulled back and secured behind the seat.  Her feet had been drawn back and crossed at the ankles behind the single column of the chair assembly before being bound as well.  Next to her was Candy Carmichael, who had been at the front desk a short time ago.  She was suspended in the air by a rope lashed around her crossed wrists and looped over one of the exposed pipes on the ceiling.  Her knees were slightly bent, as much as the length of the rope would allow, but she hung languidly by her wrists.  Virginia could see red chafe marks already forming.

All seemed to be alive, at least.  No point in tying up a corpse.  Virginia sent up a silent prayer of gratitude for that much.  But the fact did little to lessen the dire tenor of the overall situation.

The man’s next words snapped her back to the conversation.  “Smelling salts weren’t working on you, so…”  He motioned to the ice tray on the floor, which he had removed from the fridge.  “Figured I’d try something different.”  He sniggered.

She couldn’t look him in the eye.  “You said you…need me?”  She shivered reflexively.

“For the injured folks.”

“Injured?”  Virginia’s ears pricked up with worry, and she wondered again about the fate of those who weren’t in the room.  “Who’s injured?”

“Come and see.”  He stood and walked from the kitchenette to the adjoining nap room.

There were halfway amenable dormitory accommodations upstairs, but the first floor also had this small room, packed with a few basic cots.  It reminded Virginia of the bunk rooms used by doctors and nurses in the larger hospitals.  That way tired firefighters could take a catnap while food was being prepared, or while on standby.  But the two figures now lying on the cots definitely weren’t catnapping.

The first, Virginia realized with horror, was her paramedic partner Marguerite.  “Rit!”  She rushed and knelt by the bedside, gasping softly as she explored the Hispanic girl’s wounds.  The senior paramedic’s neck was marred with dark welts and red ligature marks.  She was breathing – barely.

Even as she continued her assessment, Virginia muttered under her breath.  “Jesus…what have you done to her?”

The tall man retorted defensively.  “Hey!  I didn’t do nothing!  That was Ybarra.  Hung her something fierce before he let her down.”

Much as she wanted to attend exclusively to her friend, Virginia tore her eyes away and checked her other patient.  Triage first…  The other was the cute cameraman the reporter had brought with her – and he was in bad shape too.  Breathing, erratic…skin, clammy…  "How did this happen?”

“Look, I didn’t know the fella had epilepsy when I tased him, alright?”

Epilepsy?  “Jeez.”  He’s probably had a seizure.  She stood and faced the intruder, with no trace of self-consciousness now.  “These people need to be taken to a hospital right away.”

He shook his head.  “No can do, babe.”

Virginia’s voice rose in tone, surprising her a little.  “I don’t think you understand.  If they don’t receive proper care soon, they could–“

He cut her off.  “No, I don’t think you understand.”  He pulled out a pistol and aimed it at her forehead.  “You’re the fucking hospital.  Savvy?”

The medic stared down the barrel of the gun, and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead.  She gulped.  “Savvy.”

She sat down on the edge of Rit’s cot and took her friend’s hand.  Inwardly she quailed.  Rit had been mentoring her for the last six months; Virginia was used to having her coolheaded experience to rely upon.  Now how was she supposed to take sole care of her and a seizure victim, all at gunpoint?  Virginia shut her eyes and felt like crying.

Suddenly, a strong voice reared up inside her own head.  Enough of that.  You’ve got a job to do, like any other day.  Shut up and do it.

Her brown eyes opened again – calmer now – and she spoke with resolution.  “I’ll need my bag.  It’s stowed in the second half-height compartment from the bottom, on the left in the rear cab of Engine 49.”

The man looked befuddled.  “Second half-height…”

The girl gritted her teeth.  “Ugh.  Just take me to it.  You’re wasting minutes these people don’t have.”  She stood and impatiently flicked her eyes toward the doorway.

His mouth hung open momentarily, while he tried to decide whether to be affronted or chastened.  Finally he chose the latter.  “Alright.  Come on then.”  He strode out.

Virginia gave Rit’s hand a reassuring squeeze, and wished she could feel one back.  Then she laid the hand down and followed the intruder at a brisk pace.