Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
I let out a deep breath and come around the side of the harbor master’s shed just as the bell at the gas dock rings. I cock my head to the side, there’s a large speedboat tying off. Even from here, I can see it’s an orc-sized boat. The hairs on my neck prickle, there’s not much need for fancy speed boats with orcs at the wheel around here. They are not known for their love of watersports, but it’s not out of the question either to have outsiders drift in for gas.
“Help you?” I ask, sizing up the two orc occupants. They’re wearing long, orc sized Henley-style shirts. One in black jeans the other in khakis. It’s still hard for me to digest the what are called the ‘progressives’. Orc’s that have adopted more of a human style and culture. The mixture of an orc body in human clothing still makes my brain short circuit. But, if they’ve got that boat, they’ve got to have money and that’s something in short supply around here.
“Gas up.” The one in the gray shirt grunts while the other one steps onto the dock, the boards creaking under his weight as he pulls a line to a cleat next to the gas pump.
“Cash? We only take cash.” I say, noting the way the one of the dock keeps his eyes on me, while the other one keeps glancing toward the house.
“Yes. Cash.” The one standing next to the pump answers, his red eyes on me and the muscles down my back tighten.
I swallow and extend my hand toward the gas pump which he’s blocking. He’s usual orc height, I’d say a little over seven feet, the other one still in the boat about the same.
“Cut the engine,” I say, tugging the handle for the pump and stepping toward the rear of the boat to access the gas cap.
“No cut engine.” The one in the boat answers, jaw hard as he looks at his partner and my Spidey-senses prickle.
“No cut engine, no gas.” I step back, one fist on my hip, the other gripping the handle, ready to spray their uncooperative asses with unleaded.
The one behind me laughs. Orc laughter is so odd. It’s a choking, grunting harsh sound, not one that makes you want to join in.
“Vlakengath,” I hear him say and I have no idea what that means but something about his tone turns me cold.
“Listen,” I start, ready to lay down the law the way I’ve had to do with assholes so many times in my life. I sigh, trying to hold my temper as I lock eyes with the one in the boat. “It’s cut the—"
The slap of a palm covers my mouth and most of my face.
There’s no time to scream. I’m pulled away as I squeeze the nozzle and go full on honey badger on this asshole.
There’s no light, hands grip my legs as I thrash and kick but it’s no use. The nozzle is pulled from my grip. My legs are strapped together, something cuts into the flesh of my wrists as the engine on the boat groans and revs. I’m gagged, blindfolded and handed from one set of hands to the other, then laid on what I assume is one of the benches on the boat as I buck and twist. The engine roars as the spray of water chills my hot skin.
The engine and the wind make it impossible to hear what they are saying. There’s low grunts, but I can’t make out any detail. I’m not afraid, I’m waiting. And furious. Paying attention as I bounce on the seat cushion where I’m now strapped.
I calm my heartbeat, steady my breathing. If they want to scare me, they’re going to be fucking disappointed. My mother taught me when I was young, the world is going to be harder on me because I was a girl and she made sure, in her own way, I was prepared. I can’t say we had the softest, most loving relationship. She was from Cuba and her own history was mostly a mystery, but I do know, she came to this country on a boat. Barely alive. She always told me, I will never know what determination is until I’m called to rise. Then, being prepared is part of what will carry you through, the other part is sheer will.
She did her best to prepare me. She was hard on me, but it turned me into who I am, and one thing her tough lessons taught me, is never be afraid.
The motor cuts out and my ears ring. I’m cursing around the gag as I’m lifted and carried, then dropped into what feels like the back seat of a car. I twist my head against the back of the seat, over and over dislodging my blindfold as the back door of what looks like an orc-sized Bentley closes with the two Henley-wearing orcs standing on the outside.