I woke up with a headache. The doctor would tell me the cause was dehydration, and the psychiatrist would tell me it was stress. I would say it was from the large rock on which my head had been dropped.
Some inattentive person dumped a cup of water on me. I saw it coming, however, and refused to give whoever-it-was the satisfaction of seeing me sputter awake.
Confused, the person nudged me with his shoe. I wasn't in the best of moods, so I grabbed his ankle and pulled him down. Then I sat up -slowly, so as not to aggravate my headache. I was at some sort of camp. Off to one side was an old man with a gray beard, seemingly asleep, while suddenly standing over me was a tall, muscled man sticking a gun in my face.
The person I had pulled over was a young man, brown-haired and blue-eyed, looking dazed as he regained his feet. Then again, the fellow looked perpetually dazed.
Once the warrior had ascertained that the young man was unharmed, he took the gun away from my nose. A little.
“What's your name?” he said gruffly.
“Dingle,” I said in a way that could be taken as disrespectful. In return, I got a hit in the head.
“You're in no position to mess around. Who are you?”
“Dingle,” I said again.
This time, warrior-dude grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and pulled me up to his eye level. He hadn't been eating breath mints.
“One more answer like that,” he growled, “and I'll make you the home of a bullet.”
I bit my lip against saying, “Does it want tea?” and said, “Trax.”
The warrior looked me over briefly, grunted something that wasn't complete disapproval, and dropped me.
“I'm Nicholas. But you can call me Nick.” The young man put out his hand before my world had stopped spinning.
“Hi.” I sat up, hoping I could actually stay in that position longer than a few minutes. “Why am I here?”
“Who knows for what purpose we have arrived?” the old man said, now obviously awake and having made his way a bit closer. I looked at him with some annoyance.
“An excellent point,” I said. “You go on and figure that out.”
“Are you the one Tohlie said would come?”
“Come again?” I looked at Nick, who seemed way too eager about my arrival.
“Tohlie said someone would be coming to help us.”
“Define 'help'. And how do you know Tohlie?”
“She told us we had something to do out here. Aren't you going to help us?”
I paused.
“I want to talk to Tohlie.”
“But she's not here.”
“Then where is she?”
“She said she'd be back in -” Nick began, but the warrior took a break from cleaning his weapons and slapped a hand over his charge's mouth.
“How do we know you're not a spy?” he growled at me.
“What has Tohlie said about me?”
“Nothing,” the warrior snapped.
“But you haven't let me -” Nick began again, but the warrior glared at him.
“Let me guess,” I said. “She doesn't tell you anything unless you specifically ask her.”
Nick was in agreement, but the warrior was more reluctant in his acquiescence.
“How do you know who she is?”
“I was the ringbearer at her wedding,” I said, exasperated. “What do you think? We worked together!”
“Then why do you think she'd be here?”
“She set this up!”
At this. Nicholas and the warrior exchanged confused glances.
“Set what up?” the warrior asked after an awkward pause.
“I think I'll let her explain.”
Nicholas and the warrior looked around as if she was there.
“When she comes back,” I added.
Tohlie rarely asked questions -for good reason; she knew everything she'd ever need to know. If she didn't -well, she knew how to watch and learn. So she didn't ask anything.
It really couldn't be more obvious right now what we were talking about, but for whatever reason, Tohlie didn't speak. I wish she'd have helped explain it sooner. But she waited.
“Until then, I'll just leave you tied so you don't get into trouble.” The warrior picked up a roll of duct tape.
“Tohlie, help!” was all I got out before the man grabbed me. The tape was on my mouth when I heard Tohlie say, quietly, “It's alright, Lend. Let go of him. I can explain.”
I wasn't entirely quiet when Lend yanked the tape off.
“Tohlie, what's been going on? What happened at HQ?”
She wasn't in her office suit. A dark green shirt, brown pants. Hair still in that painful-looking bun, though. I looked down at myself. I was still in the pajamas and socks I'd been in however many nights ago, and although someone had put a a coat on me, I looked much the worse for wear.
“How long has it been?”
“Two days, sir. We've kept you drugged,” she said plainly.
“What's going on? Where are we?”
“In the forest, sir. We're going to a place that's a few days away, and waking you was easier than carrying you.”
“Another calculation?” I rubbed my face from where Lend had ripped off the tape, and probably the top layer of skin. “Where exactly are we going? And why?”
“You'll see when we arrive, sir."