15
An Unknowable Nasty
A sharp pain in my temple jogged me awake.
The hard metal under my hip and my cheek, the vibration and sway underneath me, and the street noises—I was in a car…a truck…the bed of a truck.
As the fog cleared from my head, I realized I was in trouble. Big, bad, kidnapped trouble.
Moving first my hands, then my legs, I found that I wasn’t bound. The blanket covering me crinkled as I investigated. Probably a tarp. That seemed odd.
And if I was in the bed of a truck, my bet was on the truck that had driven by when I’d been zapped. I’d bet serious cash on it.
I stretched out my hand to the right, searching for some sense of orientation—maybe the edges of the truck bed—and found nothing. I stretched my hand out to my left and bumped up against the warm flesh of anoth
