Sealed In Lies by Kelly Abell Page B

of my gun butt. You’re not an easy man to drop, Jacko. It took a couple of times but you finally went down like a rock. You probably have a concussion so I wouldn’t move around too much if I were you.”
    Jack opened his mouth to speak but no words would come out. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper. The man’s face was hidden in shadow, but he knew that voice. His memory would not work. He couldn’t get his foggy brain to move beyond the pain. The man rose and left the sobbing woman. Jack watched the approaching combat boots and struggled harder to free himself. It was hopeless.
    “ It’s no use Jack. You’re not going anywhere. You’re trussed up like a Christmas turkey.” The man laughed menacingly.
    The boots were within an inch of Jacks nose and he looked up. His eyes followed the length of the man’s body, which seemed to go on forever, until he met his face. It was covered by a black ski mask. He couldn’t see his captor’s face, but he didn’t need to. He knew that voice, if he could only remember. The frustration of it caused him to fight his bindings again. He writhed on the floor like a salted slug.
    “ You should have left well enough alone, Jack.”
    He saw the boot move and tried to get out of the way. Another white-hot pain exploded across his face as the heel of the boot fractured his nose. Everything went black.
    Jack’s eyes popped open and he found himself in a darkened room, breathing rapidly. A sickening yellow glow from a street lamp outside filled the room. He moved his arm and found it free of its bindings. He moved his legs and a sharp pain brought him more fully awake. He shook his head to clear his confusion. A moment ago it was his head hurting, now his head was okay but his leg hurt like a son of a bitch. What the hell?
    Realization dawned slowly. The dreams. They were starting again. He hadn’t had them for months and now they were back. He raised himself up on his elbows and looked around the room. He saw the dingy walls, the small kitchenette, the table with its one chair, and realized he was in D.C. in his safe house. He dropped back down on the mattress and sighed. He felt slightly better knowing where he was and that what he just experienced was only a dream. He just couldn’t figure out what these dreams meant. The painkiller he had taken for his leg had not completely worn off and he was growing sleepy again. He gave in to the quiet blackness.
    Jack was standing in a long hallway filled with swirling fog. He was no longer bound but standing on his legs. His head still hurt and he reached up and felt a lump the size of a golf ball at his right temple. He winced as his fingers explored the injury. He’d been hit, that was it. Someone wearing a ski mask had said he had a concussion. He was also having a difficult time breathing through his nose. Shit, that hurt too. It was broken. He felt like a train had hit him.
    Where was he now? It looked like a hospital corridor. Was he in the hospital? His head sure felt like he should be. His fingers continued to gingerly explore the base of his skull and he found another huge knot. He felt something warm and sticky. Blood. He was bleeding. Damn.
    “ Jack.” It was no more than a mere whisper.
    Jack’s head snapped up. Had he just heard someone call his name?
    “ Jack?” It was slightly louder this time and floating toward him from the end of the hallway.
    He shivered at the sound of the woman’s ghostly voice. He squinted in the direction of the fog, but could see no one.
    “ Come here, Jack.”
    He moved slowly in the direction of the voice. His legs felt like lead as he started down the corridor, as if he were pushing against some unseen force. That was okay with him. He really didn’t want to go anywhere near that creepy voice; although he was compelled to keep moving. It was like passing a bad car accident and knowing he shouldn’t look, but he just can’t help it.
    Suddenly, he was in front of two