He found it almost by accident. He rolled onto his right side and there it was. A nail, lying in a small groove along the concrete floor. It was so small he would have missed it if he hadn’t laid his head down just a foot from it. It was brown and rusted over, but nails were nails, and they were usually strong.
Josh scrambled back up to a sitting position and picked up the nail. It was so small it almost slipped from his fingers.
He looked at the nail, then at the retainer block of the zip tie, before cautiously positioning the sharp point between the strap and the interior wall of the retainer block. With the ball of his forefinger, he pushed the nail in and felt both strap and block resisting. He pushed harder and felt pain against his finger. He kept pushing, almost willing the nail through the slot, and was finally rewarded when the nail sank a full quarter of the way down.
From there, it was easier to get the nail down another half inch. Then three quarters. With the nail now firmly lodged between the strap and the retainer block, Josh pushed his right wrist downward against the strap.
The strap didn’t move at first — then slowly but surely, it went down half an inch. That was enough for Josh to slip his right hand free, and he had to restrain himself from shouting out in triumph.
Suck on that, mofos!
He hurriedly pulled the nail out of the retainer block and used it to free his left hand. He did the same to the zip tie around his ankles, then pushed himself to his feet. He did it too fast and stumbled, almost fell, but caught himself on his knees just in time. He got up again, this time more slowly.
Nail in hand, Josh hurried over to Will. He thought about freeing Gaby first, but that was the soft, gooey part of him talking. The tough, hardened part of him knew he needed help. Freed or not, he wasn’t going to be able to take on Tom or Marcus — or hell, even Karen — by himself if they showed up now. Not wearing boxers and armed only with a nail, anyway.
Josh checked the doors again, in case all of his rolling around had attracted attention. Still good to go.
Will was where Josh had last seen him, resting on his side in his boxers, hands zip-tied behind his back. “Will,” Josh said, crouching over him. When that didn’t work, he said louder, “Will, wake up.”
That didn’t work, either.
Josh thought about it, then tapped Will lightly on the cheek. “Will, wake up.”
Nothing. Josh really thought about it this time, then slapped Will across the cheek. He was prepared to jump back if Will woke up and swung at him. But he didn’t have to because the slap did nothing.
Will didn’t even stir.
Josh felt for Will’s pulse, just to be sure, and found it. There. He really was just asleep, and Josh had no idea how to wake him up. In the movies, all you had to do to wake someone who had been drugged was tap them on the cheeks. Or say their name loud enough. That wasn’t going to happen here. He had done both those things, even the slapping part, which had terrified him.
So now what? Maybe if he could splash water on Will’s face. That usually worked in the movies, too. Of course, he didn’t have any water…
Josh was trying to find ways around this new problem when he heard noises.
Footsteps!
He scrambled up and darted across the room toward the door the footsteps were approaching. He was suddenly very glad he was barefoot, because he made almost no noise as he ran. He flattened his back against the wall next to the door and held his breath.
He listened to the footsteps getting closer. Was it his imagination or did it sound like the person was moving fast, almost urgently? Or maybe it was just his heart racing, making his entire body vibrate against the wall, all the way down to the cold floor.
The floor was so cold. Why was it so cold? Oh, right, he wasn’t wearing shoes.
The doorknob jingled and began turning clockwise. It looked like it was moving in slow-motion, rotating barely an inch per second, but that was just his mind playing tricks on him. The doorknob opened at the same speed that all doorknobs opened, but at that moment, standing there pressed against the door in his boxers, trying to remember to breathe, everything looked like it took forever to process, even the delicate, thin flakes of dust floating through the moonlight in front of him.
Then the door was opening and Josh saw a flash of skin and shirt and pants and before he knew it, Josh had thrown himself forward and into the figure, catching the person around the waist. They both went sprawling to the floor, and Josh heard the sound of something metallic clattering. He managed to look up and saw a small knife spinning along the floor, away from them.
Josh scrambled up on top of the person, raising himself slightly, and he thought, I’m about to hit someone. Oh God, I hope I’m doing this right¸ and cocked back his right hand as far as it would go.
He was ready to deliver the blow, to smash down with righteous indignation, when the person under him looked over their shoulder and Josh heard a female voice through the adrenaline flowing through him like a loud, rushing river.
“Josh, stop!”
Josh froze and looked down at Sarah’s frightened face. “Sarah?”
“It’s just me,” she said, looking up at him, trying to catch her breath.
Josh’s right hand remained cocked. Sarah was one of them, one of the people who had lured them here and fed them and laughed with them and drugged them. She was the one who had brought out the glasses with the wine.
She was reading his face, terrified at what she was seeing. “I came back to help, Josh! Please, I only came back to help!”
He glanced over at the knife.
She followed his gaze, understood. “I was going to cut you free. And then the others. I swear, Josh, I only came back to help.”
He hesitated. Was she telling the truth? Could he even trust her? He had pleaded with her earlier because he’d had no choice. But he had the upper hand this time…
So this is what it feels like to be on top for once.
“Why?” he asked, keeping his body on top of her. She hadn’t tried to get away, so that was encouraging.
“I thought about what you said. I can’t keep doing this anymore. It’s not right.”
“We’re not the first ones…”
“No.” He could hear sadness in her voice. It was genuine. Either that, or Sarah was the greatest actress who ever lived.
Make a choice!
He did, and climbed off her. Sarah looked relieved and picked herself up from the floor. Josh offered his hand and she took it. “Are the others coming?”
“No, they’re asleep. Except Tom. He doesn’t sleep very much. He’s up in the Tower, where he always is.”
“Can he see us from there?”
“No, I don’t think so. The ballroom is toward the other side of the hotel.” She paused, then said, “How did you get out of the zip ties?”
“I used a nail.”
“A nail?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow.”
“Why?”
“No one’s ever gotten out of those zip ties before. But then no one’s ever woken up before, either. Are you…immune to it or something?”
“That depends. What is ‘it’?”
“It’s a form of Rohypnol.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“What?”
“Rohyp-what?”
“Rohypnol,” Sarah said. “People call it roofies.”
“I knew it. The date-rape drug thing.”
“It’s not pure Rohypnol,” she said, almost defensively. “I adjusted it a bit.”
“Whatever.” He walked over to the knife and picked it up. “Whose idea was the drug in the wine bit?”