The boat rocked as the captain attempted to steer the vessel into a suitable port. The captain was able, barely, to steer the vessel into a slip just north of The Hawk, a community located on an island in Nova Scotia, Canada. They would need to wait out the storm there.
Jet awoke in pain. The medication she’d been given had worn off, and she felt flushed. Do I have a fever? It had been hours since anyone had bothered to check on her. No sign of that creepy old guy, the doctor, or anyone else. She had to use the restroom, and her arm was on fire. White-hot stabs of pain shot through her arm as soon as she tried moving it, even just a little. Jet screamed as loud as she could.
Several seconds later, a young boy entered the cabin. He was dark-skinned and wore a cap on his head. His outfit looked familiar, like a peasant out of a Middle Eastern spy show. He spoke in a language she couldn’t identify. She thought it sounded like Arabic. Jet tried to move her arms and legs but couldn’t.
“Help me!” Jet pleaded.
The kid didn’t move, frozen in indecision. A moment later, an older man came in. Jet recognized him immediately.
It’s the creep! The guy with his bullshit story about his daughter in college.
The boy spoke to the man in Arabic. The man replied, and the boy left in a hurry.
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“Untie me. I need to use the restroom,” Jet said.
The man just walked over and began stroking her blond hair.
Is he enjoying this? Jet thought.
“You remind me of my daughter,” Seymour said. “How I wish I could have saved her.” A tear rolled down the man’s cheek. A second or two later, he grinned.
Jet moaned and cried in pain. Seymour reached into his inside coat pocket and produced a rubber device that looked like a ball with a strap attached and then placed it in her mouth. He lifted her head as he snapped the elastic strap over it.
“Ummph,” Jet said.
She tried screaming, but only mumbled noises echoed.
“Stop this!” another man demanded.
Jet opened her eyes. He was a middle-aged man with dark hair and a goatee. He also had a British accent. She figured this was the doctor the creep had mentioned earlier.
“I thought you didn’t want the Sultan’s prize damaged,” the doctor said to Seymour.
“I—was only—” Seymour said. He couldn’t get the words out.
“You sick bastard,” the doctor said as he shoved Seymour out of the way.
Seymour exited the cabin. Jet thought she could hear the man sobbing.
Where am I? Jet thought as her eyes darted around the cabin. The doctor took the gag out, and then threw it across the room. Jet thought his expression was that of disgust.
“I’m Dr. Randy,” he said.
“I—have to go—” Jet said in a defeated voice.
“To the restroom?” the doctor said.
Jet nodded.
The doctor loosened Jet’s bonds. Jet uttered small cries of pain, grasping her bad left arm.
“Go. When you return, we will have lunch,” the doctor said. The doctor pointed to a dark, narrow hallway just off the room they were in. “Go down the hall. The lavatory is at the end of the hall, last door on the left.”
“What is your name?” asked Jet.
“My name is Randolph, but you may call me Dr. Randy,” the doctor said with a broad smile on his face.