Free Pahnyakin Rising by Elisha Forrester Page B

going to be able to get away from it.  It’s killed three of us already.”
    Dresden shivered.  Whatever they were talking about did not sound pleasant.  She began to realize her trial was something much more than a judge and jury.
    The girl could not find an alternative to showing the men either her bare front side or bare backside, so she chose the latter and did so with lightning speed.  As her rear end flashed and cold air touched her prickly skin, one of the men behind her whistled.  She rolled her eyes and almost fell to her face as she tried to pull her pants on one leg at a time.  Her swollen ankle made it difficult to get dressed and her thoughts traveled to the shin-high boots she was expected to wear.
    She motioned to the socks and shoes as she turned back towards Brent and Lyle.  “How am I supposed to wear these with my ankle the way it is?  I need a doctor.”
    Brent scoffed.  “It’s just a sprain.  Nothing you haven’t had before.  Just put ‘em on and lace ‘em up real tight and shut up so we can go.”
    The girl offered them a pouty stare.  She refused to waste any more time arguing what anyone was saying what had happened to her.  She knew for a fact she’d never sprained her ankle before.  Something wasn’t right.  Dresden briefly thought of a theory, but she could not entertain the silly idea.  Instead, she huffed and dropped her bottom to the floor.  She pulled on the mismatched socks and put on the left boot with no problem.  It was snug against her size seven foot.  With both hands, she tugged on the long laces until the top of the boot enclosed her lower leg.  She did the same with the right foot, but loudly sucked in cold air through her front teeth the entire time.  Her ankle throbbed.
    When she stood again, the hem of the unbuttoned flannel shirt reached the edge of her hips.  Surprisingly, the clothes were comfortable and hugged the curves of her body like they had already been broken in.  She ran her fingers through her hair and touched the pad of her index finger to the indents under her eyes, wiping excess streaked eyeliner on her jeans afterward. Dresden nervously picked at the white strands that stretched across a tear the size of her palm like she was plucking strings on an old guitar.
    “Go to the back wall and stand with your hands up in the air,” Lyle directed.   He drew a black pistol by its brown leather-wrapped handle and aimed it in her direction.
    “Holy crap,” she exclaimed.  “Why are you pointing a gun at me?  Are you crazy?”
    “Stand against the back wall and put your hands up.”
    “Okay,” she replied.  “Okay, I’m doing it.  Look.”  She walked backwards with a wince until her back hit the cold flat wall.  Her hands were stretched to the sky.  “I’m doing it.  Stop aiming at me.”
    The man nodded to Brent.  “Open the cage.”
    Brent approached the cell and opened the door.  He placed the keys to the cell in his pocket and drew his own pistol. 
    Lyle wriggled the fingers on his left hand.  “Walk this way, slowly.”  He looked towards the staircase and shouted.  “Need a few guards down here.  We’re coming up.”
    Dresden’s eyes bulged at how quickly the mood had changed.  The situation had escalated from tense questioning to five more men with pistols and shotguns leading her out of the stairwell.  Her arms ached from extending them far above her head.  A man in full riot gear walked backwards and in front of her.  He pointed a double barrel shotgun at her forehead and his finger hovered above a copper trigger.  His hands seemed unsteady and hesitant.  Dresden worried that the man would trip as he went up the stairs without looking and his finger would slip on the trigger.  A bead of sweat rolled from her hairline and down her forehead.  It made her skin crawl as it glided down her face and dripped off her chin.
    The man in front of her used the heel of his boot to kick the bottom of a rusted