Free The Nosferatu Scroll by James Becker Page B

through the waters of the lagoon, a part of what he’d overheard continued to nag at him. The radio broadcast to the sergeant had included the phrase “there’s been another.” This could mean only one thing: the blond-haired girl hadn’t had an accident; she had been the victim of foul play. And she hadn’t been the first.

11
    “Sit down,” the man holding the Taser instructed.
    Marietta knew she had to obey, so she nodded meekly and backed toward the bed.
    “What do you want?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice level, to sound unafraid, despite the abject terror that had her nearly paralyzed. She’d tried running; she’d tried fighting back. Neither had done her any good at all. The memory of the bolts of electricity she’d endured from the Taser still seared through her brain. She would do anything—almost anything—to avoid experiencing that agony again.
    “You’ll find out soon enough,” the man said, his voice indifferent, almost conversational. He gestured to the other man who’d accompanied him into the cellar, and who was carrying a laden tray. “Breakfast,” he added shortly, and instructed his companion to place the tray on the floor well within Marietta’s reach.
    She eyed the food hungrily. She was absolutely famished,but for the moment she didn’t move. She remembered reading somewhere that hostages—and to quiet her escalating terror she’d decided that she was, for whatever reason, a hostage—stood more chance of surviving their ordeal if they could establish some kind of rapport with their captors. With no other options, this seemed to be the only viable course of action she could take.
    “What’s your name?” she asked.
    The man with the Taser looked at her. “My name is not important,” he said, “and I don’t think you’ll be around long enough for us to become friends.”
    His words, and the light, almost careless manner with which he said them, sent a chill through Marietta, but she forced a smile onto her face. “My name’s Marietta,” she said.
    “I know. Marietta Perini,” the guard replied.
    Marietta felt a lurch of despair. She’d rationalized that perhaps she resembled someone else, that she’d been snatched by mistake, and that once her captors realized their error, she’d be released unharmed. The guard’s matter-of-fact statement meant that she’d been abducted for a specific reason, and she didn’t like to think what this reason might be.
    “Eat some food,” the guard instructed, pointing at the tray.
    “When I’ve finished,” Marietta said, “could I please wash?”
    “I’ll have a bucket of warm water brought down, with some soap and a towel. Anything else?”
    “Yes. Can you please, please, leave the light on, at least while I’m eating? Just to keep the rats and insects away.”
    The guard nodded; then he turned on his heel and walked out, his companion following.
    The moment Marietta heard the cellar door slam shut, she picked up the tray of food and attacked it ravenously. There were bread rolls, butter and preserves, a small plate of ham and cheese, a large glass of water, a cup of black coffee, two cubes of sugar and a plastic container of milk. She needed the water more than anything else, and drank it all in moments, then slowed down, taking her time over the rest of the meal. She ate every scrap, then poured the milk in the coffee and drank that. She didn’t put the sugar in the drink, but hid the cubes under the mattress, as a pathetic reserve, just in case they didn’t bring her anything else to eat or drink for the rest of the day.
    She scanned the tray for the last time, to see if there was anything she’d missed, or if there was anything on it that she could use as a weapon or a tool to try to free herself. But the only utensils she’d been given were a plastic knife, fork and spoon, and none of them would be of the slightest use to her. She replaced everything neatly on the tray, walked forward and put it down on