Free Armageddon by Kaitlyn O'Connor

that damned cute and sexy!

    How was she supposed to create a diversion? And, supposing she thought of something, how was she supposed to keep from getting dead in the attempt?

    For that matter, supposing they managed to get out of the cell, this facility was a monster. They’d never get out of it alive.

    Maybe dead was better, but she wasn’t ready to accept that.

    She was still mulling the memories over, carefully avoiding the particulars about what Dax had done and focusing on what he’d said, when a sound suddenly jolted through her abstraction. Pushing herself up on the bunk, she saw a tray being shoved through the narrow space at the bottom on the wall next to the door.

    Her throat closed instantly with thirst. She’d been trying to ignore the effects of dehydration on her mouth and throat for hours--days, it seemed. When the hatch closed again, she eased off the bunk and headed toward the tray.

    It’s in the food!

    She stared at the bowl of disgusting brown muck and the bread for several moments and finally reached for the tumbler of water. After sniffing it suspiciously, she took a small sip.
    The tiny droplets of water on her tongue only increased her need to desperation, but she could detect nothing but water. After taking a couple of sips, she set the tumbler down with deliberation and waited to see if she felt any strange sensations creeping through her. Finally, deciding the water was safe if only because it would’ve been nearly impossible to lace it with anything that couldn’t be detected, she allowed herself a few more sips.
    The water was tepid and she longed for something cold, but at least it was wet.
    As the worst of her thirst passed, the temptation grew to use a little of the water to sooth her face and bathe her thighs. She didn’t know when she’d get anything else to drink, though.
    Finally, she carefully gathered the little bit of condensation that had formed on the outside of the vessel and patted her face gingerly. Blood had crusted beneath her cut lip and the little bit of moisture wasn’t enough to remove it.
     
     
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    She gave up after a few moments, knowing it was stupid to squander water her body desperately needed on the dubious comfort she would get from dabbing at the blood and dirt that smeared her bare skin.
    The filth of the place was torture enough for anyone with a fastidious nature.
    There’d been a time, in the dark past, when she and Nigel had lived on the streets, that she hadn’t given a thought to the filth she lived in. She could barely remember that time, though, mostly because she had tried hard to purge it completely from her memory after they had gone to live with Morris.
    Dismissing it with an effort, she stared at the food on the tray, trying to ignore the gnawing hunger in her belly--trying to dismiss the temptation to welcome the limited awareness the drugs in it would give her.
    She didn’t really want to have her wits about her, did she? Did she really want to experience the full measure of just how horrible this place was?
    She killed the urge to appease her hunger and embrace oblivion. She had to get out, she realized. Serving life wasn’t an option and the prospect of enduring this sort of hell for years was almost worse than the possibility of being killed outright.
     
     
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Chapter Five
    Lena was caught off guard and unprepared when they came for her again. The only thing that saved her from giving herself away at once was the fact that she was awakened abruptly from a deep sleep. Disoriented and uncoordinated from sleep, she was dragged from her bunk and hustled down the corridor to the tube lift before she was alert enough to realize luck had saved her so far, not her wit.

    The surge of fear driven adrenaline that pumped through her with enlightenment made it nearly impossible to maintain the pose of a drug induced stupor. She struggled with it, fighting to maintain her breathing, to make herself remain limp instead of trying to