Count All Her Bones by April Henry

Author:April Henry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)

CHAPTER 20

RUN AWAY SCREAMING

CHEYENNE

Cheyenne heard Jaydra’s voice in her head. A small amount of adrenaline can help you. Too much prepares you to die.

When she had set out to save Griffin, Cheyenne’s adrenaline must have been in what Jaydra said was the yellow zone, which left you ready to fight, but still able to think. Once the men showed up, she had entered the red zone, her body no longer analyzing, just reacting. Now she lay curled on the metal floor of the van, a fine tremble washing over her. Without urgency, Cheyenne thought she must be moving into the gray zone, where she would be unable to think, and barely able to act.

She vaguely knew that she needed to get things under control before she went into the black zone, where she would lose even gross motor skills. Jaydra said the black zone was meant to be protective, your body’s last-ditch effort to keep you from being noticed, or at least from doing something stupid. She would be frozen, in shock. Unable to do anything while the men could do whatever they wanted to her.

That thought finally reached Cheyenne. The idea of TJ touching her, murmuring into her ear the way he had six months ago, shot through her like an electric shock. No! She couldn’t let that happen.

The antidote to adrenaline is oxygen, Jaydra whispered in her head. Remember your four-count breathing. Four counts in, hold four counts, four counts out, hold four counts. It would stop her adrenaline from spiking to the point where it rendered her useless.

Cheyenne forced herself to breathe from her belly until she stopped shaking, stopped hearing her heartbeat slamming in her ears. She twisted her hand until she could check her Braille watch. It was a few minutes after two in the morning. She had been in the back of the van for about twenty minutes.

With a groan, she pushed herself to a sitting position. She needed to get out of these handcuffs before the men opened the door to the van. Jaydra had warned her about what she called the increasing quality of incarceration. First you’re in handcuffs in the trunk of a car. Then you’ll be in a locked room chained by your ankle to a bed. Every time you change locations, it will be harder to escape. So the sooner you do, the better.

Jaydra said the first step was to take stock of what you had on hand that you could use to help yourself. But Cheyenne didn’t have anything. Her purse was up front with the men. The fob, which was heavy enough it might have had some utility, was back in the car. In the pockets of her raincoat were just her folded cane, some plastic bags for dog poop, and a handful of kibble.

Kibble made her think of Duke, of how he had died trying to protect her. She forced herself to blink away the tears. She didn’t have time for them now.

Jaydra always carried a handcuff key tucked behind the label on her pants, held in place with Velcro.

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