That Llama Gonna Spit by Julia Mills

Author:Julia Mills [Mills, Julia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0000000000000
Published: 2021-10-06T05:00:50+00:00

Chapter Eight

Eyes shooting open as big, muscled, and stupid took off like a shot, my upside-down view of the room flew past as I tried to scream for help. Sure, my mouth opened as wide as it would go, but no sound came out.

Taking a deep breath that made me dizzier than I already was, I gave it another try and damn it all to hell, got the same, sad, abysmal results. Summoning all my strength, I finally got my head to turn to the right just as I heard the door to the hallway banged against the wall.

What I saw stopped my heart. Lying in a crumbled heap on the floor with a bleeding gash across her forehead was Jenn. Tears stung my eyes as I tried with all my might to cry out, to move, to do anything to make sure she was okay. I was pissed, and scared, and don’t forget pissed – because I was mad as a wet hen and planning revenge. How could they do that? Why would they hurt my bestie? Why would they shove a black bag over my head? What the hell was happening?

It seemed like forever before the big lug with what I could only assume was more muscle than brains who’d thrown me over his shoulder and slapped my ass came to a screeching halt and my stomach hurt so bad I was considering barfing down his back. I knew I was traveling upside-down, in the dark, with all the blood rushing to my head.

Furthermore, I was unable to move anything, but my eyes and my legs had a serious case of the tingles from lack of blood flow. Also, and this is super important, I was totally sure that everything I was being subject to sucked more than oversleeping and missing at the Black Friday sale at Bergdorf Goodman.

The forward motion may have stopped, but there was still a menagerie of weird noises coming from all directions. I heard a creak followed by a loud bang that reminded me of two pieces of rusty iron crashing into one another. Then a squish and squeak that sounded like wet rubber soles of a pair of sneakers sliding on a cement floor. Finally, and this is the creepiest part, there was a scratching sound...a continual creepy scraping that reminded me of someone or something trying to dig its way out of a big ol’ pit.

While I was trying to discern which direction all the weird sounds were coming from, my captor decided it was time to beat the streets. Counting fifteen steps, I heard yet another rusty squeak...much closer than the others and infinitely louder.

No sooner did I have a bead on the direction of the last noise than I was hurled through the air. Landing on something hard and scratchy that smelled like old gym socks, the black hood was ripped from my head.

Rapidly blinking away the dark spots from the sudden blast of light, I caught just a glimpse of my abductor, as he slammed shut the aforementioned squeaky, iron bars.

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