Charlie: The Gift That Keeps on Giving

Goddammit. Dammit dammit dammit. I just- I can't- agh- this-

Jesus Christ.

I knew this was a bad idea. I knew. But I just barreled on anyway, 'cause that's what I do, 'cause I'm a stupid dumbass idiot, aren't I?

And now I'm locked in a goddamn basement with Rhonda and Lindsay Lawrence looking at me like I've grown another goddamn head as I pace the floor and run out of swear words. Neither of them have said anything. I kind of don't blame them.

'Now what?' I growl, because there's literally no way I can see myself getting out of this one in anything other than a suitcase. Several suitcases. Or possibly even envelopes.

I'm unarmed. I've got no phone. No way of contacting anyone, and the last I heard, everyone's dead. Well okay maybe not everyone. Harrison's still okay, and Mendrick... Dave... Christ, if anyone's hurt him... If he's not... If he's...

Time for a new thought. Okay. Getting out of here. Breathe, Charlie. This is something you can do. Remember Colorado? Well this isn't nearly as bad. Not as bad. Then you only had a toothpick and a packet of lemon drops.

Okay, so what do I have right now? I look around the basement, which is badly lit (aren't they always?) with one strip of fluorescent lighting flickering from the ceiling that does almost nothing to ward off the encroaching shadows. It's pretty small, 4x5 at a guess, and other than me and the two other living organisms in the room, there's pretty much nothing. These guys know what they're doing, I'll give them that.

No, I won't. 'Cause they just kidnapped me, which was about the biggest damn mistake they could've made. Everyone will be out looking for me, and I mean everyone - more even than were looking for the Lawrences. And David... He'll be looking for me. He won't rest until he's found me.

Dammit. I sound like the biggest damn damsel in distress, which I'm not, okay, I just need a bit of a hand. Everyone needs a bit of a hand sometimes. Everyone.

I'm going to wear a hole in the floor in a minute so I stop pacing and lean against the wall. It's so cold it goes straight through my clothes, and it takes me a minute to realise that - oh, Jesus! - it's not cold, it's wet.

It's wet.

Why is it wet?

Which is around the same moment I notice the barred windows at the very bottom of the walls.

Oh, damn. We're near a river. In a basement. With wet walls. And windows.

And from the puddles beginning to appear on the floor, it looks like the tide's coming in.

Ain't that handy.

The End

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