Read Online Reflex by Steven Gould - Free Book Online Page A

well. There was a persistent ache from the surgical scar on his upper chest and above, too, a tenderness that ran under the skin. Yet he had energy, too.
    So he took their masks off.
    One second he was reading in bed, the next he was standing at the extent of his chains, reaching out with both hands and closing on their masks just as the recoil from the chains reached his wrists. The chains, really, more than his own arms, snatched the paper masks off.
    They jerked back, the one holding the supper tray dropping it with a clatter. They stopped, out of reach and stared at him, startled, perhaps even afraid.
    He wasn't sure, but he thought he recognized one of them from the restaurant—one of the ambulance crew, a small-chinned man with blond eyebrows so white as to be almost invisible. The other man was a hook-nosed individual with bushy reddish brown eyebrows and freckles. Not young, though—in his forties, perhaps.
    Davy stared at them, hungrily. These were his enemies, but they were the first faces he'd seen in days, perhaps weeks. He had no idea how long he'd been drugged.
    The blonde held his hand to his cheek where a line of blood was forming. Davy must've caught him with a fingernail.
    "Sorry," Davy said, gesturing. The chains clanked again. "Didn't mean to gouge you."
    The computer voice came over the loudspeaker. "Leave the room, Gentlemen."
    They turned and left, without ever speaking.
    Davy sighed.
    The supper tray was lying out of reach, a small steak, baked potato, and salad, lying in a small lake of milk. Davy looked at the mirror. "Any chance of getting my supper?"
    There was silence, and Davy thought they were ignoring him, or hadn't heard, when the computer voice said abruptly, "I think... not."
    Davy shrugged philosophically and turned back to the bed. There was more plaster dust in the air and small chunks of Sheetrock on the floor. He went over to the holes in the wall that the chain ran through. He could see through to the other room, which was dimly lit, but he couldn't see where the chains went. They dropped down and vanished. When he tugged on one of them, it was as secure as ever.
    He got back on the bed and picked up the book.
     
    The next morning, things changed.
    They came before breakfast, right after he finished using the portable commode, three, in scrubs, unmasked.
    Two of them were the men he'd unmasked the night before. Two thugs. And I call them Thug One and Thug Two. The third was the brunette waitress from Interrobang.
    The woman who'd murdered Brian Cox.
    They stopped beyond the reach of his chains, Thug One and Thug Two slightly behind the woman. At first, Davy thought they were still cautious, wary of him because of his action the evening before, but then he realized it was more of a power dynamic.
    The woman was in charge and they were afraid of her.
    Wise. Very wise.
    He was torn. If he were free, he'd jump. Away? Or do I take her and drop her from the Empire State Building? And do I catch her before she hits?
    "Get off the bed," the woman said.
    Davy slid to the side and stood. For the first time in days he was conscious of the open-backed gown and his bare butt. Standing felt safer, anyway. He noted that her hair was pulled back in the same tight bun and her makeup was just as heavy, though not running, this time, like it did in the rain. If she shoots, perhaps I can jump to one side—
    The chains started clanking across the floor, pulling back into the wall, removing the slack. He had to shuffle backwards to keep up with them. When they stopped, he tugged, but they weren't just being held by someone—they'd been secured somehow, in this tighter configuration.
    "Okay, move it." She wasn't talking to Davy, this time. Thug One and Thug Two pulled the bed away from the wall—away from Davy—then unlocked the casters and rolled it to one side.
    Davy didn't like the look of this—being held up against the wall brought back memories of his father and a flashing rodeo buckle at the