the bed. The apparent reason for this was the IV line attached to his arm. His left, though, was completely free.
He had no idea what he was being fed from the bag hanging on the stand, but the idea of being both restricted and drugged did not appeal to him. He quickly worked the cuff open, turned the IV flow off, and pulled the tube out of the port on his arm.
His first stop was the dresser to see if there were any clothes to go with the T-shirt and underwear he’d been sleeping in. He found several pairs of jeans, more underwear, socks, and a whole drawer full of colored T-shirts. The bottom drawer even had two dark wool sweaters and a hooded pullover sweatshirt. The biggest surprise was that not only was everything new, it was all in his size, too. He got dressed.
Inside the armoire he found the boots he’d worn during his escape, and beside them, the messenger bag. A quick check of the bag showed that the only thing left was the money. What did he care, though? None of the contents had been his in the first place.
He pulled on the boots, laced them up, and walked over to the window. What greeted him was a surprise. It wasn’t the chaparral country where the mysterious Mike and Janice had picked him up, or even the desert. Instead, there was a mix of grassy fields and groves of evergreens. In the distance was a row of mountains.
The only structure in sight was way off to the left and only partially visible. It was big, though. Maybe a barn or large equipment shed. No way to tell for sure.
As for people, he saw none.
Where the hell am I?
He walked over to the door, put his ear against the wood, and listened. In the distance, he thought he could hear a low muffled conversation but that was about it.
He glanced back at the room. He could wait until somebody showed up, but he was done waiting so he opened the door.
“Thought I heard you moving around in there.”
Directly outside was a hallway about as wide as the room he’d been in. Sitting on a wooden chair against the far wall was a tan-faced man with the gentle creases of someone who’d spent more than his fair share of time outdoors. He had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair and a short mostly-salt goatee. Ash guessed he was in his fifties, early sixties at most. He was outfitted in jeans and a green flannel shirt.
The man pushed himself off the chair. “So how are you feeling?”
Ash glanced down the hallway. “Where am I?”
“You're safe, that's where you are.”
“Yeah, that's not really an answer.”
The man snickered. “No. No, I guess it's not.” He paused. “You're on the Hamilton Ranch. I’m Rich Paxton, but I go by Pax, mostly.” He held out his hand. “I help keep things running around here.”
Ash kept his hand at his side. “You're the one in charge?”
Pax shook his head. “No, that would be Matt. Matt Hamilton. It's his place. Well, his and Rachel's.”
“I want to talk to him right now.”
“That's convenient, because he wants to talk to you, too. Supposed to bring you to him when you finally got up. Which I guess is now.”
“Let’s go,” Ash said, ready to follow him.
Pax glanced down at the IV port still attached to Ash’s arm. “Should probably have Billy take a look at that first. Get that thing off you.”
“I'm fine.”
“Sure you are. But Billy's on the way, and it’ll only take a minute.”
Pax led him through several hallways, a large sitting room, up one flight of stairs, and past a dozen closed doors. Whatever kind of building this was, it certainly wasn’t small.
Finally, Pax stopped in front of an open door and stuck his head inside. “Billy?”
“Back here,” a voice replied.
Pax signaled Ash to follow him in.
The room was set up like a doctor's office, complete with examining table, cotton swabs, blood pressure cuff, tongue depressors, and all the other medical items you'd expect to find. There was also a computer monitor and wireless keyboard on the counter.
A door on the left
He had no idea what he was being fed from the bag hanging on the stand, but the idea of being both restricted and drugged did not appeal to him. He quickly worked the cuff open, turned the IV flow off, and pulled the tube out of the port on his arm.
His first stop was the dresser to see if there were any clothes to go with the T-shirt and underwear he’d been sleeping in. He found several pairs of jeans, more underwear, socks, and a whole drawer full of colored T-shirts. The bottom drawer even had two dark wool sweaters and a hooded pullover sweatshirt. The biggest surprise was that not only was everything new, it was all in his size, too. He got dressed.
Inside the armoire he found the boots he’d worn during his escape, and beside them, the messenger bag. A quick check of the bag showed that the only thing left was the money. What did he care, though? None of the contents had been his in the first place.
He pulled on the boots, laced them up, and walked over to the window. What greeted him was a surprise. It wasn’t the chaparral country where the mysterious Mike and Janice had picked him up, or even the desert. Instead, there was a mix of grassy fields and groves of evergreens. In the distance was a row of mountains.
The only structure in sight was way off to the left and only partially visible. It was big, though. Maybe a barn or large equipment shed. No way to tell for sure.
As for people, he saw none.
Where the hell am I?
He walked over to the door, put his ear against the wood, and listened. In the distance, he thought he could hear a low muffled conversation but that was about it.
He glanced back at the room. He could wait until somebody showed up, but he was done waiting so he opened the door.
“Thought I heard you moving around in there.”
Directly outside was a hallway about as wide as the room he’d been in. Sitting on a wooden chair against the far wall was a tan-faced man with the gentle creases of someone who’d spent more than his fair share of time outdoors. He had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair and a short mostly-salt goatee. Ash guessed he was in his fifties, early sixties at most. He was outfitted in jeans and a green flannel shirt.
The man pushed himself off the chair. “So how are you feeling?”
Ash glanced down the hallway. “Where am I?”
“You're safe, that's where you are.”
“Yeah, that's not really an answer.”
The man snickered. “No. No, I guess it's not.” He paused. “You're on the Hamilton Ranch. I’m Rich Paxton, but I go by Pax, mostly.” He held out his hand. “I help keep things running around here.”
Ash kept his hand at his side. “You're the one in charge?”
Pax shook his head. “No, that would be Matt. Matt Hamilton. It's his place. Well, his and Rachel's.”
“I want to talk to him right now.”
“That's convenient, because he wants to talk to you, too. Supposed to bring you to him when you finally got up. Which I guess is now.”
“Let’s go,” Ash said, ready to follow him.
Pax glanced down at the IV port still attached to Ash’s arm. “Should probably have Billy take a look at that first. Get that thing off you.”
“I'm fine.”
“Sure you are. But Billy's on the way, and it’ll only take a minute.”
Pax led him through several hallways, a large sitting room, up one flight of stairs, and past a dozen closed doors. Whatever kind of building this was, it certainly wasn’t small.
Finally, Pax stopped in front of an open door and stuck his head inside. “Billy?”
“Back here,” a voice replied.
Pax signaled Ash to follow him in.
The room was set up like a doctor's office, complete with examining table, cotton swabs, blood pressure cuff, tongue depressors, and all the other medical items you'd expect to find. There was also a computer monitor and wireless keyboard on the counter.
A door on the left
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