CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Isabel Smith
The back of my head is throbbing viciously.
Biting down my moan, I try to resist the urge to throw up as my consciousness flickers. I'm laying on a hard surface and I vaguely wonder when I fell off the bed.
I remember I couldn't sleep.
Hearing low voices, I open my eyes but I only see a wooden wall, like the one in my barrack. Frowning, trying to think past the headache, I hear a familiar voice snarl, "Do I have to do everything for you fools? You had one job!"
My memory comes flooding back and panic soon follows. My hands are tied in front of me, my legs unbound. But whatever they've used to tie me up is burning my skin and is leaving me feeling weak. I can barely lift my head. However, despite the pounding headache, I can hear just fine.
"You had one job!" Susan sounds furious. "I told you to follow Ferguson!"
"I tried!"
I don't recognize this voice but it sounds older.