Bethany’s Choice

Bethany felt cold. The nauseating stink that aroused her from the grogginess was making her sick. Her hands and feet numb from the ropes that were holding her down on this table, she turned her head as much as possible to get some direction. She had been injected with something that knocked her out. No windows and no idea if it was day or night. A thousand questions ran through her mind, but only one was important. Was the mission complete? Obviously something went wrong. Where was Alex? Her partner and friend. They joined the CIA at the same time. Graduated with honors and had been on hundreds of missions together. Was he alive? Did he make it out?

Focusing on the voices outside this room rather than the fear that was crawling its way into her head, Beth felt her training kick in. Wiggling her hands and feet to try to loosen the ropes and get the blood circulating was the first step. After two minutes, Beth knew getting loose before someone came in was not going to work. The voices were getting louder; angrier.

Beth felt the panic start to build. She needed to slow her breathing. Her brother Adam was a SEAL. She had watched him practice this skill a hundred times.

Beth couldn’t see anything; she couldn’t move, but she could hear. There were three male voices; foreign accents. That was all she knew right now. She had no weapon and no idea what was going on outside that door. Her plan? If someone comes in, pretend you’re still asleep. With her eyes closed, Beth tried to think.

Most of the missions that she had done were clear, in and out operations. She loved the adrenaline rush and the knowledge that she was making the world a safer place. But lately, the missions had become increasingly more dangerous and she had felt less protected. Less proud. Even her family had threats. She couldn’t think about that now, but if she got out of this room and home again she was absolutely going to do some rethinking about all of it. For now, she had to trust her training because screaming wasn’t an option.

Reviewing every detail of the operation and what could have gone wrong was only giving her a bigger headache than she already had. Beth knew if an escape plan didn’t pop into her head soon, she was going to die. Alone, cold and with regrets. Today was not a good day to die.

Getting out of this room in one piece and finding her partner, Alex were the only two things that mattered right now.

The three musketeers voices were growing in irritation. They were arguing like siblings instead of soldiers. This reminded her how frustrated her siblings use to get when she would read them her latest story she had written. She loved an audience. She loved making up stories and this crazy plan may be a long shot and a hail Mary all in one; but she was not going to die today. All of her CIA training and imagination just might be her way to freedom.

The trio in the hallway were no longer just irritated. They were shouting; fighting and finally, the distinct sound of a gunshot. Beth could only hope that they would just shoot each other and someone would come to her rescue before she froze to death. Hearing heavy-booted footsteps coming closer to where she was, she took a deep breath and

muttered under her breath, “action.”

Beth focused her closed eyes on one thing so her eyelids would stay still. Her dad use to tell her she was a terrible “possum player” when she would pretend she was asleep. He would come home late from protecting the city of Chicago from the bad guys and come into her room to kiss her goodnight. Laying perfectly still, she would hear him stand over her and say a prayer. Then he would tuck the blankets securely around her and kissed her forehead while he whispered in her ear, “nice try buttercup, but you are the worse possum player, ever.”

“How could you tell I was awake daddy?”

He said it was all in the eyes. Beth wished she would have paid more attention at the Farm when they were teaching “How To Play Dead- 101”. She had never been put in a situation where playing “dead” or “asleep” was required. So, Beth just chalked this up as a new and exciting experience that she would never be able to tell or write because this was a covert mission!

Whoever it was that was walking towards Beth had to be male. The thud of the boots on concrete was heavier than a woman’s. Stay still, girl. Stay perfectly still. Was that aftershave? You’ve got to be kidding me. Beth wanted to move, twitch or sneeze so bad. The guy had to be standing right over Beth, because his nasty cologne was starting to burn her eyes and make her want to sneeze. Great… Beth could just read it now in the newspaper: Bethany Mehler Dead Due to Bad Cologne. Okay, girl, time to wake up and get this show started.

Groggily Beth’s eyes opened, and as they did, she found herself staring into a pair green eyes. The rest was a black ski mask. Kneeling down in front of her, she had the strangest feeling that he was laughing at her. He just kept staring. Not saying a word. Beth figured he was waiting for her to scream or start crying. Well, that wasn’t happening! Showtime!

“Oh hi there…” she spoke up while stretching her neck from side to side as if just waking from a long delightful nap.

“What happened to my blanket? It’s freezing in here. I’m sorry; I didn’t catch your name?”

She flashed her famous Bethany smile at him. He didn’t even blink. Bethany was slightly distracted by his green eyes and very long eyelashes.

Okay, Beth, get a grip. Focus! You can talk your way out of just about anything. It’s what you are good at. If that doesn’t work, you can shoot your way out. Oh wait: you don’t have a gun. So “words” will have to be my bullets.

“You tied me up, and left me on this cold slab of concrete without a blanket? What kind of bad guy are you? You have nice eyes, so I’m assuming you’re just the really bad guy’s partner. You’d probably rather be home with your wife, eating dinner together and spending a nice evening snuggling up in front of the fireplace. Right? But Bruno in the other room has interrupted your plans. I completely sympathize and understand your frustration. But a job is a job; Right? Really, I’m freezing… would it be asking too much to get a blanket or sweater?”

She fluttered her short, non-impressive eyelashes at him and grinned. As her teeth started to chatter, Beth knew she couldn’t carry on this one sided conversation much longer. Mr. Green-Eyes just kept staring. REALLY? That was getting annoying. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

Suddenly, there was a beep and he pulled the walkie-talkie up to his ear and said “go ahead”. From those two words, Beth couldn’t tell a whole lot, but since she aced her class at the Farm in dialects, one thing she knew for certain. He was European; probably French.

Beth got ready to start her next Act with him, when he abruptly said, “copy that.” He slowly turned around to face her. As he stood close and stared, Beth opened her mouth to speak and the last thing she saw was his fist coming down on the side of her head. Then her world went black.