The Hungry 4: Rise of the Triad (The Sheriff Penny Miller Series) Read Free

vehicle—which Alex now figured for an APC—swung open with a sliding growl and a crash. Someone grabbed his arm and stabbed a needle into it. A sedative? Alex waited for the shit to hit him, but he didn’t feel any different. The needle was withdrawn and a cotton ball taped to his skin. He was pulled to his feet. Someone dragged him outside. His bare feet hit hot concrete. The sun sizzled on his sunburnt shoulders. He was shoved forward. Someone near him was sobbing, likely the woman. Alex kept moving. When he dallied, someone shoved his shoulder from behind. They were on pavement.
    Moments later, the sunlight that had been visible through the fabric vanished. The scent of fresh air disappeared and was replaced by something else, something vaguely medicinal. He was inside a building. The air conditioning was cold, and so were the tiles under his bare feet. Alex tried to think of something to say. The soldiers dragged him along roughly, rudely. They did not speak. They walked him down what seemed to be one long corridor, until Alex finally heard a door squeak open. They entered a room of some kind, and it was carpeted. Alex was shoved into a seat, something upholstered, and the door was closed. Alex worried, wondered if he was alone or not. Was he about to be tortured?
    Alex heard soft footsteps on the carpet as someone came towards him. His stomach clenched as he felt the presence of another person, someone very close. The cotton ball taped to the inside of his elbow was removed. Alex felt his heart jump into his throat. He’d had it with being handled, poked, sprayed, and prodded.
    “What the hell is this?” Alex demanded, with false bravado. “Where am I?”
    “Shh…” A male voice quite nearby. “If you want me to take the hood off, you will need to control your temper. Agreed?”
    At that second, Alex’s interrogation training kicked in, though it had been a decade since he’d endured that brutal SERE instruction. Better late than never. Alex nodded, and the hood was removed. Alex sat perfectly still, devoid of expression, and waited to find out what the hell would happen next. He kept his breathing slow and deep. He let his eyes roam around to study his surroundings in case he got a chance to try to escape.
    The room was windowless, with plush chairs placed all around a monstrously large and well-polished wooden table, like a conference room. An oversized monitor dominated one wall, but the screen was dark. The other walls were bare. Alex noted a small security camera high in one corner. He looked up at his host. He blinked away the last of the pepper spray.
    An older man, rotund and balding, stood over him. “What’s your name, son?”
    “Dragan, Alex.” The answer came automatically. He almost added his old serial number but stopped himself in time. “May I have some water?”
    The balding man smiled. He took a decanter from the table and poured some water into a Styrofoam cup. Alex thought the man might untie his hands, but instead he brought the water up to Alex’s lips. Alex drank the water in one gulp, coughing a little as the last of the pepper spray was finally washed down.
    “Thank you,” Alex said. He meant it. “May I ask a question?”
    “I’m sure you’re curious about what is going on,” the man said, “but for right now, I’ll be asking the questions. Where do you live?”
    Alex gave his address. The man made a note in a handheld device.
    “What were you doing at Venice Beach this morning?”
    “Surfing,” Alex said.
    “Did you see anything unusual happen while you were at Venice Beach?”
    Alex did a double-take, somehow surprising himself. He thought people only did that in sitcoms. “Excuse me. Did I what?”
    “Please don’t make me repeat myself, Alex.”
    Alex’s mouth felt dry as sand. What the fuck is going on here? He shivered, for once wishing that he wasn’t shirtless and shoeless. The air conditioning was set too high. Or perhaps they want me feeling cold