His body convulsed as his nervous system was overloaded by the debilitating effect of the stun gun.

He tried to reach for the pistol nestled in the small of his back but his hand trembled and refused to move. Something hard crashed into the side of his head, then darkness claimed him.

* * *

Slap!

“Hey…”

Slap!

“Hey. Wake up!”

For a moment, Gavin thought he was dreaming. The sharp edge of the boot pressing into his chest dispelled that illusion in a second. His hands were secured behind his back, his legs taped tightly at the ankles. He lay on a slight incline, his feet lower than his head.

“What the hell is this?”

The voice that answered was as cold as an Arctic wind. “What does it look like?”

Gavin strained at his bonds, bucking from side to side. “You’re making a big mistake! Do you know who I am?”

“I know exactly who you are.”

“Is this some kinda joke?” He looked around. “Where the hell am I?”

The pressure on his chest increased, making it difficult to breathe. “Well, you’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.”

It was a woman’s voice. A fucking woman?

A strange sensation took up residence in his bowels as he gauged his situation. The figure before him stepped back. She was dressed in a jumpsuit, with an army-style waistcoat buckled over the top. She wore gloves, and her face was covered by a balaclava.

With slow deliberation, she pulled the fabric mesh from her face.

Gavin stared up at her. “Who the hell are you?”

Her skin was the colour of black coffee. The right side of her face was smooth and flawless. The left side was an industrial accident. Bands of salmon-pink tissue knotted into a cruel mask. She held up her hand, covering the ruined side of her face.

Gavin stared at her for long seconds. “Shit! I know you. But you can’t be you. You died. I watched you die…”

“Correction: you thought you watched me die.” She dropped her hand. “Now it’s my turn.”

Gavin rolled onto his side, then managed to sit up. A noose pulled at his neck. Scooting around on his butt, he could see the other end of the rope was tied to the trunk of a wide tree. A length of the same mountaineer’s rope traced a path from his ankles to the rear of his truck.

His eyes followed the rope to the truck. The Dodge’s engine was running.

He sucked in a great lungful of air. “Heeeeelp!”

The woman shook her head slowly. “You can scream like it’s an Olympic event.