The Girl in the Box 01 - Alone (23 page)

Robert J. Crane was born and raised on Florida's Space Coast before moving to the upper midwest in search of cooler climates and more palatable beer. He graduated from the University of Central Florida with a degree in English Creative Writing. He worked for a year as a substitute teacher and worked in the financial services field for seven years while writing in his spare time. He makes his home in the Twin Cities area of Minnesota.

He can be contacted in several ways:

Via email at
[email protected]

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- @robertJcrane

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The Sanctuary Series

Epic Fantasy by Robert J. Crane

The world of Arkaria is a dangerous place, filled with dragons, titans, goblins and other dangers. Those who live in this world are faced with two choices: live an ordinary life or become an adventurer and seek the extraordinary.

Defender

The Sanctuary Series, Volume One
Cyrus Davidon leads a small guild in the human capital of Reikonos. Caught in an untenable situation, facing death in the den of a dragon, they are saved by the brave fighters of Sanctuary who offer an invitation filled with the promise of greater adventure. Soon Cyrus is embroiled in a mystery - someone is stealing weapons of nearly unlimited power for an unknown purpose, and Sanctuary may be the only thing that stands between the world of Arkaria and total destruction.

Available Now!

Avenger

The Sanctuary Series, Volume Two

When a series of attacks on convoys draws suspicion that Sanctuary is involved, Cyrus Davidon must put aside his personal struggles and try to find the raiders. As the attacks worsen, Cyrus and his comrades find themselves abandoned by their allies, surrounded by enemies, facing the end of Sanctuary and a war that will consume their world.

Available Now!

Savages

A Sanctuary Short Story

Twenty years before Cyrus Davidon joined Sanctuary, his father was killed in a war with the trolls and he has never forgiven them. Enter Vaste, a troll unlike most; courageous, loyal and an outcast. When Cyrus and Vaste become trapped in a far distant land, they are forced to overcome their suspicions and work together to get home.

Available Now!

Champion

The Sanctuary Series, Volume Three

As the war heats up in Arkaria, Vara is forced to flee after an ancient order of skilled assassins infiltrates Sanctuary and targets her. Cyrus Davidon accompanies her home to the elven city of Termina and the two of them become embroiled in a mystery that will shake the very foundations of the Elven Kingdom – and Arkaria.

Coming this Spring!

A Familiar Face

A Sanctuary Short Story

Cyrus Davidon gets more than he bargained for when he takes a day away from Sanctuary to visit the busy markets of his hometown, Reikonos. While there, he meets a woman who seems very familiar, and appears to know him, but that he can't place.

Coming this Summer!

Untouched

The Girl in the Box, Book 2

Still haunted by her last encounter with Wolfe and searching for her mother, Sienna Nealon must put aside her personal struggles when a new threat emerges – Aleksandr Gavrikov, a metahuman so powerful, he could destroy entire cities – and he's focused on bringing the Directorate to its knees.

Coming Summer 2012!

Soulless

The Girl in the Box, Book 3

Coming Summer 2012!

Nicholas J. Ambrose

After a long and stressful week, capped by a thunderstorm and attracting the unwanted attention of a man in a bar, Samantha is too strung up to take Imogen, her younger sister, cycling. So she does the next best thing: she makes a promise to do it next weekend instead.

As the weeks pass, though, Samantha’s promise fails to materialise, slipping further and further away until she has almost forgotten about it. After all, there’s always next week – and Imogen can go alone if she’s that desperate.

But unbeknownst to Samantha, next week might never come. Because there’s something very, very wrong with Imogen – and the ten-year-old’s time is quickly running out.

Available on
Kindle
now

Carry on reading for the opening chapter!

Chapter One

Welcome to
Thoroughfare
!

1

Samantha Brown was meant to have finished work three hours ago. At five o’clock. But instead it was eight in the evening, she was the last one to leave the office, and all the blue sky had been eaten up by bruised clouds, letting loose every bucketload they had.

To add insult to injury, the last bus had been an hour ago. So instead of getting a ride the two miles or so home, Samantha had to walk it. In the torrential rain.

This, clearly, was not her day.

The young woman hurried down the street, plastic folder held precariously over her head – for what little good it did, as now the rain went down her sleeve instead of soaking her hair – and cursed.

After a quarter mile a car hurtled past her, horn blaring – wasn’t that meant to be a warning? Or was some prick taunting her for getting stuck in this? – and a thick spray churned up by its wheels splashed the full left-hand side of Samantha’s body. Shoes, jeans – jacket. Three weeks ago that had been new.

So it was no surprise when she saw the flashing neon sign of the bar up ahead that she gritted her teeth and decided the best thing to do was to stop, seek shelter, and try again later, when –
if
, cynical voice reminded her – the weather had passed, or at least lightened to something a little more manageable.

Samantha ran the last fifty feet flat out, stepped into the small alcove into which the door was set, and shook herself dry as best possible. Folder especially – couldn’t have
that
getting wet, she reminded herself drily. Then, with a sigh, she pushed through the door and walked inside.

2

How many times had Samantha passed this place without ever having stopped in? She had expected it to be small and dingy, but in truth what she stepped into looked immaculate. The entire room was decked out in shining, rounded mahogany, and split into two: one raised third, almost like a podium above the rest, on which the bar itself was housed, lined with tall steel seats with artistically twisted legs; and the remainder at ground level, populated with round and square tables that were surrounded by wooden chairs with plush red cushion seats. Against one wall was a jukebox – forties style, which was pretty cool – beside which stood a man who was keying away with his back to her. At the moment there was a low tune playing that Samantha might have heard on the radio.
Might
.

Samantha took this all in with pleasant surprise. She let out a breath of relieved tension which she was unaware she’d been holding, patted her shoulder-length blonde hair – it was damp, but better than what she could say for the rest of her – and crossed to the bar. Placing her folder down gingerly onto the smooth surface, she lowered herself into one of the seats. It was so tall she dropped only maybe an inch in height.

On the surface of the bar itself was a small touch-screen display, which illuminated itself as Samantha sat down.

A jovial electronic voice greeted, “Hello! Welcome to
Thoroughfare
! Please make your selection.”

Samantha’s lips drew down into a line. She hadn’t really wanted a drink, but there was little else to do – the bar was practically empty, she had no intention of talking, and the only thing she had with her beyond her phone was the folder of work which she did
not
want to look at another second tonight – and so she studied the first page of drinks she was presented with. These must have been the most popular selections, she mused; beers and lagers and cider lined the top rows, followed by a handful of colourful cocktails.

She thumbed an icon for an orange concoction – a Sex on the Beach – and the display brought up a close-up of the drink alongside a description and a breakdown of its contents. And that cheery voice again: “Good choice! Please swipe your card.”

Her purse was tucked into the inner pocket of her jacket, so Samantha withdrew it, took out a thin, clear piece of plastic, and swiped it over a sensor in the display’s bottom corner. A second later the screen turned green, her card had been debited, and a glass was flipped out by a mechanised arm from beneath the bar. Before Samantha could even blink, a tube joined the arm and sloshed out the liquid, hummed before spitting out two crescents of ice, and whipped out of sight.

Samantha sighed, ran a tentative finger around the top edge of the glass. Leaning forward, she lifted it just an inch and sipped.

Well. At least it wasn’t bad.

“Excuse me?”

Samantha looked up. To her right stood the man whose back had been to her when she walked in. He stood back a short distance – maybe a metre or so – and there was this wary, almost deferential kind of look on his face.
Probably isn’t coming any closer in case I bite
, Samantha thought.

“Err, hi,” the man stammered after he didn’t receive a response. “I, um – well, I wondered if I might buy you a drink maybe?”

Samantha lifted the glass laconically. “Already got one, thanks.”

The man pulled a face, wiped a hand across his brow. “Yeah, I see that. Um …” He faltered a moment or two and laughed nervously. His eyes darted to the other side of the bar, and both of them knew he wished he’d never come over. Then he looked back at her, drew a sheepish grin, and continued. “Sorry. I’m being pretty clumsy, aren’t I?”

One blonde eyebrow drifted up on the woman’s face … and then without really thinking about it she said, “A little.”

The man took this as cue to take the seat one down from her, leaving that same safe distance between them. He eyed the drinks menu momentarily as it greeted him in its chipper tone, then swivelled sideways and looked awkwardly at her.

With a sidelong glance, Samantha took him in. A choppy mop of black hair topped his head, his face was lean and boyish and set with dull blue eyes, and there was a very fine covering of stubble on his cheeks. He wore a jacket – much drier than Samantha’s – and a pair of partially frayed jeans which had faded across the front. Probably close to her age, Samantha thought; maybe a little older.