‹ Prequel: Going Bush
Going Bush 2: Suburbia
104
Taylor had barely opened his eyes before he realised it was happening again. He quickly found the edge of the bed and managed to once again throw up onto the floor. The sound woke Nate from the other side of the trailer and he quickly made his way over as Taylor began to recover.
“What the hell?” Nate stooped to clean it up.
Taylor just groaned as he hid his face in the bedclothes, trying to wake himself up. He still felt dizzy and he still felt sick, now with added body temperature fluctuation.
“What’s wrong with you?” Nate demanded as he scrubbed the floor.
“I don’t know,” Taylor managed to get out, turning his head slightly so that he could watch where Nate was.
Nate continued cleaning until it was gone before making his way back to the bed. He grabbed Taylor’s upper arm and pulled him up into a sitting position, making Taylor groan from another dizzy spell. He flinched back when Nate put a hand to his forehead.
“You’re burning up,” he muttered, turning back to the kitchen area.
Taylor watched him go, soon fetching another glass of water which he came back to hand to him. Taylor took it thankfully and tried not to drink it too fast.
“What were they feeding you?” Nate demanded.
“Nothing,” Taylor frowned, “until yesterday I hadn’t eaten in three days. I was being punished. You know that.”
Nate raised his hand as if to hit him but stopped as Taylor turned his head. Instead he took the glass of water back.
“Nate I’m sick,” Taylor said in a defeated tone, “I need a doctor.”
“I’ll decide what you do and don’t need,” Nate said with authority.
“This isn’t just a stomach bug, Nate,” Taylor insisted, “you drugged me. With hospital-grade drugs, when I was already weak. My immune system is shot.”
Taylor stopped when Nate made eye contact, not sure if he was getting through to him or not.
“I need help,” Taylor’s brow furrowed in desperation.
Nate stared at him, just long enough for Taylor to start wondering if he was simply thinking of killing him then and there to save the trouble, before he turned and walked back to the table area. Taylor watched as he picked up a jacket and abruptly left the trailer without so much as a word.
Closing his eyes, he listened intently. He heard Nate’s footsteps walking around outside on what sounded like gravel, before a car door opened and closed again. When the ignition started Taylor opened his eyes again, wishing he could see out of at least one of the boarded up windows.
Once the vehicle left, he immediately pushed himself forward to the edge of the bed. When his feet hit the floor he looked up toward his target – the kitchen drawer.
He took hold of a piece of shelving with his hands in order to lower himself to his knees. Careful not to get the chain hooked on anything, he inched himself along the floor toward the small kitchen. Knowing that the chain was only barely going to reach – Nate must have shortened it when he’d first been brought here - he pulled himself up to his feet again when he felt that he was close enough. Trying not to choke himself with the collar as he reached for it, he eventually managed to get the drawer open. He sighed with relief when he saw the knives still there.
When he finally got the nearest one into his hands, he let himself fall back onto the floor before quickly using it to cut his ankles free. That done he turned it in on his wrists, working to cut the tape there. When he finally had his wrists free he stood and went back to the bed to inspect the chain.
“What the hell?” Nate stooped to clean it up.
Taylor just groaned as he hid his face in the bedclothes, trying to wake himself up. He still felt dizzy and he still felt sick, now with added body temperature fluctuation.
“What’s wrong with you?” Nate demanded as he scrubbed the floor.
“I don’t know,” Taylor managed to get out, turning his head slightly so that he could watch where Nate was.
Nate continued cleaning until it was gone before making his way back to the bed. He grabbed Taylor’s upper arm and pulled him up into a sitting position, making Taylor groan from another dizzy spell. He flinched back when Nate put a hand to his forehead.
“You’re burning up,” he muttered, turning back to the kitchen area.
Taylor watched him go, soon fetching another glass of water which he came back to hand to him. Taylor took it thankfully and tried not to drink it too fast.
“What were they feeding you?” Nate demanded.
“Nothing,” Taylor frowned, “until yesterday I hadn’t eaten in three days. I was being punished. You know that.”
Nate raised his hand as if to hit him but stopped as Taylor turned his head. Instead he took the glass of water back.
“Nate I’m sick,” Taylor said in a defeated tone, “I need a doctor.”
“I’ll decide what you do and don’t need,” Nate said with authority.
“This isn’t just a stomach bug, Nate,” Taylor insisted, “you drugged me. With hospital-grade drugs, when I was already weak. My immune system is shot.”
Taylor stopped when Nate made eye contact, not sure if he was getting through to him or not.
“I need help,” Taylor’s brow furrowed in desperation.
Nate stared at him, just long enough for Taylor to start wondering if he was simply thinking of killing him then and there to save the trouble, before he turned and walked back to the table area. Taylor watched as he picked up a jacket and abruptly left the trailer without so much as a word.
Closing his eyes, he listened intently. He heard Nate’s footsteps walking around outside on what sounded like gravel, before a car door opened and closed again. When the ignition started Taylor opened his eyes again, wishing he could see out of at least one of the boarded up windows.
Once the vehicle left, he immediately pushed himself forward to the edge of the bed. When his feet hit the floor he looked up toward his target – the kitchen drawer.
He took hold of a piece of shelving with his hands in order to lower himself to his knees. Careful not to get the chain hooked on anything, he inched himself along the floor toward the small kitchen. Knowing that the chain was only barely going to reach – Nate must have shortened it when he’d first been brought here - he pulled himself up to his feet again when he felt that he was close enough. Trying not to choke himself with the collar as he reached for it, he eventually managed to get the drawer open. He sighed with relief when he saw the knives still there.
When he finally got the nearest one into his hands, he let himself fall back onto the floor before quickly using it to cut his ankles free. That done he turned it in on his wrists, working to cut the tape there. When he finally had his wrists free he stood and went back to the bed to inspect the chain.