Fighting Chances

Havermouth, A few days after the storm

Lyric did not fight against the soldier’s grip, her eyes on Niarthen. The soldiers had put a slim metal band around one of his wrists, and she wasn’t sure what it did, but she knew that it had been placed for a reason, and that frightened her. They had bound his hands behind his back and thrown him into the rear of the second 4WD, before shoving her into the rear seat. A metal cage separated the sections.

“Wrists,” the soldier stood in the open door holding a thick zip-tie.

“I want to be in the back with him,” she told him. “He needs medical care.”

“Nice try. Wrists,” he gestured impatiently.

She put out her wrists docilely and let him tie them together. He pulled it tight enough that her wrists were held firmly but checked to make sure that it was not too tight.

“Look,” he said under his breath. “You’re in trouble. Big trouble. But if you play it right, you’ll be okay. Just tell them that the big Merman abducted you and that you didn’t understan