The Following Ficly Takes Place Between 6:00 AM and 7:00 AM
Gordon Reeves woke to the sound of arguing. He opened his eyes and found himself lying on the warehouse floor. Not too far away, Jason was huddled in the corner. Across the room, Reeves recognized Victor, Marcos, and the big lug who had gotten the jump on Jason. They were in some kind of heated debate with a fourth man Reeves hadn’t seen before.
Reeves felt a stinging in his shoulder as he tried to sit up, and realized he had been shot. He touched the wound. It had been cleaned and dressed adequately enough, but his ability to move his arm had been compromised as a result.
Reeves dragged himself to Jason. “Are you hurt?” he asked.
Jason stayed in a fetal position.
The men stopped arguing when somebody’s cell phone rang. It was the newcomer’s. He answered it, then approached Reeves.
“Someone wants to talk to you,” he said, and pressed the phone against Reeves’ ear.
“Who is this?” Reeves barked.
The voice in the earpiece was digitally modulated.
“Hello, Gordon,” it said.