It had been two days and nothing had happened. Well, nothing had happened that Charlie was aware of. In dark rooms, with no windows and multiple locks, things were happening, things that would eventually have dire consequences for Charlie. However, for now, Charlie felt OK.
He was keeping his manic paranoia to reasonable levels and was now only looking out the window once an hour, rather than spending his whole life looking for the inevitable black van. Deep down he knew it would come at some point, so why waste what time he had left. Yeah, he was telling himself that, but the fear was rising in his gut, like the vomit does when you’ve had 3 too many beers.
The relationship between himself and Gina had stabilised to a general standoffishness, a personal cold war, tense, silent, but as yet non lethal. Charlie should have been planning his escape, but he was experiencing a form of P.T.S.D brought on by the soaring high and crashing low of his life over the last few months.
Then he saw the note hidden between the sofa cushions.
YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE THEY ARE COMING FOR YOU