Lucid Dreaming by Lisa Morton Read Free Book Online Page B

second guy called out, “We hit the jackpot, Hank! They got enough Prolixin in here to keep an army awake!”
    Hank looked down at me, squinting, and finally moved the gun slightly to the side. “Okay, get up.”
    I did.
    â€œTurn around.”
    This didn’t sound good. “Hey, c’mon, Hank, we can talk about this—”
    Then my arms were yanked back, I felt something cold on my wrists, and there was a sharp CLICK.
    I’d been handcuffed.
    â€œThat’s for your own safety,” Hank said, smirking.
    â€œSo, what, now you read me my fucking rights, I suppose?”
    â€œI’m tellin ’ ya, girl, you better watch that mouth. I’ll bet you’re from L.A., aren’tcha ?”
    â€œYeah. And you’re from Redneck. So what?”
    He shoved me with the gun barrel a little harder than he had to. “That way.”
    I started walking, but realized his friend—and more importantly, Teddy—weren’t coming. “Wait, what about Teddy—?”
    Hank poked at my back again, indicating I should keep going. “Johnny’s just going to go through your supplies, then he’ll be along presently with your friend.”
    I thought about putting up a fuss, but realized it wouldn’t do much good. Besides, if they were going to shoot us they would have done it already.
    They obviously had something else in mind, and whatever it was I didn’t think it was going to be much fun.
    Â 
    Hank walked me off the freeway and down to where he had a big pickup parked. He helped me up into the passenger seat, then put the gun into the rear of the cab, started up and drove off.
    We drove in silence for a few minutes, heading away from the freeway down a narrow county road. We passed open fields, and some low grassy hills where cattle grazed.
    â€œWhere we going?” I finally asked, trying to sound as conversational as possible.
    â€œWe got us a nice lil ’ spread out here. All the comforts of home—and then some!”
    I didn’t like what that implied.
    After a minute or so of blessed silence, Hank asked, “So you say you come from L.A.?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWhat’s California like now?”
    It hurt me to say it. “Pretty much dead.”
    Hank smiled. “Well, ain’t that a shame.”
    I decided right then I hated Hank. “Fuck you, cracker.”
    Hank’s mouth twitched, then he turned and gave me an up-and-down once-over that made my skin crawl. “You know, little girl, you better have some hidden talent, ’cause otherwise all you’re gonna be good for is breeding stock.”
    Now my stomach crawled faster than my skin. “Then you better have something a helluva lot stronger than Prolixin ,” I told him.
    No more talk after that.
    A few minutes later, the truck turned right onto a dirt lane that ran maybe a hundred yards or so past lawns and outbuildings to the biggest house I’d ever seen. If I’d thought our Beverly Hills mansion was big, this thing was five times its size. Whoever had lived here before the dreaming sickness must have been a billionaire, because this thing had at least a dozen bedrooms.
    â€œThis is it,” Hank said unnecessarily as he parked before the house.
    I saw a few other people around—there were two guys working on some kind of big farm tractor, and in the distance I saw some others on horseback, herding some cattle.
    No women anywhere.
    Hank opened my door and motioned me out.
    â€œWhere we going?” I asked him.
    â€œThere’s somebody you need to talk to,” he said.
    I jumped down from the truck, and followed him into the house, ignoring the eyes of the men working on the tractor.
    We went down a short hallway and past a huge living room on the left. Ahead was a massive staircase, so big it split into two halfway up. The house was two stories, and had two wings. I glimpsed more rooms off to the sides of the