No Escape by Michelle Gagnon Read Free Book Online Page A

and slid inside, shutting it behind her.
    Blinds were drawn over the tinted windows, shadowing the interior. She could just make out a plush living room set, leather captains’ chairs, and a solid table. Everything was bolted to the floor, but otherwise could have been straight out of any upscale furniture catalog.
    Noa got to her feet and went down a few steps to the lower deck. She was in a narrow hallway, four doors off either side and one at the end. The first door on her left accordioned open to reveal a tiny bathroom. She went in and unhooked the latch for the medicine cabinet. She was in luck: It was fully stocked; apparently the owners didn’t bother clearing the boat out for winter storage. She sat on the toilet seat and examined her foot. A gouge ran along the heel of her right foot: It was long but didn’t look deep. She awkwardly held her foot over the sink, biting her lip as she poured antiseptic over it. After the wound stopped fizzing, she dabbed it with Neosporin and bandaged it with gauze.
    She took a deep breath, which sent another spasm of pain through her chest. Reluctantly, she eased up her shirt.
    Noa had seen the bandage when she changed into the scrubs, but there hadn’t been time to check under it. Plus, part of her was terrified to look. The oversized bandage was large, rectangular, a few shades darker than her skin. She forced herself to peel back a corner of it.
    What she saw made her gasp. There was a three-inch-long incision running down the center of her chest. Small red marks on either side where sutures had been tugged out—she’d had stitches before; she recognized the aftermath. The cut had already scabbed over, but the skin around it was swollen and red.
    Slowly, Noa pressed the bandage back into place and lowered her shirt. She frowned at her reflection in the mirror. In the light of the tiny fluorescent bulb above the sink, she looked much paler than usual. Dark blue circles under her eyes, hollow cheeks, lips cracked and peeling. She ran a hand through her jet-black hair and it came away greasy, as if she hadn’t showered for days.
    Had the doctor been telling the truth? Had she really been in some sort of car accident? Noa shook her head—that didn’t make any sense. Otherwise she would have woken up in a regular hospital, and there wouldn’t be guards after her. No, this was something else.
    Not that she had time to figure out what, exactly. She still had to get out of this shipyard somehow. Which wouldn’t be easy—she had no idea where the exit was, and wandering around looking for it was a bad idea.
    Noa splashed some cold water on her face and dabbed it dry with a corner of the shirt. Feeling slightly better, she limped across the hall to a tiny bedroom with taupe curtains drawn over the portholes. The queen-sized bed against the bulkhead was stripped down to the mattress. Noa slid open the drawers built into the wall, but they were all empty.
    She got lucky in the next bedroom. It was similarly barren, but on the closet floor she found a ratty, faded Wesleyan sweatshirt, baggy black sweatpants, and a pair of rubber fishing boots. Based on the smell, this must be the owner’s designated fishing outfit. Digging through the drawers produced a pair of mismatched sweat socks and a black knit cap.
    It wouldn’t really be enough to combat the cold, but it was better than what she had on. Noa changed quickly, then sat on the edge of the bed to puzzle out her next move.
    If she stayed on the boat, there was a good chance they’d find her. The shouting had diminished, but that didn’t mean anything. For all she knew, they’d called another hundred guys and were planning on searching every boat.
    Why they were devoting so much energy to looking for her was the larger question. Her fingers went to the bandage on her chest. What had they done to her? Noa had heard stories, kind of the foster-kid version of the bogeyman: street kids getting drugged by a stranger and waking up