New York: Allie's War, Early Years

It seemed like hours passed with nothing but those screams punctuating the silence, along with the shouts of the others trying to beat down the flames.

I don't know how long it really went on, but slowly, the sounds began to die out.

I heard sobs from the guy whose hair had burned. Another man was cursing loudly in English, stomping out flames before they could reach the main garden by the medieval arches and the museum itself.

Overall though, it was quieter now.

I was getting afraid again, as I still couldn't loosen my arms. Whatever had happened, the other two captives seemed to think it was my fault, which meant the crazy religious fanatics would probably think so, too. I didn't know what they'd do to me when they pulled their shit together again. I really didn't want to stick around to find out.

In desperation, I tried to inch my way down the length of the log itself, pulling the chains with me. I was hoping I could just fall off the end of it, but when I craned my head, I was pretty sure I could see the log resting on some kind of stone support. When I looked at the female seer, my fears were confirmed. Her log was resting on two stone blocks, curved at the top to hold the log firmly in place. Still, I kept trying to inch my way forward. I knew the log had to be insanely heavy, especially with me hanging from it, but I still harbored some hope I could roll it off the cement blocks...hopefully without crushing myself under it.

The light in my eyes seemed to be coming back, maybe from the fear. Maybe my vision decided to go on hiatus when I hit my stress limit...a thought that didn't strike me as all that comforting, given that if I went blind every time I was in danger I was seriously not a good person to have around in crisis situations.

I was still blinking against that light, trying to see behind it even as I struggled to pull the chains with me down the log, when I heard something else.

Gunshots.

***

I froze, sure I'd hallucinated them.

Then another shot echoed in the space between buildings, and I cried out against the gag in my mouth, which I'd also forgotten. When a third shot broke the relative quiet of the clearing, I started to struggle once more, fighting to pull my arms forward again.

By then, firing seemed to be coming from more than one place.

I flinched when the shooting turned into a volley, as ponytail's people started firing back into the dark. Crouching as best as I could against the side of the log, I tried to figure out what they were aiming for, but I couldn't see much, especially with the light in my eyes. My whole body hurt now, anyway. My arms were starting to go numb from the odd angle from which I hung, and my weight pulling at my shoulders, but whenever I shifted position, sharp pains shot up my biceps and even my back. I realized I was rubbing my wrists raw, trying to move them along the log. Then I hit the edge of the cement block and had to stop.