Veal is Dead Baby Cow

Chapter One

OUCH.
There's nothing like waking up and not knowing where you are. The last thing Rob could remember, he had driven down to the beach to try to clear his head. He and Liz had gotten into a fight (money, or something) and instead of starting to yell and say things that he'd regret later, he figured it was easier to just get out. She knew he'd come back when he cooled off. At least, that was his intention.
OUCH!
He realized he had a headache that could stop an elephant dead in its tracks. When he reached up to feel the sore spot on the back of his head, he noticed that there wasn't a bump. Or any discernible point of impact. Or hair.
What?!?
Now he was getting nervous.
What happened to me? Where am I, and why can't I see anything?
He'd been lying on his back, so he tried to sit up. His head only came up about six inches before hitting solid metal. He collapsed back on the (floor?) and put his palms up to the obstacle above him. It was smooth, and extremely cold. He started feeling around with his hands and feet, and quickly realized he was in a box about the size of a coffin.
Time to panic! he thought. He could feel his heart starting to race, which only made things worse in his head. He felt himself starting to thrash around in the box, and when his bare legs came in contact with the cold top of the box (coffin?!?!) he realized he wasn't wearing anything at all.
OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODWHERETHEHELL..cough..cough...his scream was cut off by a violent coughing fit. His throat was scratchy and dry, as if he hadn't had a drink in days.
After his fit subsided, he started trying to calm himself down. He knew he had to let himself relax enough to get a grip on his mind. As a young boy, Rob's father had often talked to him about quieting his mind...if there was ever a time in his life he needed to do that, he figured now was that time.
Once he calmed down, the throbbing pain started to die down in his head. He had to focus on his situation; he started listening to see if he could hear any sounds outside. Nothing. His hands had been resting on his stomach; now he laid them palms down on the bottom of the box, and made a scratching motion with his fingernails. He immediately noticed two things; he could hear the sound of his nails scratching against material (denim?), and the bottom of the box was noticeably warmer than the top.
After a little exploring, he could picture in his mind what the inside of the box looked like. The bottom and sides were covered in a material that seemed to be slightly padded and had a pattern of sorts stitched into it. The top was a smooth, flat metal surface (and PAINFULLY cold he thought). Still, he had no idea where he was, or how he got there.
Who would do this to me? Why?

Stay Tuned

posted by Josh @ 9:06 PM