She was lucky then. Mead dulled the mind, and slowed one’s reflexes, making it easy to escape.She continued to scratch the wood, more intensely now....She didn’t notice, but her hands were beginning to draw upon the fire, her fingers sparkling with flames, drawing red tears of sap from the oak, her hands now autonomous.Today the voice was sober. And the voice was coming closer.‘We don’t have long, Jean. Haven’t you missed me?’Suddenly, the voice was right next to her. It grabbed her neck with. I had no idea whether it was high or low tide. I knew there would be plenty of time to learn all the nuances of my new surroundings.The sand possessed a fine texture and appeared to be a light tan in color. The warmth and softness of the sand felt good on my now bare feet.I opened my chair and placed it on the beach. It was one of those chairs that fold up into a long narrow bundle that can be slung over a shoulder. What was special about this one was the fact that it had a leg rest attached.. More

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