Sharon Ede www.magethenovel.com © 2023 all rights reserved
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NEVEN’S EYES HALF opened.
He was inside a dilapidated wooden shack. Someone had bundled him up in a grey woollen blanket, which was warm, but coarse and scratchy.
Where the hell am I? How did I get here?
The shack provided some shelter from the elements, but there were holes in the decayed walls, and entire sections of the structure had been raided, probably for firewood. Unwanted guests, the wind, and snow had invited themselves in. Despite the blanket, his body was an ice-block.
He rubbed his face briskly, to wake up and warm up.
Kicking off the blanket, he tried to stand, but his legs almost gave way.
Neven recalled a sensation of a needle in the neck, and his memory came rushing back. He realised he was still affected by the drug administered by the American in the red jacket.
