The man's lips lifted in a faint smile. "Ms. Taylor, just relax. We'll explain everything...the effects of the drug won't last long."
"...I under arrest? Am I?"
The man's smile widened. "No. Not exactly."
"SCARB?" I managed. "...You a cop?"
"No, Ms. Taylor. We are not with any of the state- or court-sponsored police. So you needn't worry..." He patted my leg. "We won't tell anyone your secret. Word of honor."
"Secret?" I managed. I stared from him to cattle prod guy in the front seat.
"We know who you are, Alyson," Ponytail guy said seriously. "More importantly, we know what you are..."
I forced my arm over, showing him the 'H' tattoo above my government barcode. I pointed at it, fighting to stay conscious. "Human," I managed. "...Human!"
"Then I guess you're just fucked, girlie," the driver said from the other front seat.
The voice had a Russian-sounding accent.
When the voice's owner turned around, I recognized him as the third guy I'd seen by the park. He was still wearing the same leather jacket, and his spikey brown hair stood up above a pock-marked face with tattoos down one side of his neck. He smirked at me, winking one of his blue eyes.
Staring around at all three of them, I felt my disbelief turn rapidly into anger.
An anger I was more than happy to aim at these guys.
If only I could make my tongue work.
I tried to fight my arm away from ponytail's fingers, but ponytail just seemed to be waiting for the drug to knock me out. The idea of being unconscious with these people terrified me. I tried to look out the window, to pay attention to where we were going, but everything blurred past my eyes; I couldn't focus on any of the signs well enough to track them. I was pretty sure we were going north, but I didn't know how helpful that was. A lot was north of here.
Central Park. Harlem. Canada.
My mind wasn't really working anymore, so the fear just looped around me in sickening spirals, making me breathe too much.
The man smiled at me, even as his face began to blur. "Just relax, Ms. Taylor," he said gently, stroking my head. "We'll be there before you know it..."
The interior of the car started to undulate in slow-motion, worsening that sickening feeling. Everything but a bright light in the dead center of my vision blurred into bland color.
And then it really was too late.
***
When I opened my eyes, a searing, mind-crushing headache forced them closed again. I had to try three or four times before I managed to squint around the edges well enough to make out the space where I lay.