His mouth works, but nothing comes out.
“She—she just went nuts,” Diana whispers. “She was talking to him, and he undid her restraints, and I said not to, but he did, and then she just … sprang.”
“Sophie,” I say. “Can you understand me?”
“She’s still not speaking English,” Diana says.
“April? I need a sedative.”
“She’s already getting it,” Anders murmurs beside me. He has his gun out, too, aimed over the bed.
Sophie barks something in a voice that makes me jump. It’s a definite bark. A command.
“Sophie,” I say. “I need you to—”
“Back,” she says in English. “Back.” She jerks her chin down at Jay. “Kill.”
Get back or I kill him.
Seems she knows a little English after all.
“Jay?” I say. “I know you’re scared right now, but I really need you to translate. Is there any chance you can do that?”
He makes a gurgling noise. It comes out on a gasp. He’s too frightened to help. Shit.
“Back!” Sophie says. “Back!”
I assess the situation. She’s got him facedown on the floor, as she kneels on him. Her hands rest at the base of his neck. She’s pinned him so he can’t lift his arms.
How serious is her threat to kill him? She could bash his face against the floor, but I’m right here, with a gun trained on her. I can shoot her before she can do that.
Still, is there any reason not to do as she asks? If I can defuse the situation, I will, even if that means surrendering ground.
I glance at Anders. He nods, telling me to go ahead and ease back. April appears in the doorway, syringe in hand, and I motion for her to lay it on the bed. She does, so carefully that Sophie doesn’t see it.
Something’s wrong here.
Uh, yes, your survivor freaked out and attacked her translator.
No, something …
Jay’s eyes bug, and he gets a hand free. Even as it shoots to his neck, the answer flashes. The way his eyes bulge. The way he gasps and can’t speak despite having his face off the floor. The way Sophie’s hand rests oddly at the back of his neck.
That’s why he can’t talk.
She has something around his throat.
She’s choking him.
I back up fast, my hands rising, gun pointing toward the ceiling. Anders shifts, and his gaze shunts my way, but then he sees the problem and his lips part in a curse. He lifts his gun and steps back.
“Sophie?” I say. “Let him go. We can’t speak to you without his help.”
I pantomime my words. She only snorts, her nostrils flaring. I can’t see what she has around his throat. It’s thin, whatever it is.
“Diana?” I say. “What does she have?”
“W-what?”