Have an unedited excerpt for a chapter only God knows will be posted.
Geoffrey woke slowly at first, lying on his side with his arm stretched out in front of him, staring uncomprehendingly at the rat sitting on his open palm. The creature stared back, regarding him motionlessly. Geoffrey blinked, realized what he was looking at, and suddenly woke very quickly after all.
“Argh!” Geoffrey snatched his hand close to his chest, and simultaneously half-flung, half-rolled himself up and backward and promptly fell off the cot. Thankfully, the sudden drop was short, and he hit the tile floor more startled than hurt.
The rat looked down on him from the cot, unmoved and unimpressed. Geoffrey swore profusely, closed his hand around the closest object to him - a shoe, he realized - and flung it harder than he strictly needed to at the little vermin, which turned and scrambled the opposite direction onto the desk pressed up against the cot, and then into the crack between the desk and the window. Already on the floor, Geoffrey glanced under the desk and the cot, watching for the rat to reappear. It didn’t.
“Bloody little-!” Geoffrey swore again, clambering to his feet and peering over both the cot and the desk into the space between the wall. He expected to see the window opened at least enough for a rat to slip through, before realizing that this particular window couldn’t be opened at all, and was partially boarded up besides. He told hold of the curtains gathered on the edge of the desk and shook them, but the rat didn’t drop from its folds, either. He glanced around for where it could have gone, only partly taking in his surroundings; some sort of industrial office like that in a warehouse or factory. Then, startled by the abrupt realization that he didn’t recognize the room and in fact had no idea where he was, slowed down and stepped back from the cot, letting the matter of the escaped rat be for the moment.
Bookshelves and cubbies and cabinets lined the walls, some exposed pipes ran the length of the ceiling fed into the floor, and coils of ropes lay uselessly on the ground. On one wall was a large panel of lights, levers, and switches. In the corner closest to him, a tarp was laid across something tall that could’ve been either machinery or just stacks of boxes. Luggage chests, large wicker boxes, and wooden crate were shoved up against walls and furniture. At the far end of the room stood a tall prayer altar, candles sitting on its shelves and its open cabinet doors adorned with crucifixes and icons. And just as Geoffrey was taking in this bizarre combination of industrial, office, and religious furniture, the door next the altar opened, and Jonathan Reid stepped through.
“So you are awake. I thought I heard - what’s wrong?” Reid broke off, evidently taking in the look of utter umbrage on Geoffrey's face.
Geoffrey glanced around at the room again and lifted his hands and shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “I don't- where the hell am I? And what are you doing here? And why the bloody hell are there rats everywhere?”
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