Extract Post: 133 Hours, by Zach Abrams

Introduction and context

Only after arriving at work and being confronted by her manager does Briony realise she’s been ‘missing’ with no recollection of what’s happened to her for more than five days. Panicked and nauseous, she’s fled to the ladies toilet.

EXTRACT

I glimpse myself in the mirror. No, it can’t be me. The face staring back looks considerably older than my twenty-five years. If this was what Margaret was talking about, then I can hardly blame her. I look dreadful; it’s all that she said and more. My cheeks are hollow, my eyes are sunken, with the pupils looking like pinpricks and my skin’s like parchment, decorated by clown-like blotches of mascara. My rain jacket is dirty, probably after my fall, and my dress is creased almost beyond recognition. How can I have come to work looking like this? I take pride in my appearance; I’m normally immaculate. What’s happened to me?

I must be ill. Margaret said I’d been AWOL for three days, but surely not? I couldn’t have been ill and slept all that time; I’d have known, wouldn’t I? Whatever, I must do something about it now. I pull off some paper towels from the dispenser and soak them, rubbing the makeshift cloth over my face, trying to clean myself and remove any caked cosmetics. I want to make myself look human again. I run my fingers through my hair hoping to restore some kind of order. I’m fishing in my handbag, looking for lipstick, when I hear footsteps. The door opens and in walks Alesha.

Alesha started with the company a month or two before me. She’s one of the secretarial team, not a marketing graduate like me. She’s young, twenty-one, I think, and she’s very pretty. She has perfect skin, dark in shade, almost black. She’s a little above medium height, has shoulder length, poker straight, jet-black hair and a figure to die for. 38-23-36, if I’m not mistaken. She should have been a model. She likes to be noticed and tends to wear low-cut tops. All the men in or visiting our company, Mr Ronson included, are guilty of furtive glances at her cleavage. Hell, if I was that way inclined, I’d be tempted. In the time I’ve been with Archers, Alesha and I have rarely spoken other than the conventional pleasantries.

The moment she sees me, she rushes across and places her arm around my shoulder. “Briony, whatever’s happened to you? We’ve all been so worried.”

My eyes well up again at this gesture of kindness. I try to think how to answer. “I don’t know. I really don’t know,” I reply.

“Ignore Margaret. Everyone knows what a cow she can be. Tell me what happened.”

I try to think. Much as I could really use a friend just now, I suspect her motives. I hardly know Alesha and now she’s here with this sudden outburst of companionship. I don’t know if she’s naturally kind, or if she’s merely seeking some juicy material for gossip. Irrespective, I’ve nothing to lose. “I don’t understand any of it. I came into work not realising anything was wrong. I’ve not been able to come to terms…”

“Sit down. Let’s talk and see what we can work out,” she offers, leading me to a chair. I see no reason not to comply.

“To start with, what can you tell me about today?” she asks.

I try to think, but nothing comes quickly. “The first thing I remember is being in Central Station and realising that I was running late.”

“What about before? You were in the station, but how did you get there? Where did you spend last night? Were you at home or staying with someone else? Did you walk to the station, or get a train or even a bus?”

The questions make sense but, much as I rack my brains, I can’t think of the answers. I remember being in Central Station, but not how I got there.

She sees my troubled expression and gives my shoulders a squeeze. “Don’t worry. It will come back to you. Now, what’s the last thing you can remember doing before coming alive in Central Station?”

I’m struggling to think, and I plunder my memories. My mind seems so blank. Pondering some more, I say, “The last thing I remember is working late on Friday. I knew I didn’t have time to go home as I’d planned to meet my friend Jenny, at Alfredo’s. We planned to have a couple of drinks before going out to dinner. I didn’t get changed and instead went out dressed in my work clothes. I went to the bar, as planned.”

“Okay, that’s a start,” Alesha replied. “What about the friend you were meeting? Why not contact her? She might be able to fill in some gaps. She may know where you’ve been.”

“Of course! That makes sense. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself,” I reply and truly I don’t. I’m meant to be smart. My brain feels fuzzy and I’m not thinking straight. “I should have met Jenny at 8pm. I’ll try to call her now.” I open my handbag and rummage for my mobile.

“Just a thought. Can you remember what you were wearing on Friday?”

I pause and close my eyes, trying to recollect. “Yes, it was my navy, linen, Jaeger dress. I’d chosen it because I had an important meeting with the MD of Carson’s, a new client and I wanted to look smart.”

Alesha’s jaw drops and I follow the direction of her eyes. “Oh my God! That’s what I’m wearing. I’m in the same dress I was wearing last Friday and I’ve no idea where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing since.”

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Author Bio –

Having the background of a successful career in commerce and finance, Zach Abrams has spent many years writing reports, letters and presentations and it’s only fairly recently he started writing novels. “It’s a more honourable type of fiction,” he declares.

Writer of the Alex Warren Murder Mystery series, set in Scotland, Zach has also written the psychological thriller ‘Ring Fenced’ and the financial thriller ‘Source’, as well as collaborating with Elly Grant on a book of short stories.

Zach is currently producing a non-fiction series to help small businesses -using the collective title ‘Mind Your Own Business’. The first, ‘So, You Think You Want to be a Landlord’ is already available.

Social Media Links –

Website : http://zachabrams.wix.com/zach-abrams
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Zach-Abrams-author-463346010364540/
Twitter: @authorway