Benito Mijares
The stranger, Nausicaa they had said their name was, said that what Benito had said was reassuring. He smiled inwardly, his mind pleased that he’d spoken the right words not to already have been making an enemy of this man. Then the man continued to say he was well-balanced. Benito began to repeat what he’d been told with perplexity, “Well-balanced for-” But caught himself before finishing the sentence. Querying that would show just how little he knew about what was happening. Perhaps Nausicaa didn’t know what was going on either, but Benito didn’t want to test that particularly thought, as he didn’t want to wrong.
“My name?” Benito was a little surprised that the man did actually want to know it. He gulped his tea down before answering. “My name. I’m Be-”
Before Benito could get out the last of his name, the hot liquid worked its way down their throats; bland but a little fruity in taste. By the time Benito put the teacup back down, he had to blink slowly. Both of their eyelids were heavier and their vision was blurred. All within seconds. Just ten seconds and Nausicaa’s head rolled back on the seat; he wasn’t conscious. It wasn’t long before Benito was unconscious too.
When they awoke, the car was stationary and their bags were now on their laps. They were in a different car, which was nothing unusual, at least not for Nausicaa. The sun was beaming down from above, it can’t have been much after 10am. The car was parked on a range of hills that half-circled a forest valley. Not 40 metres away, downhill, was an overgrown dirt path into the trees.