Sam resisted but he didn’t have control of his muscles. Something went over his left hand, then his right. Strong fingers held him securely.

When he could focus at last he stared stupidly at what had been done. His wrists were lashed together with a plastic tie. And around each hand was a deflated Mylar balloon, duct-taped in place.

Diana Ladris knelt down, bringing her face to his level. “It’s Mylar. It’s a reflective surface. So I wouldn’t try to turn on your mojo, Sam: you’d fry your own hands.”

Gone, Chapter 21