“It was dark. I couldn’t see in front of me. My head hurt- still does- and I have no idea where I am. The only difference between now and three hours ago is I found you.”
It was still dark. I still couldn’t see in front of me, save for the gentle flicker of the lighter held under the face of the old woman.
“Where are we?” She croaked out.
Old women… Funny.
“Hell if I know. I take it you have no idea either?”
“No.”
As far as I could see, we were in a dark room that may or may not extend infinitely across the expanse of space and time. I told her that, and she frowned. Either she didn’t understand, or I had somehow upset her. Either way, the light under her face blinked out and I was once again trapped in a cocoon of darkness. I reached out slowly and hit her face with the back of my hand.
“Why did you hit me?” She cried out. I could imagine knocking her glasses off with the motion, but I had neither seen (ha) or heard anything that would indicate such.
“I was just trying to figure out if you were still there,” I said, frowning.
“Well, I am, so you can stop touching me.”
I chuckled. “Lady, you wouldn’t’ believe how many times I’ve-“
“It’s not cute, cut it out.”
She wasn’t one for joking. A no-nonsense grandma, trapped wherever I was trapped. Some kind of cruel joke.
The thought had buzzed through my mind for a few seconds that maybe, just maybe some producers in all of their infinite wisdom, decided to kidnap some unsuspecting people and throw them into a dark room and film the results with a night-vision camera. People with contrasting personalities, just to see the sparks fly.
It was a stupid idea that I kept to myself.
“So,” the lighter flicked back on, “What do you do?”
“Pardon?”
“What do you do?”
I was a morning DJ for a coast to coast morning show. “I sell carpets.”
“How boring.”
And a lie. “Yes, I’ve been looking to break away from it for so long. How about you? What do you do?”
“I’m retired.”
“What did you do?”
“I was a bank teller.”
“Alright…”
There was a pause at the flame blinked out again. I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to find… Change? No. Cell phone? Yes. Keys? Yes.
I pulled my cell phone out and flipped it open. It didn’t do much for the battle against the darkness, but it did shed just enough light for me to see into the tangled mess of my keys to a light I had stashed away on the chain.
The screen of my phone read, “Searching for Signal,” although I could have told you that without even looking at it.
I clicked the tiny light on. It shot a wide beam the distance from me to the woman. She was old; very old. It looked like osteoporosis had already set in. I could see her being at least five inches taller, but that’s old people for you. Always shrinking.
She was wearing a funny little rose-patterned dress and slippers. Her glasses had been knocked off, but they were on a chain. They sat dutifully on her chest, moving in and out with her breathing. Her eyes were sunken in, her hair done up in a white bun. Everyone’s grandma, here in front of me. She blinked twice, looking at me. I waved.
I turned the light to the floor, trying to… well, excuse the pun, trying to shed some light and figure out where exactly we were. The floor was shiny and white, extending to my right and left for about five feet total. Two and a half feet to my right, the floor pitched up creating a somewhat climbable wall. To my left, there was a drop off, leading to another plateau like the one the old woman and I were standing on.
“Stay right there,” I waved at her, pointing the light in her face before stepping to the edge. A four foot drop. I slid over the edge, letting myself down.
This ledge continued north for a few feet before hitting a wall. But the ledge circled a hole that was once again to my left- west- that I peered into. It was just a hole. Made from the same stuff as the walls and the floor. It was small; it looked like it could only fit four people inside of it.
I climbed down inside, half-hoping some saarlac monster would jump out and eat me, but nothing. I stomped three times and waited. I heard the old woman cry out above, “Where are you? Hello?”
“I’m down here,” I called to her, pushing myself up the first ledge, up the second.
She smiled, relieved to see me. I pointed to the ledge on our east-side. This place was entirely climbable, if not horrendously dark.
“I’m going to climb up this ledge… The ledges in here go all around wherever ‘here’ is. A big square, or reverse pyramid or something. I want to get to the top, see if there’s any way out or something. You game?”
The woman nodded. “My name is Roxanne, by the way.”
“You don’t have to sell your body to the night, Roxanne.”
She frowned. I was honestly surprised she had survived that long without hearing that phrase before; it was a good song.
I climbed the first ledge, holding my hand out and helping her up. The process repeated until we reached what I thought was the top. There was a huge wall blocking any chance of escape. My tiny light could only see about five feet up, but where the standard ledge would begin, there was just a large crack. I tried pulling myself up, but all I could see on the ceiling was the same pattern we had just climbed, reversed, extending into the air.
“Well, doesn’t look like we’re going to be getting out of here for a while,” I turned, staring Roxanne in the eye.
There was a faint light behind her.
I cried out at the top of my lungs the typical greeting.
There was a deep, baritone return.
I grabbed Roxanne by the hand and pulled her along as we ran over the hard surface, around the edge to the light.
It was a big guy, almost a foot taller than me. He had a huge mag-lite in his hand, his other hand on his tool belt.
“You a plumber or something?”
“What? Yes. How could you tell?”
I looked over his outfit. I had to stifle back a laugh. This guy was wearing red overalls, a blue undershirt, white gloves and a red cap.
“Lucky guess.”
He shrugged, putting the light face up on the ground, sliding down the wall into a sitting position. Roxanne and I did the same. There was enough light for us to see each other pretty well, all things considered… But it wouldn’t beat the sun or any other kind of overhead fluorescent light.
“So, Mario, are there any other people in here that you know of?”
The plumber looked over, “Me? There’s two. A young guy. Really shaky. He said he heard voices coming from one of the lower floors and went to check it out.
“And a girl. Probably your age, Mac,” he motioned at me. “She’s checking all the sides for an exit.”
“He probably heard us,” Roxanne chimed in, cleaning her glasses against the hem of her skirt before sliding them back onto her face.
“Alright, follow-up. Any idea why we’re here?”
“I’m just as confused as you are, man. I was in my van, driving to fix some pipes. I get to the house, the guy lets me in, I take a drink from a bottle he hands me and I wake up in here. What about you?”
“I was… at work, I think. I can’t remember right now.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll come back. It took me a few hours to remember.”
There was no comfort in the words. I didn’t want to know why I was here; what if I did something to deserve it? This place seemed like some kind of twisted prison. What if I wasn’t supposed to get out?
Too much sanity can drive a man mad, I decided, trying to forget it.
I kicked one of my legs out, knocking the mag over. It spun three times, before pointing at the edge. A pair of pale white hands gripped the edge, sliding off. Mario and I reached out, gripping the guy at the wrists. His hands left sweat-stains on my corduroy jacket.
“Stefano, welcome back. I think these are the people you went to find.”
Stefano nodded and shook, sitting down on the floor in front of the light. He handed a tiny flash-light back to Mario who slid it into his tool-belt.
“I ha-ha-hate the d-d-dark…” He stuttered out.
A tiny glow from behind us. A lighter flame, bobbing in the distance. The woman flicked the top back on, smothering the flame.
“Nothing I could see.”
She sat down next to Mario, resting her head on his shoulder. I set the mag-lite back up.
“Well, I’m glad we found some more people,” I said, breaking the silence.
“Holy shit,” Stefano started, “Are you-“
“No.”
“B-b-b-“
“No.”
“I just wanted to tell you, m-m-man, I think you’re t-t-too funny.”
“Alright, thanks.”
Roxanne looked up. “But you’re a carpet salesman. Why are you funny?”
Stefano chuckled in the darkness, his wiry high-pitched laugh echoing off of the walls. “You dumb b-b-bitch, who told you he was a c-c-carpet salesman? He’s a r-r-radio personality! Funny one, t-t-too.”
“Shut it, Stefano.”
“Howard Pitt, m-m-man. Shock jock extraordinaire!”
I slid my head into my hands. Good.
“Why did you lie to me, Howard?”
“Because the person I play on the radio and the person I actually am are two separate people. I would never say half the things on the radio that I say in actual… Life, I suppose.”
“But I had never even heard of you-“
“There was an off chance you had, and I didn’t want to alienate the only other person I knew was alive.”
A knife of guilt twisted in my stomach. Had I really lied to her out of personal gain? No, it was fear. Irrational fear. Other people would have done the same… I think.
The woman on Mario’s shoulder spoke up, her soft voice tearing apart the awkward silence with prejudice.
“Well, people are people now. Until we figure out where we are, it doesn’t really matter who we are, now does it?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Mario agreed.
“B-b-but, they would send people to find Howard, wouldn’t they?”
“It’s a Friday, Stefano. I don’t have to go back in to work until Monday. That’s a few days until people even realize I’m missing. Anyone else have people that would look for them?”
No one moved.
“Great. Alright, so maybe we weren’t picked at random? Maybe, whoever is doing this, is doing it because they know no one will look for us. Any credence to that thought?”
The girl on Mario’s shoulder looked up again. “Well, my parents would… I mean, if they’re sober. But I’ve gone out of the house before without telling them for a week, one time. Stayed at my friend Jenny’s house. They’ll just think I’m taking off…”
“How old are you?” Mario asked.
“Sixteen.”
Mario laughed. I didn’t want to ask.
“Alright, how long have we been in here?”
Stefano clicked his glow-in-the-dark watch. “I’ve been in here a little under sixteen hours. Mario and the girl-“
“Erika-“
“M-M-Mario and Erika were here when I got h-h-here…”
“And Roxanne and I haven’t been in here that long at all. Maybe three hours?”
Erika piped up, “Does anyone know how exactly they got in here? The wall up here is sheer except for the crack. But it’s like you guys just appeared in here somehow. I mean, Mario and I were sitting pretty and we heard that idiot crying about the dark down three levels.”
“I w-w-wasn’t crying,” Stefano shot back, his voice breaking. “I just h-h-hate the dark.”
“That’s where Roxanne and I came in, too. Three levels down. You think there’s a door or something down there?”
Mario stood up. “It’s worth a shot. Erika, Stefano, you stay up here with Roxanne. Howard and I are going to go check it out.”
We climbed down the levels using Mario’s tiny light – Stefano refused to let us take the mag – and began to pour over the shiny surface of the wall. And sure enough, there was a crack, an outline of a door. Stefano pulled an array of tools from his belt, to no avail; if it was a door, it wasn’t opening. There was no sign that there was something on the other side; the cracks were just as dark as our tomb.
Tomb. Pyramid? Could we be in Egypt? Did the Egyptians have porcelain floors? No. Another stupid thought.
Roxanne and Erika were playing a game of charades, with Stefano trying to guess. Stefano knew the answer; he was just too excited to get it out in one breath. His face was turning red with frustration.
“Relax, Stefano.”
“B-B-B-B-B-Beauty and the Beast!” He cried out triumphantly.
The man looked thirty but behaved like a thirteen year old. His hair was slicked back and he had a leather jacket on; if I had seen him on the street, I would have been more than intimidated.
What happened next was a blur of strange events, culminating in the mag breaking. Erika went to high-five Roxanne, who had her hand up. She wasn’t going for a high-five; she was having trouble breathing. The force of the high-five pushed the tiny old woman backwards, over the ledge.
Stefano, with a look of horror on his face, watched as the old woman bounced off the ledge and down another level, scurrying down to her side.
Mario froze. Erika ran to the edge, kicking the mag-lite and knocking it all the way down into the bowl where it landed next to the body of Roxanne, breaking.
When the light disappeared, Stefano froze.
“No!” Erika.
“Get back from the ledge, you can’t see anything!” Mario.
“Oh, G-G-God, help me…” Stefano.
Mario pulled out the tiny light and pointed it in Stefano’s direction. He climbed back up to our level where Erika was sitting on the edge, staring down into the darkness.
“What the hell just happened,” I managed to gasp out, confused and frustrated with the current turn of events.
No one moved. Stefano stood against the wall, trembling. Erika looked like she wanted to cry but didn’t know if she should shoulder the guilt. Mario stood, turning the light from person to person.
“Well… That was nuts,” I said under my breath.
Without so much as a warning, a rhythmic pounding began, shaking the floor. Light at first, but progressively heavier and heavier until the sound of scraping invaded my ears violently. I covered them, dropping down a level and helping Erika down. Stefano dropped to the ground and rolled over; he would have continued rolling, but I grabbed his sleeve.
Mario looked up at the sound of scraping quizzically. The crack in the wall was shifting, grinding, shrieking. Light poured in from above as the ceiling was removed. I covered my eyes and shielded Erika from the strong light; it was blinding. Stefano cried out as the light hit his eyes, blinding him.
I heard Mario cry out and heard the clatter of his tool-belt falling to the ground. I tried to look, but the light burned so much. Before anyone could move, the darkness was back, welcome this time.
We were missing Mario. His tool-belt lay on the ground, the tiny flashlight still functioning but noticeably weaker. I reached up, over the ledge, grabbing it.
“What the hell just happened,” I asked. Erika was curled into a ball, shuddering. I felt bad for her – ran away from parents she didn’t like to be put in here. Wherever “here” was it couldn’t be better than home.
Stefano began crying.
“It’s alright, Stefano. I have the light.”
“I can’t see anymore.”
“What?”
“I can barely see anything, Howard. I can’t see!”
“Oh, Christ…”
“H-H-Howard, fix it!”
“Just sit still, Stefano, you don’t want to wander off the edge.” I moved over, putting a hand on Erika’s shoulder and putting the light up to Stefano’s eye. It dilated greatly, thirsty for the light.
“Can you see anything?”
“Around the edge, I can see… I can see some light and your ugly mug.”
“You’re not completely blind, Stefano, but I’m not a doctor. I have no idea.” I paused. “Did you see what happened?”
“It looked like an a-a-alien!”
“What, the thing that took Mario?”
“No… The… The light came and then he was gone, but I couldn’t see n-n-nothing when… C-c-cause of the light.”
I turned to Erika, who had since stood, looking at the walls.
“Aliens, huh?”
She was sniffling. “Good a guess as any.”
“From now on, we don’t stay on the top level. If we need something from there, we get it, but I would feel more comfortable staying down a few levels, away from the top. It’s just…”
“I understand,” Erika said, jumping down a level.
Stefano nodded. I took his hand and led him to the edge, down two levels.
“We’ll set up shop here,” I said.
No one was in much of a mood for anything. I was constantly wracking my brain, trying to figure out what had happened before waking up in this room, drawing a blank. Down two levels, Roxanne’s body lay still; I wanted to think it was a heart attack that killed her instead of the fall, but it wasn’t worth thinking about.
If any of us were to make it out of here, we wouldn’t ever quite be the same.
“Wait, I… A new promotional item, for the station. It was something sent by one of our advertisers… It was something- I can’t remember what it was.”
“What are you talking about, Howard?”
“I’m trying to remember what happened pre-this.”
Erika put her head on my shoulder and tried to sleep. “Don’t think about it too much.”
I closed my eyes and began to drift off. I don’t know how long, but I had a dream.
I was in the studio, walking to my seat, grabbing my headphones. It’s silent in the dream; everything is a milky white color. I frown, there’s something on top of my headlines. It’s a bottle filled with a blue liquid. I smile. The label is familiar. My producer is giving me the thumbs up sign. I slide the headphones on and began to talk about something; the stupidity of women or something else I have no conviction in. I’ve talked myself into a thirst by the end of the show. My producer gives me another thumbs up, taking his phones off and stepping outside of the room.
I was awoken by the light again. Through my covered eyes, I could see Stefano being lifted, but not by what. He was kicking and laughing, happy to be free. Erika was still asleep; I shielded her eyes and closed mine until it was dark again.
An unimaginable amount of time later (seconds felt like minutes felt like hours is this what insanity feels like?) Erika woke up. I told her Stefano was gone. She didn’t seem to be worried. She just closed her eyes and nestled against my arm again, falling asleep.
“We’ve gotta move, the light might get us if we don’t, Erika.”
“The place is a bowl; wherever we go, it’s going to find us. No over-hanging areas or anything. Why not just stay comfortable until it comes back again, Howard? I don’t want to be scared anymore.”
I sighed. Neither did I.
I drifted back off to sleep, finding comfort in the fact that I was comforting someone.
Milky white. The bottle. Refreshing. A post it over the label. Friendly red letters, underlined three times. Solitary exclamation point. What had it said?
“Drink me.”
The light was back again, but Erika was off my arm. I saw her up another floor, wearing the pair of welding goggles from Mario’s tool belt. She was outlined in the light, her dress fluttering in the wind. She climbed up to the edge, to where the light was.
Erika turned back and shouted something. I couldn’t make it out; it was lost in my panic. Why was she leaving? I couldn’t keep watching; my eyes were burning, but I had to. She turned back to the ledge and stepped off, disappearing over the edge to the other side.
I ran to a corner, hiding, my head in my jacket.
The light took Roxanne’s body this time.
That was yesterday, I think.
Before you showed up, anyway. You drank it, too? The blue bottle, the tag, “Drink me?”
It’s funny, if you think about it. I’ve thought about what Erika might have said to me before she jumped. I’ve thought about it a whole lot before you showed up. I don’t know what she really said, but I like to think that she said, “Thank you,” before jumping.
I’m going to leave you very soon. The next time the ceiling opens, I’m going to stand there, arms out, hoping to get taken. Wherever I get taken has to be better than in here.
Take my keys; the flashlight cut out an hour ago. I’ve got a tiny light on there that should get you around until you get taken, too. Maybe there’ll be someone else coming through that one-way door that you can tell your story to. Maybe not. I don’t know.
Can you feel it? Can you feel the low rumble.
I’ve come to love that sound. I’ve finally placed what it is.
Porcelain scraping porcelain.
There’s the light.
I can feel myself being lifted! Goodbye!
I can see the side of the prison… The top is back on.
It wasn’t “Thank you” she said.
It was “Cookie.”
-
Mal
It was still dark. I still couldn’t see in front of me, save for the gentle flicker of the lighter held under the face of the old woman.
“Where are we?” She croaked out.
Old women… Funny.
“Hell if I know. I take it you have no idea either?”
“No.”
As far as I could see, we were in a dark room that may or may not extend infinitely across the expanse of space and time. I told her that, and she frowned. Either she didn’t understand, or I had somehow upset her. Either way, the light under her face blinked out and I was once again trapped in a cocoon of darkness. I reached out slowly and hit her face with the back of my hand.
“Why did you hit me?” She cried out. I could imagine knocking her glasses off with the motion, but I had neither seen (ha) or heard anything that would indicate such.
“I was just trying to figure out if you were still there,” I said, frowning.
“Well, I am, so you can stop touching me.”
I chuckled. “Lady, you wouldn’t’ believe how many times I’ve-“
“It’s not cute, cut it out.”
She wasn’t one for joking. A no-nonsense grandma, trapped wherever I was trapped. Some kind of cruel joke.
The thought had buzzed through my mind for a few seconds that maybe, just maybe some producers in all of their infinite wisdom, decided to kidnap some unsuspecting people and throw them into a dark room and film the results with a night-vision camera. People with contrasting personalities, just to see the sparks fly.
It was a stupid idea that I kept to myself.
“So,” the lighter flicked back on, “What do you do?”
“Pardon?”
“What do you do?”
I was a morning DJ for a coast to coast morning show. “I sell carpets.”
“How boring.”
And a lie. “Yes, I’ve been looking to break away from it for so long. How about you? What do you do?”
“I’m retired.”
“What did you do?”
“I was a bank teller.”
“Alright…”
There was a pause at the flame blinked out again. I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to find… Change? No. Cell phone? Yes. Keys? Yes.
I pulled my cell phone out and flipped it open. It didn’t do much for the battle against the darkness, but it did shed just enough light for me to see into the tangled mess of my keys to a light I had stashed away on the chain.
The screen of my phone read, “Searching for Signal,” although I could have told you that without even looking at it.
I clicked the tiny light on. It shot a wide beam the distance from me to the woman. She was old; very old. It looked like osteoporosis had already set in. I could see her being at least five inches taller, but that’s old people for you. Always shrinking.
She was wearing a funny little rose-patterned dress and slippers. Her glasses had been knocked off, but they were on a chain. They sat dutifully on her chest, moving in and out with her breathing. Her eyes were sunken in, her hair done up in a white bun. Everyone’s grandma, here in front of me. She blinked twice, looking at me. I waved.
I turned the light to the floor, trying to… well, excuse the pun, trying to shed some light and figure out where exactly we were. The floor was shiny and white, extending to my right and left for about five feet total. Two and a half feet to my right, the floor pitched up creating a somewhat climbable wall. To my left, there was a drop off, leading to another plateau like the one the old woman and I were standing on.
“Stay right there,” I waved at her, pointing the light in her face before stepping to the edge. A four foot drop. I slid over the edge, letting myself down.
This ledge continued north for a few feet before hitting a wall. But the ledge circled a hole that was once again to my left- west- that I peered into. It was just a hole. Made from the same stuff as the walls and the floor. It was small; it looked like it could only fit four people inside of it.
I climbed down inside, half-hoping some saarlac monster would jump out and eat me, but nothing. I stomped three times and waited. I heard the old woman cry out above, “Where are you? Hello?”
“I’m down here,” I called to her, pushing myself up the first ledge, up the second.
She smiled, relieved to see me. I pointed to the ledge on our east-side. This place was entirely climbable, if not horrendously dark.
“I’m going to climb up this ledge… The ledges in here go all around wherever ‘here’ is. A big square, or reverse pyramid or something. I want to get to the top, see if there’s any way out or something. You game?”
The woman nodded. “My name is Roxanne, by the way.”
“You don’t have to sell your body to the night, Roxanne.”
She frowned. I was honestly surprised she had survived that long without hearing that phrase before; it was a good song.
I climbed the first ledge, holding my hand out and helping her up. The process repeated until we reached what I thought was the top. There was a huge wall blocking any chance of escape. My tiny light could only see about five feet up, but where the standard ledge would begin, there was just a large crack. I tried pulling myself up, but all I could see on the ceiling was the same pattern we had just climbed, reversed, extending into the air.
“Well, doesn’t look like we’re going to be getting out of here for a while,” I turned, staring Roxanne in the eye.
There was a faint light behind her.
I cried out at the top of my lungs the typical greeting.
There was a deep, baritone return.
I grabbed Roxanne by the hand and pulled her along as we ran over the hard surface, around the edge to the light.
It was a big guy, almost a foot taller than me. He had a huge mag-lite in his hand, his other hand on his tool belt.
“You a plumber or something?”
“What? Yes. How could you tell?”
I looked over his outfit. I had to stifle back a laugh. This guy was wearing red overalls, a blue undershirt, white gloves and a red cap.
“Lucky guess.”
He shrugged, putting the light face up on the ground, sliding down the wall into a sitting position. Roxanne and I did the same. There was enough light for us to see each other pretty well, all things considered… But it wouldn’t beat the sun or any other kind of overhead fluorescent light.
“So, Mario, are there any other people in here that you know of?”
The plumber looked over, “Me? There’s two. A young guy. Really shaky. He said he heard voices coming from one of the lower floors and went to check it out.
“And a girl. Probably your age, Mac,” he motioned at me. “She’s checking all the sides for an exit.”
“He probably heard us,” Roxanne chimed in, cleaning her glasses against the hem of her skirt before sliding them back onto her face.
“Alright, follow-up. Any idea why we’re here?”
“I’m just as confused as you are, man. I was in my van, driving to fix some pipes. I get to the house, the guy lets me in, I take a drink from a bottle he hands me and I wake up in here. What about you?”
“I was… at work, I think. I can’t remember right now.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll come back. It took me a few hours to remember.”
There was no comfort in the words. I didn’t want to know why I was here; what if I did something to deserve it? This place seemed like some kind of twisted prison. What if I wasn’t supposed to get out?
Too much sanity can drive a man mad, I decided, trying to forget it.
I kicked one of my legs out, knocking the mag over. It spun three times, before pointing at the edge. A pair of pale white hands gripped the edge, sliding off. Mario and I reached out, gripping the guy at the wrists. His hands left sweat-stains on my corduroy jacket.
“Stefano, welcome back. I think these are the people you went to find.”
Stefano nodded and shook, sitting down on the floor in front of the light. He handed a tiny flash-light back to Mario who slid it into his tool-belt.
“I ha-ha-hate the d-d-dark…” He stuttered out.
A tiny glow from behind us. A lighter flame, bobbing in the distance. The woman flicked the top back on, smothering the flame.
“Nothing I could see.”
She sat down next to Mario, resting her head on his shoulder. I set the mag-lite back up.
“Well, I’m glad we found some more people,” I said, breaking the silence.
“Holy shit,” Stefano started, “Are you-“
“No.”
“B-b-b-“
“No.”
“I just wanted to tell you, m-m-man, I think you’re t-t-too funny.”
“Alright, thanks.”
Roxanne looked up. “But you’re a carpet salesman. Why are you funny?”
Stefano chuckled in the darkness, his wiry high-pitched laugh echoing off of the walls. “You dumb b-b-bitch, who told you he was a c-c-carpet salesman? He’s a r-r-radio personality! Funny one, t-t-too.”
“Shut it, Stefano.”
“Howard Pitt, m-m-man. Shock jock extraordinaire!”
I slid my head into my hands. Good.
“Why did you lie to me, Howard?”
“Because the person I play on the radio and the person I actually am are two separate people. I would never say half the things on the radio that I say in actual… Life, I suppose.”
“But I had never even heard of you-“
“There was an off chance you had, and I didn’t want to alienate the only other person I knew was alive.”
A knife of guilt twisted in my stomach. Had I really lied to her out of personal gain? No, it was fear. Irrational fear. Other people would have done the same… I think.
The woman on Mario’s shoulder spoke up, her soft voice tearing apart the awkward silence with prejudice.
“Well, people are people now. Until we figure out where we are, it doesn’t really matter who we are, now does it?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Mario agreed.
“B-b-but, they would send people to find Howard, wouldn’t they?”
“It’s a Friday, Stefano. I don’t have to go back in to work until Monday. That’s a few days until people even realize I’m missing. Anyone else have people that would look for them?”
No one moved.
“Great. Alright, so maybe we weren’t picked at random? Maybe, whoever is doing this, is doing it because they know no one will look for us. Any credence to that thought?”
The girl on Mario’s shoulder looked up again. “Well, my parents would… I mean, if they’re sober. But I’ve gone out of the house before without telling them for a week, one time. Stayed at my friend Jenny’s house. They’ll just think I’m taking off…”
“How old are you?” Mario asked.
“Sixteen.”
Mario laughed. I didn’t want to ask.
“Alright, how long have we been in here?”
Stefano clicked his glow-in-the-dark watch. “I’ve been in here a little under sixteen hours. Mario and the girl-“
“Erika-“
“M-M-Mario and Erika were here when I got h-h-here…”
“And Roxanne and I haven’t been in here that long at all. Maybe three hours?”
Erika piped up, “Does anyone know how exactly they got in here? The wall up here is sheer except for the crack. But it’s like you guys just appeared in here somehow. I mean, Mario and I were sitting pretty and we heard that idiot crying about the dark down three levels.”
“I w-w-wasn’t crying,” Stefano shot back, his voice breaking. “I just h-h-hate the dark.”
“That’s where Roxanne and I came in, too. Three levels down. You think there’s a door or something down there?”
Mario stood up. “It’s worth a shot. Erika, Stefano, you stay up here with Roxanne. Howard and I are going to go check it out.”
We climbed down the levels using Mario’s tiny light – Stefano refused to let us take the mag – and began to pour over the shiny surface of the wall. And sure enough, there was a crack, an outline of a door. Stefano pulled an array of tools from his belt, to no avail; if it was a door, it wasn’t opening. There was no sign that there was something on the other side; the cracks were just as dark as our tomb.
Tomb. Pyramid? Could we be in Egypt? Did the Egyptians have porcelain floors? No. Another stupid thought.
Roxanne and Erika were playing a game of charades, with Stefano trying to guess. Stefano knew the answer; he was just too excited to get it out in one breath. His face was turning red with frustration.
“Relax, Stefano.”
“B-B-B-B-B-Beauty and the Beast!” He cried out triumphantly.
The man looked thirty but behaved like a thirteen year old. His hair was slicked back and he had a leather jacket on; if I had seen him on the street, I would have been more than intimidated.
What happened next was a blur of strange events, culminating in the mag breaking. Erika went to high-five Roxanne, who had her hand up. She wasn’t going for a high-five; she was having trouble breathing. The force of the high-five pushed the tiny old woman backwards, over the ledge.
Stefano, with a look of horror on his face, watched as the old woman bounced off the ledge and down another level, scurrying down to her side.
Mario froze. Erika ran to the edge, kicking the mag-lite and knocking it all the way down into the bowl where it landed next to the body of Roxanne, breaking.
When the light disappeared, Stefano froze.
“No!” Erika.
“Get back from the ledge, you can’t see anything!” Mario.
“Oh, G-G-God, help me…” Stefano.
Mario pulled out the tiny light and pointed it in Stefano’s direction. He climbed back up to our level where Erika was sitting on the edge, staring down into the darkness.
“What the hell just happened,” I managed to gasp out, confused and frustrated with the current turn of events.
No one moved. Stefano stood against the wall, trembling. Erika looked like she wanted to cry but didn’t know if she should shoulder the guilt. Mario stood, turning the light from person to person.
“Well… That was nuts,” I said under my breath.
Without so much as a warning, a rhythmic pounding began, shaking the floor. Light at first, but progressively heavier and heavier until the sound of scraping invaded my ears violently. I covered them, dropping down a level and helping Erika down. Stefano dropped to the ground and rolled over; he would have continued rolling, but I grabbed his sleeve.
Mario looked up at the sound of scraping quizzically. The crack in the wall was shifting, grinding, shrieking. Light poured in from above as the ceiling was removed. I covered my eyes and shielded Erika from the strong light; it was blinding. Stefano cried out as the light hit his eyes, blinding him.
I heard Mario cry out and heard the clatter of his tool-belt falling to the ground. I tried to look, but the light burned so much. Before anyone could move, the darkness was back, welcome this time.
We were missing Mario. His tool-belt lay on the ground, the tiny flashlight still functioning but noticeably weaker. I reached up, over the ledge, grabbing it.
“What the hell just happened,” I asked. Erika was curled into a ball, shuddering. I felt bad for her – ran away from parents she didn’t like to be put in here. Wherever “here” was it couldn’t be better than home.
Stefano began crying.
“It’s alright, Stefano. I have the light.”
“I can’t see anymore.”
“What?”
“I can barely see anything, Howard. I can’t see!”
“Oh, Christ…”
“H-H-Howard, fix it!”
“Just sit still, Stefano, you don’t want to wander off the edge.” I moved over, putting a hand on Erika’s shoulder and putting the light up to Stefano’s eye. It dilated greatly, thirsty for the light.
“Can you see anything?”
“Around the edge, I can see… I can see some light and your ugly mug.”
“You’re not completely blind, Stefano, but I’m not a doctor. I have no idea.” I paused. “Did you see what happened?”
“It looked like an a-a-alien!”
“What, the thing that took Mario?”
“No… The… The light came and then he was gone, but I couldn’t see n-n-nothing when… C-c-cause of the light.”
I turned to Erika, who had since stood, looking at the walls.
“Aliens, huh?”
She was sniffling. “Good a guess as any.”
“From now on, we don’t stay on the top level. If we need something from there, we get it, but I would feel more comfortable staying down a few levels, away from the top. It’s just…”
“I understand,” Erika said, jumping down a level.
Stefano nodded. I took his hand and led him to the edge, down two levels.
“We’ll set up shop here,” I said.
No one was in much of a mood for anything. I was constantly wracking my brain, trying to figure out what had happened before waking up in this room, drawing a blank. Down two levels, Roxanne’s body lay still; I wanted to think it was a heart attack that killed her instead of the fall, but it wasn’t worth thinking about.
If any of us were to make it out of here, we wouldn’t ever quite be the same.
“Wait, I… A new promotional item, for the station. It was something sent by one of our advertisers… It was something- I can’t remember what it was.”
“What are you talking about, Howard?”
“I’m trying to remember what happened pre-this.”
Erika put her head on my shoulder and tried to sleep. “Don’t think about it too much.”
I closed my eyes and began to drift off. I don’t know how long, but I had a dream.
I was in the studio, walking to my seat, grabbing my headphones. It’s silent in the dream; everything is a milky white color. I frown, there’s something on top of my headlines. It’s a bottle filled with a blue liquid. I smile. The label is familiar. My producer is giving me the thumbs up sign. I slide the headphones on and began to talk about something; the stupidity of women or something else I have no conviction in. I’ve talked myself into a thirst by the end of the show. My producer gives me another thumbs up, taking his phones off and stepping outside of the room.
I was awoken by the light again. Through my covered eyes, I could see Stefano being lifted, but not by what. He was kicking and laughing, happy to be free. Erika was still asleep; I shielded her eyes and closed mine until it was dark again.
An unimaginable amount of time later (seconds felt like minutes felt like hours is this what insanity feels like?) Erika woke up. I told her Stefano was gone. She didn’t seem to be worried. She just closed her eyes and nestled against my arm again, falling asleep.
“We’ve gotta move, the light might get us if we don’t, Erika.”
“The place is a bowl; wherever we go, it’s going to find us. No over-hanging areas or anything. Why not just stay comfortable until it comes back again, Howard? I don’t want to be scared anymore.”
I sighed. Neither did I.
I drifted back off to sleep, finding comfort in the fact that I was comforting someone.
Milky white. The bottle. Refreshing. A post it over the label. Friendly red letters, underlined three times. Solitary exclamation point. What had it said?
“Drink me.”
The light was back again, but Erika was off my arm. I saw her up another floor, wearing the pair of welding goggles from Mario’s tool belt. She was outlined in the light, her dress fluttering in the wind. She climbed up to the edge, to where the light was.
Erika turned back and shouted something. I couldn’t make it out; it was lost in my panic. Why was she leaving? I couldn’t keep watching; my eyes were burning, but I had to. She turned back to the ledge and stepped off, disappearing over the edge to the other side.
I ran to a corner, hiding, my head in my jacket.
The light took Roxanne’s body this time.
That was yesterday, I think.
Before you showed up, anyway. You drank it, too? The blue bottle, the tag, “Drink me?”
It’s funny, if you think about it. I’ve thought about what Erika might have said to me before she jumped. I’ve thought about it a whole lot before you showed up. I don’t know what she really said, but I like to think that she said, “Thank you,” before jumping.
I’m going to leave you very soon. The next time the ceiling opens, I’m going to stand there, arms out, hoping to get taken. Wherever I get taken has to be better than in here.
Take my keys; the flashlight cut out an hour ago. I’ve got a tiny light on there that should get you around until you get taken, too. Maybe there’ll be someone else coming through that one-way door that you can tell your story to. Maybe not. I don’t know.
Can you feel it? Can you feel the low rumble.
I’ve come to love that sound. I’ve finally placed what it is.
Porcelain scraping porcelain.
There’s the light.
I can feel myself being lifted! Goodbye!
I can see the side of the prison… The top is back on.
It wasn’t “Thank you” she said.
It was “Cookie.”
-
Mal
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