Escape

Sammy’s fingertips were raw and bloody, but she kept at it. She couldn’t let down Melissa. There was too much at stake. Melissa had stopped sweating hours ago, and was barely conscious. In a way, Sammy was thankful for the sweat that now dripped in her own eyes. She wiped it away and continued trying to pick the lock.

Melissa’s cage was right next to hers, which was right next to the unfinished wall. It was a stroke of luck that the wooden beam was within reach. It had taken her days to work the nail out of the wood. Another bit of luck – her work had gone unnoticed.

She’d been scraping the nail on the concrete floor since she’d disengaged it from the wood, hiding the evidence under the mat their captor had so kindly provided. She would try to manipulate the padlock, whittle more, then try again. The idea had come to her when she’d wished she’d had a bobby pin to try to pick the lock.

Working gently, she was careful not to break off her makeshift key inside. Then, not only would she be out of luck, she’d be out of time, because he’d know she’d been tampering. She had to risk it, though.

There were three cages in the basement, one of which was empty. Melissa had talked about the woman, Frankie, who’d been in there, but wouldn’t tell Sammy what had happened to her. Inference – and the horrid smell emanating from under the tarp in the corner – told her things hadn’t ended well for Frankie. Sammy was not about to let that happen again, to either of them.

She’d been working so long at it, when the lock finally gave, she was stunned for a second.

The click of the padlock caused Melissa to stir. “No,” she moaned, “no, no, no!” Her voice got louder and she flailed slightly on the floor.

“Shh,” Sammy whispered, “Lis, it’s OK! He’s not here.” She listened for any indication they’d been heard from upstairs. All seemed quiet. She slipped out of her cage and knelt in front of the other.

“Sammy?” Melissa mumbled.

“Yes, Lis, it’s me. Listen, you have to be quiet, OK? I’m going to try to get help.”

“No!” Melissa said again. “Don’t leave me!”

“It’ll be alright. I’m going to come back for you.”

“No! He’ll kill me if he comes back and you’re not here!”

“Then I’ll be back before he is. I promise.”

Melissa nodded and rolled back on her side.

“I promise I’ll come back for you,” Sammy said.

Reluctantly leaving her friend, she slowly, carefully, stepped on the first step. She was sure to stay to the side, as she’d been paying attention when he’d come down the stairs each evening. Steps three, seven, and nine creaked when stepped on in the middle.

When no sound came, she carefully tried the second. Still no sound. Third…creak. Immediately, she moved her foot and tried to hear through the thumping of her heart. All seemed still. She breathed out slowly and put her foot on step four. She’d go ahead and skip seven and nine.

Once at the top, she knew the door groaned when opened slowly. It felt as if he’d used the sound as a precursor, of sorts, like a boxing ring uses a bell to start the match. Neither girl would ever be able to hear a door creak again and not have their heart rate quicken and stomach turn.

The chances he was on the other side of the door were slim, she told herself. He only came down to the basement once a day, five days in a row. Probably weekdays, therefore he must have a job during the day. She knew it was a day job because he only came down when no light was visible from the one window in the basement, which he’d mostly covered. Two days a week, most likely weekends, he’d come down several times, no matter the time of day.

He’d been down last night, which by Sammy’s count was Wednesday. She had to act today, Thursday, in case he’d taken Friday off for a long weekend. She doubted either woman would survive a long weekend.

Now, at the top of the stairs, her heart pounding, she grasped the door handle and released a slow breath. Still not hearing anything on the other side of the door, she turned the knob.

One, two, three – she opened the door quickly. It still groaned. She waited, then heard the noise she’d been dreading. Footsteps coming towards her. Without knowing where she was or where she was going, Sammy ran as fast as she could to the first exit she saw. She flung open the kitchen door and darted through.

She could feel, more than hear, movement behind her. Fingertips ran down her back as she leaned forward out of reach. Inhaling, she screamed, “HELP!” Dread dropped into her stomach as she realized she was surrounded by a privacy fence.

Gasping for another shout, her mouth was open when his hand came around her face. His arm wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her back towards the house. She bit down as hard as she could on his hand and didn’t let go until she tasted blood. She felt bone against bone, as she dug her teeth deeper into flesh. Reflexively, he let go. She took off again, screaming as she went. She’d have to climb the fence.

“Help!” She screamed, but was grabbed from behind again.

She kicked wildly and tried to pry herself from his grip, as he struggled to cover her mouth and hold onto her with his now injured hand. Forcing herself to relax against him, she dropped out of his grasp.

He tried to hold her up, but couldn’t manage with his injury and trying to keep her mouth covered. When he removed a hand from her face to pick her up, she screamed.

He put one hand back over her face, gripped her hair with the other, and pulled her by the head. She dug her heels and fingers into the yard, trying to slow his progress. Grunts and semi-screams erupted between efforts to bite him again.

“To hell with this,” he said, gripped both sides of her head, and turned hard to the side. There was a loud crack, then Sammy quit fighting. He dropped her limp form on the ground, and caught his breath as he stared at her. He shook his head. It’d been a stroke of luck he’d been off work for a dentist appointment.

After a minute, he took both of her hands and drug her back inside. Next time, he’d up the dose so they’d stay more sedated. He didn't need them fully coherent anyway. Live and learn. Except for Sammy, that is.

Once he acquainted Sammy with Frankie, he got out his phone and sent a text message: Hey, Gorgeous! Dinner at my place? 

Great! Around 8?

Perfect. See you then. 

He smiled and looked at Melissa, whom he doubted was still alive. "Get ready, Sweetheart. We're going to have company."