The Writing Retreat(78)

I sank to the ground. Keira’s yells became distant and far-off.

No matter how many times Keira called her name, Taylor didn’t respond.



* * *



Keira’s initial reaction was to try to jimmy open the door. Wren stood behind her, pale and watchful.

“It won’t work,” Zoe said. She’d dragged the pallet over near the door and we both were sitting on it, watching. “It’s a dead bolt.”

I’d returned from whatever shocked, numbed place I’d fallen into. Now I was attempting to manage the desperate jolts of helplessness that sizzled in my chest.

“Okay.” Keira exhaled with a huff and turned towards us. “Poppy or Zoe or whoever you are, you need to tell me exactly what is going on.”

Wren and Keira settled on the floor as Zoe spoke. I found myself tuning out, drifting back to the revelation about Taylor. I was starting to match the images of the electric-orange demoness with Taylor’s compact body. It hadn’t been Lamia; instead, it had been Taylor’s lips I’d kissed, Taylor’s nipples I’d teased, Taylor’s clit I’d tongued and sucked.

In another world, it could have been a momentous experience. Because I had connected with Taylor during our one-on-one conversations. There had been a true spark of attraction between us, even if I’d been too scared to handle it at the time. And if Roza hadn’t drugged us, our basement hookup could’ve been a life-changing sexual experience. It could’ve showed me the truth, that it was time to admit to—to celebrate—the fact that I was attracted to certain women.

Unfortunately, that’s not how things had played out. And I was now locked in a dungeon, and my sexual partner was taunting us.

“I didn’t know Taylor was a part of it.” Zoe was wrapping up. “Maybe it was even her in the mask. I figured it was Yana. Or Chitra. They’re all pretty small.”

My stomach growled loudly. After all, I hadn’t had dinner.

“How’d you guys get down here?” I asked, trying to distract myself.

“Roza said she was going to take the snowmobile and check if the roads had been cleared,” Keira said. “And Taylor said we should look for you, since you hadn’t come back. She found the passage in the wardrobe. Well, pretended to.”

I pictured Taylor’s surprised, excited face: Guys, look!

“What are we going to do?” Wren rasped and coughed.

“We’ll figure it out.” I had no idea where the soothing words came from. My stomach growled again.

“They’ve been feeding you?” I asked.

Zoe nodded. “The masked person came a few times to give me food and water.”

“You haven’t seen Roza?” Keira asked.

“Nope.”

“We have to fight them.” Speaking in a low voice, Keira locked eyes with Wren. “Someone will come through that door eventually. And when they do, we have to take them down.”

“How?” Wren clasped her hands together, looking miserable.

“I’m trying to remember what I learned in that self-defense workshop.” Keira considered. “It was a long time ago.”

“Go for the crotch.” Zoe erupted in an incongruous giggle. “Usually the attacker is a guy, though.”

“Eyes,” I said. Wren and I had taken a class through work, years before. “And nose? Can’t you push up with your palm and smash their nose?”

“Yes. Good.” Keira touched Wren’s shoulder. “It’s going to be our only chance.”

“Okay.” Wren fished a disintegrating tissue from her pocket and blew her nose.

Despite Keira’s confident words, a deep fear shone from the depths of her pupils. It chilled me. Keira had always been the calm one, even while picking the lock of the office or searching my room for cameras.

Now she looked terrified.

“We’re going to get through this.” I said the words slowly, like an incantation.

But the phrase sounded hollow, even to me.



* * *



When the door did open three hours later, it happened so quickly that we failed to register it until it was closed again.

We leapt to our feet, a second too late. Someone had opened the door and launched water bottles into the space. They now rolled down the concrete floor, crackling.

Zoe muttered, clutching the bars.

Keira gathered them and set them against the wall. They gleamed, sweating with condensation from the cold. I swallowed, wincing at my raw, dry throat.

“When’s the last time you drank anything?” I asked Zoe.

“A long time ago.”

“We can’t drink these.” Keira uncapped one. “They’re all open. Roza or Taylor or whoever must’ve put something in them.”

“Roza’s trying to drug us?” My empty stomach clenched. “Again?”

“Of course.” Keira set the bottle down. “She needs to get Wren and me in there with you guys. I’ll bet there are more roofies in here.”

Wren moaned and slid back down to sit on the ground. Her cheeks were now a candy-apple pink, her eyes shiny with fever.

“How long can people survive without water?” I asked.

“Only a couple of days. Three days?” Keira cocked her head. “I think you’re supposed to drink half a gallon every day. Like eight full glasses. Right?”