The Writing Retreat(83)

“Fire.” Roza smiled, as if drifting into a happy reverie. “Fire takes all but the bones. You should know that, Alex. It happened to Daphne. All it would take is one candle on a desk, lighting a curtain on fire. Your whole wing would go up.”

The cool words slammed into me like I’d walked into traffic. Horror was doing funny things to my body, causing my right foot to twitch, my arms to feel frozen in place.

“It would be a tragic event,” Roza said, solemn. “We’d probably set up a new charity in your names. Something for other young female writers. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“What’s the other option?” I asked. “You said there were two.”

Roza grinned. “Good question.” She again looked at Taylor, who opened the tote bag and pulled out an extension cord with a power strip. Taylor plugged it into the outlet near the door and slipped the end through the bars. We watched in stunned disbelief as she pulled open the small slot at the bottom of the door and slipped all our laptops and cords through.

“The other option is to write,” Roza said. “As long as you reach the word count each day, you’ll be given water and meals. The count will be higher, since we’ve lost a couple of days due to all this nonsense. But I think you’ll agree that there’s not much else to do in here.”

“And what happens at the end?” Zoe’s voice quavered. “Another fire?”

Roza rubbed her chin. “Good question, Ms. Canard. So curious, just like Lucy.”

I felt Zoe go rigid next to me.

“This is your fault, you know,” Roza said to her. “I planned this retreat expecting we could all come to a peaceful agreement. I only needed one novel. I thought it could even be a team decision, picking the winner who gets published under their name, and the winner who gets published under mine. You must realize that if you give a book to me, I take care of you for the rest of your life. There are a lot of egos in the group, of course, and I figured it would take a little convincing. But, in the end, one of you would’ve agreed.”

“What a great honor,” Keira muttered.

Roza glared at her before continuing. “So this is all to say that I had high hopes that we could start and end with positive reinforcement. That no one would have to get hurt. Unfortunately, Zoe ruined that for all of you by bumbling into this space. Even then, I did everything I could to protect the rest of you by making you think she was dead. But you just couldn’t let it go, could you?”

“So this was your plan B?” I asked, my voice cracking. “Locking us up?”

“Yes.” Roza focused on me. “I always have a backup plan.”

“Why would we do anything for you in here?” Keira scoffed. “If you’re just going to kill us anyway?”

“Now, I didn’t say that.” Roza shifted on the stool. “My methods may be extreme, but they work. If you finish your novels in this setting, I can guarantee that they’ll be magnificent. Zoe, I know you were copying that book, but I’m assuming you can still write, even if it’s been a few decades. So I’ll allow you to start something new. And we’ll proceed with the original plan. I need only one book. I have plenty of money to share with everyone, and I know most of you need it. Of course, I’ll need collateral to make sure you don’t tell anyone what happened here. But cults do that kind of thing all the time. And besides”—she smirked—“who would believe you? There’d be no proof. Just a bunch of wannabe writers trying to get famous.”

Wren shook her head. “I can’t do it. I can’t.”

“Well, that’s too bad.” Roza raised a palm. “Because this is an all-or-nothing proposition. If one of you refuses, none of you get to drink or eat.”

Wren covered her face with her hands.

“Fuck!” came the muffled cry.

“I know you hate me right now.” Roza’s voice was warm. “But eventually you’ll thank me. You won’t be able to hold out for very long, and you might as well start today instead of two days from now. Either way, it’s going to be brilliant. Remember: ‘What is to give light must endure burning.’?”

“Are you…?” Keira let out a startled bark of laughter. “Victor Frankl, huh? Love the irony.”

Roza smiled softly. “I think I’m going to enjoy watching your process the most, Keira.”

Zoe pulled her laptop onto her lap. The rest of us watched as she opened the screen.

“Good girl,” Roza said approvingly. “Let’s see, the word count is now six thousand per day. We’ll bring down a printer and you’ll print your pages by midnight. If any of you don’t make the count, there will be no food or water the following day.”

“Roza.” My voice faltered. “How are we supposed to write?”

Roza got to her feet and stretched. “I think you’ll find it a great comfort, actually. The mind needs something to work on in this type of solitude. Otherwise it starts to tear itself apart. Any other questions?”

We were mute.

“Good.” Roza fluttered her fingers. “Then get to work, my little chickadees. And remember: we’re watching you. Don’t get any ideas with all these cords.”

My breath hitched in my throat.

“Wait,” Wren called, her voice breaking. But Roza and Taylor were already leaving, closing the basement door firmly behind them.