Outside the Wire

by Richard Farnsworth

I froze at the metallic snick, as the door’s steel lock bolt slid into place.

  Holding the punched card suspended above the tabulator’s input slit, I called out a tremulous, "Hello?"

  There was no response.

  I set the card down and stood abruptly from the little workstation. I straightened my skirt and crossed the small windowless room to the door and hesitated.

  I cleared my throat softly, as it simply would not do to lose my composure, and then called again, "Hello?"

  There was still no response.

  I slipped off my earring and pressed my ear against the door. I listened for any indication of life in the hallway beyond, but heard only the dull thrum of the building’s mechanicals.

  A tingling panic rose up in my breast.

  There was no slit of a keyhole in the door’s lock plate or handle of dull-worn brass. I gently touched the knob with my fingers, twisted and felt resistance. I grasped the knob more firmly and wrenched it side to side. The small metal ball rotated but the door was fixed in place. I slapped the door with the flat of my free hand as I continued to jerk and pull with the other. It was quite a solid door.

  "Hello! I say, this isn't funny! Mr. Nussbaum!”

  This task did not require that I be left secured like this.

  “Mr. Colund, Sir! I would prefer not to be locked in!”

  I released the knob and oscillated between fear and indignation. I imagine at much the same periodicity as the knob had rotated with my manic twisting.

  “Let me out!”

  I started as the ticker tape device beside the tabulator sprang to life. I had attempted to engage the device earlier to no avail, so I had thought it was just a dead relic. But there it stood, spitting out a ribbon of white paper. The harsh mechanical whirring brought to my mind the image of tiny meat cleavers on bone.

  I approached the machine and pulled back the tape so that I could read it.

  The ribbon was pierced with little groups of dashes and dots that corresponded to four letters in Mr. Morse’s code.

  S*O*O*N

  I am not certain exactly why, but that single word had the same effect a spider would have had tracing a path up the back of my neck.

  I looked back at the door. This was not good.