'We all tried our phones,' said a male voice.
The person who spoke wore pajamas.
Blue striped, flannelette pajamas. And slippers. He looked like he'd just jumped from bed and thrown on a robe to answer the door. His dark navy bathrobe matched his slippers. He looked sick. His thin frame and pale features made him look like someone who'd spent far too long eating hospital food. He looked about thirty-five.
What’s wrong with him? HIV? It looks like HIV.
The other man, the 'Postman' Victoria had mentioned, wasn't a postman at all. He wore a UPS delivery driver's uniform with the yellow shield logo on his brown shirt and peaked cap. He twisted his cap nervously. He looked about forty-five, balding, slightly overweight, but still quite strong and fit. His arms and legs were really hairy. A neatly trimmed moustache probably showed what color the hair on his head had been fifteen years ago.
He looks like Dr. Phil. He must be freezing in those shorts.
Megan spotted thermals under his shirt, but goose bumps everywhere else.
'How are you feeling?' asked pajama man.
'Abducted!' Megan shot back. ‘Who are you?’
'I'm Glen. This is Carl. You’re Megan, right?'
Megan nodded.
The UPS driver, Carl, spoke with a strong, almost exaggerated southern accent. 'How were you abducted, Megan?'
'I want answers first,' demanded Megan. 'What the hell is going on here?'
‘We have absolutely no idea,’ admitted Carl, twisting his UPS cap. ‘We’re just trying to find out. Just like you. Will you help us or not?’
Megan saw sincerity in Carl’s eyes. Although twice her size, he looked just as lost and confused as she felt.
Glen looked even more pitiful in his pajamas.
And he’s sick.
‘All right,’ she nodded reluctantly. She told them everything she remembered from the moment she saw the demented cleaner to when she woke up in the chamber.
Neither man interrupted her. Chrissie and Victoria came around the ice to listen.
When Megan finished, the five of them stood shuffling in a circle.
Carl tried to rub the goose bumps off his arms.
Glen tightened his bathrobe. 'Had you ever seen that cleaner before?'
'No.’ Megan blew into her cupped hands. ‘But she probably has two black eyes now.'
Carl smiled at that. The three others swapped glances. Megan had no idea what they thought.
Nor did she care. She’d told her story. She wanted answers.
‘Now where are we?’
‘No idea,’ said Carl instantly.
Megan pointed at Carl. ‘But you’re from the south, right? Is that where they abducted you from?’
Carl nodded. ‘Texas. And you?’
‘Colorado,’ answered Megan.
‘I’m from California,’ said Glen.
‘New York,’ said Chrissie.
Victoria rubbed her hands together. ‘I’ve lived in Florida all my life.’
‘They took us from all over the country,’ realized Megan. ‘Is this all of us?’
‘There’s two more,’ replied Chrissie.
Seven, realized Megan. They abducted seven of us.
‘Have they said anything yet? Made any demands?’
Everyone shook their head.
‘Have you even seen them?’
More head shakes.
No wonder they wanted to ask me questions, Megan thought. They’re just as confused as I am.
She looked around.
‘Well, what’s with this ice?’
Mentioning the ice made the entire group huddle closer.
'Megan, we have no idea about the ice,’ admitted Carl. ‘No idea why we're here. No one has told us jack-shit. We woke up every bit as confused as you.’
‘Then we found the real problem,' added Glen.
‘Real problem!’ blurted Megan. ‘What’s more real than being abducted?’
'Go look.’ Glen shifted his tall pajama-clad frame. ‘We all had to see it.'
Frustrated, Megan walked around the ice.
The shuffling had worked. Her legs felt steadier.
She avoided looking into the ice, worried she’d see someone staring back.
She heard movement ahead. Breathing.
She yanked her hands into her sleeves.
Coming around the ice, she found herself staring at a soldier.
#
Relief swept through Megan.
A uniform!
Uniforms were good when you were in trouble.
The soldier was tall, broad-shouldered and dressed in camouflage fatigues.
His forearm muscles bulged as he pushed against the wall.
What's he doing? Keeping warm?
'Hello,' she said. 'I just woke up.'
The soldier turned his head. At first he looked handsome, in an assembly line kind of way, but as he faced her, Megan felt a chill of instinctive revulsion. He didn't smile.
‘I know,’ he said flatly. ‘I heard you scream. You were better off asleep.'
They stood there, Megan and the soldier, his words hanging between them as though no one wanted to own them.
'What do you mean?' she finally said.
He pointed to his big black watch. ‘It’s only forty-one degrees in here. You need to keep moving.’
Megan began shuffling again. His watch must have a thermometer.
He pointed around the ice before turning back to the wall.
'Keep walking and you’ll see what I mean. Alex is watching it. Don't touch it.'
Megan felt her 'uniforms-were-good' theory crumble to dust. The man before her didn’t radiate leadership or authority. Pushing against the wall, he now resembled a soldier ant trapped under a glass.
He’s awful.
Continuing around the ice, she still had no idea what to expect.
It certainly wasn’t a pimply schoolboy.
They abducted a kid?
Megan reassessed as she watched him. He’s not a kid.
His features were those of a sixteen or seventeen year old. A young man, really, wearing gray high school track pants and a gray hooded track top.
He still had a smattering of pimples, but in profile his dark hair and intense features would suit him well when his small frame caught up.
He hadn't heard her approach.
He stared at the ice.
What's he looking at?
'Oh, my God!' Megan burst out. 'Is that a bomb?'
The weapon hung horizontally in the ice. About five feet long, its drab olive paint was broken by two yellow stripes at nose and tail. The tail tapered into four fins confined within a metal box.
Half of the bomb hung free of the ice.
It could fall at any moment!
Alex jumped in fright, spinning toward Megan. ‘Shit! Don’t do that! I thought the fucking thing was falling.’
Alex shook his hands out as though releasing adrenalin.
‘So it’s real then?’ asked Megan.
Alex nodded. ‘World War Two, Carl says.’
He pulled his hood over his head and pinched the fabric under his chin. 'You're Megan, right?’
Megan hugged herself and nodded.
Alex pointed at her feet. ‘You have to keep moving. Otherwise you’ll freeze. Seriously. Don’t stop.’
Megan didn’t need much incentive. Her hands and feet were already feeling numb. She began shuffling again.’
‘Did they dart you?' asked Alex.
Megan shook her head. 'No dart. This crazy woman squirted disinfectant in my eyes. Then she smothered me with her cleaning rag.’
'Ouch. How are your eyes?'
Alex was the only person who’d asked.
‘All right now. They stung when I woke up. Felt like acid.'
Alex winced. 'Your eyes still look red. Try not to rub them.’
Megan approached the bomb. It hung sideways about chest-high.
'Are you sure it's real?'
A
lex pointed at its stripes. 'Carl says the Allies in World War Two marked their bombs like this.’
'How does he know?’
‘DVDs,' shrugged Alex. 'Books and stuff.'
'What did the army guy say?'
'He said not to take my eyes off it.' Alex gave a little salute.
It’s real then, thought Megan.
Alex gently scratched some ice flakes off the bomb.
As the flakes fell, Megan experienced a surge of survival instinct.
It's real. I know it. If it falls, we’re dead.
'Don't touch it!' she cried. 'It's barely holding.'
Alex shook his head. 'The tail is anchored. The bomb can't fall until that melts out.'
Megan disagreed. 'Enough weight will break the tail loose. It won't need to melt out.'
'That's why everyone’s freaking out,’ admitted Alex.
Chrissie, Victoria, Glen and Carl came around the ice. Everyone except the soldier.
Glen thrust his hands into his bathrobe's pockets. 'Now you know.’
Alex nodded. ‘She knows if this thing falls we're all red fucking paint.'
'That's disgusting,’ said Victoria, glaring at Alex. ‘Keep that filth to yourself.'
Victoria crossed her arms over her gardening apron and walked off to study something on the floor.
Chrissie turned up the collar on her tan business jacket to protect her neck.
'Let's just escape before it falls,’ she said. ‘Or we freeze to death. It’s sub-zero in here.’
'It's warmer than 32 degrees Fahrenheit ,' reasoned Carl, adjusting his cap. 'That's why the ice is melting.'
Shuffling in his slippers, Glen said, 'This chamber was designed for storing ice, not us. They'll have to move us soon.'
'That makes sense,' agreed Chrissie.
Nothing in here makes sense, thought Megan. I’ll find the door.
She strode around the chamber and found herself back where she started. The only thing she’d found was a drain in the floor.
I missed it.
She went back, watching the walls carefully this time. At the drain she long-stepped over the shallow flow of melt water flowing into the hole.
That’s a big drain hole.
The drain resembled a slotted manhole cover. It needed to be big. Water was pouring into it.
She stopped behind the rude soldier.
‘Where’s the door?’
'No doors,' he replied, turning to look her slowly up and down. 'And no windows. Just the drain and the air vent above the ice. We’re sealed in here like a tomb.’
‘That’s not possible,’ countered Megan. ‘If they—’
He cut her off. ‘Don’t touch the guy in the pajamas.’
He meant Glen.
‘Why not?’
‘He’s sick, and we’ll have to pair up for warmth. I’ll pair up with you. You or Chrissie. If you touch him, you’re on your own.’
Megan shook her head in disbelief. What kind of a nut job is this guy?
She strode back to the others.
‘Where’s the door?’
‘Hidden,’ answered Carl. ‘I think Ericsson’s looking for it.’
Megan realized Ericsson must be the soldier’s name. ‘He just told me there isn’t one. He’s a weirdo.’
‘Told you so,’ Alex said to the others. ‘We need to keep the hell away from him.’
Megan quelled her rising panic. No doors. No windows. No way in and no way out. Nonsense!
‘What if he’s right?’ asked Glen. ‘What if there’s no way out?’
'Then how did we get in here?' Megan asked, sounding angrier than she'd expected.
'Exactly!' agreed Chrissie. ‘There must be a door. It's hidden. We need to find it before this bomb falls. We're wasting time!'
Megan realized they’d skipped the most important question.
‘Why are we even in here?'
Chapter Three
Shuffling for warmth in a circle, everyone looked at everyone else.
‘Is your family rich?’ asked Carl.
'You must be kidding,' scoffed Megan. ‘I still live at home. My Dad’s a teacher.’
Glen nodded at Chrissie. ‘You’ve got money.’
Megan agreed it certainly looked that way. All Chrissie’s clothes were designer labels, as were her shoes and jewelry. She wore a huge solitaire engagement ring and a gold Cartier bracelet. Megan doubted she could afford with six months wages even half the clothes that Chrissie wore right now.
Chrissie nodded. ‘I’ve got money. And just as much debt in legal fees.’
She pulled a thick gold chain out from under her collar. ‘This is from Tiffany’s. It’s solid twenty-four carat gold. Why didn’t they take it if they wanted money? This isn’t about money.’
Megan shook her head. ‘I think I'm here by mistake.'
'We all think that,' said Carl, pointing at the UPS logo on his uniform. ‘Who abducts a delivery driver?’
A shiver ran up Megan’s back.
She turned to find Ericsson watching her.
'Oh, finally,' said Chrissie, waving at Ericsson. 'Someone actually doing something. What did you find?'
Ericsson hooked both thumbs into his thick black belt.
'Listen up!' he said with authority. 'Everyone's awake now, and our pool of intelligence amounts to just about zero. Agreed?'
Everyone nodded. Megan joined in.
'I'm sorry to report that there is no exit.’
Megan blurted, 'Then how did we get in here?'
Ericsson made a loop with his index finger. 'They built this place around us.’
'Bullshit!' said Alex.
Ericsson glowered at him. ‘What did you just say to me, boy?’
Alex lowered his hood. ‘I said that’s bullshit. This place wasn’t just built around us. The oxidation on these walls is years old. You know what oxidization is, don’t you?’
Ericsson took two menacing steps toward Alex. His cheeks looked so hollow and his forehead so wide that his head seemed little more than a skull with skin stretched over it.
He stared at Alex with calculated malice.
Alex didn’t even blink at the aggressive display from the huge man.
Instead, he said, ‘Oxidization means the walls aren’t nice and shiny anymore. They’re not new.’
‘You’ll watch your mouth around me, boy. You understand?’
Alex touched the wall. ‘These are pot rivets.’
‘So?’ said Ericsson. ‘I checked them. They’re solid.’
Alex raised an eyebrow. ‘But these walls are all riveted from the inside. I don’t see any skeletons on the floor holding rivet guns.’
Alex left that hanging.
Megan looked from Alex to the little metal bumps on the walls that held the place together.
Everyone did.
Ericsson looked as baffled as Megan felt.
Alex waved at the wall. ‘If they sealed all these walls from the inside, then how did they get out? Obviously they had an exit.’
‘Then where is it?’ Ericsson growled.
‘No idea,’ admitted Alex, popping up his hood. ‘But there is one.’
Ericsson looked like he wanted to crush Alex’s head like a walnut.
Chrissie raised her voice and pointed past the soldier. ‘What about that bomb! If it falls, we're all dead. You’re military. Can’t you defuse it or something?’
‘He’s not military,’ said Alex.
Everyone was quiet for a moment.
‘What?’ asked Chrissie, glancing between Ericsson and Alex. ‘Why not?’
‘Because the military has standards.’
Ericsson stood completely still. Only a single muscle in his face twitched.
He said to Alex, ‘You think being a kid will save you, boy?’
‘Save me from what? You?’
‘But you’re wearing military clothes,’ Chrissie cut in. ‘Look at you. Of course you’re military.’
Ericsson made an ugly
sneer. ‘I’m the last person they’d let in the army. Listen to the smart-mouthed little brat. He seems to know it all.’
‘Then why are you wearing army fatigues?’ asked Carl.
Ericsson’s unsettling gaze stopped on Megan.
‘I was hunting.’
He’s lying, thought Megan. He’s not even trying to hide it.
Chrissie turned her back on Ericsson as though he’d never existed.
'Then we have two options,’ she said. ‘We either find that exit or we make sure the bomb never hits the floor.'
Chrissie spoke like a woman used to making decisions and being obeyed.
‘Wait,’ said Glen. ‘I read that in survival situations the first priority is calling for help.'
‘I already tried my phone,’ said Megan.
‘Me too,’ said Carl. ‘The steel’s too thick.’
‘Who has the best phone?’ asked Chrissie. ‘Give it to me.’
‘What about Morse code?’ suggested Victoria.
Ericsson’s voice roared over them all.
‘SHUT-THE-FUCK-UP!’
Everyone froze.
Ericsson’s face glowed red. ‘You people are absolutely useless!’
Megan backed away. The others copied.
Ericsson pointed upward. ‘I can get a signal out, but you brain dead idiots need to shut up and listen. Understand?’
‘We’re listening,’ said Chrissie cautiously.
Ericsson pointed at Glen. ‘First, what the hell is wrong with you? Have you got AIDS or something?’
Megan couldn’t believe her ears. This guy’s as subtle as a hand grenade in a china shop.
Glen stopped blowing into his hands. ‘What?’
Ericsson’s eyes scanned Glen like a medical device. ‘Tell us what’s wrong with you. Why are you sick? Is it AIDS?’
‘No!’ shouted Glen. ‘It’s not AIDS. I’m not even sick! I just have pale skin, for fuck’s sake!’
Ericsson waved at Glen’s clothes. ‘Then why the pajamas and hospital robe?’
Glen looked down. ‘This isn’t a hospital robe. It’s my bathrobe. And they abducted me in my pajamas.’
Ericsson said to the others. ‘If he’s sick, they might be trying to infect us all.’
‘I’m not sick!’ insisted Glen. ‘Are you deaf?’
Ericsson pointed his finger at Glen. He looked like he’d rather be pointing a flamethrower. ‘You keep away from me, you understand?’
MELT: A Psychological Thriller Page 2
