Spies, Lies, and Allies

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  The footsteps grow louder. I hold my breath as the figure lumbers around the corner toward the staircase. Whoever it is doesn’t even glance our way. It’s a big guy, bigger than the Manicotti. He’s carrying something, but I can’t tell what it is. His heavy footfalls clang as he trudges up the metal stairs. The door opens, then slams shut behind him.

  Carlos and I blow out relieved breaths and he lets go of my hand.

  “What just happened?” I whisper, then wonder why I’m bothering to whisper.

  “I don’t know,” Carlos whispers back.

  “Why did you think I was in danger?”

  “I’m not sure.” He yanks the lightbulb string, bathing us in dim yellow light.

  “I wanted to go upstairs to get cell service. But when I saw you creeping around the corner I got a weird vibe.”

  Bolstered by the concern I hear in his voice, I seize my chance to apologize.

  “Look, I’m so sorry about this stupid punishment. I shouldn’t have decided you should be the presenter.” I glance at the concrete floor. “I didn’t know it would kick up such a storm.”

  He shrugs. “It’s a done deal now, and it ended up all right. Nobody wants to kill each other. At least not at the moment.”

  “I probably owe you more donuts to make up for all this.”

  He leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “I bet you can come up with something better than donuts.” His eyes are definitely back into melty territory. My pulse hums.

  “Let’s, uh, go upstairs.” No time for melting. “You can make your call and I’ll track down Mr. Mantoni to ask if we can be released from captivity.”

  We take the metal stairs two at a time, but when we push the door, it doesn’t open. We try again, but the door is locked, trapping us inside.

  “Damn,” Carlos mutters under his breath. “Now what?”

  Panicked, I stare at my cell, which still shows “no service.”

  Carlos pounds on the door, making me jump.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Maybe whoever that guy was will hear us, if he’s still out there.”

  We wait, but nothing happens.

  “Hey! What’s going on out here?” Trish’s booming voice shoots down the hallway and up the stairs.

  “Come on. Maybe somebody else has a better idea.” I rush down the stairs, Carlos at my heels. My panic is rising. If we can’t get cell service, and nobody can hear us pounding on the door, then what? But the Manicotti has to come back, doesn’t he? He’s not going to leave us down here to rot, right?

  Trish meets us halfway down the hall, and when she catches sight of Carlos, she raises her eyebrows at me.

  “Should’ve known I’d find you two together.”

  I ignore her insinuation. We’ve got more important things to worry about.

  “We’re locked in here.” Frustration deepens Carlos’s voice. He brushes past her into the file room. Trish runs down the hallway and up the stairs. I hear her struggling to open the door, then the sound of her stomping back down stairs.

  “This sucks.” Her face contorts with more worry than anger. “I can’t believe my dad did this.”

  Back in the file room, Carlos issues commands.

  “Turn off your music,” Carlos orders Elijah, who’s pitching crumpled paper balls to Jason, who’s swinging at them with a ruler.

  “Come on, guys.” Carlos’s words snap like firecracker poppers. “Now.”

  Ashley, perched on a step stool to watch the impromptu baseball game, jumps up and rushes to Elijah’s phone, silencing the music.

  “What the hell, man?” Elijah hurls a crumpled paper at Carlos, who catches it, then chucks it into a trashcan.

  “Bad news. We’re locked in. And no cell service.”

  Everyone gapes at him, then grabs their phones to confirm.

  “Damn,” Jason grumbles. “I can’t stay here all night.” He glances at Trish. “Your dad wasn’t serious about that, was he? He didn’t lock us in here on purpose, right?”

  Trish bites her lip, looking unsure. I wish I could hug her, but I don’t want to lose an arm.

  “Maybe there’s a landline,” I suggest. “Let’s look.”

  Everyone launches into search mode, checking out all the walls and dark corners of the room, but no luck.

  “I’ll check the hallway.” Footsteps trail behind me and I expect it to be Carlos, but when I glance over my shoulder, it’s Trish.

  “You okay?” I ask. She looks worried and angry.

  “Hell no. I can’t believe my dad did this. What if there was a fire down here? We’d all die.”

  “Way to go to the dark side, girl.”

  She scowls at me, then her lips quirk. “Whatever.” She shoulder-bumps me and I wonder if this is how she shows affection. We round the corner, heading down the long, dark hallway, and my heart rate picks up even though I know the mystery man is gone.

  “Do you know what’s in these rooms?” I ask as we try a couple of locked doors.

  “Dead bodies?”

  I laugh nervously as my hand jiggles another door handle and almost stumble when the door swings open. The room is dark and musty, and I shriek when sticky cobwebs attack my face. Leia and Rey would be so disgusted with me.

  “Relax, princess.” Trish pushes past me and runs her hand along the wall, looking for a light switch, I assume. She finds one, but nothing happens when she flips it up and down. “Crap.” She pulls out her phone and turns on the flashlight feature, sweeping the light around the room, which is even more cluttered than the file room.

  “What is all this stuff?” I pick my way through a maze of boxes and unidentifiable objects covered with blankets. “Point that light over here.” I yank a blanket off the closest object, which stands taller than Carlos.

  We both scream, then gape at each other, then back at the…thing…that was under the blanket.

  “Don’t touch it,” I warn her, though I step closer to get a better look.

  “What the actual f—” Trish begins, but the thud of pounding footsteps stops us in our tracks.

  Carlos bursts through the door first. Trish flashes her phone light on him, blinding him and making him swear.

  “What the frack?” Elijah steps around Carlos.

  “Are you guys okay?” Carlos asks, but his eyes are on me, not Trish.

  “Yeah, just freaked out. Show them,” I tell Trish. She shines the light on the object and Elijah gasps, then dissolves into hysterical laughter.

  Carlos steps closer, brushing my arm with his. “Wow.” His laughter is soft and rumbly.

  “This isn’t funny. It’s creepy.” No matter how good he smells or how close he’s standing to me, I’m still freaked out. “This thing is going to give me nightmares.”

  Elijah has stopped laughing and leans in close to the mannequin, wrapping his arm around her like she’s his inanimate date. “Somebody take my picture. This is going on my Instagram.”

  Carlos starts to comply but I bat his hand down. “Are you crazy? This is super weird! We don’t want it on social media.”

  “She’s got a point,” Trish says. “People will think you’re deranged, Elijah.” She trains her phone light on the mannequin again.

  I take a backward step, but Carlos stops me, putting his hand on my back and sending hot tingles rocketing through me.

  “It’s not real,” he whispers. “It can’t hurt you.”

  “Do you see that knife? Whoever did this is nuts.”

  I watch his lovely brown eyes go wide and I’d bet money he just remembered the guy we saw in this hallway earlier.

  “Crap,” he mutters. “You don’t think…” He runs a hand through that messy, thick hair I desperately want to touch.

  “I don’t know what to think.” I let myself lean into him because he feels safe and I’m seriously creeped out by this thing. Also, it’s a good excuse to get closer to him. His hand slides across my back and squeezes my waist. His touch does more than reass
ure. It sends inappropriate images rocketing through my mental camera as we face down this mutant mannequin.

  The mannequin is a she, based on its curves. Its face is garishly made up with black-and-white clown makeup. A spiky silver wig perches on its head, and the torso wears an Insane Clown Posse T-shirt. Someone has taped a knife to its hand and drawn blood dripping down the arm.

  “What the hell is that?” Elijah asks, pointing to the mouth.

  Trish moves in close and puts her phone up to shine on the mannequin’s face.

  “Eek!” I scream like a terrified, locked-in-the-basement-in-the-dark girl. What kind of freak tapes a dead mouse to a mannequin’s mouth?

  “I’m surprised they let you out of the suburbs, princess.” Trish knocks the dead mouse to the ground and Elijah kicks it across the room.

  “Hey, cut her some slack.” Carlos’s hand squeezes my waist again. “I’m freaked out by this, too.”

  Trish side-eyes him. “Liar. You’re just trying to make her feel better.” She shines her phone light on us. “Or maybe cop a feel.”

  Carlos drops his hand from my waist. I wish I were brave enough to throw the mouse at Trish.

  “I say we get the hell out of here,” Elijah says. “This feels like a bad horror movie.” He deepens his voice and makes it wobble, like a creepy Vincent Price. “Trapped in a basement! With an armed mannequin.” He spins and points to the mannequin. “That’s really…ALIVE!” He screeches the last word and lurches toward me with his hands curled in the air like a zombie. I stumble backward, but Carlos’s warm hand returns to my back, so I don’t fall.

  “Dude,” Carlos warns. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

  A scuffle sounds in the doorway. Jason and Ashley join us, rumpled and flustered. What exactly have they been doing?

  “Hey, we told you guys to stay put.” Elijah attempts a bossy scowl, but Trish pulls it off much better.

  “We were worried,” Ashley says in her breathy voice. “All that screaming, then quiet, then another scream.”

  Trish slants me a mocking smirk. So I screamed, so what?

  “What the heck is that?” Jason asks, aiming his flashlight at the mannequin. Ashley lets out a tiny shriek when the light illuminates the creepy face, and I feel vindicated. If I didn’t want to stay in the warm cocoon of Carlos, whose arm is now wrapped around my shoulders, I’d fist-bump her.

  Jason examines the mannequin. “Twisted.” He glances at me. “I can see why you screamed.”

  “How do you know it was me?”

  He tilts his head toward Trish. “She wouldn’t scream.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Trish crosses her arms over her chest, grinning.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Carlos says. “We’ve got to get out of this basement. I’m already late for my other job.”

  His words sober us and we quickly exit the room. I tug the door closed behind us. Carlos reaches around me to mess with the latch.

  “Someone broke the lock.” Our eyes meet in the dim light of the hallway. A shiver runs up my spine. “Let’s go.” Carlos takes my hand, leading me back to the file room. I’m not sure what is happening between us. Maybe he’d do this for anyone who was scared. He does have little sisters, after all.

  Back in the file room, we all frantically try to use our phones without success.

  “My dad’s not going to forget us,” Trish declares, but I hear a thread of anxiety underneath the defiance.

  “I’m sure he won’t.” I hope my voice doesn’t betray my own anxiety.

  “Even if Mr. Mantoni forgets, your dad will come looking for you, right Laurel?” Ashley says. “Because you carpool to work?”

  Ugh. Way to reactivate the dad feud, Ashley.

  “Um, no. He went to the Rockies game this afternoon. I’m taking the light rail home.” If I get out of this dungeon.

  “Great.” Carlos groans and runs a hand through his hair.

  “What about security?” Jason asks. “Isn’t there a security guard who checks stuff after hours?”

  Everyone looks at me, like I know everything about this business.

  “Yeah,” Trish pipes up. Everyone swivels their head toward her. “I saw a guard one night when I stayed late waiting for my dad.”

  “Do you remember how late?” Carlos asks.

  Trish shakes her head. “Not sure. Maybe seven or eight?”

  Carlos blows out a frustrated breath and mutters something under his breath in Spanish.

  “Truth or dare,” Elijah says.

  We all stare at him like he’s crazy, but he shrugs and gives us his most disarming smile.

  “Might as well entertain ourselves while we’re waiting. But we need music.”

  He fires up a new playlist on his phone, then sits cross-legged on the floor, leaning against a filing cabinet.

  “Hit me with your best dare.”

  Fourteen

  “No way,” Trish says. “I’m going to pound on the door again. Somebody’s got to be around to hear us.” She sprints for the door, Carlos close behind her. The sound of their footsteps echoes in the hallway.

  “Those two have no sense of fun.” Elijah lifts his shoulders in disgust and focuses in on me. “Come on, Jedi, don’t leave me hanging. Hit me with a truth or dare.”

  Jason sits on the floor, his back against the wall, and stretches his legs out. “If we’re gonna do this, I need food. I’m starving.”

  Considering he’s a football player, I’m not surprised he’s hungry. Those guys consume twice their weight in food.

  “Nobody has food,” Ashley pouts. “We all came down here without our backpacks or anything.”

  She’s right. I glance around the room, wondering if there’s a secret stash of bomb shelter food. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find ancient granola bars or something.

  “I’ll look.” I make my way down a narrow aisle with floor-to-ceiling shelves. I use my phone’s flashlight to scope out the shelves, which are full of ancient computers and monitors, old printers, and broken desk lamps. Why doesn’t my dad get rid of this stuff?

  I move farther down the aisle, pausing when I see a box marked “Two-year Anniversary Party.” I open it, revealing a big stash of Pixy Stix. What the heck? I root around, but that’s all there is. I scan the last few shelves, but all the boxes are labeled “Old Brochures.”

  Pixy Stix it is.

  Carlos and Trish have returned. Based on their scowls, pounding on the door didn’t elicit a rescuer.

  “I have food,” I announce. I set the box on the table and chuck packages of Pixy Stix at everyone.

  “Is this it?” Jason sounds grouchy. I can’t blame him; straws full of sugar aren’t going to sate his jock appetite.

  “Sorry. It was all I could find.”

  “It’s almost six-thirty.” Carlos looks defeated. “I hope a guard will be here soon.”

  “Um,” Ashley says hesitantly, “what if the guard doesn’t come down here? What if he only checks the main office areas?”

  “She.” Trish tears off the end of a Pixy Stix with her teeth. Ashley blinks at her and Trish rolls her eyes. “Why do you assume the guard is a guy? Plenty of women are security guards, and cops and firefighters and—”

  “Okay, okay.” Jason puts up a hand. “We get the message. Women can do anything. Fly to the moon, brain surgery, run for president. Whatever.”

  “Don’t be a dick, Justin.” Carlos tears into his own Pixy Stix, dumping two straws’ worth of sugar into his mouth.

  “My name is Jason.” Jason glares at Carlos, whose lips are purple from the grape Pixy Stix.

  Carlos flutters his ridiculous eyelashes. “Sorry. Forgot.” He sends me a sideways glance and his purple lips twist in a smirk. I can’t look away, especially when he licks the purple sugar off his lips.

  “Okay, people.” Elijah brushes red sugar off his hands. “Truth or dare. I’ll go first.” He points at me. “I choose dare. Jedi, proceed.”

  He’s got the right idea.
We need to reclaim our earlier dance party vibe to survive the wait.

  “Okay, let me think.” I take a moment to suck down two straws of blueberry sugar, pondering my question. “I dare you to go back to the mannequin room without your phone and sit there in the dark with the door closed for ten minutes.”

  Everyone laughs and smack-talks him. Maybe we’ll get past the cranky, hungry, we’ll-never-get-out-of-here stage.

  Elijah shakes his head slowly. “You disappoint me, Jedi. I shall return, victorious.” He jumps up and grabs a package of Pixy Stix from the box. “See y’all in ten minutes.”

  Carlos stands up to follow him. “I’ll guard the door to make sure he doesn’t cheat. Anybody else wanna come?” His gaze sweeps the group of us, but lands on me.

  “It’s scarier for him if we all stay here.” Trish’s eyes hold a challenge.

  A hint of panic flits across Elijah’s face. “Fine,” he says. “But if I’m found murdered, you’re all taking the blame.”

  “Deal,” Carlos agrees. “I’ll make sure he goes in there, then I’ll come back.”

  As they leave, everyone grabs more Pixy Stix.

  “I haven’t had these since I was a kid.” Trish smiles as she examines the package. “My dad used to buy them for me when we went to the movies together.”

  I have a hard time picturing the Manicotti and a young Trish at a movie theater, sharing candy like a normal family.

  “What was your favorite movie when you were a kid?” I assume she’ll answer with a horror movie, but she surprises me.

  “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.”

  “Original or Johnny Depp?”

  “Depp, of course.”

  I hope my expression conveys my disgust. “No way. The original is way better.”

  “I dunno,” Jason says. “My mom made me watch both and I agree with Trish. I liked how weird Depp was. And when the bratty girl spun down the drain—that was awesome.”

  Ashley shudders. “That movie freaked me out. I think my favorite was Madagascar. Or Happy Feet. I loved that little penguin.”

  “Aww,” Trish coos. I can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or not.