Thursday, December 28, 2006

Ah, Salt

Next week, I am going on a short little "business trip" for my work to their call center (or former call center, as it has closed) in Salt Lake City, Utah. Neato, huh? Hehe. I will by flying out Tuesday morning and returning Thursday around noon. I'm not completely sure what I'll be doing. I may be taking apart computers at the call center so they can be transported elsewhere. Who the heck knows. But, it's a change from normal routine, and work will reimburse my food expenses. Which begs the question - what's the most expensive restaurant in Salt Lake City? :)

Friday, December 22, 2006

The Cage

So, there you have it. The Cage is no literary masterpiece, but it is my first attempt at a story of that length. Let me know of any comments you had on it (positive or negative). I haven't decided for sure yet, but I might (after the holidays) post another story I had written, one that is less than half of the length (I think it is around 8,000 words), but we'll see. It was written a good two years before The Cage, so the writing is probably even worse. ;)

In other news, Christmas is coming! Wahoo! This will assumably be my last post until after Christmas, so I hope everyone has a happy holidays. On Saturday, Megan and I will be driving down to Geneva and spending time with her mother, grandparents, and other assorted relatives. We will be spending Christmas day at home together, just the two of us. Should be good fun. We'll open up our stockings in the morning, then open up the rest of our gifts and have brunch. We're going to make cookies (my mom sent us one of these cookie-mixes-in-a-jar things, just add water and eggs, or something like that). So that should be fun.

Then it's back to work on Tuesday. What's with that? :)

Thursday, December 21, 2006

The Cage - Chapter Ten

The eleven stood there with stupid looking expressions on their faces, staring at everything, especially Seth. People around them were laughing and pointing and snapping photographs. Mr. Boss casually wheeled himself over, escorted by the two police officers. He was smiling pleasantly, but did not receive the same smiles in return.

“Hello, my friends, welcome to—”

“Friends?” blurted Bishop. “You’re lucky your police protectors are here, or I’d show you just how good of a friend you are.”

“I understand your being upset, Mr. Riggs. But I think, as everything is explained, you will understand. Now please, come with me to the table, where Mr. Wynchowski is waiting.”

Seth stood up when they arrived at the table. “Hey guys,” he said, smiling. The others could only stare at him in disbelief and confusion. “Weird huh?” he said.

“This will also be explained,” Mr. Boss said. “Please, have a seat, and help yourself to snacks.” They all sat around the table, with Mr. Boss taking up the empty space at the end. In front of him sat a laptop. He clicked around on the screen for a few moments, and then the small televisions that were sitting on the table turned on.

On the screens were images of the twelve of them, sitting around the living quarters talking. The images of Bishop and Alan were arguing with other, and Bishop punched Alan.

“Now this is entertainment,” Mr. Boss said.

“Entertainment?” Alan said. “How is Bishop punching my lights out entertainment?”

“Maybe not to you, at least not yet. But to the world, this is entertainment.” He pointed at the television screens. There was some cheesy background music, and a logo that said “The Cage” appeared. There was silence for a few moments around the table.

“For the last few weeks, you have been the subjects of a reality television show called The Cage. Your every move and every word has been recorded. Everything was set up just the way we wanted it to be. Other reality shows are mostly scripted, but not this one. The world has gotten to see you as you really are, no acting.”

“What kind of crap show is this?” blurted Bishop. “Kidnapping people for the entertainment of others?”

“Sounds somewhat sadistic, doesn’t it?”

“Yes it does,” Mr. Boss replied happily.

“Is the government behind this?” said George.

“No, Mr. Henderson,” Mr. Boss answered. “Though your conspiracy theories have been greatly entertaining for our audience, and many laughs have been laughed at your expense. Anyway, in times of low quality television programming, where it seems every show is a remake or rerun, you have to do something daring to stand out and succeed in the business. This is the way of things. And our way has created the most popular, successful, and profitable television show in history. Every night, millions of people have tuned in to see what crazy thing will happen next.”

He held out his palm, which looked empty.

“I know you may not see anything, but in my hand is a tiny camera. So very small, yet the quality is astounding. There were literally hundreds of these placed strategically all around the area.”

“All around?” asked Jendy.

“Yes, everywhere. We wanted to always be able to get the best view. There were cameras in each room. Nothing about your lives over the last few weeks has been secret or hidden.”

“Don’t you feel, at all, like this is wrong?” said Sally.

“Wrong? I’ve been in the entertainment world for all my adult life, seventy years of it, and this is the first time I’ve been able to make it big. Now that is wrong.”

She nodded sadly. “More wrong than locking twelve people up for a while? Kidnapping them, playing God, and profiting off their hardships?”

“Just temporary hardships. And besides, we really didn’t lock up twelve people.”

“What?” said Alan.

“Here is a surprise for you. Each of the surprises think they know everything, but in fact, they have a surprise also. Please stand up, Mr. Jones and Miss Pearson.”

Harry and Ally stood up, looking awkwardly at each other.

“These two are professional actors, and we planted them in the show to make things more interesting.”

The other ten peered at the two of them, feelings of hurt appearing on their faces.

“Each of them was told to be rowdy, hostile, and annoying. They were also told to make sexual advances on other people, which they both failed on. We were at least hoping they’d find each other in that respect,” Mr. Boss said, shaking his head. “However, since they were unable to coerce others into sexual activity, their paycheck will not be as large as they had hoped.”

They both frowned.

“I just couldn’t,” Harry said, “on national television? I would’ve felt just wrong.”

Ally rolled his eyes. “Well, I tried, but he rejected it.”

“Well,” replied Mr. Boss, “that’s too bad. My guess is that we won’t need either of your acting services in the future, since you were unable to live up to expectations on a simple assignment such as this.”

Harry sighed.

“Any questions so far?” asked Mr. Boss.

“Things were always changing,” said Alan. “But none of us ever woke up.”

“Ah yes,” said Mr. Boss. “Around two o’clock on those nights when we wanted to change things, we would use a gaseous sedative to put all of you into a deep state of unconsciousness, where we could move things and people around at will. The bars between the inner cage and the main living area could be moved up and down and out of the way at will. We had a lot of fun with it, and I think the audience got a good kick out of it.”

“A good kick out of treating us like animals?”

“Someday, you’ll see the entertainment value in this. Maybe when another show does something similar, and you get to see it happen to other people, you’ll chuckle at it, then chuckle at your own experience.”

“I surely hope not,” said Sally.

Mr. Boss smiled. “The show started taping a couple weeks before you all came here. We taped each of you receiving your letters in strange and interesting ways.”

The televisions showed images of Alan taking a letter out of a Bible, George finding a letter in a road map, and Maria finding her letters taped under a park bench and inside a dumpster.

“We scouted out hundreds of potentials for these ten spots. We were looking for certain types of people. Poor people in desperate situations. We have skillfully exploited your situations in order to create this program. We felt that great entertainment for millions was worth the suffering of less than a dozen others.”

“Less than a dozen?” said Sally. “We’re still people!”

“It’s all numbers to me, Ms. Feathers. Especially the numbers that follow dollar signs. But, as I said before, these hardships were temporary. No permanent damage. Not even for Mr. Wynchowski.”

Seth smiled.

“Oh yeah,” said Bishop. “How is it that you’re alive again?”

“All part of the show,” Mr. Boss said. “His death was faked.”

“So that was just a fake body we had hanging in there?”

“Oh no,” said Mr. Boss. “The body was real, but it wasn’t Seth’s.”

They stared at him.

“It is good to have connections with morgues and makeover artists, among others. We got that body looking just like Seth. Thought it would be an interesting aspect for the show, sharing space with a corpse. And it fit in well after Seth’s little mental breakdown. While you were all sedated, we removed his sleeping body and hung up the corpse. This is also when we cut holes in the wall and floor so Harry could find the tunnel, which of course he already knew about.”

“How is all this legal?” said Alan.

“Nothing we did was illegal. We took no one against their will, and did not hold them against their will. All of you signed a contract stating this.”

The screens continued to show them in the room. Conversations, arguments, people changing and showering, all uncensored. The image of Jendy ran out of the shower and into the living quarters completely naked.

At the table, Jendy’s eyes widened.

“I assume certain things will not be shown to the whole country.”

“They already have been,” Mr. Boss replied. “The whole show was broadcast live to the world, with no censoring.”

Jendy covered her mouth. “But, but, how is that legal? Children could be watching this!”

“You must not pay attention to law at all, Miss Vorshank,” Mr. Boss said, grinning. “Censorship laws have all been revoked. There is no such thing as censorship anymore. We can put whatever sex and nudity on daytime television that we want. Which, of course, we were a little disappointed that were was, in fact, no sexual relations between any of you. We tried to match you up so that would happen.”

“I guess lying in human waste for a while kind of took me out of the mood,” Sally said.

“You people must not have a conscience!” Jendy snapped.

“No conscience? Now let’s see here,” Mr. Boss said, once again clicking away on the laptop. The images of Jendy, Bishop, and Maria appeared on the televisions, standing in the living quarters near the cage.

“It’s a one-way mirror,” Bishop’s on-screen image said. “They can’t see us.”

Maria scowled. “Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Another mystery.”

She nodded, peering into the cage. “We’ve got it made compared to them.”

“Well, at least we can’t smell them,” Jendy said, sitting on the couch and playing with her hair. “I mean, come on. Gross.”

“That’s the least of my concerns right now,” Bishop said. “I just wish we could help them out of that tiny space they’re in.”

“So they can what, be trapped here too?” Jendy replied. “I say, let them keep their smell in there, cause I don’t want it out here.”

Bishop frowned at her.

“It wouldn’t really be much of an improvement, were they to be out here instead of in there.”

“They’d have a toilet and some more room.”

“So?”

“Maybe you should have been in there with them!” Bishop snapped.

Jendy gasped.

“Me? In there? Without a toilet and a soft bed? What are you crazy?”

“Do you think you’re some kind of princess or something?”

“I just know that I deserve better than they do.”

Around the table, there was silence. The members of Group 1 stared irately at Jendy, who sunk deeper into her chair.

“Now, what other questions are there?” asked Mr. Boss.

“Wait a minute,” said Ally. “I wasn’t sedated at night. I was up and I helped the crew and did interviews. How is it that I never saw Harry?”

“Ah, yes,” Mr. Boss said. “The two of you, in fact, were sedated, just at different times. We thought it would be a neat twist to have two different people as actors, but not have them know that someone else is an actor too. Clever isn’t it?”

“Genious.”

“You kidnapped our friends and family too!” said the skinny man.

“Just actors, Mr. Black, that is all,” Mr. Boss said. “It’s amazing what you can do with makeover artists and a blurry video feed. But rest assured, your family members have been at our necks the while time, constantly complaining about the situation, begging us to release you back to them. But they had no legal foot to stand on, nor did they know your location. So they couldn’t do anything.”

“Where are they now?” asked Sally.

“At home, I would assume, watching this on television. Yes, even this is part of the show, currently being broadcast live. Now are there any other questions?”

“Are we getting paid?” asked Bishop.

“Paid? You will be reimbursed your work salary for the time you missed.”

“That’s it?” Bishop snapped. “You took weeks of our lives and that’s all—”

“Would you prefer nothing?”

Bishop was silent.

“This was all stated in the contract, and you would have known it, had you read it. George read some of the contract beforehand, but not quite enough of it, it seems. Anything else?”

They stared at him.

“Good. Please follow me.”

Mr. Boss wheeled himself out of the area, still escorted by two police officers, and followed by nine people, leaving Harry, Ally, and Seth behind. They walked through a hallway and entered an area Maria had seen before: a large parking area. There were nine limousines parked there, and next to each one stood a driver holding a sign with a name on it. Maria approached her sign.

“Good evening, Ms. Goldsmith,” the elderly driver said. Maria stepped into the back of the limo, and it drove off. A small television screen opened from the ceiling, and Mr. Boss’ image appeared.

“You will be taken home now,” he said. “You will be given a complete DVD set of the show, once it is completed. Full of behind the scenes extras and crew interviews! That will be quite a collector’s item,” he said, smiling happily. Maria rolled her eyes.

“And please feel free to take any of the snacks or other items in the back of the limo. They are our gift of thanks.”

Well, that’s something, Maria thought to herself. Wait a minute, I have no home! Where are they taking me?

The limousine stopped and she stepped out, the car driving away behind her. She was on the sidewalk next to skyscrapers, the same place she was originally picked up. 179 Washington. Maria stood there motionless for several minutes. Is that it? she thought. Am I just back to where I was before? Reimbursed for the time I missed from work? I didn’t have a job! What am I supposed to do now?

Later that night, she found herself back underneath a park bench, sheltering herself from the rain. She fell asleep, once again dreaming of her children. She awoke in tears, and started talking to herself out loud. “Some kind of cruel trick,” she said, punching the underside of the bench. “Thank you, Mr. Boss, for taking away all of my dreams and all of my hope!”

“Not all hope,” came a voice. Maria quickly rolled out from under the bench and stood up. It was Matthew, her ex-husband.

“Hi,” he said, smiling nervously.

“Matthew!” she said, throwing her arms around him. “How did you find me?”

“You’ve been on camera the whole time,” he said. “I saw on television that you came here. We’re probably still on TV.”

“Doesn’t the show ever end?” she said. “My life is not the world’s entertainment!” she screamed into the night.

“Come on,” Matthew said, “let’s get out of the spotlight.”

Matthew’s car pulled up to his large house, and the two of them stepped out and walked inside. Maria excitedly looked everywhere, then looked at Matthew.

“They’re not here,” he said. “I took them to my parents’ house after I saw you had left the show, before I came to pick you up.”

Maria frowned. “When will I get to see them?”

“Soon,” he said, smiling faintly. “Listen, Maria, I know you’ve been through a lot. And I’m sorry about how I treated you before all this happened. I feel somewhat responsible for your having to go through this whole ordeal. I want you to stay here while you get back on your feet.”

Her eyes widened and she smiled brightly, hugging her ex-husband again and kissing him on the cheek.

“Oh, thank you, Matthew!” she squealed. “I can’t tell you what this means to me! But,” and she paused, “what about the judge? And I didn’t think you trusted me.”

“Well,” he said smiling, “the place you’ve been for the last few weeks has been well stocked with alcohol, and you never touched it once. Never even looked at the bottles. Considering your circumstance during that time, I wouldn’t have blamed you had you reached for a drink. But, since you didn’t, I think that’s definite proof that you’re on the wagon.”

There was a knock at the door, and Matthew glanced at Maria. “Sit tight,” he said, standing up and opening the door. His parents entered, and his mother looked over at Maria.

“Hello, dear, I—”

“Mommy!”

Two small sets of feet scampered through the door and into their mother’s arms. “My babies!” she squealed, holding her children tightly. “Oh how I’ve missed you so!” Maria said, starting to cry, kissing both Dixie and Nevaeh repeatedly on the head and cheek. “You’re all I’ve thought about for weeks! You two are the only things that have kept me going!”

“I’ve missed you too, Mommy!” said Dixie.

Maria didn’t leave their sides for the rest of the night.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

The Cage - Chapter Nine

Maria lay in bed, staring into the blackness. It was five o’clock in the morning, and she had been awake for nearly an hour, her mind filled with thoughts of her children. She hated herself for allowing such desperation to sneak into her life as it had, driving her to join this experiment. Maria wondered if she would ever see them again, or if she would ever see sunlight again. Anything but this cage would bring a smile to her lips. She closed her eyes and reached out her hand, almost feeling her daughters’ faces.

She stood up and stretched, walking out into the living quarters. Sitting on the couch was Alan, with his hands folded in front of him, eyes closed, elbows resting on his knees, and a Bible on his lap. Maria sat down next to him, and he looked at her and smiled.

“Who do you pray to, pastor?” she said.

“To God,” Alan replied.

“What do you say to him?”

“I ask him for peace, for joy in hard times. For the strength to get through this, and for a way out.”

“Does he grant those things?”

He smiled. “He grants me peace. For I know that, as hard as it may seem to accept and understand, he is in control of this situation, and he will see me, and us, through it. His plan is always being worked.”

“How do you know he’s there?”

“I feel his presence. He calms me when I am frustrated or afraid. I do not need to fear.”

“There is so much to fear in this place,” Maria said, shivering as chills ran down her spine. “We do not know if we will ever get out.”

“God’s plan may or may not include us getting out,” Alan said.

Maria raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you want to get out?”

“Oh I do. But if God is in control, then he knows what he’s doing more than I know what he’s doing. In the end, everything will be set right.”

“I hope so,” she said. “Though I don’t know why God would bring us down here to die. What kind of purpose is there in that?”

“Sometimes, the effect of someone’s life is not felt until after they’re gone. That’s when their real purpose is fulfilled. I trust that whatever plan there is for my life will be carried out perfectly, whether or not I’m here to witness it.”

“Well,” Maria said, “I want to be here to witness it.”

Alan smiled. “And maybe you will be.”

Later that morning, the eleven of them sat in the living quarters, eating their grits breakfast. A small white piece of paper floated down from the ceiling, landing on the floor.

“What in the world?” Harry said, lurching forward and grabbing the paper. He peered at it for a few seconds, his face contorting.

“What is it, Harry?” asked Alan.

“I’m not exactly sure,” he said. Harry sat back in his chair and started reading.

“So after all this time has past, I’m sure you long to flee at last, and soon the time will come to be, when once again you will be free. For there is something sharp and pointed, and for a task has been appointed, while often used to leave for dead, this one sleeps under pastor’s head.”

Harry stared at the paper. “What is this, amusing himself with riddles now?” he said angrily.

“Under my head?” Alan said. “Sleeping. My bed.”

They walked into the sleeping quarters, and Alan pushed his mattress off the box spring. Laying there was a long, razor sharp knife.

“What does the old goon want us to use this for?”

“You don’t think,” Harry said, picking up the knife, “that our only escape – our only way to be free, as the note said, is to use this to—”

“No Harry!” Sally blurted. “I don’t think he gave us the knife so we could slit our own throats.”

“Why else? There aren’t any notes attached to the blade telling us what to do with it.”

“Think rationally, Harry.”

“Rationally? How can any of us still have rationale available in our brains after we’ve been stuck down here for so long?”

“We need to keep our heads on straight so we can get out of here!”

“You think rationally. I’ll think realistically.”

“Wait,” said Maria. “Let me see the knife.”

She took the knife from Harry’s hand and stared at its blade. “There’s an inscription,” she said, and she started to read it.

“You found it here – I am impressed, I hope it did not cause distress, or give you all reason to fear, for you should know the end is near, for kneeling like a drunken fool, is hiding quite a useful tool, that loves to fall through strengthened glass, come through if you want to kick my, umm, butt.”

“Just playing mind games with us,” George said.

“Kneeling like a drunken fool,” Sally repeated. “Where does a drunken fool kneel?”

“In front of the toilet,” Jendy said.

Alan peered at her strangely. “Aren’t you underage?”

Jendy smiled. “Of course,” she said. “That’s just what, you know, people have told me.”

“Uh-huh,” Alan said. “But where would you hide something in front of the toilet? And which one? There are three.”

“Well let’s have a look,” Sally said. One by one, they walked into the three bathrooms, looking even into the toilet tanks, but not finding anything.

“The floors,” Harry said. “They’re tile.”

He took the knife back from Maria and started cutting through the grout between the tiles in the floor in the men’s bathroom. He slowly managed to flip over each of the tiles, but only discovered solid concrete. He walked into the women’s bathroom and flipped over each of the tiles again, but found nothing but more solid concrete.

In the main bathroom, he found more solid concrete under the first few tiles. Then he found something different. He found nothing.

“There’s a hole,” Harry announced from the bathroom to the people sitting out in the living area. “Only about ten inches wide. Goes straight down.”

“Is there anything in it?”

“I’m not sure, I can’t see anything, it’s too dark,” he said.

He lay on his side, reaching his arm down into the hole.

“Ouch!” he yelped, pulling his arm back up. He was now bleeding from the tip of his index finger.

“Well, something’s down there,” he said. He stuck his arm down the hole once more, being careful not to cut himself again.

“Here’s something, yes, there’s something down here,” he said. He started to pull, slowly standing up and revealing a sledgehammer.

“A sledgehammer?” Harry said, gazing awkwardly at the others.

“Why is there a sledgehammer in the floor?”

They all stood there, staring at it, silent and confused.

“Look at it,” Maria said. “This side is not a normal hammer. It’s a point, extremely sharp.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Good for breaking through strengthened glass, I’d bet!”

He ran out into the living quarters, to the window of the observation room.

“We’re coming Mr. Boss! Coming to teach you a thing or two!”

He swung the hammer back and forth several times, building momentum. With one swift stroke, he swung the hammer at the glass, nearly shattering the whole window. Harry dropped the hammer on the ground, grunted loudly and yelled, “come on guys! We’ve found our exit!”

He crawled through the open window, helping others to do the same. Harry then led the other ten through a long dark hallway, around corners, and up and down stairs. He stopped before a door, where light was peering through the cracks on all four sides. But it was no ordinary light. It was sunlight.

Harry turned around and smiled.

“And here comes the end of our experiment,” he said. “This time the rats have won. I will not miss the cage one bit,” he said. With that, he turned around and opened the door. The sunlight crashed into their eyes, and they stood there for several moments before venturing outside. Once their eyes could see again, they did not see what they expected.

There were cameras and people everywhere. Large television cameras and people holding smaller cameras. They were all pointed at the eleven of them as they walked out of the door. Off to the side sat Mr. Boss in his wheelchair, clasping his hands together and smiling widely. On either side of him stood an armed police officer. There were balloons everywhere; it looked to them like they had just entered a birthday party.

They looked around dumbfounded. In front of them was a large group of people standing behind a chain-link fence, cheering, clapping, and playing kazoos. In the middle of this area was a large table, with several small televisions and a large amount of food and drink sitting on it. There were twelve chairs placed around the table, with a space at one of the ends with no chair.

Eleven of the chairs were empty.

In the twelfth chair, living, breathing, smiling and waving, sat Seth.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

The Cage - Chapter Eight

Everything seemed normal for the first few seconds of consciousness. Maria lay in bed staring at the ceiling, a smile still on her face from the night before. She slowly sat up and looked to the side, trying to focus on the wall. Except there was no wall.

The wall that had separated that women’s sleeping quarters from the man’s sleeping quarters had disappeared. She now saw the three beds in the men’s quarters, each with one or two men sleeping in it. She closed her eyes and opened them again widely, but the wall was still gone.

She stood up and walked to the bathroom, but there was no longer a door. She rubbed her eyes and pinched herself, thinking she must be in a dream, but she was not. She walked over into the men’s sleeping quarters, but their bathroom had no door on it either.

She quietly stepped out into the living quarters, only to find the main bathroom doors had been removed as well. Maria rubbed her eyes and turned around, looking to see if anyone else was awake, but she saw no movements and heard no noises.

She walked into the bathroom and cringed before sitting on the toilet.

“Oh shoot, sorry!” was Harry’s voice. Maria looked up to see him walking out of the bathroom.

“Not closing doors anymore?” he said from outside.

“Do you see any doors, Harry?”

“Well, uhhh, nope. Where’d they go?” he said, stepping into the bathroom doorway.

“I don’t know,” Maria said, “and do you mind?”

He looked at her. “What? Oh, right, sorry,” he said, walking away.

“Where’s the bathroom doors?” asked George, peering into the bathroom.

“Would you please?” Maria snapped irately.

A few minutes later, Maria came out and sat on the couch in the living quarters, where all eleven of them were now. She couldn’t make eye contact with Harry or George for at least thirty minutes.

“What’s going on?” asked Alan. “Doors and walls are disappearing. How is it that none of us were woken up by this?”

“It’s the drugs,” George said. “I’m sure of it. You know, the drugs I said were in the food. Probably makes us excessively heavy sleepers. Conks us out good at night. And you guys thought I was just crazy.”

“I still think you’re just crazy,” said Jendy.

“Well how else would you explain it?”

Nobody else could.

“Well,” Alan said, “it’s obvious we’re going to have some privacy issues here.” He went to the utility closet and found a hammer and some nails, and made some makeshift bathroom doors using towels, which calmed everyone’s fears of going to the bathroom.

Over the next few days, more things started changing or disappearing. The toilets clogged up and stopped working altogether. The makeshift towel doors disappeared. The shower curtains disappeared. All towels, blankets, bed sheets, and all such things were gone, even the blanket covering Seth’s decaying body.

One day, they all woke up in different beds than they fell asleep in. Screams erupted from their throats when they awoke next to a face of the opposite gender that they would have never wanted in their bed. One day, the beds themselves were different in the morning. The large, soft, king-sized beds were replaced with hard, uncomfortable double beds. Jendy especially threw a fit about this.

The food became less and less desirable and recognizable. Clumps of something that they couldn’t determine exactly what it was, and it never agreed too well with the taste buds. One day there was no food at all, not for breakfast or lunch or supper. The following morning’s breakfast was some of the best tasting unrecognizable food they’d ever had. That day’s lunch was sirloin steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, and steaming hot vegetables. The supper that night was grits.

It was late at night, and Jendy had had enough.

“I smell worse than the food we eat!” she complained. None of them had taken a shower in a few days, with no shower curtains, no towels, and no doors to give them privacy.

“Everyone stay in here, okay?” she said, eyeing the men. “No peeking!” The men nodded.

“Don’t worry, Jendy,” Sally said. “We’ll make sure they stay put.”

Jendy walked into the women’s bathroom, peering into the sleeping quarters, nervously looking to see if anyone else was there. Nobody was. She turned on the water, undressed and stepped into the shower. With no shower curtain, the water splashed off her body and onto the floors and walls of the bathroom. She washed off her skin and shampooed her hair. As she rinsed her hair, the water’s feel changed. It felt thicker and had a distinct odor. Jendy stepped back, rubbed the water off her eyes and opened them to see the color had also changed. The water was now a dark brown color, and it appeared to be staining her skin. She screamed, panicked, and ran out into the living quarters.

“The shower water is dirty brown!”

Everyone else stared at her.

“And it smells and stains and—”

Jendy stopped, looking down, and remembered she was still naked. She gasped, quickly running back into the sleeping quarters to get dressed.

Harry smiled. “Oh man,” he said, glancing at George. “Well that made my day.”

Sally leaned over and punched him in the arm.

“Ouch!”

“You men are such perverts.”

A crackling noise came from the speakers near the observation room, where Mr. Boss was sitting in his wheelchair.

“Good day, everyone,” he said cheerfully. “This time, I can hear you,” he said, pointing to a microphone on the outside of the window.

“Good, cause we have some things we want to say to you!” blurted Harry.

“I’m sure you do,” the old man said. “And now is your chance. Oh, hello there Miss Vorshank.” Jendy walked out of the sleeping quarters. “Back to clothes again, are we?” he said, chuckling. Jendy blushed.

“Mr. Boss, what is the meaning of all this?” Alan said. “Why are we trapped down here? And why do things keep changing?”

“What, can’t an old man have some fun?” he said, sporting a sly grin.

“This isn’t right! You can’t have your fun at the expense of others, especially like this! You’re treating us like dogs!” said Sally.

“Why not? There are billions of people in this world, who’ll miss a dozen or so?”

“Our families and friends! Are you going to keep us down here forever?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, take your time,” Harry said sarcastically.

“Oh I will, my little tunnel rat.”

Harry scowled at him.

“Speaking of rats, here’s a little story for you. When I was younger, I wanted a rat. Well, actually, I wanted to have several rats. I found them to be fascinating creatures. My mother never allowed me to have one, let alone twelve. But this is where you come along. As I became older, it only made sense to me to desire a den not of rats, but of more complicated creatures. Why not with the world’s most complex being? You are my little rat den.”

At first, no one responded. Everyone’s face was covered with shock and confusion. Harry’s voice broke the silence.

“What are you, mental?”

“I would not expect one of the rats to understand the master,” he said.

“But we’re not rats!” Harry yelled, standing up and approaching the glass and banging on it with his fists.

“Oh, but you are,” Mr. Boss said. “You’re both dirty, fed with bad tasting food, and are kept in a cage, unable to get out.”

“Can’t you see we’re more than just animals?” said Alan.

“You’re all one of God’s creatures, pastor. I’m sure you know that both rats and man were made on the sixth day. What makes you any better than a rodent?”

“What makes you better than us, that you can be our master?”

“Well you see, I am out here, and you are in there. Survival of the fittest. I, being in control, am more fit than any of you rats.”

“How are you going to explain this to the police?”

“The police?” he said, laughing. “I don’t think they’ll mind.”

“This is kidnapping! There are laws against this type of thing! Not to mention the indecent living conditions!”

“Oh, I see. You think you’re being treated unfairly.”

Everyone stared at him.

“Don’t you think we’re being treated unfairly? Look at everything we’ve been through! Some of us lived in human waste for a few days! And one of us is dead!”

“Suicide is not a crime that can be charged to someone who is still alive,” he said. “Did you not read the contract?”

Nobody said a word.

“I see,” Mr. Boss said, pulling out a stack of papers stapled together.

“Third pages, third paragraph,” he said, and he started reading.

“I, the undersigned, grant permission to be trapped in the room for up to a period of a month for this study. I understand that the living conditions in the room may change, and may not be favorable. I surrender my right to file charges or complaints for any conditions I consider to be unsatisfactory. I also understand that the company is not responsible for any injuries or death related to this study; thus, they can not be charged in a criminal or civil court for any such incidents. I understand the company is under no obligation to improve the living conditions in the room, and I understand that there is risk involved in this study.”

Mr. Boss smiled. No one else moved. “I know that none of you went to law school or ever even showed any interest in the realm of law. I wouldn’t have chosen you for this if you had. But common sense says to read every contract you sign, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t you have a heart?” said Alan. “Can’t you see that we are people, with feelings, with spouses, and children?”

“I see that. But I also see large dollar signs.”

And with that, he left.

Monday, December 18, 2006

The Cage - Chapter Seven

The twelve sat motionless and watched as Mr. Boss wheeled himself out of the observation room, switching off the light.

“There’s a way out?” said Jendy, excitedly.

“Evidently,” said Alan. “But I’m not sure where. We’ve checked everywhere.”

“Well we must find it!”

The six members of Group 2 split up, spending the rest of the day scanning every inch of the living and sleeping quarters for any sign of an escape route, but still none was found. No crevice where a wall might be pushed away, and no button that could be pushed to reveal a secret passageway. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all solid, thick, and impenetrable without any tools.

The day ended with no more hope than it began with. That night, sleep was harder to come by for them than it had ever been. They all felt as if hope had been sent to them and then yanked away like a cruel trick.

Maria lay in bed, staring into the darkness of the room. She didn’t know what to think anymore. Why are we being kept here? she thought to herself. It doesn’t make any sense.

For close to an hour she laid there, eyes wide open and mind racing. She felt herself quickly become sleepy before the night took her off to dreamland, the only place she now felt happy and complete.

The visit to the land of dreams ended abruptly that morning, with the piercing scream coming from the living quarters. Maria clumsily ran toward the scream. It was Jendy, and she was pointing inside the cage. Inside the cage, five of the members were just starting to wake up. Hanging from a rope was the lifeless body of Seth, slowly swinging side to side. When each of the other five members of Group 1 saw this, their eyes widened, and they backed away from the body. The rest of Group 2 soon entered the living quarters and reacted with similar facial expressions, some screaming and crying.

“How did this happen?” Alan said, trying to keep things calm.

“I.. I… I don’t know!” yelped the short Mexican woman in the cage.

“None of you woke up when he was doing this?” said Alan. “How could you have slept through someone hanging themselves in the same room?”

“I guess we’re all heavy sleepers!” snapped the short, skinny middle-aged man in Group 1.

Alan approached the cage and looked up toward the ceiling. One end of the rope was tied around Seth’s neck, and the other was tied around a hook, eighteen feet from the cage floors.

“And how did he even do it?”

A gasp game from behind Alan. It was Jendy.

“One of them killed him!”

“What?” retorted Harry.

“He couldn’t have done that by himself!”

“How would any of us get the rope up there? And then somehow get Seth’s neck into a noose and lift him up that high?”

“I don’t know, but it must have happened!”

“Maybe Seth was just a more impressive climber than we thought!”

“You think he climbed up these walls?” said George. “Like he’s Spider-Man or something? These walls are flat, too flat to climb on. No cracks to put your feet into, and the walls are too far apart to brace yourself against two of them. And where did the rope come from, anyway?”

“Well, how else do you explain it?” said Jendy, scowling at Harry. “I bet it was you!”

“Me?”

“Yes you! You’re the one hopping on the defensive! That usually means you’re guilty!”

“What, did you go to law school?”

“Well no, but it’s just common sense!” Jendy said, walking up close to the bars of the cage. “People don’t hop on the defensive if they know they are innocent!”

“Shut up!”

She tapped the bars, and said “I’d say to throw you in jail, but you’re already in one!”

Harry lurched forward from his seat, reaching his arms out of the cage and just missing Jendy’s skinny body.

“These bars just saved your life, you know!”

“Alright guys, let’s calm down,” said Alan. “Let’s think about this logically—”

“Easy for you to say, preacher!” blurted Harry. “You’re not the one accused of murder, and you’re not stuck in this cage with a corpse!”

“I understand, but—”

“Oh shut up, all of you, you don’t know what it’s like to be in here! Unable to move, unable to have an actual bathroom, you got it made compared to us out here!”

“Yes, but—”

“Yes, but nothing. Get us a blanket so we can cover the body, would you?”

They untied Seth’s body and laid him on the floor, covering him with a blanket.

“Wait!” Harry said, peering upward toward the ceiling. “There are cracks in the wall up there, by the hook, do you see them? Those weren’t there before!”

He grabbed onto the rope and started pulling himself up, slowly reaching the level of the hook. There were crevices in the wall that formed a two-feet-by-two-feet square. He gently nudged the square, and the small piece of wall fell inward.

“It’s a tunnel!” he screamed, releasing a burst of laughter. “This must go somewhere!”

He crawled into the tunnel, which was caked with dirt and spider webs, and led into darkness. He stuck his head out of the tunnel.

“Do we have a flashlight?”

“Not in here, at least,” a skinny, middle-aged man said. He looked out of the cage. “Flashlight?”

Maria ran over to the utility cabinet. Inside it she saw a hammer, some nails, cleaning supplies, candles, and a flashlight. She pulled out the light and handed it to the man, who tossed it up in the air to Harry. He disappeared back into the tunnel.

The tunnel seemed to wind in circles, up and down and side to side. For twenty minutes Harry followed the tunnel, sticking his face through many spider webs, at times finding it hard to breathe. The tunnel went upward, with small steps on the walls allowing him to climb. Above him, he felt fabric and some metal. Harry grabbed on to the metal and tried to push it to the side, and it moved some. He brought his arms down into the tunnel to catch his breath, as the object that was above him quickly moved to the side.

Harry looked up to see the faces of Alan and Bishop staring at him. He stuck his head out of the tunnel, only to realize he was in the main living area. He slammed his fist down on the floor and swore.

“You’re kidding me, right?” he yelped. “That tunnel leads from that room to this room!”

“Well, at least you’re in here now,” said Alan, pulling him up to his feet.

“I suppose,” said Harry, “but still, who builds a tunnel like that, seriously?”

“Who does any of this stuff?”

“Granted.”

“I am certain we looked under that couch before, but there wasn’t a tunnel,” Alan said, peering curiously into the dark hole in the ground.

“Let’s get the rest of the group out here,” he said.

Over the next few hours, Harry climbed back through the tunnel and helped the other four living members of his group climb the rope and crawl through the tunnel. Soon, all eleven of them were in the main living area.

“While you’re not completely free yet, you’ve definitely moved up in the world,” Alan said to Group 1, forcing a smile. “You now have working bathrooms and plumbing and, of course, more space.”

In turn, the five members of Group 1 showered. The sound of plates scratching across the floor made a small smile appear on everyone’s face, as it was lunch time. Harry glanced into the cage and sighed.

“Evidently, whoever feeds us didn’t get the memo that we’re not in there anymore,” he said, pointing at the six plates of food sitting on the floor in the cage, far away from the opening. “I guess, at each meal time, one of us will have to go get the food and slide it through the bars. Seems they also don’t know about Seth… at least we’ll have an extra plate to split.”

Harry crawled back through the tunnel one more time, sliding the bowls of grits through the bars before crawling back to the main living quarters. The eleven of them sat in silence, eating. Ten minutes later, the skinny man from the cage broke the quiet.

“Anyone up for charades?”

The other ten stared at him.

“Oh, come on, this place shouldn’t be both depressing and boring.”

Slowly, the other ten agreed.

“Group 1 versus Group 2,” he said.

For three good hours, the eleven of them played charades. Gone were the thoughts of entrapment and death and loneliness and home. There was joking around and laughter, the patting of backs and the giving of high fives, and the occasional hug, even between those people who had previously been at odds with each other. After the game ended, with Group 1 winning by the slightest of margins, the conversation lingered on for hours, with each person giving a more detailed life story than they had in the past.

Supper came, and Bishop volunteered to fetch the second half of the plates. The conversation continued long after dinner was finished, with the last of the eleven going to bed at near one o’clock in the morning.

At half past one, Harry stood and walked into the bathroom, closing the door. When he opened the door to return to bed, Ally was standing there.

“I need to talk to you,” she whispered. Harry nodded and followed her into the living quarters, where they say down on the couch.

“I wanted to thank you,” she said, “for pulling me out of the water. I really appreciate a big man like yourself saving me.” She put her hand on his chest. “I know we didn’t start off on the right foot. I thought you were a real jerk for a while, but you showed some heart. I think there is a compassionate, sweet guy under there somewhere. Is there any way I can thank you?”

“Oh, no, just doing what is right,” he said.

“Well, I’m sure I can do something for you,” Ally said, eyeing him suggestively.

“Wh… wh... what do you m…mean?”

“Oh you know, Mr. Jones. Is there a Mrs. Jones?”

Harry shook his head nervously.

“Good,” Ally said. She removed her shirt and starting kissing Harry passionately on the lips and neck. For the first few moments he went along with it, enjoying the attention. His eyes then opened and darted from side to side and up and down, and he quickly pushed Ally away from him.

“No, I can’t,” he said.

“You can’t?”

“It’s just not right,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It’s just not right.”

“Well, I can make it right,” Ally said, pushing her body up against his.

“No! I’m sorry, but, no. Please put your shirt back on,” he said, staring at the wall, with a near-depressed expression on his face.

“I don’t understand. You’re a guy, I’m a girl, and—”

“I’m sorry.”

And with that, he walked back into the bedroom, rubbing his eyes.

Friday, December 15, 2006

The Cage - Chapter Six

Maria awoke with a jolt around seven o’clock in the morning. There was loud talking out in the living quarters.

“What is all that? Looks like the lap of luxury compared to this place!”

“Look at all that room, and the food!”

Maria slowly stood up and walked out of the sleeping quarters.

“There’s someone out there! Hey! Who are you?”

She looked forward and stopped, feeling a heavy sense of anxiety rush through her body. All twelve eyes belonging to the members of Group 1 were staring at her. The thick glass that was once on the other side of the metal bars had disappeared. The stench of human waste started to wonder into the main living area.

“What’s going on?” a small Mexican woman yelped as she tried to shake the bars loose.

Maria stared at them.

“Hey you! You alive?” Harry yelled with obvious agitation.

“Umm, well…” she said, frozen. She was unprepared for this. What can I say to these people? she thought. She turned around and yelled. “Everyone wake up and get out here now!”

Noises of commotion came from the sleeping quarters, and all five of the others quickly came out, yawning and groggy. They all froze once they saw what had happened.

“There’s even more of them!” yelled Harry. “Who are you people?”

No one spoke.

“We heard that broad yell,” he continued, causing Maria to scowl at him. “Are the rest of you mute or something?”

Still no one spoke. Their mouths were all wide open, staring into the cage, too confused and too tired to form words.

“Hellooooo?” Harry said sarcastically.

“Ummmm… hi,” came the response. It was Alan. “We are Group 2 in Mr. Boss’ experiment, and—”

“Experiment? What experiment?”

“Well, it’s not much of an experiment anymore. But we were originally told to watch you guys and observe your behavior and—”

“So what are we, the mice in a maze? Oh never mind, can you get us out of here?”

“How are we supposed to do that?”

“Get something to cut through the metal, call the police, the fire department, do something, do anything, just get us out of here!”

“I don’t think we can,” Alan said somberly. “We’re trapped in here ourselves. No way out.”

“No way out?”

“We’ve looked everywhere. The door is locked and is too strong to be broken down. There aren’t any tools in here we could use to get out. We’re stuck.”

The members of Group 1 sat there in silence for a few moments.

“We’re the cage within a cage,” said a young man with a goatee. “Even if we got out of here, we’d still be stuck in there.”

“We’ll keep trying though,” Alan said. “Both to get you out of there and to get all of us out of here.”

“Of course, Jendy might not want you out of there,” Bishop said.

“What?” Jendy said nervously.

“That’s right. She didn’t want you to be let loose from there because she was scared of the smell.”

“I did not!”

“Oh don’t deny it!”

“Bishop, this is not the time,” Alan said.

“So she did say it,” yelled Harry. “What’s wrong with you? We’re trapped in here and all you can think about is a smell?”

“No, of course not,” Jendy said.

“Then why’d you say it?”

“I… I don’t know. I’m sorry,” she said, peering angrily at Bishop, who smiled sarcastically.

“Anyway,” Harry said. “You mentioned an experiment. We’re here because we entered Mr. Boss’ contest. The one who can stay in the longest wins a boatload of cash. Or those of us who are left after a month get to split all of it.”

“How much did he say?” asked Alan.

“One hundred eighty million dollars.”

“The same amount.”

“What same amount?”

“We were told that if we observed the six of you for a month and didn’t leave or disrupt the experiment, that we would split a hundred eighty million dollars. He then led us down here. Everything seemed normal at first, but then we stopped having contact with Mr. Boss, and the doors were closed and locked. We’re not really sure why this is happening.”

Everyone sat there somberly for several moments.

“Well,” said an elderly woman in the cage, “what do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” said Alan, peering at the bars of the cage. “These bars are thick and go deep into both the ceiling and the floor. I don’t think we can knock them out.”

Trays were pushed through the holes in the wall; six trays inside the cage and six trays outside. On each tray was bowl of grits and a half-pint box of milk.

“Breakfast this morning?” the young man inside the cage said. “Looks…. great.”

For several minutes, there was silence as the twelve of them ate their breakfast.

“That was… gross,” Jendy said. “Why are they feeding us this crap?”

“Everything’s changed,” Alan said. “Why should our food stay the same?”

“Well, I’m sure it’s laced with some crazy drugs or something,” George said. “You know, something to mess with our minds, and change the way we think or act.”

“Not everything’s a conspiracy, George,” Alan said.

George smiled and shook his head. “And not everything isn’t one, Alan.”

“I’m just saying that we can’t assume that everything is the fault of our deceiving government. Not everything is a fabrication of—”

“Better to look into the darkness where a murderer is not hiding than to skip the darkness where he is hiding.”

“Can never be too careful, right?”

“Exactly. You’re just too trusting.”

“Trust in the Lord, and everything will be—”

“Oh don’t give me that bull crap, preacher,” George blurted, causing Bishop to laugh.

At that moment, a whimpering sound could be heard from the cage. It was the young man, and he was crying into his empty grits bowl.

“Seth?” said the short Mexican woman in the cage. “Are you okay?”

“No I’m not!” he blurted amid his tears. “Everything is ruined!” He stood up and kicked the wall, then put his hands around two of the bars and tried to rip them out of ceiling and the floor, to no avail.

“Everything was perfect! Everything was going to be fine! I’m getting married in a month, and my fiancée is three months pregnant. We were going to have the most wonderful honeymoon ever, and then we were going to live as the happiest married couple in the world! Now it’s all gone to hell, and I probably won’t ever see her again!”

Maria’s heart churned sorrow for the young man, and she so wanted to comfort him. She stood up and walked to the bars, putting her arms through them and around Seth’s medium-sized frame, giving him a small hug. She knew the hopelessness he felt, for that same feeling was in her heart. She peered up at the face of Seth, and whispered, “We’ll get through this, together, all of us, it will—”

Seth suddenly jerked his hands forward, through the bars of the cage and around Maria’s neck, pulling tightly and masking her scream. She gasped for air and pleaded to be let go, but he just held tighter. His hands were on either side of her face. Harry yelled from behind, “Let her go!”

“Don’t move! I can snap her neck in one motion, so don’t move unless you want this woman to die!”

“Why are you doing this?” Maria managed to ask amid her gasps.

“Mr. Boss! I know you can hear me! Let us go or this woman dies!”

No response.

“Seth, let go of—”

“Shut up! Everyone shut up! Mr. Boss, you don’t want a dead body down here do you? Talk to me!”

The speakers crackled, and Mr. Boss’ voice was heard.

“Seth, my dear boy, what do you think you’re doing? You know, if you I let you out, that you’d then be thrown in jail for assault.”

“I’d take that to this any day!”

“I see. Look at the screen, will you?”

The TV, which could be seen from inside the cage, flicked on, emitting a blurry black-and-white image. The screen showed the corner of an empty room. Nothing changed for close to ten seconds. A small yet obviously pregnant woman fell into view, as if she had been pushed. She curled up in the fetal position, whimpering and crying. A man wearing a black mask and carrying a pistol walked into view, pointing the gun at the woman’s head, before glancing up at the camera and cocking the gun. Seth’s eyes widened.

“That’s my fiancée! Let her go!”

“Listen to me, Seth,” said Mr. Boss. “If you kill Maria, then your fiancée dies, simple as that. So if you ever want a chance to see her again, besides in a casket, I suggest that you let Ms. Goldsmith go and return to your seat.”

Seth closed his eyes and cried, before slowly loosening his grip on Maria’s neck. He slinked back into a corner and stared at the wall.

The next few hours were quite silent. No conversations lasted longer than a minute. Everyone just wanted to go off on their own and think about the situation they were in. Maria sat with her back against a wall, holding her neck, which still ached and was red.

“Ahem,” came a voice from the other side of the room. The voice belonged to Mr. Boss.

“Good morning,” he said, his scruffy old voice coming through the speakers. He sat in the observation room behind the large glass window.

“How is everyone today?”

“How do you think?” snapped Bishop. “Trapped in here like criminals, with our families used as bait. If I ever get my hands on you I’ll—”

“Bishop, I don’t know if he can hear you,” said Alan. Mr. Boss made no response to either of these statements, so they all assumed that Alan was right. Bishop ran up to the thick pane of glass and slammed his large body against it, but it didn’t budge. He bounced off the window and fell onto the floor. Mr. Boss seemed not to notice.

“Ouch,” Bishop said painfully. “Doesn’t look like we’re getting through there.”

Mr. Boss pulled out a notebook and cleared his throat, then started to read.

“Twelve blind mice, twelve blind mice, see how they run, see how they run, they all think they’re trapped down in this little cage, who knew there was hidden a way to escape, did you ever see there’s a door and a way, oh twelve blind mice?”

Thursday, December 14, 2006

The Cage - Chapter Five

Small amounts of food were slid through openings in the wall for both lunch and supper for both groups. However, Group 1 was not let out of the cage for all of the second day. The sanitary conditions of the cage soon decreased greatly, as they soon had to give in to the yearning of their bladders and bowels, designating a corner of the cage as the bathroom.

“I think I need to throw up,” said the younger woman in the cage.

“Just use the bathroom, would ya?” said Harry. The woman kneeled over the bathroom corner.

“Very attractive,” Harry said, staring at the woman’s rear end while she was losing her lunch.

“Oh, shut up,” the woman said after she had finished, wiping her mouth on her shirt sleeve. “This place makes me sick.”

“I can tell,” Harry said, looking at the pile of vomit.

“You must have a stronger stomach than I do.”

“Blondes,” he said, shaking his head. She scowled.

“Excuse me? What does the color of my hair possibly have to do with my weak stomach?”

“All you girls are the same. Can’t handle the heat. Or in this case, can’t handle the stench. Always melting under the pressure.”

“What do you know about pressure? You’re a construction worker! I know about pressure, buddy.”

“How would a cute little thing like you know anything about pressure?”

“I’m a journalist, and in that business, we need today’s news yesterday. I have bosses breathing down my neck for every story and article I write. Everything needs to be done now and it needs to be done perfect. Do you have bosses at your throat telling you to hurry up with the next stretch of pavement?”

“Well—”

“Oh shut up, seriously.”

“You know, you’ve been quiet so far, and I liked you a lot better that way.”

“Well I’m sorry,” the woman said, “but you pinched a nerve.”

“That’s understandable, being that you’re a blonde.”

“Listen here, I don’t need your chauvinist pig-head right now, I’ve got enough on my mind.”

“Like what?”

“Yeah, and I’m going to spill my guts to you.”

“Why not?” Harry said. “Have you got something else to do, somewhere else to go?”

“I think I’d rather talk to the wall.”

“Makes sense. It’s always good to talk to something that’s at least as smart as you and –”

“You don’t even know me!”

“I know enough.”

The woman crossed her arms and turned away from Harry, who had a wide smile on his face.

The six members of Group 2 searched every crack and crevice of the living and sleeping quarters, looking for a way out. A secret passageway maybe, or even just a sight of sunlight. Something to give them hope. But none was found.

Maria walked up to the glass and looked at Harry, and he was staring right back at her from his seat along the back wall. She smiled, trying to make contact. His facial expression didn’t change. She waved, he didn’t move. He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

Maria sighed, and then tried to get the attention of the skinny man in the cage. He seemed to look near her, but never at her. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get the attention of anyone in the cage. Have they been told to ignore us? she thought.

“It’s a one-way mirror,” Bishop said from behind her. “They can’t see us.”

Maria scowled. “Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Another mystery.”

She nodded, peering into the cage. “We’ve got it made compared to them.”

“Well, at least we can’t smell them,” Jendy said, sitting on the couch and playing with her hair. “I mean, come on. Gross.”

“That’s the least of my concerns right now,” Bishop said. “I just wish we could help them out of that tiny space they’re in.”

“So they can what, be trapped here too?” Jendy replied. “I say, let them keep their smell in there, cause I don’t want it out here.”

Bishop frowned at her.

“It wouldn’t really be much of an improvement,” she said, “were they to be out here instead of in there.”

“They’d have a toilet and some more room.”

“So?”

“Maybe you should have been in there with them!” Bishop snapped.

Jendy gasped.

“Me? In there? Without a toilet and a soft bed? What are you crazy?”

“Do you think you’re some kind of princess or something?”

“I just know that I deserve better than they do.”

The other five members just glared at her. And Bishop snapped.

“It’s all about you, isn’t it? Let me guess. Rich parents. An only child. Never had a job. Never lifted a finger. Always got what you wanted. Every ounce of you has been spoiled. Well sister, it’s time to wake up and smell the crap, cause you’re in it.”

With that, she started to cry, and Bishop rolled his eyes.

“What a brat,” he said, walking back into the sleeping quarters.

“Calm down, Bishop,” Sally said, putting a condoling arm around Jendy.

“Calm down? Don’t you see where we are?” he said, his voice loud and aggravated. “We’re locked in this, this, this prison of sorts, for who knows how long. We can’t get out and we can’t contact anyone. I bet this was all part of their plan, we’ve been kidnapped!”

“Get a hold of yourself,” said Sally, calmly. “Getting upset won’t help anyone. I’m sure all this will be figured out soon and—”

“Yeah, okay, thank you, Mrs. Feathers,” he said sarcastically. “That may work on a four year old, but this is real life, not some kind of childhood dream world.”

“Well excuse me for not being a rabid pessimist. There’s always light at the end of the—”

“The tunnel? This is the type of thinking I’d expect from a preschooler, but a student, not a teacher! There is not always light at the end of the tunnel, not in real life!”

“Okay everyone, just calm down,” Alan interjected. “Fighting won’t help us—”

“Okay, Pastor Alan, I don’t need any more sermons, they’re not helping.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Do you think your God is going to save you?” Bishop looked at Alan, then at Sally. “Neither of you know the first thing about real life, about reality. I suggest you both wake up and smell the roses. Before winter is gone and the garden is dead.”

An awkward silence filled the air, and for several moments, everyone just stared at Bishop. Some with angry eyes, some with sad eyes, some with fearful eyes. Bishop looked at each one of them before turning around and walking into the sleeping quarters.

“He thinks we’re gonna die,” Jendy said. “Die. In here. You think we’ll get out, don’t you, Sally?”

“Of course, dear. We’ll be let out. Why would they leave us down here to die?”

“Somebody’s idea of a cruel trick, maybe,” said George, who had been sitting against the wall near the locked door. “Maybe we’re the experiment, and someone else is watching us.”

“I can’t imagine such a study being ethical,” said Alan.

“Well, the study we thought we were doing wasn’t ethical either,” George said. “But big corporations will do anything for a paycheck. I’m sure the government’s involved somehow.”

“The government? Why?”

“They’re always involved. Everything’s a conspiracy. The moon landing, the JFK assassination, September 11, the government loves to create a story. It loves the publicity, and the sympathy. Or the glory, depending on what it is they’re conspiring.”

“And why would the government put us down here?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure people will die to protect that information. It’s the way the government functions. They need something, they just generate it. It’s easier with physical goods or currency, but it’s still done with sympathy, anger, and hate. We’re just rats in the government’s maze of lies and deceit.”

Sally shook her head. “Do you always overanalyze things?”

“Do you always underanalyze things?”

She stared at him, before turning the other way.

“The government has all of us right where they want us, and most of the time, we don’t even know it. But they’re always watching,” George continued. “But not in my house. It’s spy-proof. I can do whatever I want in there, and the government hasn’t a clue. At least I don’t think they do. Next I’m going to spy-proof my car.”

The others started to ignore him.

“Someday, you’ll discover it; you’ll see everything the government has their hand in, all the places they’re meddling in that we don’t know about.”

“George, please—”

“You don’t even want to know the connection between Richard Nixon, a Russian butcher, and a band of gypsies that live in Montana.”

Maria pushed the bickering away from her mind and closed her eyes. She thought of her children. She even thought about her ex-husband. She missed Dixie and Nevaeh greatly. She felt ashamed that she was fooled into coming along on this adventure. I knew it was a scam, a trap she thought to herself. I should always follow my gut. But since I didn’t, I’ve ruined everything. I’ll be stuck down here forever and won’t ever see them again. Stupid Maria!

And with that, she started to cry. Not just a few tears, but the waterfalls were unleashed. Large teardrops fell from her eyes, splashing on the wooden floor below. She fell forward, landing on her knees, then falling to the side and curling up in the fetal position. She wailed loudly and constantly.

Sally rushed over, putting a hand on her side and consoling her.

“I know it’s hard, dear, but we’ll all make it through.”

“That’s right,” said Alan, kneeling down beside her. “We must have faith.”

“I know…” said Maria, amid her continuing weeping. “It’s just… this was my big break. I’ve been through Hell, and this was supposed to be the end of it. All my troubles were going to be over.”

“Because of money?” Alan said.

“I really don’t care about money. But I had just recently started turning my life around. I had stopped the drugs, the drinking. I had been living on the streets, but I saw the potential for improvement, the hope for something better, which is something I hadn’t seen in years. The money could have been used to get myself back on my feet and show the world that I am a good mother. It could have helped me get my kids back. Now I’m stuck in this place, for who knows how long. And I bet nobody even knows I’m missing. Nobody ever knew where I was anyway, before I came here, I was just out on the street somewhere. In here I’m trapped, and out there I’m not even missed.”

Alan nodded sympathetically.

“Maybe there is a greater power at work here. A greater power than Mr. Boss,” he said.

“Like who? Or what?”

“Something higher, someone who sees everything from a different perspective. Someone like—”

“Preacher!” yelled Bishop, stomping across the floor towards him. “I said no preaching! We don’t need any false hope or hypocritical religious teachings here. We need to use our brains, not our hearts, to get us out of this place.”

“Sometimes, our minds get us into trouble, and—”

“Oh shut up, would you?” Bishop snapped.

Alan stared at him.

“I know you don’t think hope and faith have its place, Bishop, but what good does yelling and being upset do?”

“At least I’m not deceiving myself.”

Alan shook his head, and stood up.

“I know what you need, and its—”

Bishop’s fist slammed into Alan’s face, launching him backwards and into a table. He fell to the floor, blood pouring from his nose. Maria and Jendy screamed, and Sally ran over to see if he was alright. He stood on his knees, for a moment looking dazed, before finding Bishop’s blurred image in his field of vision.

“This is the line that you preach?” Alan said, holding back his anger. “Disagree with a guy and punch his lights out? This is the world you want to live in?”

“At least I’m punching the lights out of something that is real, not praying to some figment of my wishful imagination.”

“They’re setting all this up; they’re pitting us against each other,” George said. Everyone stopped and look at him. “It’s all part of their plan, to create this type of tension and hate. And we’re falling for it.”

A noise came from the cage. It was the sound of running and splashing water. The six people in the cage gasped as water starting pouring into it from holes in the ceiling. The small opening that was used to send in food had been closed, and the cage area started filling up.

Screams came from both the inside and the outside as all twelve of them panicked simultaneously. The water rose to two feet high, then three feet, then four feet. The human waste that had been in the corner of the cage started to float in the water.

“What is going on?” Alan screamed. “Mr. Boss, these people are dying!”

“And you’re going to watch them die,” Mr. Boss’ voice came over the speakers.

“How can you do this?” Alan yelled.

“Because I can,” Mr. Boss said.

Alan and Bishop banged on the glass, but it wouldn’t budge. The water was now six feet high, and the six members of Group 1 were floating up toward the ceiling. Seven feet. Eight feet. Nine feet. Soon only a foot of air was available. Their screams could barely be heard by those outside the cage. Those outside stood there silently, watching the legs of those inside kick to stay afloat.

Six inches of breathing room. Four inches. The young woman’s small body sank into the water, her eyes closed and air streaming out of her lungs.

“Ally!” Harry screamed from above, peering down into the water at the sinking woman. At that moment, the water stopped flowing. The hole at the bottom of the cage opened, and water rushed out of it and another drain on the bottom. Harry’s hand reached down and grabbed on to Ally’s arm, pulling her up and allowing her to breathe.

The water fully receded, and the six of them lay on the floor, exhausted. The six outside could only stare inside, hands over their mouths. Two minutes later, six plates, each with a piece of rich chocolate cake, slid through the opening in the cage. None of them were touched.