The Parachuting Colts

While the Indianapolis Colts are not my #1 favorite team, I am still rooting for them in this Sunday's Super Bowl. Head coach Tony Dungy is a committed Christian (of course, so is the Bears head coach Lovie Smith), and I think it's about darn time that Colts quarterback Peyton Manning gets a Super Bow ring.

Since I may now have a couple more readers to my always awe-inspiring blog (haha), I thought I might repost one of the short stories I've written, and invite them (but not force them) to read it. It is around 2300 words and is symbolic in a way I'm sure you'll pick up on. But only read it if you feel like it. :) I am no expert writer. If you do read it, let me know of any comments / suggestions you may have.

The Parachute

I’ve never liked to fly. I’ve always felt like my vulnerabilities were exposed when I was so high in the air. My weaknesses are laid out plain as day, and there’s nothing I can do to cover them or strengthen them. Looking out the windows, I often see miles and miles of land below, and it makes me feel insignificant. The massive piece of land I see is only a microscopic fraction of what this Earth holds, and this Earth is an even smaller fraction of the universe. All of these things become increasingly obvious to me as I get closer to the stars. Because of this, I always sit in an aisle seat.

“This plane is going down,” the passenger sitting next to me says.

“Huh?”

“This plane is going down.”

I didn’t respond. The guy was crazy. He was sitting there with a thick book on his lap and a steaming cup of coffee in his tray’s cup holder. He had a sly smile on his face, and he spoke slowly and confidently and appeared to know what I was going to say before I even started to speak.

“The end is coming soon,” he said.

I turned my head toward him and gave a weak yet annoyed smile.

“The end is coming soon,” he repeated.

“Are you trying to cause trouble?”

“The trouble has already been caused, my friend. I am only here to save those who understand.”

“Understand what?”

“That you are causing the plane to crash.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are causing the pla—“

“That’s enough for me,” I said as I stood up and made my way to an empty seat near the back of the plane.

“I had to move, the guy next to me was driving me crazy,” I explained to the woman in the seat to my left. She smiled and went back to reading her magazine. Unfortunately, my new seat was a window seat. I glanced out the window. Far below was a column of smoke hovering above a burning house. I shuddered and pulled down the window shade. I closed my eyes and breathed in, calming my roused heart.

My nose took in the scent of coffee. I turned to my left, and there was the strange man who had talked to me earlier.

“This plane is going down,” he said once more.

“How…?”

“This plane is go—“

“I got that. What’s your problem?” I snapped, getting irritated.

“I have no problem. I am neither causing the plane to crash nor will I be on it when it does.”

“What, are you special or something?”

“I have taken the necessary steps to avoid being on this plane when it does crash.”

“Oh yeah?” I said sarcastically.

“Yes,” he replied. “Do you want to know what they are?”

“Do you really think I believe you?”

“Do you?”

“Of course not.”

I turned my head back to the closed window. I wanted to punch this guy. I was at least going to tell him off.

“You know what?” I said, turning back to him. However, he was no longer there. The woman was back, and she was now peering at me like I was some kind of idiot. I sighed.

“Never mind.” I pushed my fists together, cracking all ten knuckles in one swift stroke.

It was nearly an hour into the flight when the skies started to darken. I turned on the overhead light and reached forward for a magazine. I pulled out a copy of Entertainment Weekly. I turned to the first page, and I nearly fell off my seat. There, on the inside cover, was the same strange man I had talked to earlier. His picture took up the whole left page, and he seemed to be glaring at me with the same sly smile I had seen before. On the right page, printed on a black background were large fiery red letters, spelling out “This plane is going down.”

I quickly flipped to the next page. On the left page was the same picture of the same guy, and on the right side were the same type of letters, but this time it spelled out “The end is coming soon.”

I continued to flip through the pages of the magazine. Each left page had the same picture, and each right page had a similar message, including “You are causing the plane to crash.” I screamed.

“Stewardess! Stewardess! STEWARDESS!”

I heard feet running and a woman’s voice saying “What is it, sir?”

“Look at this!”

I showed her the inside of the magazine. She blinked and scratched her head. I glanced at the magazine. There was an advertisement for a coffee company.

“But… but…”

People were staring at me. I felt my face turning red.

“Ummm… coffee. Please.”

“Sir, we don’t serve coffee.”

“What?”

“Company policy.”

“I see.”

“Would you like something else?”

“Just a cola, then.”

I sat back down and leafed through the magazine. Sure enough, the pages appeared to be the inside of a regular magazine.

“Here you are, sir,” the stewardess said as she handed me a can of cola and a glass of ice.

I smelled the aroma of coffee.

“This plane is going down.” The man had reappeared next to me.

“Back off. I don’t know who you are or what you are or what you want. Go bother someone else.”

“I have already talked to other people and—“

“Shut up and leave me alone.”

“You want to be alone?”

“Yes.”

“That is exactly what I try to prevent.”

“Uh-huh.”

The man snapped his fingers, and in his hand appeared a very small plastic airplane. He leaned over and dropped it in my cola.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He snapped his fingers again, and a small flame appeared at the bottom of the glass. It spread like the carbonated liquid was its fuel, engulfing the entire glass, and the small plastic plane, in a matter of seconds. I screamed.

“Oh, that’s alright,” the woman who was once again sitting next to me said. She reached up and hit the stewardess button. “Things like this happen all the time on airplanes.” I looked down, and the cola had been spilled all over my lap, with no remains of the flame in sight.

The stewardess arrived and rolled her eyes when she looked at me. She brought me some paper towels, and I dried myself off as much as I could.

I excused myself to go to the restroom. I stood in front of the mirror for a few minutes, talking to myself.

“Get yourself together, man. You’ve been hallucinating or something. This flight will be over soon and you’ll get to sleep in your own bed again, and all this will be over.”

I stepped out of the restroom and noticed the woman who had been sitting next to me. She had moved a few seats forward. I sighed. Can’t blame her, I thought to myself. I walked back to my seat. My side of the row had emptied.

I sat down in the aisle seat of the empty row. I closed my eyes, and in a matter of minutes, was asleep.

I looked out the window expecting to see nothing. What I actually saw was war. There were soldiers running around, tanks, and other such types of weaponry. Military planes and helicopters were flying in every direction, some crashing to the ground. A fierce firefight was happening right below us. Bullets could be heard ricocheting off the sides of the aircraft.

A missile smashed into the tail of the airplane. We started spinning, and all I could hear was screaming. We landed with a jolt, but I knew I was doomed. The plan was on fire, and the flames were spreading quickly. I had no chance to escape.

From somewhere above the plane, a liquid fell upon us and began extinguishing the fire. It was not ordinary water, but I knew the aroma. It was coffee.

I jumped out of my sleep with a gasp.

“This plane is going down.”

I stared at him for several seconds, breathing heavily.

“I know what you saw.”

“What I saw where?”

“In your sleep.”

“You know what I dream?”

“I do. This plane will suffer a similar fate.”

“How would you know all this?”

“Worry not about how I know, only what I know. And I know this plane—“

“—this plane is going down, I know.”

“Do you know that is what I was going to say, or do you know that is what is going to happen?”

“I … I don’t know.”

“So I see.”

He leaned in close to me and started to whisper.

“The pilot is dead.”’

“What?”

“The pilot is dead.”

“What?” I repeated, this time louder.

“Speak softly. Do not create an uproar, especially because you would be the target.”

I stared at him.

“Before he died, he locked the door to the cabin. No one else was in there. Now no one can get through the door. The plane is descending, and mountains are ahead. We have thirty-eight minutes.”

“We’ve got to do something.”

“We can do nothing to stop the descent. We do not have the tools to get through the door.”

“I don’t understand how this all happened.”

“Remember I told you that you are causing the plane to crash?”

I nodded.

“That is still true.”

“But how?”

“Because you cheated on your wife.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Last night, you met a woman at a bar. You took her to your hotel room and you slept with her. You decided that since you were on a business trip, no one would be hurt by what you did.”

“How…?”

“Remember, it is the what I know, not the how I know.”

“You’re right. I did do that. But how could that have anything to do with this?”

“You contracted a disease last night from your one-night lover. This rare skin disease spread throughout your body overnight. It is incredibly contagious and can be spread by contact. Including— “

“—shaking his hand.”

“Exactly.”

“But why is he dead?”

“Many different things may have been at work.”

“So I did do it,” I said, the feeling of shame weighing heavily upon me. “Through my mistake, I caused the plane to go down.”

“Exactly.”

I started to cry. “How could I have been so selfish? And so stupid! Why must I be the way I am? Why must the mistake of one condemn the rest?”

“There is still hope.”

“How?”

He cupped his hands together, and slowly a parachute appeared between them. “Wear this.”

He picked up the large thick book and opened it to a page in the middle. He appeared to write something down, then closed the book and looked at me. Smiling, he said, “You will be saved. Just never forget about the parachute. Never take it off. For if you do, that may be the moment the plane crashes.”

“What will happen to the others?”

“Everyone on this plane was given the same choice you were. Not all of them chose the same.” With that, he disappeared.

I quickly strapped the parachute on, and sat back in my seat. A feeling of safety fell over me. I no longer had worries.

“What are you doing?” A woman from behind me blurted. “Why are you wearing a parachute? What an idiot!” She started laughing, as did the other passengers in her row. I sighed. I glanced to the side and noticed a woman in her early twenties sitting in the seat across from me. She had her legs bent up in front of her with her arms around them. On her back was a parachute. I slowly made my way over to her.

She had a tear rolling down her face. She looked at me and smiled.

“I did it. I stole the pilot’s wallet. Pick-pocketed him in the airport not two hours before the flight. Kept the money and tossed everything else. I guess there was medicine in there. Turns out he had some major skin allergy that he needed that medicine for. Normally he’s okay without it for a couple days. Something else really bad must have happened too.”

“It wasn’t only you though,” a thick voice from behind us said. The large bearded man stood and turned to the side, revealing the parachute strapped to his back.

“It was all of us,” the elderly woman beside him said. “We all played a part in it. Some of us are being saved because we accepted what we had done, and we believed we could be saved.”

I started to cry, and so did the other three.

I heard a voice in my head say “It is time.” The expressions on the faces of the three others showed they also had heard it. We all stood up, as did several other parachute-bearing passengers, and instinctively formed a line to the exit row with me at the front. Suddenly the exit row door ripped itself off the hinges, flinging itself down to the rocky ground below.

A woman sitting in the exit row stood and yelled out, “What’s going on?”

“We believed.”

“Believed what?”

“That we were causing the plane to crash.”

Her eyes and mouth widened, and she stepped backwards and fell into her chair.

“The crazy man was right?!”

I nodded. “It is time,” I said, and I jumped out of the plane. After pulling the ripcord and releasing the parachute, I looked up to see several other parachutes gliding through the air. Higher above, the woman peered her head out of the exit row door, looking towards the front of the plane. She screamed.

I looked up when I heard the explosion. The plane smashed into the side of the mountain, emitting a ball of fire high into the sky. Two miles away, I landed safely on the ground, with the parachute falling behind me.

SpecTECular

The TEC weekend is over, which is always sad. Working a weekend for the first time in almost seven years brought back lots of memories. It was an excellent time, and I hope to be able to repeat this experience in the future, hopefully the TEC coming in July, as I have several friends who will be applying to work that one. I only hope that this weekend made a significant (and permanent) change to these candidates, because, while it was good fun, having an effect on the candidates is the purpose of TEC.

However, working this TEC was a good step out of my comfort zone. I am a very shy and socially awkward person, so it is often difficult for me to interact with people I don't know. On the Support Team I worked on, I had only met one of the fifteen other people on the team prior to this experience. I had worked with her - Erin - on TEC #37 when I was in high school, back in the day. But that's okay, it's good for me to force myself into situations like this. It's the only way I'll get more comfortable with social situations.

Anyway, it's about time to head home.

The Wheel Hath Turned Once More

What's with you, Chromiden's Chronicles? You have a blog posting for two weeks straight, and then drop off the face of the planet? Bad blogger!

Yeah, I know. But alas, now I am back, and with a vengeance. Or something like that. Here's some updates into my fascinating life.

In just under three hours, I will leave work and head to Rochester to start the TEC weekend. It should be good fun. We have 24 candidates coming (at last count) and I hope and pray that this experience touches them in an amazing and powerful way, as it did me when I went through almost 9 years ago (guess who feels old?). I am an adult leader on the Support team (behind the scenes, cleaning and stuff). Our Support team consists of 16 people, including 11 girls. Holy estrogen. :) I will be gone from Thursday afternoon to late Sunday night. Megan will be spending the weekend in Geneva with her mother and niece. The one thing I know about this weekend is that I will be well carbonated.

I am currently reading book 4 of the Harry Potter series - Goblet of Fire. I want to finish it and read book 6 - Order of the Phoenix - before that movie reaches theatres this summer. I've never read a book before watching the movie (with the possible exception of Chronicles of Narnia, but I read the books like 15 years ago). Then I can read book 6 in time to finish up the series with book 7 when that book is released later this year. After that, I plan on reading the three prequel books to Left Behind, which Megan has just recently finished. Then maybe, finally, I'll get back to reading Lord of the Rings.


My computer is on the fritz. It has been resetting itself while playing Everquest. I noticed that the computer was running hotter than normal, so it definitely might be a cooling problem. Then, as a big dork, I accidentally broke the fan off. Silly little me. So I have ordered a new one, with a new heat sink, and I will see if those things had simply been not working properly anyway. Stupid computers, and stupid computer people sticking their fat fingers into a cooling fan.

I am continuing my classes at work. Today, before leaving for TEC, I will do some courses for ASP, which should be good fun and very useful, hopefully. But we shall see. Maybe I shouldn't do any big learning before a TEC weekend, in case all that knowledge falls out of my skull. Kind of like Christmas vacation during high school.


Well, we are in the middle of our volleyball schedule, and our record is not fantastic, at 4-8. Last night, we got shut out 0-3 by a pretty good team, but all the games were close (each game goes to 25 points, and I believe we had at least 20 in each game). That team is spike happy. I think I am improving at the game, but still have a lot of work to do, both in hitting technique and in-game decisions, like where to hit the ball.

Well, there ya go. Have a good and groovy day!

And Then It All Goes Splat

Well, the Buckeyes even still had a good year, even though they got torn apart in their 41-14 loss to the underdog Florida. I'm sure they'll be back and will be a good team next year. Their defense is young and should be even better. But who knows. At least the Bucks beat Michigan.

On a side note, this is my 50th blog post. Granted, ten of those posts were chapters of a story, but you know, it's still all good.

Anyway, my trip to Salt Lake City was fine. Nothing too exciting. We packed up a bunch of desktop computers, as well as several servers and other computer equipment. It got me out of the office for a few days, and they paid for my food, so what else do I need? I mean, you know, besides my exceptionally good-looking wife.

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? :)

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? :)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?”