are pouring from me, listening to Calder's pained cries, and furious curses. Allen's eyes widen, and his arm tenses. Thank goodness some of my instincts work.
The silence is interminable, thick as death. “Do you think he's okay?” I ask Allen, knowing that I might not know until he goes to sleep, when I can sneak out to check the monitors, look at the camera in the room beyond the vent, squint into the blackness for any hint of Calder's cold corpse.
“I—I don't know, Millie,” Allen says, biting his lip. “I can probably go up there with him?”
I let a choked sob escape, and shake my head. “If he doesn't come back, that's our answer. I don't want to be alone because you walked into a trap that already got one of us.”
He nods, and hesitates. “I didn't want to ask, since I know we don't talk much, but are you gonna be okay?”
“What?”
“Calder pressuring you the way he did... if you want my support telling him to back off, it's there.”
He's a goddamn vulture, bringing this up while Calder may be dead or dying twenty feet and a steel wall away from us. Is he that desperate?
I glare at him, and shove his arm off my shoulders. “Is this really the time? With him—” I shake my head as though I can't get the sentence out.
He bows his head. “You're right. Sorry. I just thought—”
I shake my head to tell him to shut the fuck up. In the newfound silence, new noises reach us. More swearing. “Calder?” I yell, as more metallic noises start in the vent, coming closer, though slowly.
“I'm—I'm okay.”
Allen and I both yell over each other, waiting for him to crawl back to us. “What happened? What's there? You were yelling—”
Calder cuts me off with a forceful tone. “Calm down, Mil. I'm fine . I'll tell you in a minute. I'm on my way back. Calm down , Mil.”
I heave a sigh, though I can't tell if it's relief or disappointment. The thought terrifies me, and I know I should spend some time tonight unpacking it. I need to know my own weaknesses, and the extent of Calder's corruption.
Something drops out of the pipe, and lands in front of us with a loud thud: the cooler I left in the next room.
It takes me a moment to realize the feet now dangling from the pipe are Calder's. His soles are smeared with blood, and it looks like there's more cuts running up his calf. He drops down, and winces as he lands. He sits hurriedly, and I kneel by him to assess the damage. The bottoms of his feet are cut, but not deeply. His calves are red with blood. I lean closer to squint at it. There's shallow incisions all over his palms, and calves. He got lucky.
“Dead end,” he says, as I risk a little of our precious water to clean the blood off. He smiles at me, and kisses my cheek comfortingly, looping his arm around my waist. I can't even criticize him for getting blood on my shirt.
Allen picks up the cooler, and opens it. “Is this a joke?”
“What?” Calder asks, and Allen tips the container toward him so he can see inside. “Really?”
The inside is lined with little single-shot containers of vodka, a container of dental floss, and a pack of sewing needles.
“I think he's laughing at you,” Allen says, maybe trying to diffuse his fear at the callousness of the gesture. It was one of my better moments.
Calder chuckles with him, reaching in to pull out a plastic bottle with bloodstained fingers. “No shit.”
“So what happened, anyways?”
“The room's fucked . Serrated edges welded to the floor. The bulb's burned out, so I didn't see until I dropped onto it.” We all wince sympathetically. “If I'd fallen slightly differently, if I hadn't landed on all fours, it probably would have hit my wrists or my throat.” Damn right. “The door's shut as tightly as any in here, but I did find the cooler to bring back with me.”
His arm tenses, but his voice stays strong. “I nearly didn't make it back—the blood's slippery as shit, and I had a tough time climbing back into the
The silence is interminable, thick as death. “Do you think he's okay?” I ask Allen, knowing that I might not know until he goes to sleep, when I can sneak out to check the monitors, look at the camera in the room beyond the vent, squint into the blackness for any hint of Calder's cold corpse.
“I—I don't know, Millie,” Allen says, biting his lip. “I can probably go up there with him?”
I let a choked sob escape, and shake my head. “If he doesn't come back, that's our answer. I don't want to be alone because you walked into a trap that already got one of us.”
He nods, and hesitates. “I didn't want to ask, since I know we don't talk much, but are you gonna be okay?”
“What?”
“Calder pressuring you the way he did... if you want my support telling him to back off, it's there.”
He's a goddamn vulture, bringing this up while Calder may be dead or dying twenty feet and a steel wall away from us. Is he that desperate?
I glare at him, and shove his arm off my shoulders. “Is this really the time? With him—” I shake my head as though I can't get the sentence out.
He bows his head. “You're right. Sorry. I just thought—”
I shake my head to tell him to shut the fuck up. In the newfound silence, new noises reach us. More swearing. “Calder?” I yell, as more metallic noises start in the vent, coming closer, though slowly.
“I'm—I'm okay.”
Allen and I both yell over each other, waiting for him to crawl back to us. “What happened? What's there? You were yelling—”
Calder cuts me off with a forceful tone. “Calm down, Mil. I'm fine . I'll tell you in a minute. I'm on my way back. Calm down , Mil.”
I heave a sigh, though I can't tell if it's relief or disappointment. The thought terrifies me, and I know I should spend some time tonight unpacking it. I need to know my own weaknesses, and the extent of Calder's corruption.
Something drops out of the pipe, and lands in front of us with a loud thud: the cooler I left in the next room.
It takes me a moment to realize the feet now dangling from the pipe are Calder's. His soles are smeared with blood, and it looks like there's more cuts running up his calf. He drops down, and winces as he lands. He sits hurriedly, and I kneel by him to assess the damage. The bottoms of his feet are cut, but not deeply. His calves are red with blood. I lean closer to squint at it. There's shallow incisions all over his palms, and calves. He got lucky.
“Dead end,” he says, as I risk a little of our precious water to clean the blood off. He smiles at me, and kisses my cheek comfortingly, looping his arm around my waist. I can't even criticize him for getting blood on my shirt.
Allen picks up the cooler, and opens it. “Is this a joke?”
“What?” Calder asks, and Allen tips the container toward him so he can see inside. “Really?”
The inside is lined with little single-shot containers of vodka, a container of dental floss, and a pack of sewing needles.
“I think he's laughing at you,” Allen says, maybe trying to diffuse his fear at the callousness of the gesture. It was one of my better moments.
Calder chuckles with him, reaching in to pull out a plastic bottle with bloodstained fingers. “No shit.”
“So what happened, anyways?”
“The room's fucked . Serrated edges welded to the floor. The bulb's burned out, so I didn't see until I dropped onto it.” We all wince sympathetically. “If I'd fallen slightly differently, if I hadn't landed on all fours, it probably would have hit my wrists or my throat.” Damn right. “The door's shut as tightly as any in here, but I did find the cooler to bring back with me.”
His arm tenses, but his voice stays strong. “I nearly didn't make it back—the blood's slippery as shit, and I had a tough time climbing back into the
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