I opened my email with the subject line “We are down one tech. today” I work as a service technician for a large HVAC company. It is rare to read such emails. The last time I saw this email was about 4 months ago when Miles quit. Apparently, he quit right before his shift and according to his Facebook he moved to Spain to be with his girlfriend. Where I work, if you call in sick the night before work there is no penalty, whereas if you call in right before your shift you’ll likely be fired. Service calls are usually scheduled a week in advance or more, when someone doesn’t fulfill their shift those calls get spread out amongst the team. I ended up running 6 maintenance type calls all over town. It felt like I spent 25% of my day driving and 75% of my day doing furnace maintenance. I send in my email hoping to be done for the day. Generally we don’t work more than 10 hours in a shift. Then dispatch routed me a no-heat call to the Bakers.
Bakers is a code name my employer uses to protect the identity of this company. Apparently they pay us a lot of money to remain anonymous. I read the notes for the no heat call on the work order. Typically, the notes would say something like change batteries for thermostat or collect on delivery $110 for service that sort of thing. Instead it said “Rules for the Bakers” here is the list.
Rule 1: Cell phones & all personal belongings must be kept in bin upon arrival.
Rule 2: Remove your boots after entering the green lit door.
Rule 3: If a door is lit green you may enter. If it begins to turn orange, hurry.
Rule 4: If a door is lit red do not enter.
Rule 5: Minimize conversation with the Bakers. If you have questions, you may address the lady of the house, but do not ask her name. Address her as Ma’am.
More instructions will be given on site.
While driving I got a call from Ron. Ron is the lead tech and frankly I was surprised he wasn’t the one getting this call.
Me: Hey Ron, what’s up?
Ron: You heading to the Bakers, right? What’s your ETA?
Me: GPS says I’m about 20 minutes out.
Ron: Follow all the rules. Write them down and keep them in your tool bag.
Me: 10-4
Ron hung up the phone. I drove along the highway and got a prompt from the GPS to turn right in .2 miles. It is dark out, but I know this highway well. There is no road in .2 miles. Technically there is a road, but it is one that dead ends after about 1000 feet. I pull over to the side of the road, this highway has zero traffic on it. I expand the GPS with my fingers to see if the larger map view will reveal an alternative route. To my surprise not only are there no routes but it only wants me to drive a short distance after I make the turn. There’s literally nothing there, no houses, businesses, nothing only a road that dead ends. I figured that I have been given a bad address from dispatch. It’s not the 1st time it’s happened. I called dispatch and Janet answered. She’s my favorite service coordinator. Janet is the type of person that gets in early and stays late. She’s nice when she wants to be and mean when she needs to be.
Janet picks up the phone and says, “Have you arrived?”
Me: I think you accidentally sent me the wrong address; GPS says turn right but there’s nothing here.
Janet: Tony, turn right, drive a short distance. Park truck, Turn off lights & engine. Keep windows rolled up. Don’t call again until after you are finished.
Me: 10-4.
I hung up with Janet. Turn right, park the truck after driving a short distance, turn the lights & engine off and wait. I sit there in complete silence and darkness. It’s a cloudy night, usually the moon would provide some illumination. The only light I have is from my cell phone screen reflecting off my truck window. Then I feel it, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. The truck started to inch forward. I double checked that my truck was in park & the engine was off. I am moving forward, probably one or two miles per hour. The best I can describe it is that the truck is on a conveyor belt or something like it. I wonder to myself why none of this is in the notes, why didn’t Ron or Janet tell me this part? I still don’t know why I didn’t jump out and run or turn the truck on and get out of there. My gut was screaming at me to do so, but I kept thinking this was part of the secretive nature of the Bakers. I trust both Ron & Janet, if they thought I didn’t need to know this, there’s a reason. For a moment I consider the possibility of my coworkers playing a prank on me.
The slope of my van starts to point downwards. It’s not a drastic change in direction but I am headed down a hill. The road was straight, no hills. I started to panic because I saw my phone had no bars in the top right corner where they normally would be. I moved along at one or two mph pace for what seemed like 20 minutes. The truck stops or rather the conveyor stops. It’s silent, no lights but I know that I’m underground. I can feel the humidity has increased, even with my windows closed I can smell the dampness of an unfinished basement. Suddenly, as if a breaker had flipped, all the lights in the room turned on at once. My eyes struggled to adjust from all darkness to pure light. The walls, ceiling, and floor were covered in black paint, but not the type of paint you’d see on a fence or railing. It’s that black textured paint that gets used to soundproof rooms. In front of my van was one door lit green with a message board above it. It said:
Welcome Sir, you are in parking lot C. Follow the green lit doors and complete the tasks within the allotted time. If you are running out of time the green door will start to change to orange, this is a sign to pick up the pace and finish the task.
WTF I am going to be timed? It’s true that we are billed out by the hour, for instance if I am doing heat maintenance I must complete it in an hour, but that is a production metric used by the employer. I started to think of ways I can end this call. I did not consent to going underground. It’s not that I am claustrophobic, but I would like to know where the exits are located. The only visible path is forward. I know my Truck didn’t get here from magic, but there’s no obvious signs on the walls of how I entered parking lot C. The walls probably move on Hydraulics. I am aware of things like this, but nothing stands out like buttons to control the walls or even which walls move.
I grab my tool bag & bucket. The bucket is really my chair I use when working on furnaces. I open the green lit door and walk through it. The door closes behind me and turns red. The room is about 10X10 square feet. With the exception of cameras, a message board and timer there was nothing on the walls.
The message reads:
1.) Remove work boots, clothes, & strip naked.
2.) Take out all the tools & place them on the table for inspection.
3.) Remove Bin from under table, locate uniform, and put it on.
4.) Put all personal belongings in Bin.
I strip naked. In a slow 360-degree spin with my arms stretched out wide I make sure that the cameras get a good look. I put my cell phone, truck keys, wallet, and clothes into the Bin. I laid my tools out for inspection. I happened to look at the door I came through. It was red, there was another door that was changing color to orange. I quickly throw on the uniform and leave everything behind and walk through the green/orange lit door.
I wander the hallways looking for the lady of the house. The first two doors I passed were lit red, about 20 feet from the 2nd red door I can see light coming from a large opening. I walk towards it and find a huge room. It is hard to gauge the dimensions because the ceiling is the shape of an arch or a dome. But I’d estimated it to be higher than 100 ft. It then dawns on me; I am inside a bunker. This room reminded me of my employer’s headquarters. Each desk had a computer, a chair, filing cabinets, and phones. The desks were spaced about 8 feet from one another and where’d you’d enter and sit down were lights. All the desks were lit red, except one was lit green. I get the hint and go to the desk lit green.
As I sat down on the chair the computer screen turned on as if the keyboard or the mouse had been bumped. A button on the screen said “Play me” I click the button and a video begins playing. The video reminds me of a corny 70’s orientation video. I would have fallen asleep if it wasn’t for all the attractive actresses. The main character of the video is a blonde woman in her early 20’s she reiterated the rules for the bunker, how to write family letters, and basic housekeeping for your apartment. I realized that this video is more geared towards employees of the baker bunker. I’m just here to fix a furnace, so much of it didn’t apply to me. The timer on the wall has plenty of time on it, but I was anxious to get started on the broken furnace. There were a few doors lit red and one lit green. I walked towards the green lit door and opened it.
I stepped through the door and found myself in a large mechanical room. – The furnaces are massive, the kind you’d expect to see on a commercial rooftop. I wonder to myself how they get enough airflow here. In front of the furnace is a table with all my tools, even the ones from inside my truck. My entire inventory of stock items was put on shelves stacked along the walls. This would have taken someone at least a day to do. Someone went to a lot of effort organizing all this stuff.
I looked up and saw the message board it read:
Complete 5 heat checks and the timer counted down from 6 hours.
I was immediately angry. I have worked a lot of hours already today. Six hours is a fair amount of time for 5 furnaces, but I was exhausted, and my mind was spent. Why couldn’t these 5 checks wait for tomorrow. Furnace maintenance is something to do on Monday through Friday 8 Am to 5 PM. Not something we at double time rates. I stewed for about 10 minutes, there was no one in this room to vent my anger to. Normally I’d call Janet in dispatch and let her know how disgusted I am. I was alone.
I get started at least it’s only 6 hours of work. I’ll get done in four or less and leave this crazy place. I change all the furnace filters at once, shut them all down and do preventive maintenance: verify incoming gas pressure, clean flame sensors, that sort of thing. I was in the zone. I tested each furnace from the control board. I do this on all furnaces, and all but one turns on. The 5th furnace appeared to be sabotaged. There are certain things that happen naturally to furnaces over time due to wear and tear, but all the problems I found seemed to be deliberate. For instance, gas pressure was manually turned off, the wires on the furnace control board were pulled. The 5-amp fuse for the control board was removed. The pressure hoses were disconnected and once I found the blower motor unplugged, I suspected that there must be a cracked heat exchanger. Sometimes techs will disable a furnace in such a way to make sure that it won’t run should the customer decide they won’t fix it. The technician will have them sign a liability form and red tag it in this way. I’ve heard of instances where some companies will turn them into a municipality. Knowing that only my company services the Bakers property I was confused as to why furnace #5 in the notes as red tagged.
I looked above me, and the clock only lost 3 hours. At least I have plenty of time to find what the problem is. I began pulling out the guts of this furnace, so that I could stick half my body into the blower compartment of this furnace. Not a cracked heat exchanger but a message from Miles written on the inside of the furnace duct work in black sharpie. This is behind where the blower motor sits. This message could only be found by a hvac tech and even so was very well hidden.
The message read:
I have been trapped here for months. The lady of the house, Janet, & Ron all lied. There is no way out. I don’t think I have much time left. Whoever is reading this: You are next.
He signed his name & dated it.
The date was two days ago.
What the hell? I thought to myself. My paranoia that I usually keep caged up came front and center. I panicked at his message. Miles quit 4 months ago and everyone was mad at him for ghosting all of us. His Facebook message was so believable. I wonder what lies Janet will make up about me. I have a wife & kids, so I can’t stay here. I button the furnace up & get it heating again. Maybe there’s a chance this is a prank from a different technician, but that was just wishful thinking. There is no mistaking Mile’s signature. I must find Miles and get out. I pull myself together and mentally prepare myself for what is behind the next green lit door.
I walked through the door and entered a space that reminded me of a studio apartment. It had a TV/DVD set up, no cable, a couch, futon, kitchen area 3 doors all lit green and a landline phone. I entered the apartment, the door closed behind me and turned red. And then I smelled it. It was a hint of perfume. I realize that I am not alone. I call out “hello? This is Tony. I’ve completed the maintenance just trying to find the exit.” Then I see her. She’s shorter than me, probably 5’5 140 lbs. She’s dressed up nice, her outfit reminds me of the blonde woman in the orientation video. It’s impossible she would have been in her late 70’s early 80’s. I wasn’t spooked seeing her, she shot me a warm smile and waved me to come closer. She didn’t give me her name and was holding what looked like an iPad. It was a video feed. She said laughing “Look at this, quick you’ll miss the best part.”
I realized it was me on the video, apparently, I talked to myself in the truck. When I was on the conveyor belt or whatever it was. It looked like I was pooping my pants. You could see on the night vision camera how scared I looked. And here was this small person laughing hysterically at my mental anguish. I wouldn’t describe myself as a violent person, and I’d never hit someone but realizing that I may have been subject to a rich person’s joke at my expense was a little too much for me to handle. I didn’t say a word. I remembered the message from Miles and attempted to stay calm. Even though this is extremely messed up and unfair, she is still the Baker. Even if I found a way to get out of here and go public about everything that has happened, they have my naked body on camera. I started to think of all the ways that it could be used or edited for blackmail.
The lady of the house sensed the elephant in the room and began complimenting me for following the rules to the letter, finishing my work ahead of schedule, and fixing furnace #5 etc. I made up a story that a spider had spun a web inside the inducer motor port and as a result was tripping on the pressure switch. The lady of the house smiled and politely flirted with me. I don’t wear a wedding ring because I work with high voltage, but I make a comment to her that I’m married and have kids and need to get back to them.
She had a puzzled look on her face and told me that the office told her the work assignment is for one week, and that each day I’ll have at least 5 furnaces, maybe more to work on. Wait 5 furnaces each day? That’s 35 furnaces. In my head I contemplate how large this bunker is. The lady of the house saw my wheels turning as if she read my mind and said There are 7 levels, we are on level C. Tomorrow you’ll be given a map and where to go. Miles was right, I was next.
She got off her chair and began to try and leave. I stepped in front of her, not purposely blocking her, it’s just what happened. But wait, I said. Again, she smiled and looked up to me. Yes? She replied. How do I let my wife know that I’ll be here all week? My son needs a ride to an appointment tomorrow, I have a lot of things to do. I can’t be here for 6 more days on short notice. Without acknowledging me She stepped past me and went through the green door. As it closed it turned red. I try to follow her; and grab the handle and attempt to turn it. My hand recoils as if it touched a hot stove top. The pain in my palm is delayed from the flesh being seared right off. Normally I’d go to urgent care for this type of injury. There’s a landline next to the couch, I pick up and the phone immediately dials the bunker operator. The person on the other end of the line says “This is the operator, how may I direct your call?” I’ve injured myself and I need a doctor. The operator responds that all requests must be made in writing and hangs up on me.
I don’t like it, but I scan MY apartment. There were two remaining rooms that needed to be explored. One was a bedroom that had a bed, dresser, with more uniforms identical to the one I was currently wearing. The other room was a bathroom. It had a large hot tub, a separate shower, toilet, sink and a bunch of toiletries the kind you’d expect in a nice hotel room. I looked through the cupboards and located a first aid kit. I had trouble opening it with one hand but was able to locate and apply burn cream. I wrapped gauze around my hand loosely and hoped it would be enough.
I checked the fridge. It was stocked full of all kinds of food & beer. I grabbed some cheese dip, chips & three beers, I drank all three beers and cried myself to sleep. I feared that Miles was dead or dying somewhere in this bunker.
I slept great even with my hand injury and everything that was happening. Drinking those beers put me right to sleep. When I awoke, I took off the bandage and inspected my wound. I was surprised that the doorknob had caused so much damage. I got ready for the day. It took me longer than usual every task with my unharmed left hand. After I finish there’s a ring at the door, this door has a doorbell chime. I yelled “come in” the door didn’t open, no one came in. I headed to the door, it’s now green. I grabbed a hot mitt from the kitchen and opened it and no one was out there but above me was a message telling me to head to Maintenance room B with a map on how to get there, and when finished head to the office.
The map was good. Plus, combined with doors being lit green/red it helped me navigate to Maintenance room B. Inside it was almost identical to maintenance room C. My tools were at a table, all my remaining truck stock was on the shelves and the timer on the wall was counting down from 5 hours 30 mins. I get to work on the maintenance. I can tell that Miles had been here because he forgot his temperature probe in the supply side of the ductwork coming off the furnace. I think back to his message and start to weigh the gravity of the situation that I am in. Miles had been at the Bakers all this time working as free labor against his will. There’s no way they’d let him out knowing what he knows. If he had gotten out, you’d think he’d have reached out to some of his old friends. It’s the sort of thing where it would be a big enough story to make the news. The title & story “Kidnapped HVAC technician” The way I see it Miles is either a prisoner or he is dead. I glance at the clock and realize that I must get a lot of work done in a short amount of time, so I table my paranoia and complete the work.
These 90% furnaces are smaller than the ones yesterday. It gives me the impression that Level B is smaller SQ feet than level C. I complete the tasks with time to spare 5 hours & 10 minutes total. I would have done it faster if it wasn’t for the injured hand.
I exit the room through the green lit door and follow the map to the huge dome room on level C.
This time I see all but one desk occupied. It was awkward. I knew I was in the right place, but it felt as though that time back in grade school when I accidentally walked into the women’s restroom. All the other desks were occupied with women. The other awkward part was no one was talking, no noise at all. They all stared at me, their faces were expressionless. I attempted to be polite, but all my greetings were ignored. I got shushed by one person, who pointed at the message board that said, “quiet voices be silent.” I wondered if they knew of my injury or if anyone cared how much pain I was in.
I walked to my desk and sat down. I missed my wife & kids. I decided to write them an email following the rules I learned from the video.
Honey,
It’s Tony, Sorry for not reaching out sooner, there was a lot of work when I arrived, and I wasn’t allowed to write till now. I found out that I’m going to be here all week. I miss playing pinochle with you & the kids but look forward to seeing you this Sunday. Call my work with any questions, maybe they can help with more details.
Love,
Tony
PS tell the kids Daddy misses them and can’t wait to see them.
I assume someone from the Baker Group will eavesdrop and read the message. My wife & I developed a safe phrase to use if in distress. I don’t remember exactly why we developed it. I think it was when we first started dating and it was a way to leave a family get together without being rude. We haven’t played pinochle in years; she hates the game. Playing pinochle – literally means things are messed up but I am ok. The message board no longer says, “quiet voices be silent” and now says “prepare for inspection, all staff meeting and social to follow.”
The timer countdown was ticking down from 30 minutes. There are no name tags, not really any distinguishing marks so I made up nicknames in my head for each person. Or when spoken aloud said ma’am They called me Sir. In this half of the room there’s 8 desks including mine. I decided to number them 1-8 & 9-15 starting with my desk as #1 then assign each person in my head a number. I tried to commit each person to memory.
Almost as it had been announced over an intercom all 14 ladies lined up in front of the green door. I hadn’t noticed but we were all wearing the same type of uniform. Except one lady had a large A on her uniform. I wondered what that meant. The women were in excellent shape. Really fit. blondes, brunettes, and one red head all in their 30’s. Why am I the only guy here? I wouldn’t describe myself as good looking, but not ugly.
The door starts to change color to orange and the timer countdown drops under a minute. Each person walks through the door I’m the last through it with 3 seconds to spare. The door closes behind me and turns red.
This room reminds me of one of those fancy conference rooms you’d see in the movies. It seated a lot of people; it had 16 chairs around it. Everyone was seated with one chair left open for me, and one chair for the lady of the house. The lady of the house was wearing a pinstripe business suit. She seemed overdressed compared to the rest of us. But her outfit signified that she was in charge. In front of each of us was a binder with an outline, blank paper and powerpoint slides on paper.
The lady of the house started going over the outline. Her voice was upbeat, and she moved through it fast. She went around the room saying, “Hello Ma’am” to each person seated with the exception of me she said “hello sir” It would have been much easier if she had stated “Hello ladies & gents” The lady of the house expected work updates from each person. I spoke about the furnaces and the type of maintenance I was doing. I asked when the last time the filters were changed and mentioned that typically techs right their initials/date on a sticker each time they service a unit. I cautioned that due to age and efficiency of furnaces that the furnaces would need their filters changed on a monthly schedule and asked if there was anyone who would like to learn how. The lady of the house explained that they keep those records internally and don’t want stickers on their units. Go figure I think to myself this way they can keep whoever they have in the dark as to what is happening here. I decided not to ask anymore questions because I didn’t want to make them suspicious of me. #7 volunteered to learn how to change furnaces.
Everyone stood up and walked through the green lit door. On the other side was a dance hall. There was a disco ball on the ceiling, a table with an iPad, speakers and 13 chairs. I try to rush for one of the chairs. I am in no mood to dance with these people, but I am not fast enough. The lady of the house takes my hand and says, “where are you off to?” There is no way I am allowed to say no. She doesn’t say this, but it is implied that I do what she says or else. I take her hand and walk onto the dance floor. I don’t recognize the song, but it is a slow dance from the tempo. The kind you’d hear at a prom dance. The other women sat on the chairs. The woman wearing the A on her uniform was standing up in front of the row of chairs sort of like you’d see in baseball where the next batter is on deck.
I wondered to myself how bad this really is. I am dancing with a beautiful woman. At least she doesn’t look like a troll, none of them do. I’ve seen shows where people are paid large sums of money to eat a bowl of cockroaches or work long hours cleaning up filthy messes in undesirable places. This isn’t bad, why was Mile’s message filled with despair. The lady of the house tells me “Thanks for the dance, sir” and she walks off.
#15 arrives with two glasses of punch. She hands me one glass and says drink. I slammed it down, she wrapped her arms around my neck and we start to dance, there was no conversation. I proceed to dance with each woman one at a time. Each person brings me a glass of punch and I proceed to slam it down. Somewhere around #7 I realize that this punch has been spiked with alcohol. The drunkenness came upon me so fast. I tried telling #7 that I couldn’t dance and needed to sit down. That was the last thing that I remembered.
I awoke in my bed in my apartment completely naked. Then I hear a noise coming from the bathroom. It’s #7 or I think it is her she’s left the door cracked to the bathroom and I can see her figure through the textured shower door. I started to panic. I searched my room for clues hoping to get an idea of what happened last night. I found my clothes next to the side of the bed where I fell asleep. I put on my uniform and headed to the kitchen in search of coffee & ibuprofen.
From the kitchen I can see my futon with blankets and #7’s clothes next to it on the floor. I conclude that she must have helped me back to my room then stayed the night on the futon. I wish I could remember more. What the hell was in that punch? #7 completed her shower, she asked from the bathroom if I could bring her uniform. I handed it through the door. #7 finished getting ready and started to leave. She turned around and said “Thanks for last night sir, it’s been a while” while smiling she winked at me and left. As she was leaving I noticed she looked younger than she did yesterday. I remember thinking she must be at least 35 years old or more but having seen her today she looked closer to early 20’s.
My heart sank, what happened last night? I checked my pillows in the bed to see if I could find strands of her hair. I looked through the sheets for any stains. Thankfully I don’t find anything of concern. I headed to the bathroom and start to brush my teeth, the mirror was still fogged from #7’s shower but I could see myself, only it didn’t look like me. My beard, which is normally solid brown, had more white hairs than usual. My face had wrinkles where yesterday was smooth skin. A few white hairs wouldn’t normally be noticeable. I’ve gotten some in the past, but I felt weaker too. I knew part of my lifeforce was stolen. I stood in front of the mirror scared to move. I kept replaying the message from Miles repeatedly in my head. “I am trapped” “You are next” The lady of the house is the same person from the old orientation video.
I quickly got ready and headed out the green lit door. I was more tired than usual. Each step was heavier than the last. The message board reads: Head to office mail has arrived. Then start maintenance on level F. Normally I would have been able to sprint to my desk, but the changes to my body resulted in a brisk walk. I sat down at my computer breathing heavily and saw my wife had messaged me back. Here’s the message:
Sir,
Me & the kids are doing fine. Your paychecks are huge! Instead of being deposited on Friday we have gotten $2400 deposited every single day this week. Stay there if you can. When you get home, we can play as much pinochle as you want. I really love playing with you and even though we miss you we understand that we all must make sacrifices for our family.
Love,
Xxxx
It felt like someone punched me in the gut. Obviously, this message did not come from my wife. She has never addressed me as sir. She’s the type of person that would tell me every single detail about my kids’ days. We aren’t poor or rich, we have enough to pay our bills and save extra. My wife would never choose money over quality time with me & the kids. She wants me to be home handling family responsibilities rather than me working long hours. There’s so much wrong with this message that I don’t need confirmation of missing the pinochle reference. I hope though I doubt that $2400 a day is being deposited into my bank account. Janet & Ron probably created some work accident or that I ran off with some woman from the bar ditching my wife & kids. I hold back tears thinking about my children & wife believing that I’ve abandoned them.
I try my hardest to pretend to be overjoyed having read this message. It’s hard because I can feel my eyes starting to water. I force a smile across my face and follow a map to level F. it’s a long way from level C. It’s the farthest I’ve walked so far. I am winded from the walk. There were a lot of turns and walking but I’d estimate at least 100 yards from where I started. I finally reached maintenance room F. Any motivation that I did have is gone. I want to give up, knowing how futile my work is. The last thing I want to do is help the Bakers continue their business of sucking the life force from construction workers.
The room has poor lighting, The light flicks on and off randomly. There are small puddles of water present on the floor. For a few moments I heard a desperate man’s voice screaming for help, it sounded like “Helloooo? HELLLO??? HELP ME” but then his voice was gone. It’s time to make a move. I wire each furnace in a way that will result in blowing the breaker on this level. I flipped the switch. I am overjoyed with the loud pop noise & smell of smoke. Every single light in the room went out. I grabbed my flashlight and my tool bag and opened the door that was previously lit red. The door had been completely de-energized and probably the entire level. I stepped through the door into pitch blackness. Using my flashlight, I located a ladder attached to the wall. This is a maintenance shaft for the bunker. I shine my flashlight up and down and see complete darkness in both directions. I descended the ladder. I reached the bottom and located a return vent that is 4 ft x 4 ft. I make quick work of removing the vent cover and climb inside headfirst. I start crawling on my hands & knees towards the banging noise. From the vent cover I can see a dated Mechanical room G. The machines in this room have long since been red tagged and not functioning. There were human bones scattered across the entire floor. This room is where the human livestock are left to die.
Against the far wall stood a frail man seemingly staring off into space. I whispered “Miles?” The frail man slowly turned around searching for where the noise came from. Who’s there? What do you want? said the frail man. The resemblance to Miles was striking, if it wasn’t for the identical tattoo on his right arm I would have thought this is Miles’s grandfather. Before I could respond a red lit door opened and the lady of the house entered. The man begged her to stay away, he picked up a large femur bone and began swinging it wildly in the air. This defense did not deter her. She easily bypassed his attempts of resistance. I watched in horror as she absorbed his remaining life force directly into herself. For 10 agonizing seconds I watched his brownish hair turned gray, then white. His skin shriveled up like a prune. The light behind his eyes was gone forever. His body devoid of life collapsed to the floor with a loud thud. The lady of the house licked her fingers as if she just devoured a bucket of KFC chicken and left. I was frozen shaking in place from the terror I had just witnessed. It was the most scared I have ever been in my life. I carefully and slowly reversed crawled out of the vent careful to not make a sound.
I double time it up the ladder. I reached the hatch over the maintenance shaft and shined my light on to the locking mechanism. It’s the type that locks from the inside. I popped the lock with my screwdriver which opens the hatch and smelled my first scent of freedom. 200 yards away I see the busy highway that leads into town. Under the cover of darkness, I made my escape. I left everything behind and sprinted towards the highway. My lungs had not adjusted to the frigid cold air and began to burn. My lungs felt like they were going to explode. I ran for my life, screaming and waving my hands into the air straight into oncoming traffic. I see bright headlights and hear the screeching of brakes. The driver of the car unrolled his window and started to curse, but stopped mid sentence as he could tell that I was in need of help. I explained to the driver that I was in danger, but couldn’t explain the details and begged them for a ride home. The driver motions me to get in and sped off towards town. The driver had questions for me, but I didn’t answer them with meaningful answers. I kept my answers vague and thanked them for getting me home. I still can’t believe that I made it home alive. As I expected, all the lights were off inside my house. I opened the garage door and I’m relieved to see my wife’s car in there. I rush into my house and call out to my wife & kids. There is no response. I frantically searched everywhere but they were nowhere to be found. I pick up our landline and dial my wife’s cell phone number and it is picked up “Oh thank god you answered. I’ve missed you so much.” Really Sir?” This voice was unmistakable, it was the lady of the house.