Part 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yrzcy7/the_black_cadillacs_part_1/
I stood frozen next to the window for what was probably 30 seconds. I heard my heart pounding. It felt like a nightmare. Was it? I slapped myself across the cheek. It hurt. I was indeed awake.
I tiptoed over towards the door, grabbing my car keys and the metal trash can as a makeshift weapon. The door was open at about a 45 degree angle. Everything was silent.
I slid up to the doorway with my back against the wall. Looked down the hall to the right. Empty. I grabbed the edge of the door and peeked around it to the left. Nothing.
Making as little sound as possible, I moved out into the hall and went left towards the stairwell. I had three flights of stairs to descend to get to the ground level. My quick steps echoed against the blank walls. My heart jumped as I rounded each corner. I made it to the bottom of the stairwell. To my right was the first floor hallway, and to my left was the side door to the parking lot.
A gray hand shot out from the hallway. It grabbed me in the neck and squeezed tight. The hand wasn’t a human’s. It was plastic.
Two figures revealed themselves. They were tall, wore black suits and ties. Their faces were gray and lifeless. They were mannequins, with black eyes. The mannequins made swift work, tying my ankles and wrists, slapping duct tape over my mouth. They picked me up and hurriedly carried me outside. I was thrown in the backseat of the Cadillac, and the mannequin driver sped away.
Nothing was said for a few minutes, until the driver spoke up: “Get her on the phone.” I knew they were referring to Caroline.
Caroline’s voice was like I had never heard it before. It was lower. Evil. “So . . . how was your morning?”
With duct tape on my mouth, I couldn’t answer. There was a pause.
“He says it was excellent,” laughed the driver.
“Good . . . there’s a lot in store for you, Ben. You’ll find out when you get here. Enjoy the ride.”
I wondered where “here” was. I wondered who these humanoids were, and how they could drive, and how many of these cars they had. I wondered what Caroline was doing and why she was doing it. I was angry, terrified, heartbroken, everything in between.
“We’re going to take off the tape and untie your arms and legs,” the first mannequin said. “Your end of the bargain is that you have to act normal. If you don’t, you die.” He put his hand on the pistol in his belt.
I nodded. They removed the tape and untied the ropes.
It was a cold and rainy day. We had already been driving for several hours when they told me they had to put me under for the rest of the way, so I didn’t know where “here” was. Did I trust that the shot was anesthesia rather than poison? No, but it’s not like I could have done anything about it.
When I woke up I was in a small bedroom. It was pitch dark outside, the old clock on the wall read 3:20. I reached into my pocket for my phone. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t there. I fumbled around for a flashlight and eventually found a small one on the table.
I flipped on the light and looked around the room. The gray cinder block walls were blank except for a small window and a picture frame with a document inside. Squinting against the flashlight’s reflection on the glass frame, I read:
WELCOME TO THE FACILITY.
DURING YOUR TIME HERE, YOU HAVE ONE GOAL AND ONE GOAL ONLY: TO ESCAPE.
BEYOND THAT, THERE ARE JUST TWO THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW.
ONE - YOU MUST NOT INTERACT WITH OTHER SUBJECTS IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM.
TWO - IF YOU ARE SEEN OUTSIDE THE BUILDING, YOU WILL DIE.
That sunk in. I’m supposed to escape? But if I try, I’ll be killed? It didn’t make sense. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to.
Morning came with no answers. At around 8:00 there was a strong knock on the door. Three raps. Hesitantly, I opened the door. Standing there was one of the mannequins that was in the car. Or maybe it was a different one, they all looked the same.
“This is your breakfast.” The mannequin set the plate on the table with a thud and left, the door closing loudly behind him.
Breakfast tasted better than I expected considering it was more or less a prison. A while later, there was another knock on the door, this one much softer.
This time it was a human, in a tattered plain white shirt and jeans.
My neighbor from the house at the end of the street.
“Buck?” I asked. “Oh my god.”
He put his finger to his lips. “Whisper.”
Buck stepped inside. It was refreshing to see a real person for the first time in over 24 hours.
“You just got here, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Last night. Why are you whispering?”
He gestured to the document on the wall. “Oh, right.”
Buck began to explain, “I’ve been here for nearly two weeks. I was the first person that was taken to this place. So my job at this point is to show the newbies the ropes.”
“Why don’t you try to escape?” I asked.
“My value is in helping others. I know this place far better than any other ‘subject’. I’ve seen six people try to escape. All of them are dead. Jane took about four steps before she was shot. I have no reason to think that I’ll be the first to make it out alive. So if you have that belief in yourself, however miscalculated it may be, I’m going to help you.”
I thought about it. What was the alternative? Stay here forever? Nah. I was going to live free or die trying.
“Okay. Why is it so hard to escape?”
“First of all, your only chance is at night. If you’re out there in daylight you’re dead. But you probably figured that. Once you get out of the building, you have three fences to clear in order to get to the main road. Nobody’s gotten that far. But if you do, you’ll still have to get off the property - which extends three miles out to the highway - all before they realize you’re gone.”
Buck looked out the window. “And those fences? They’re not the ones you’d find in your backyard. The first one isn’t too bad. But the second and third are twice your height, cinder block, barbed wire on top. How you’d climb that, I don’t know. Nobody has gotten past the second fence. One guy got to the top by climbing a blanket that was stuck to the barbed wire, but he was picked off before descending the other side.”
I tried to shift things to a more positive note. “So . . . if somebody was to get out . . . how would they do it?”
Buck sighed. “You’d have to move quickly, yet slowly. And quitely. The mannequins, their hearing is okay, but their night vision is second to none.”
He continued, “Really, you can divide a potential escape into four sections. The first is a sprint to the first fence, about 70-80 yards. It’s the most heavily secured section, and there’s no cover. You have to time it exactly right so that the mannequins have their backs turned. The second section, from the first fence to the second, has less security and more cover. Vegetable gardens, small ridges, trees here and there. About a third of a mile long. The hard part is the 12 foot fence. The third section, three quarters of a mile, has no security since no one’s gotten that far, but once again, the fence. This fence has cameras, and if the cameras see you, they’ll send the whole squad after you. You could go through the main gate along the road if you disable the guards guards and the cameras. And finally, the real cardio: take a right at the main road and run three miles to the edge of the property. You know you’re there once you reach the highway. Don’t even try escaping through the forest on the other side of the road. It goes on forever. You’ll get lost, or eaten by a wolf, or both.”
“And if I get to the highway, they won’t pursue me further?”
“Correct. Well, that’s what they say, at least. They treat this like a game, and if they lose, they lose fair and square and that’s the end of it.”
There was silence for a few moments. But I still had questions.
“Why are they doing this? Who’s behind it? How do you know so much?”
“Uh . . . one at a time. Why are they doing this? I don’t know. Who’s behind it? Some rich woman who’s clearly sick in the head. How do I know so much? They let me be awake when they drove me in here, which I guess they realized was a mistake, because everyone else has been drugged unconscious.”
Some rich woman who’s clearly sick in the head. Caroline. But I knew that already. And thinking about it now, it made so much sense. She was reading a lot about the world’s most famous prisons and legendary prison escapes, as well as escape attempts that fell just short. She said she was fascinated by the layouts of prisons, how inmates overcame them in their escapes, and how many of them were caught. That alone wasn’t unordinary, a lot of people have those interests. She had “business” trips to Canada very often over the past few months. One night I saw her studying a detailed diagram of a mannequin. I asked her what it was, she laughed it off.
“I guess when you combine interest in prison escapes, being a horrible person, and a lot of money, this is what you get,” I mused.
“Yeah. I’d better get back to my room before they come with lunch. See ya later.”
“Bye, Buck. Thank you for all the advice.”
“No problem. Make it count.”
My plan was to make my run for it that night. There was no point in waiting: if I was going to die, I might as well minimize the amount of time spent in that terrible place.
For the rest of the day, I stared out the window at the yard and the first fence. The mannequins trotted about, pistols and knives in their belts. I thought about the likelihood that this was my last day on the planet. It was a beautiful day. Not a cloud to be seen. In the evening, the sun set, a crisp orange that reminded me of the evenings I spent with friends at the lake as a kid. I thought about the escape. How I would manage the fences, if I would have the endurance for all four-plus miles. What didn’t really cross my mind was what the hell I would do if I did make it to the highway. If the area was as remote as Buck made it sound, it might be several more miles to the nearest civilization. Hitchhike? That was my best guess.
Night fell, my nerves rose. I told myself that the fear was only in the unknown - I would make it off the property or I would die. Either way it would be over in the next couple hours.