We heard the warnings in the news.
The anchor delivered the news with piercing eyes and a dramatic voice. He did a great job of expressing the severity of the situation. There was a malfunction in the nearby prison security system, which we know now is largely due to the prison warden’s attempts to be more eco-friendly. Batteries die and solar panels suck in states where there are more clouds than sunlight.
We weren’t the only ones who chose to stay home and wait it out. There were a few families who simply had nowhere to go. Some would rather die than leave home - their names you might have seen briefly in the news. We bought some food in excess and boarded up windows and doors, the same stuff we all see in movies. Only, we didn’t have any guns - my girlfriend, Lucy, hated them. She is a firm believer in gun control.
The orange jumpsuits had fled into the forest and left in every direction. Being the closest town, it made sense to pack up and leave, but as I said, not everybody thought so. With a total of seventeen escapees running in every direction, there would be about five hitting the town at most. All of this was theory, of course, but our false confidence established this theory as fact in our minds.
Let them come, the police would stop them before they reached us.
Yes, with hindsight, we were idiots. I’ve thought up several excuses for what we did, from simply having never experienced any real crime to thinking we never would. At the end of the day, we were still fools for staying. We realized it when we heard voices outside our home that night.
Lucy became stiff as if shocked by a jolt of electricity. At some point, it was like a constant current was running through her as she started moving around so fast and shaking like a leaf. I was no better. I couldn’t figure out which side of the house the voices were coming from, my first idea being that we leave the house and make a run for the car. Another dumb move we luckily didn’t make.
Instead, we took advantage of the crawl space beneath our floor. It wasn’t a protected basement or a bunker, but it was something. We had the hatch beneath the carpet in our living room. The handle was removed, so I had to use a screwdriver to pry it open. Together, we put our fingers beneath the lip and lifted it. It was heavier than it looked, but the wood floor was old and thick, so it made sense.
Lucy crawled under their first, taking a bag of food and a few water bottles with her. I followed after, draping the carpet on top of the hatch and lowering it carefully. I didn’t want the carpet to bunch up anywhere. With a thud, the hatch was in place and I was crawling along the dusty ground to the still form of my Lucy.
The front door was bashed in by the time I reached her. She took my hand in hers and I held it as the door finally gave way. Crappy nails and a few planks didn’t offer much in the way of security.
We were terrified. We knew we were in a vulnerable position, one we didn’t know how long we had to be in before help found us - if it ever did. That was the start of our torture.
The first footsteps tramped above us. The intruders moved quickly, running further into the house. I heard them enter my office, the guest room, and our bedroom. I heard doors being slammed, wardrobes pulled open. I’m sure they looked under the beds. The prisoners weren’t quiet, but they didn’t speak either.
It was tough to make out how many there were - maybe five or six. I guess I didn’t expect so many to be working together, so maybe it’s true that gangs in prisons are pretty close-knit. Not something I thought about at that moment, I was just alarmed when they turned the lights on. Light flowed between the gaps in the floorboards.
There wasn’t a gap wider than my little finger, but it still felt like they were far too large. I saw the way the light curved along Lucy’s body and she looked so weak, so frail. I could see her wide eyes as she looked at me, I saw the fear before she closed them tight, mouthing something quickly to herself - a silent prayer.
I reached for her but stopped when I heard a scream. It came from right above us, making us both jump. Lucy made a small sound, but not loud enough to be heard. The scream carried on for a moment before falling silent. When it did, there was the sound of someone falling. A short burst of thumps as a body hit the ground.
We could see where the body fell from the light it blocked.
There was another moment of silence before they started speaking.
“‘Bout time, I was getting sick of him,” one voice said. “He was never one of us.”
The voice was slow, steady. I heard the sounds of tearing plastic, and the click of a lighter. The man speaking had found my cigarettes and decided to help himself.
“Do you want to use him for anything…or can I..?” the voice right above us said. He must have been the killer.
“We can use him…put him over there for now and go get the others, will ya?” the smoking one said.
“You want to do it here?”
“Initiation doesn’t have a set time, Samuel. Hurry along. You two, go with him.”
Three sets of steps left the house. Silence came quickly. Eventually, all we could hear was the smoking man puffing at a cigarette slowly and dramatically - as if he were savoring the taste. It was so quiet that we both didn’t dare to move, choosing to play dead. I didn’t even want to turn my head. Lucy must have felt the same way, as I didn’t hear a peep from her.
It was a good hour of waiting, listening to the man go around the house. He spent a lot of time in the kitchen and putting stuff on the counter between it and the living room. Whenever he was far enough away, we took the opportunity to get in more comfortable positions, mainly ones where we could move without making so much noise.
Once more, Lucy’s hand found mine and I held onto it tight.
We heard more voices and laughter. An entire crew of convicts had entered our home, I think I even glimpsed the orange of their clothes, but I could be mistaken. One thing is for sure, they were very happy. Their laughter wasn’t any different from friends having a night out or even teenagers after school ended.
It was only when they walked into my home that they changed their tune. Their laughter died, as did the heaviness of their footsteps. It was like they were trying to be polite while intruding, but I soon understood why when the smoking man spoke.
“Lights, Samuel, if you please,” he said, putting on airs of sophistication. Samuel snickered and did as the man asked. The lights were turned off, but the room wasn’t completely dark. It took me a moment to realize candles had been lit. “Thank you. I think we all find this a lot more appropriate.”
Another click of the lighter.
“I really shouldn’t smoke during the initiation, but I think you can forgive me. It’s been some time since I walked free. Longer than most of you, I should say.”
There was a collective hum of agreement.
“I don’t imagine it will be long before we are found and taken back, but before that happens, I think we should make this all…official. Now’s as good of a time as any, as I was telling Samuel. Bear in mind, there is no going back. You’ve all made your decision by entering this house, etcetera, etcetera. You can try to run, but Samuel will stop you. Not try to stop you…will stop you. Is that clear?”
There was a beat, and then the smoking man picked it up.
“Fantastic. I have to say, it’s been a while since I’ve seen so many ready to take the step. A lot of cowards, weaklings out there…morons who wish to be something other than devout followers and think we are the best option after that. There is a God, gentlemen, and woman, and that is me.”
Samuel made a coughing sound as if to clear his throat.
“Don’t you start with me. By the way, which do you think will be the first to find us? Him or Mike?”
“Do you really need to ask?” Samuel said. I could hear the smile. “Best begin now before Michael finds us.”
“So right you are. Now, you do have a choice in your initiation. Each one is presented on the table. I want you all to take your pick…now!”
There was a scramble as the convicts ran to the table. There had to be twenty of them, pushing against each other, climbing over furniture, and knocking over objects. It was chaos. I heard things break, curses spat, and yelps of pain. All that noise was followed by the smoking man and Samuel’s laughter.
“You there, you’ve got yours…bring it here,” the smoking man ordered. “I might need your help, Samuel, there are a lot of them.”
“I will try not to disappoint,” Samuel said, this time boasting the words with eagerness. “You there, give it to me and close your eyes. I will try to be gentle.”
“Ha, you twisted bastard!” the smoking man called as the commotion began.
What follows isn’t fit to write down and thinking about it brings me all kinds of pain. Even if I omit most of it, I can still only describe it as a vision of torment. The scream that jolted us at the start was nothing compared to the screams that followed. There was so much noise that we didn’t care if we made any noise ourselves. I wrapped my arms around Lucy and she did the same for me. I did my best to cover her ears and smother her cries.
Among the screams, and in the moments of silence, there was heavy breathing and the sounds of blood dripping. It was soft at first, barely audible, but all around us puddles began to form. I could feel that sickening warmth hit my leg and soak into my clothes.
I can remember the different cries, the stages, the levels of pain. I can remember the words they said with each sound, the sequences of their suffering. Detachment saved my mind from additional damage, but by then they were nearly done. There were a few more cries that followed, but they ended with disturbing sounds inflicted by whatever weapon Samuel and the smoking man had on hand.
“Not a bad night,” the smoking man said. “Don’t know if he will be happy with it, but I sure am. What do you think?”
“They will do.”
“You just enjoy the initiations, don’t you?”
“I don’t have the mind for bigger things,” Samuel answered. “I am merely a tool.”
“I have so little respect for you that I almost hate you, you know that?”
“I don’t care…he is almost here. He must have heard.”
The smoking man sighed.
“Well, do you think there is time to deal with those two hiding under the floor?” the smoking man asked.
“There is only one way to find out.”
The two ran towards the part of the room where the hatch was located. We were frozen in fear, thinking the worst was about to happen, then there was light. It was blinding and pure. I could see all the dust and cobwebs in the crawlspace. I saw a bright portal open as the hatch was lifted. I heard voices, but couldn’t make out the words. I saw a bloodied hand curl around the edge and hold onto it until it finally gave in, dragged away by something.
The light faded and darkness returned.
Lucy and I were found by the police much later. We were asleep when they did, still holding onto each other. We wouldn’t wake up, no matter how much they prodded us and yelled. Eventually, they thought something was wrong and with the help of paramedics, they pulled us out of the crawlspace.
We finally woke up in the back of an ambulance before it ever left, oxygen masks attached to our faces. After removing them, they gave us a once-over before concluding we were in good health. The police started to talk with us next and we told them as much as we could remember. It seemed our information wasn’t that useful, as there wasn’t an escaped prisoner named Samuel and neither of us had seen the orange clothes of the prisoners.
It was still pinned on the prisoners escaping and being unaccounted for, but our story had more holes than Swiss cheese. The cherry on top of our ludicrous experience was the state of our home. There were no signs of forced entry, nothing was broken, no bodies and no blood. Not even the blood I felt hit my pants - they were perfectly clean.
While driving through the town, the police saw the door was open. Deciding to investigate, they found an empty home and a hatch open in the living room. That’s how they found us.
And yes, people closer to us have questioned our sanity, not just cops who needed concrete proof to believe anything. Lucy and I still get angry about it to this day, having those who love us occasionally look at us as if we are crazy.
We talk about it sometimes. We write down what we experienced, and read it over, but it only raises more questions than it answers. What was the initiation all about? How did they know where we were hiding? What happened after? And why…why did they have to choose our house?