He said nothing, just studied her. She wondered who looked at her so deeply. The little boy or the man?
“We’ll see,” the man said. “Now, I made you tea and you have two tubes of water.”
He set the tray on the cot—everything disposable, she noted. Nothing with weight, nothing sharp—and still she wondered if she could somehow overpower him.
But even as she coiled to try, his eyes flashed to hers. The man’s, she thought. The crazy man’s, not the little boy’s.
“I’m giving you a chance. You should make the most of it.”
He stepped back, out of reach. “Eat what I give you or you’ll do without.”
“Are you going? Can’t you stay?” She had to swallow hard, force a smile to her face.
He’d moved to the door, but turned, gave her that hard look again.
“I have to work. I have responsibilities.”
“I … don’t have anything to do. Shouldn’t I have responsibilities? I should be taking care of you. Making your breakfast. A healthy, balanced breakfast.”
She couldn’t be sure if she saw interest light in his eyes or something else.
“That’s not on the schedule yet. You’re number three. Number two comes first.”
“Oh.” Her hands shook, but she managed to lean over, grip the sides of the tray to set it on her lap. “What about number one?”
“She was bad, had to be punished. I had to take her away and leave her like she left me. If number two keeps being bad, you’ll get your turn.”
“Is there a number four?”
He smiled. “Not yet.”
“Please, can’t you—” But he went out, and the door closed. The locks clicked.
She wanted to throw the tray across the room, but understood he’d hurt her if she did. She tried a few bites, waited to see if it made her sick or sleepy. If so, she’d flush it all down the little toilet. When she had no reaction, she ate cautiously, nibbles at a time. She needed to be strong.
She decided against the tea—too easy to drug—flushed it. But the water tube seals were intact.
She heard the footsteps and, not long after that, rumbling.
She tried the calling out, the screaming, the banging on the walls.
As she had before, she looked everywhere for any kind of weapon. To fight the fear, she washed up in the sink, changed into clothes neatly folded on a bench bolted to the floor.
The clothes always had buttons or a zipper down the side of the pants leg so she could fasten them with the shackles.
He wasn’t stupid.
He’d made this place. He had a purpose. He was a sick, crazy old man, but, no, he wasn’t stupid.
She couldn’t be stupid, either.
For a while she tried, and failed, to pry and pull a pipe from the wall. She’d already tried to use the disposable spoon to turn the bolts in her shackles, but broke the spoon almost immediately.
The pipe wouldn’t budge, and, frustrated, she slammed her fist against it. Metal banged on metal. Furious, she beat her shackles against the pipe, until she folded to the ground weeping.
Then she heard it, the answering sound. Metal against metal.
“I’m here! I’m here!” Shouting, she scrambled to her feet. “I’m Mary Kate Covino!”
She thought, as she strained her ears, she heard a faint cry in return. So she tried again. “Are you locked in? Who are you? I’m Mary Kate Covino!”
She did hear something! She couldn’t make out the words, but she heard a voice. She tried shouting louder. “Can you hear me? Bang once if you hear me.”
When the single bang sounded, she closed her eyes, and tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m Mary Kate Covino. Can you yell louder? Can you tell me your name?”
It came in a high, thin scream she could barely make out. “Anna? You’re Anna. Bang once for yes, two for no. One bang, okay, okay. Anna,” she said aloud. “Are you chained up, too? One bang. God, God.” She sipped some water, cleared her throat, shouted, “Do you know how long you’ve been here?”
Two bangs.
She leaned against the wall, tried to clear the fear. She shouted questions. Added three bangs for I don’t know.
It felt like hours, she couldn’t be sure, they communicated. Once in a while she made out a few words.
She learned the crazy man had grabbed Anna and locked her in a room just like hers. Chained up, no window, drugged.
When her voice gave out, she pushed her burning throat one last time. “I’m sorry, Anna, I can’t yell anymore. I have to rest, but I’m here.”