I stand at the edge of the doorframe with the metal chair lifted over my head. It’s heavy as shit. Almost too heavy for me to hold, but that’s good. The heavier it is, the harder it’ll hit.
Sasha joins my yells into the darkness from her place on the other chair, moaning loudly. “My stomach… Oooooh! My stomach!”
It’s almost too hokey, actually. I really hope whoever’s guarding us buys it.
From the other side of the door, I hear, “Shut up in there!”
Okay. Confirmation. There is a guy guarding us. Sounds like only one guy, too. “Please!” I shout back. “She’s really sick. She’s been throwing up and she feels really hot. I think she might pass out.”
Nothing. No response. Shit.
“If something happens to her, your boss is going to be pissed,” I say, hoping my original theory was right. “Especially if you didn’t do anything to help!”
More silence. My arms are starting to get tired, so I start to lower the chair. The telltale sound of locks disengaging grabs my attention and I lift the chair up again. My arms shake under the weight, but I’ve still got a firm hold on it.
I keep my eyes in front of me, watching and listening for the door to scrape the dirty floor… and it finally does.
The dim blue light from outside of the room spills in like random moonlight, highlighting the back of a large man’s head and shoulders as he steps over the threshold. The light shinesdirectly on Sasha, still in her chair. I wait for him to notice there’s only one person and one chair in this room.
It takes him a second to realize what’s happening, which is more time that I actually need. With a yell, I heave the chair as hard as I can, aiming for his head. The metal collides with the back of his neck and shoulders, sending him stumbling forward.
He’s still on his feet. He reaches to the back of his head as he grunts in pain and goes to turn toward me. I bring the chair up, swinging wildly in the hopes of catching him as he turns. The chair legs connect with the side of his face, cracking him hard. He stumbles sideways, then falls to the floor with a solid thud. The blue light highlights the pool of blood forming under him.
Sasha stands up, her eyes wide. “Wow,” she says. “You really clocked him one.”
I drop the chair and grab her hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”
We run out of the room and into the blue haze of the hallway. I don’t know which direction to run or where the door is, but wherever we run, it’s got to be better than here.
We sprint down the hall until we get to another door that leads out into a massive space with high ceilings. Strategically placed skylights throw shafts of blue light every few feet, highlighting some dozens and dozens of wooden shipping boxes.
Storage. The coffin shaped boxes make me sick to my stomach. I have a feeling if we’d just stayed captured, we might end up in one of those boxes, never to be found again.
“Come on,” I tell Sasha as we walk along the aisle of one of the rows of boxes. Surely, one of these rows has to lead to the exit.
We get a few feet before we hear footsteps. Several of them scuffle somewhere behind us.
I hear someone say something in Russian and the footsteps move in all directions. Sasha looks up at me with wide, fearful eyes.
“That was a pretty smart move.” It’s Sergei. His voice echoes all around me, bouncing off the walls. “I knew I should have used rope or duct tape or something. Both tend to leave a trail when police start investigating, however. Zip ties are much easier because people use them for just about anything.”
Sasha starts to shiver next to me. I tug her arm and start moving slowly, keeping my ears pricked up for any sound of anyone near us.
“I’m going to find you,” Sergei says. “This warehouse isn’t that big. Not many places to hide.”
This is like some insane action movie. Here’s the part where I’m supposed to answer him. Some witty response while I sneak around and take out his men one by one. The only problem here is just that I’m not some super savvy secret agent. I’m just an ordinary person trying to survive.
I pause as we get to the end of one row and whisper to Sasha, “Hold on.”
I peek my head around the corner. There’s no one in this aisle. I tighten my grip on Sasha’s hand and we rush across the aisle to the next row of boxes.
“You know,” Sergei’s voice says, “you could make this easy. I don’t plan on hurting you or Sasha. Not if you don’t make me. Surrender now and this will go much easier on you.”
I’m ignoring him completely at this point. I’m looking for any sign of freedom while navigating these makeshift rows of wooden coffin boxes. They’re not going to get us quite that easily.
I make a turn down one aisle and I notice a sliver of light across the floor, beckoning to us like the line of the horizon. The door. The way out. I quicken my steps toward it.
Sasha’s hand is ripped from mine. She screeches out, but it’s cut short and muffled. I whirl around to see Sergei holding her—one hand over her mouth, the other holding a gun to her temple.
