Page 88 of A Fine Line

He nods again, and some other people come forward with their fucking buckets, and I’m quickly drenched, sputtering from the bucket of water I took to the face.

Bearded man steps in front of me, looks up at me, and says, “It’s supposed to be a nice and balmy -5 degrees Celsius. I hope you enjoy your stay here because the real fun will start tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it.”

He turns to leave, and I ask, “Can you tell me what this is all about, so I have something to fret over while I’m waiting?”

He stops mid-stride, turns back to me, and replies, “Let’s just say the boss is annoyed you stole his bride. The only way he can have her now is to make her a widow, and, unfortunately for you, he thinks you should suffer first.”

“I didn’t know she was promised to anyone else. Surely, we can discuss this little misunderstanding in a civilized manner.”

He throws his head back and laughs and then replies, “I guess it’s a good thing your reputation does proceed you after all.”

Saying nothing further, he turns around and exits the room, his swarm of men following behind him, leaving me here to consider my options.

One of the fun games I like to play in these situations is making a list of all the things they did wrong as a future reference to myself to not make those same mistakes if our roles were ever reversed.

Most of the time, the first mistake people make is they talk too much. Every time they open their stupid mouth, they’re giving more information on what’s gonna happen, giving their enemy more information to plan around. Sure, sometimes the stuff they’re spewing is bullshit, but usually, you can pick out the pertinent truth when you need it.

Since I know they plan on leaving me here all night to freeze to death, that gives me plenty of leeway to come up with an escape plan.

My biggest concern right now is knowing that a lot of these underground strongholds are intricate mazes, and once you get lost, you may never get out.

I wait a few minutes longer than is probably necessary, then twist and swing my way free of the hook. My hands are numb, and my arms scream from being pulled over my head for so long. As soon as I land on my feet and lower my hands in front of me, the pain starts. I know it’ll be short-lived, considering the brief amount of time I hung up there, but it’s still agonizing.

I scan the room for cameras, and though I don’t see anything obvious, there’s still a high likelihood that cameras are hidden within the crevices of the rocks that I wouldn’t be able to see.

I move to the outer edges of the room and grab my clothing, quickly dressing and then finding my shoes. I’m surprised they didn’t take my stuff with them, but that’s how things go when people get complacent and start thinking they’re untouchable.

Kind of like how I got here.

Feeling slowly returns to my arms as I gradually make my way to the doorway, pressing against the wall and peeking around to stay out of sight of anyone coming down the hallway.

I listen intently, closing my eyes and focusing on my surroundings.

Clicking. Dripping water. The faint clearing of a throat. Even more faint sounds of traffic.

Once I’m reasonably assured there won’t be any immediate surprises, I enter the hallway and continue downwards, knowing the direction I initially came from leads to a dead end.

That stairwell curves down onto another level into darkness, and I hesitate for a moment, not keen on forging ahead where I can’t see anything. Knowing there are no options behind me, I cautiously move along the wall, dragging my fingertips along the icy stone.

I stop every few steps and listen intently, circling the room down one side and along the other, trying to keep the growing map in my head as I move.

The darkness thins the longer I stare into it, and eventually, I’m able to make out the faintest of shadows. I turn the final corner and end up back on the wall where I began,

and there’s a break directly next to the door that I entered.

The danger of pitch-black stairwells isn’t lost on me, and if given any other option, I would avoid it, but I’m out of options.

I drag the toe of my boot along the floor and let it slowly fall until it touches down on the first step. I continue to do this over and over, leading with my fingertips along the wall and following with my foot along the step until, finally, I end up on another level.

I feel around, then turn the corner, and a faint light emanates from the far side, and I squash down my urge to hurry toward it. I’m sweating with effort in the cold room, and I force myself to slow down and take my time as I walk along the wall to the other end.

I stop and listen again, this time noting more silence echoing silence. The dimness of the next room feels bright to my aching eyes, and I’m able to move more swiftly, though still cautiously. I take the first stairwell I find that leads upwards, and it circles me up and around, so I feel like I’m doubling back on myself.

With each stairwell comes more light; at first, there’s only a dim lightbulb, then two, and three, and then I’m hanging back in a doorway that opens into a large room that’s bright in comparison to what I’ve just been through.

I take a step into the room, scanning for people and staying along the wall as I look for cameras. I circle along the far side, moving with more assurance now as I make out a large bay door that’s open, and my heart jumps in my chest at the glimpse of freedom.

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