Shifting position, Glen hoped to alleviate the persistent ache in his back, but there wasn’t much space to maneuver. His secret room behind the basement stairs was made of concrete and smelled of dust and mold. The room was exactly eight-by-eight-by-eight. He had measured it with his hands and feet countless times, irrationally thinking it might somehow have become a little larger.
Technically the space was larger, but two layers of wall had been put in, with a double row of studs along each interior side. The layers had been filled with a noise-damping compound, applied with a caulking gun. Sound clips placed between the studs and drywall provided an additional barrier for sound. The walls and ceiling also had high-end soundproofing acoustic panels. The carpeted floor was soundproofed like the walls. Every crack had been filled in with that acoustical caulk. He had named the space behind the stairs “the box.” With the door closed, nobody could hear Glen, even if he screamed.
Breathable air was a concern, and for that the room had been outfitted with an energy recovery ventilator, which brought in fresh air from outside while simultaneously pulling stale, contaminated air outdoors. In essence, the ERV system was the lungs of the space. Humidity and temperature were kept consistent and comfortable such that the space was warm during the cold months of winter and cool in the heat of summer. Glen didn’t know everything about the engineering and installation. He knew only that it had been professionally done.
A single twin mattress rested on the floor, stained, no sheet, one blanket—his bed. A blue bucket, lined with lye to fend off foul odors—his bathroom. Dirty paper plates and fast-food wrappers littering the floor near his malnourished body—his food. A plastic pitcher and plastic cups—his water. A television was brought in only on special occasions, but it did provide one source of stimulation and entertainment. Food, shelter, water—Glen had the absolute bare minimum to sustain life, but alive he was.
Bolted to the floor in the center of his room was a heavy-duty cargo-securing base, a metal plate with a twenty-ton D-ring attached. Secured to the D-ring was a carefully measured length of grade 70 transport chain. Connected to the chain was a stainless-steel shackle, secured around Glen’s ankle.
“You did good.”
The voice, even after all this time, still set a chill against Glen’s skin.
Simon Fitch knelt in front of the open door to the room behind the stairs with a cell phone in his hand. Markings on the floor, pieces of electrical tape, indicated the safe zone, a spot for Simon to stand where Glen, held back by his length of chain, would not be able to reach him. Simon had spent much time and money getting the box prepared just right, and he’d been happy to share his ingenuity with the room’s lone occupant.
These days, Simon often ignored his safety zone markings. He knew Glen was in no condition to attack him, nor was he all that interested anymore. The fight had been sucked out of him. Simon had been Glen’s only source of companionship for nearly two years, his sole human contact. These days Glen actually welcomed Simon’s visits, hoped for them. Loneliness bred strange companions.
Glen always asked for news of his family, any chance to be connected to them, even by proxy. But this was the most contact yet. Maggie was on the other side of that phone, as if an invisible wire connected them. He’d never felt such joy and despair at the same time.
Simon might have taught history, but he knew technology, too. He figured out how to make those calls and texts to Maggie impossible to trace. Something about using internet proxy servers located overseas. As an extra precaution to make sure she never suspected him, Simon learned how to schedule messages so he could be with Maggie when she heard from Glen.
“I’ve got to get back to school,” Simon said, sitting cross-legged on the cement floor of the basement just outside the box. Glen knew that his prison was in the basement of Simon’s lake house. It was the same home supposedly rented to vacationers, and was a short drive from the middle school, making it a convenient distance for brief visits during lunchtime. The basement had no furniture on which Simon could sit. The only thing down here, aside from the HVAC system, was that TV.
Simon had constructed a secret door complete with a concrete fa?ade, so when it was closed it looked