Page 7 of Descent
It gave me hope that Shelton didn’t have plans to hurt him.
“I want to go home.” The demand sounded weak on the boy’s lips, yet somehow, underneath the thready quality of his nine-year-old voice, I detected strength.
Or maybe it was stubborn determination. Either way, I found bravery in those words and the way he said them.
Shelton cleared his throat. “Someone’s here to see you, Will.” He gave me a warning look. “You’ve got five minutes.” He exited the room and shut me inside with my son.
Will raised his chin in my direction. “Are you gonna let me go?”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I crossed to where he sat on the bed and crouched in front of him, making sure to keep enough distance between us so I didn’t spook him.
“It’s not up to me, buddy, but I’m going to do everything in my power to get you out of here. You don’t have to be afraid.”
Realistically, he should be very afraid, though fear was the last thing I wanted him to experience.
“Who are you?”
Jesus Christ, he had to ask the tough question. “I’m a friend. I came here to make sure you’re okay. Has anyone hurt you?” I held my breath, hands balling into fists at the thought of anyone laying a hand on him.
But he shook his head, and I let the furious tension in me subside.
“Are they feeding you good?”
“Yeah, but I’m allergic to peanut butter, so I couldn’t eat lunch a couple of times.”
Nikki had also been allergic to peanut butter. “I’ll tell them to stop with the PB&Js.”
Hell, he looked so small and scared sitting there. I wanted to pull him into my arms and tell him everything would be okay, but I didn’t dare touch him.
Someone disengaged the lock on the door, signaling the end of my five minutes. I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “Listen, Will. I’m going to get you out of here. I promise. But I need you to do something for me.”
“Okay.”
No hesitation whatsoever. Just easy agreement. I wasn’t sure if his quick trust was a good thing, or a bad thing.
“I need you to keep that blindfold on when they’re around. Don’t ever take it off or peek at them, okay?”
He gave a rapid nod of his head. And maybe he knew as well as I did that if he could identify them, they might not let him go.
The kid was smart.
“Are they keeping you in a room too?” he asked in a whisper.
Smart and perceptive.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed his hand and squeezed, sidestepping his question. “You’re going to be okay. I won’t let them hurt you.”
“Time’s up,” came a gruff voice that didn’t belong to Shelton. I glanced behind me and found Military Dude standing in the hall. I let go of Will’s hand and headed toward the open doorway, putting some distance between us.
And it hit me hard that this could be the last time I saw my son. The final glimpse of him tore my heart out. He seemed so small, sitting in that dimly lit room, the only life in that space the vibrant doodles of a fourth grader. The door slammed shut between us, and Shelton’s man latched the lock again.
“Are you satisfied?” Shelton said from three feet down the hall. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he arched a brow my way.
“You don’t need him here. Let him go back to his grandparents. I’ll cooperate as long as I know he’s with them.”
“You’ll cooperate anyway.”
Shit, I’d gotten myself into a real bind, and for the fucking life of me, I couldn’t see a way out of it. Except I’d gotten out of tough spots before, beating odds that seemed impossible. Could I do it again? I wasn’t so sure this time.
“He’s allergic to peanut butter, so he needs something else for lunch.”
Shelton gave a quick nod. “Consider it noted.”
A tense beat of disquiet passed. “If I win this fight, will you let him go?”
“Come out the winner, and I’ll consider it.” Shelton closed the spaced between us and prodded me in the chest. “But you have a long way to go, Mason. You’ll need to prove your usefulness, and your trustworthiness.” He dipped his head until we were nearly nose-to-nose, and his voice dropped. “Fail to do either of those things, then your boy won’t see the outside of that room ever again.”
It was then that it really sank in, becoming as real as a sledgehammer to crumbling plaster. This situation was permanent. Shelton wanted to turn me into his prized death fighter. Someone whose strings he controlled.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted to test the consequences if I refused to be his puppet.
5. Barter
Alex
The thump-thump of Zach’s boots down the staircase pulled me from sleep in tortuous stages, thrusting me into a waking nightmare that was all too real. I lay prone on the cot, helpless to do anything else as time passed me by, showing zero regard for my pain. The heat, the blackness, the small space—they all trapped me in a hell I couldn’t escape. Panic threatened to rise with every breath.
