Kidnapped!
part 5
Tessa caught her breath, and the scream cut off abruptly, ending in a pained squeak. Heart racing, she stared at Dan’s face, his dark blue eyes looking directly at her from the poster size photo hanging on the wall.
It had been a shower. She could see that, now. It was a tiled enclave that was hidden when the door was open. The curtain rod still hung across the front, although there was no curtain in sight, and she could easily see where the faucet fixtures had once been. Not now, though. Not now.
Now it was a shrine: A shrine to Dan. Her Dan. Anger mixed with horror as Tessa took in the details. There were pictures everywhere. Pictures of Dan in his baseball uniform, a couple from basketball, and several more clipped from various newspaper articles. Two of the pictures were from the yearbook. Tessa recognized them, but the others were candid shots, obviously snapped when the subject was unaware. Hanging from what had once been the shower head were a pair of gym socks, a single black glove, a stocking cap and...Tessa looked closer and shuddered…an athletic supporter. She took a step back, shaking her head.
Her gaze was drawn back to the largest of the photos. She knew that look on his face. She had seen it every morning during the last school year. It was the look Dan gave her when they parted ways after history class. The smile that said, “I’ll be here waiting when you’re finished.” Tessa felt her lower lip begin to tremble, tears filling her eyes. She brushed them away, impatiently. No time, she warned herself. You don’t have time for tears. You need to get out of here. And then she saw it.
A student desk was shoved against the poster, its broken leg leveled by stacked books. A handkerchief--a monogrammed handkerchief that Tessa recognized as one that Honey had made for Dan, covered the top. Two black plastic combs sat side by side, surrounded by old hall passes and a piece of petrified chewing gum. Next to this sat two dolls in wedding apparel, tied together with a blue shoelace. Ken and Barbie? Tessa picked them up, horror trumping fear as she took in the picture of Dan’s face glued over Ken’s, the molded plastic brown hair covered with what looked and felt like Dan’s real hair: Nearly black, with a slight curl. The Barbie had also been altered, her blond tresses dyed brown with...shoe polish...or something, and a familiar and not beloved face glued over the usual vapid one. Dara!
Tessa dropped the dolls, knocking over a silver picture frame in the process. Automatically, she reached for it, bile rising in the back of her throat as she recognized her prom picture. She and Dan, dancing close together under the silver stars. His cut-away tuxedo the perfect match for her shoulder baring, gold satin, glamour-girl gown. Only, in this version, Dara’s face had been glued over her own. The water she had consumed roiled in her stomach, and Tessa managed to loosen her hold on the frame and turn around, emptying the contents of her stomach into the waiting toilet.
She had to find a weapon. Leaning back against the wall, her body still shaking from the heaving, Tessa knew she had to find a way to defend herself should Dara return. The girl was certifiable. All of the things that had gone missing over the last year, everything Mart had teased Dan over, all of it had been her--Dara and her damned obsession.
Tessa looked at her watch again, noting that the date had moved upwards, indicating that it was Saturday afternoon, moving into the evening. She needed to do something, and she needed to do it soon, before hunger weakened her further. The window might be her best option, unless she could find a fortuitously open door. Forcing herself to her feet, Tessa stumbled out into the larger room and used the sink to splash water on her face and rinse her mouth. Somewhat refreshed, Tessa recalled the first step of survival, learned during the past summer’s lifeboat experience. Assemble your supplies.
There were five boxes stacked under the counter, and she decided to start with them, as they were easily accessible. The first one was full of old and well-used play scripts. The next two yielded nothing more exciting than some broken props and half-empty containers of stage makeup.
Frustrated, Tessa opened up the fourth box and contemplated the contents. She set aside a plastic juice cup--no more drinking from her hands--and continued searching. Under the faded orange Tupperware, she located loose silver. Chewing on her lip, she pulled out two butter knives and a large fork: Wimpy weapons, to be sure, but better than nothing. A half-empty can of super-hold hairspray caught her attention, and she added it to her pile, pondering its effectiveness as an instrument of attack. Shoving the plastic containers back into the box, her knuckles scraped something smooth and cylindrical. A flashlight!
Holding her breath, Tessa flicked the switch. The light came on, casting a narrow beam across the wall. Quickly, she turned it back off, determined to save the light for future exploration.
It was the last box that nearly brought tears to her eyes. It showed signs of having been recently opened, so she approached it with caution. Reaching in, Tessa pulled out a two-inch compact square, about an inch thick and wrapped in blue plastic. The white words on the wrapper read Datrex Emergency Food Bar Rations. She read the words three times, trying to assure herself that she was not delusional. Indeed, she was holding the staple of lifeboat survival, emergency bars, although the ones on the lifeboat had been wrapped in a different color. Flipping the package, she read the expiration date stamped in black on the back. June 1981.
That explained it. Expired emergency supplies, stored with all the other discarded school flotsam and jetsam. She was still somewhere in the school. Maybe the old auditorium? Tessa ran the idea around her head, but her focus was continually drawn back to the bar she held in her hands. It was expired, but still... Tessa unwrapped one of the three bars, breaking off a small corner. She sniffed it, but all she could smell was coconut. She licked her lips nervously, her tongue darting out to taste the morsel she held between her thumb and finger. Not bad, she thought. A little stale, but tasty enough--for coconut flavored cardboard. She broke off another piece and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly.
Taking her time so as not to overwhelm her raw throat and still queasy stomach, Tessa filled her plastic cup with water and made her way through the emergency bar. There was a rhythm to her consumption. Chew, chew, sip. Chew, chew, sip. The consistency of the bar was oddly familiar but not unpleasant. After all, she had survived being in a lifeboat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean; she could survive being here. But you weren’t alone in the boat, her mind told her. Forcing away that thought, Tessa concentrated on eating her makeshift meal. When she finished, she leaned back against the wall, making sure everything stayed down.
Somewhat fortified, she picked up the flashlight and made her way back out into the main room, creeping slowly along the cinderblock wall, searching for an exit. As long as she could feel the rough concrete beneath her fingers, she kept the flashlight off, trying to conserve her batteries. Her sense of touch had taken her this far. With luck, it would find her a way out.
It was excruciating to fumble her way, but logic told her to save her resources. She started counting her steps, whispering out loud to keep herself company. “Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven...” She felt a corner, where two walls met, and she turned it anxiously, beginning her count again.
Tessa had taken fourteen steps when the wall changed from cement to steel. A door! Hands on the push bar, she leaned in hard, pushing against it with all of her weight. The door opened about a half inch and then caught on the chains locking it from the outside. Tessa threw her weight into it again and again, but the door wouldn’t budge. Frustrated, she slid down the door, wrapping her hands around her knees and rocking, trying to regroup.
11:35 p.m.
Tessa was exhausted and verging on serious despair. Inching her way around the cardboard maze, she had located another door. Unfortunately, it was locked just as tightly as the first. She had considered screaming for help, but as the hour grew later without a single sound penetrating her odd prison, she decided to save her voice and her energy.
At the apex of the third corner, she had met a new texture: carpet. Turning on the flashlight, she had identified the new wall as a six-foot accordion-hinged partition wall. Pushing against it, she had managed to fold back a section, revealing more boxes and furniture. Waving the light up and down, Tessa noticed that the roof was different. It looked almost like the wide wooden planks of a floor. Closer examination showed a flash of metal that turned out to be a bolt lock. Suddenly, Tessa realized exactly where she was. She was in the old auditorium, under the stage.
She recalled Mr. Clevanger talking about the trap room under the old stage and the false wall that had been added to muffle sound from the dressing room and green room located behind and under the stage area. He had described it in detail, to show how fortunate they all were to have the new performing arts center with its separate facilities.
The old auditorium was being used for storage. Tessa shined her light upwards again. The metal bolt had to be holding the trap door closed. If she could climb out onto the stage, she could get out into the main building. She just needed a plan.
Shoving a large, heavy box under the trap door, she climbed up on it, stretching on tiptoe toward the bolt. Her fingers fell short. With a groan, she climbed off the box and searched for another to stack. She found an open carton of ancient encyclopedias and struggled to push it across the floor. Frustrated tears welled, but she forced them back. No time. No time for tears. Think. Tessa tried to focus on the problem at hand. There was no way she could lift the box, but... Tessa started taking the books out of the box, stacking them on the floor. Once she had the box lightened enough to lift, she placed it atop the first one and started replacing the encyclopedia set.
It took a long time, and she still fell short of her goal, her fingertips barely brushing the slide bolt even as she strained and stretched. Setting her jaw, Tessa searched for another carton to add to her makeshift tower. Once again, she shoved and dragged, unloaded and reloaded--this time with thirty-year-old math books. Perching perilously on her stack of three, Tessa finally managed to slide the bolt and drop the trap door. A cascade of dust rained down on her head, and she choked and coughed. Wiping her face, she turned on her light and directed it upwards. It reflected back at her, and she barely managed to quell her frustrated scream. Her exit was blocked; most likely by more boxes.
Tessa reached up, trying to find a finger hold, anything with which she could gain leverage against the blockage. It was no use. Tears slid down her cheeks, making tracks in the grime that covered them. Sliding to the floor, she slumped back against the boxes, allowing the tears to flow freely.
In the end, she gave in to her weariness. It was nearing midnight, and Dara had not returned. With a sudden burst of clarity, it occurred to Tessa that Dara might be unable to get into the school proper during the weekend. Grasping at that thin straw, she began backtracking to the cardboard living room to secure the sofa cushions, pillow and afghan before dragging herself back to the dressing room. It made sense to hole up in this room. She had water, food and a door she could defend, if necessary. Tessa made her bed against the door, so she could not be surprised in her sleep. She washed as much of the dirt from her face, neck and arms as she could and then curled up on her temporary bed, the can of hairspray close at hand and her cutlery weapons at the ready. Within minutes, she had fallen into a restless sleep--a princess prisoner in her cardboard castle.
Author Notes
Thanks, as always, to my lovely editors Susansuth, Dianafan & WendyM. Any mistakes are of my own making.
Tessa might seem a little dim, but in her defense she was drugged, and she is a little stressed by her situation.
Dara is completely off her gourd. Currently, she is unconscious, but Tessa doesn’t know that.
Datrex Food Bars are standard Emergency Kit supplies. Like old textbooks , they often end up stored after their expiration date. When we cleaned out the PTA storage container, there were 75 boxes of toilet paper and 53 boxes of expired food bars. They were Lemon, Coconut and Vanilla in flavor.