The Lost

by Natasha Preston

  Theo lingers and nods. I think he got my real answer.

  Finally, he smiles. “We’ll all be all right. We have each other.”

  “You’re right. Can I ask how many times you’ve been in those rooms?”

  How often am I looking at here? One room once a week? More than that?

  He dips his chin. “I-I’m not sure. I’ve been in all of them. Rooms one to five multiple times. You can survive them, Piper. You have to stay strong—mentally strong.”

  “I can do that.”

  “I believe you.” He smiles. “You’re going to be okay.”

  His repeated sentiment is for me only. He’s still not sure about Hazel, but that’s only because he doesn’t know who she really is.

  “What do you do to get through it?”

  “Talk to Kevin and Priya. Lucie doesn’t want to discuss any of it.”

  “No, I mean, while you’re in there.”

  “Oh.” He wrings his hands, and I know his head is back there, remembering some awful things that’ve happened to him.

  “I put my mind somewhere else. Imagine I’m out of here. I think about what I would be doing, what college would be like.”

  “You were going to college?”

  “That was the plan, but I never even got to apply.”

  “How old are you, Theo?”

  Sighing, he replies, “Seventeen. You?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “You seem older.”

  “I get that a lot. My sister died three years ago, it…aged me, I guess.”

  Before Penny’s death, I couldn’t really do much for myself and I relied heavily on my parents and Hazel. Not anymore. I’m confident I can do whatever I need to survive. I just never thought I would have to put that to the test. Not in this way.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  “Thanks. So, where are these rooms?”

  “You passed them on the way here. The long corridor off their playroom.” His words are overflowing with venom.

  “They’re all the way back there?” We came through, like, four other rooms to get here since that corridor. That makes sense. There were six doors out there. None of them were numbered, though. How would you know which one is which?

  “You don’t go back that way.”

  “Right.” I take a breath. “Which way do we go then?”

  “There is another door behind you.”

  I twist my body and crane my neck to see it. How did I miss that? On the wall beside a small bookcase is yet another door. This one is a natural wood color like the bookcase, so that’s probably why it didn’t jump out at me.

  “How does that lead back?”

  “There’s a tiny room, and you come out in the room where you get the clothes, the one before the corridor of rooms.”

  I slowly turn around and exhale. “This place is like a maze.”

  He nods. “Yeah, and they seem to be able to get around pretty freely, so there are possibly more hallways than we’ve seen so far.”

  “Did you know any of them before this?”

  “I’d vaguely seen Matt around, but that’s only because my older cousin Tony went to high school with him. They weren’t friends, though. I came with Matt because he said Tony was here, playing in their game room.” Laughing without humor, he adds, “I thought those games would be of the arcade variety.”

  “Well, they do have some of those.”

  “Yeah,” he replies. “But they also have a whole lot more.”

  “Is that door locked?” I ask, pointing to it over my shoulder with my thumb.

  “No, but the one it leads to is. We get notified when someone is back in that corridor, so we usually meet them. And I know what you’re thinking, but we’re not told until they’re back on the other side and it’s locked again.”

  “What if you were to wait by that door to the clothes room?”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”

  “Why? What’s the punishment for it?”

  “Room zero. Straight there, no questions asked, and no mercy shown.”

  My body deflates, and I sink back against the sofa.

  “They’re evil.”

  What if I do end up dying in here? What if Hazel and I are sent to room zero together?

  10

  Theo hasn’t offered to show me the little corridor that leads to the clothes room, and although there is no one in one of those torture rooms right now, I don’t want to risk going there.

  Priya, Lucie, and Kevin bring our sandwiches, and we eat in silence.

  Hazel doesn’t eat; she just stares at her food.

  My sandwich feels odd, as if my body is trying to keep it out. I swallow, forcing the food down. It must be getting late now, but I don’t have a watch on and there is no clock.

  Everyone is so quiet, I don’t want to break the silence. I can see they’re in their own heads, thinking about this place, no doubt, wondering how and if we’ll be able to get out.

  I finish half the sandwich, and my stomach closes up completely. I put the plate on the coffee table and focus on keeping the food down.

  “You okay?” Priya asks.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Not all that hungry after all?”

  Shaking my head, I reply, “Not really.”

  “That’s okay, it takes a while to be able to eat normally.”

  It doesn’t seem right, getting used to everything that goes on here enough to be able to shake the nauseated feeling in my stomach, but I suppose it will happen. It’s survival, right? People keep going through the most horrendous situations because the survival instinct is so strong.

  “When do you think I’ll have to go in one of those rooms?”

  Now that Priya has broken the silence, my thoughts spill out.

  Theo swallows and puts his empty plate down. “Some have waited weeks, others days.”

  Days or weeks. Great.

  I hope Hazel gets weeks. She needs more time to adjust. They might see that, and if they do, they could make her go sooner.

  “Don’t think about that, Piper. You’ll drive yourself mad. Believe me,” Kevin says, shaking his head as if he’s recalling his early days here.

  “How do you not think about it?” I ask. My mind flicks back to those rooms about every three seconds. They sound so awful; it makes my head throb every time a room is mentioned.

  “What will you do when you get out of here?” Theo asks.

  He’s on a distraction mission, and I’m grateful. “Lock myself in my bedroom to binge Netflix and eat junk, where I should be now.”

  He smiles, but his dark eyes are sad. “I miss junk food.”

  “Netflix and junk binge at my house as soon as we’re out?”

  “Sounds good,” he replies, managing a slight laugh.

  Hazel stands abruptly, and my heart jumps. She looks down and glares, her eyes firing daggers at us.

  “Haze, what’s up?”

  “You’re planning goddamn Netflix nights while we’re stuck in here? We’re going to die, Piper. Why can’t you accept that?”

  Taking a breath to calm my nerves, I stand and clench my trembling hands. “We are not going to die. Stop saying that.”

  “Could Hazel please come to the waiting room?” Caleb’s voice calls through the speaker.

  Hazel and I freeze, her body going as rigid as mine.

  Theo stands and looks up at the camera on the ceiling.

  “What’s that? Where’s the waiting room?” I ask, though I have a good idea.

  “That’s what they call the corridor leading to the clothes room.”

  “No!” Hazel shouts.

  She may have been a statue when Theo and I were talking about this place, but her hearing is fine. She knows what it means to go into t
hat corridor.

  “This isn’t right,” I argue, stepping to Hazel’s side. She grips my arm, her fingertips digging into my flesh. “She’s supposed to have longer.”

  “Could Hazel please come to the waiting room?” Caleb repeats.

  Hazel’s breathing quickens. Her eyes widen to saucers. “N-No.”

  My heart pounds, the pulse swooshing in my ears. She’s not ready. She can’t do this yet. “Can I?” I shout, looking at the same camera Theo turned to. “Can I do it instead?”

  “Could Piper please come to the waiting room?” Caleb says. I can hear the smile in his now musical tone. He knew this was going to happen.

  “Piper,” Hazel whispers.

  “I’m okay.” I tug my arm out of her grip and walk toward the door. No one says a word, and I’m not sure if that’s because they’re in shock that this is happening so soon or if they never give a pep talk.

  What can you say, anyway?

  I run my tongue along my dry bottom lip and push the door open.

  You are fine, and you are going to be fine.

  The corridor is long and turns a corner. I close my eyes. You can do this. Without looking back, because I can’t stand to see the guilt in Hazel’s eyes right now, I step forward and allow the door to close behind me.

  This is it. I’m in here now.

  I place my palm on the wall to steady my wobbly legs and shuffle down the narrow walkway. Caleb has gone uncharacteristically quiet. Though what more does he need to say? He told Hazel to go because he knew I would volunteer in her place. Everything that he wanted to happen is now in motion.

  Swallowing a lump the size of a bowling ball, I turn the corner. There’s a door, obviously, up ahead.

  You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine.

  My hand grazes the smooth wall as I take the last few steps.

  Caleb hasn’t told me to go through the door but waiting here seems pointless. I turn the handle, still using my other hand to keep me vertical.

  I am breathing fast as I step into the clothes room. The hooks that Hazel and I took our bags from have been refilled. Two new bags embroidered with an S sit in their place.

  They’ve been in here after us, setting up for the next person.

  Sick, sick, sick.

  “You guys need help,” I mutter.

  I walk to the middle of the small room and drop my hands to my sides.

  It’s only when I’m waiting for instruction that my heart starts to beat wildly. I’m alone. I’m going into one of those rooms. What have I done?

  I gasp, desperate to fill my deflating lungs. I want out. I want to go home. And I want my mom.

  “Open the door to the corridor, Piper,” Caleb instructs.

  Nope. Don’t want to. My earlier confidence has abandoned me, and for the first time since they locked us in here, I feel as scared as I should.

  “Open the door, Piper.”

  My arm lifts, almost independently, my body following orders. This is what I need to do. I have to turn off, go somewhere else, so whatever is about to happen only affects my body.

  I walk through the door, and I’m back almost at the start. The corridor of doors. The start of the labyrinth of horrors.

  Which room?

  “Room two is open, Piper.”

  Room two. Which one is that again? Temperature. I think it’s exposure. That I can do. My town is on flat land; we get no shelter from the bitterly cold wind in the winter or the blistering sun in the summer.

  I don’t know which one is room two, but logic would suggest one of the doors closest to the entrance. There are three on either side.

  I walk with renewed confidence to the other end of the corridor and look to my right and then my left. One of those doors must be room two. I raise my hand and push. The door to my right is locked. Turning my body, I face the door I’m about to go in and give that one a push.

  It slides open.

  I shuffle my feet forward, though my muscles lock, trying to keep me from entering.

  Maybe they’re all in on it?

  Maybe Theo, Kevin, Priya, and Lucie are friends of Caleb’s, too, and they’re all having a joke at my expense.

  Don’t be so naive, Piper.

  I take three steps, and I’m inside the room.

  It’s okay. Small, probably the same size as a standard prison cell and painted brilliant white. There is a thin mattress and gray blanket on the floor.

  How long am I going to be in here?

  Behind me the door closes and a loud clank echoes through the room. I’ve been locked in. It’s deathly quiet in here, probably soundproof.

  Caleb chuckles. It’s almost as if he can hear my thoughts. “Lie down, Piper. The fun is about to begin.”

  Fun.

  I blink tears from my eyes, stumble forward, and my legs give way. My knees hit the mattress, and my hands break my fall. Taking a ragged breath, I look up around the room. There are two black circles in two corners of the ceiling. Far too high for me to reach, of course.

  The light dims, and the rattling of a fan fills the air.

  11

  I grip the blanket in my fists as my eyes flit around the room, searching for the vent. There are two on the walls near the floor. They’re white like the walls so not immediately identifiable.

  Warm air hits me, and at first, it’s nice. But the temperature keeps rising.

  Is Caleb controlling this? I can just see him with his hand on a thermostat, laughing as the room heats.

  Rolling over, I sit against the wall, equal distance from both vents. The hot air pumps into the room. It’s really warm, and I would definitely be more comfortable if I weren’t wearing sweats, but it’s still bearable.

  Dropping my head back against the painted brick, I close my eyes.

  You’re fine. This is okay.

  The temperature rises again, and it’s close to being out in the sun for hours. How does it get so hot so quickly?

  Will anyone talk to me in here? I don’t want to hear from Caleb, Owen, or Matt, but voices would be a comfort. It’s so small and isolated in here. Theo said hours, right? I could be in here for hours. This isn’t the sleep-deprivation room. I can handle two hours on my own in the heat.

  I swat my neck as a bead of sweat trickles down my collarbone.

  My eyes are still closed because the room is depressing, and I’ve only been in here about five minutes.

  One hour and fifty-five minutes to go.

  I squeeze my eyes together tighter.

  You’re on a beach in the Mediterranean. The sun is shining and…oh my God, it’s so hot.

  My eyes fly open as the air thickens to the point where I can barely breathe. My skin prickles. I grip the waistband of my sweatpants and shove them down, desperately trying to cool off.

  This is what they want.

  I sob, my heart sinking as I realize they’re winning right now.

  I want to fight back, but it’s too much.

  I gasp as I kick the sweats over my heels. My head flops to the side as I tug the hem of my sweatshirt. I need to get it off, too, but my muscles feel as if they’ve melted.

  Gripping the material in my fist, I raise my arm and pull the sweatshirt over my head. I drop it to the floor and exhale.

  My palms are sweating, but I don’t have the energy to wipe them. I don’t even care that I’m sitting here in my underwear; it’s just a relief to have the fleecy material away from my skin.

  My insides are boiling. I want to claw at my skin and relieve the itching that feels like ants buried under my flesh.

  This is hell.

  How long have I been in here?

  I slide down the wall, and my face presses into the mattress. I should roll onto the floor, it’s probably cooler, but my body is boneless. Every part of me is soaked wi
th sweat. My lungs burn with each scorching breath I take.

  My eyes close of their own accord. It feels as if I’ve been in here hours already, but realistically it’s probably been about fifteen minutes.

  Why do they like this? What are they getting out of it?

  I’m floating. Ha, I can float. The heat is doing something, not just turning my skin pink and itchy, making me sweat and drying out my lips, but it’s lifting me up. I’m weightless.

  This is okay. See, I knew it would be okay.

  I’m flying, floating up and up toward the cool darkness. I raise my arm and flex my fingers. I want the dark. My arm drops, thudding lightly against the mattress, and I fall into that darkness.

  I wake with a start. My skin pebbling breaks me from my sleep.

  I gasp, and my breath makes a little cloud in front of me. Whoa, it’s cold.

  Sitting up, I reach for my clothes. Wait. I left them right here. Leaping to my feet, I look around the floor. My clothes are gone.

  Someone was in here with me. Caleb? I snatch the light blanket that was underneath me when I slept and wrap it around my exposed body. I still have my underwear on, thank God. But I hate that they’ve seen so much of me.

  Don’t think about that.

  Nothing matters right now other than surviving. I have to get through this by any means. I sink to the floor and curl my arms around my knees. Tugging the blanket over my head, tightening my arms in an attempt to keep warm.

  How far will they go again before switching the temperature? Will they let me pass out? Is that what happens when you get too cold?

  My body is still damp with sweat. Or maybe I’m just extremely cold. I don’t really know.

  Am I wet? I run my finger down my icy arm under the blanket, but I can’t tell. Somehow, I need to warm up. I tighten my grip around my legs, chaining myself around my own body and burying my head in my knees. The blanket is around my head, completely covering every inch of my body.

  Why don’t I feel any warmer?

  I close my eyes.

  Think about something else.

  What would Mom and Dad be doing now? Besides looking for their missing daughter? They’ll find me. Parents don’t stop hunting; they won’t give up.