Time Trap

by Danele J Rotharmel

  Settling back, Alex traced shadow pictures on the wall as he heard Shep’s toenails tapping across the living room floor. He smiled as the dog walked over and put a paw on his knee. Alex ran his hand along the dog’s fur in rhythmic strokes. He sighed. He’d managed to send his manuscript to his editor and he should be feeling pleased, but instead, he felt a heavy burden crushing his soul. His thoughts turned again to his mystery woman. All day, prayers for her safety had risen from him as steadily as his breath. Not even the peace of the fireplace could dispel the feeling that she was about to face a crisis.

  Rising to his feet, Alex began to pace the room and pray. The burden he felt continued to intensify. It hung over him like a thick, black cloud. Setting his jaw, he turned the mantel clock toward the wall—he was going to pray as long as it took for the burden to be lifted.

  * * *

  In the rank darkness, Phoebe felt her captor leaning over her body.

  “I want you to scream,” he hissed.

  Phoebe looked at her speck of light and refused to respond. Her tormentor kicked her ribs. She looked at her pinpoint of light and tried to remember the smell of strawberries.

  “Scream!” he demanded.

  Ignoring him, she tried to go far, far away.

  Grabbing her by the hair, her captor twisted her face brutally toward his. Suddenly, the darkness was shattered by a piercing light. The stark, painful brightness made her wince and shut her eyes.

  “Look at me!” his cruel voice demanded.

  Stubbornly, Phoebe kept her eyes closed. She could feel him digging his fingers into her neck. Pain jolted through her skull as he slammed her head against the floor and roughly pried open one of her eyes. Against her will, she was forced to look at a stabbing beam of light. She’d been longing for the darkness to end, but now, light was being used as another instrument of torture. She tried to get away from his hands, but he held her like a vise.

  “Look at me!” he snarled.

  Slowly, her eyes adjusted. Behind the flame of a lighter, twin tongues of fire were being reflected in her tormentor’s eyes. As she was compelled to look at his face, a horror overwhelmed her that was worse than any other horror she’d experienced.

  “No!” She whimpered, trying to shrink away. “It can’t be you!”

  He leaned down and kissed her lips.

  Tearing her face away, Phoebe screamed loud piercing screams that were full of revulsion and terror.

  He laughed. Lowering the flame that was illuminating his face, he played it along her skin. The stench of burning flesh filled the air as her screams intensified.

  * * *

  Peter jumped violently as Phoebe’s screams pierced the smothering silence. Her terrified cries seemed to be coming through the wall at the far end of the room. As the screams echoed, he and Laura ran forward. Suddenly, their feet hit a thick, black rug.

  A warning of danger flashed through Peter’s mind, but their combined momentum was too strong to stop. He clutched Laura to his chest as the rug fell away and they began to fall down, down, deeper and further down, through a hole in the floor.

  * * *

  Phoebe’s captor laughed triumphantly as he heard his trap springing in the other room. As Peter and Laura’s surprised cries faded in the distance, he turned back to Phoebe and continued plying his lighter. She tried to yank away, but the chains prevented her. Throughout their time together, she’d refused to let him see her cry, but as he watched, tears finally streamed from her eyes. The sight filled him with elation.

  When he tired of burning her, he grabbed her jaw and jerked her face toward his. “Stupid, silly little fly.”

  “Why?” She moaned. “Why me?”

  “I needed bait, and you made yourself so available.”

  He watched as Phoebe shuddered at the truth of his words. As he leaned toward her, she retched and began to vomit. Putrid liquid flowed over her face and down her chest. Springing back, he looked at her with revulsion.

  “You’re pathetic,” he snarled. “Why would I ever look at you? Why would any man ever look at you?” Standing to his feet, he let the lighter go out. “You gave me what I needed, but I don’t need you anymore. You’re worthless! You hear me? Worthless! All I want is for you to die. Just die!”

  * * *

  In Colorado, Alex clenched his hands into tight fists and stared at the fire. The burden he felt was crushing his soul. “God, help her!” he prayed brokenly. “Whoever she is—wherever she is—help her!”

  * * *

  If Phoebe thought her tormentor’s beatings had been brutal before, they were nothing compared to the violence he unleashed on her now. She felt his rage in every kick and punch. The pain was so intense that she couldn’t remember the strawberries. She couldn’t hear the birds sing. As the blows continued, her screams became more frantic. Her thoughts spun wildly and gave birth to panicked, half-formed prayers. She knew she was out of time.

  * * *

  Down at the bottom of the hole, fading in and out of consciousness, Peter heard Phoebe’s agonized cries. They were unlike anything he’d ever heard before. He tried to get to his feet, but as he moved his head, a tidal wave of darkness engulfed him. He battled against the blackness, but the darkness was too strong.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  May 30th, 7:00 p.m.

  NSU campus, Washington D.C.

  Sam pulled into the parking lot by Hawking Hall and looked over at his wife. A large smile spread across his face. Sue looked beautiful in her new purple dress.

  As if reading his thoughts, Sue said, “I think you look pretty nice too.”

  “I’ll admit, Danny’s suit fits me well,” he replied.

  “Even the waistband?” she teased.

  He flashed her a grin. “Even that—as long as I suck in my stomach and don’t breathe too deeply.” As Sue reached over and brushed a droopy curl from his forehead, he said softly, “No matter how well the suit fits, I can’t hold a candle to you, Susie-Q. That shade of purple reminds me of the dress you wore while we were dating.”

  Sue smiled and squeezed his hand.

  Sam looked in the rearview mirror. “And I can’t hold a candle to you either, Nicki. I’m surrounded by a bevy of beauties tonight.”

  Smoothing a wrinkle from her new silk dress, Nicki mumbled in a self-conscious voice, “Oh, Sam, it’s just my fancy feathers.”

  Sue turned in her seat. “Your dress is pretty, but the girl inside the dress is prettier still. You look very nice tonight.”

  Nicki grinned and ducked her head. “Thanks. And thanks for the new dress.”

  Sam straightened his tie ostentatiously. “Visiting the boutique was the highlight of my afternoon—it was even better than the Washington Monument.”

  “Sure!” Nicki laughed. “You were bored stiff while Sue and I tried on dresses, admit it!”

  “Nonsense,” Sam replied. “A man loves to have pretty ladies model dresses for him, and it stroked my ego when you let me decide which garments to buy.”

  Sue cocked a brow. “Of course we let you decide. After all, you had the checkbook.”

  “And all this time, I thought it was my impeccable taste you were after.”

  “Well, that too.” Sue grinned, pulling down the visor mirror to check her lipstick. “We couldn’t have managed without you.”

  Zeke’s car pulled into the parking lot.

  Sam began to laugh. “Well, ladies, here comes our chauffer. I don’t know how I survived all these years without one.”

  Sue shook a warning finger. “Behave yourself, Samuel Jefferson Ableman! Zeke’s a wise man, and he has his reasons.”

  Sam captured her finger and kissed it. “Behaving’s an uphill battle for me.”

  “Nevertheless, try hard!” Sue said, giving his cheek a quick, tender pat.

  Sam opened Sue’s car door as Zeke walked over to greet them. The computer tech was wearing a suit and tie, and his thick hair was neatly brushed. Sam’s eyes narrowed. Zeke’s cheeks were flus
hed, and his eyes seemed overly bright. He still didn’t know why Zeke wanted to act as their chauffeur, but a glance in Sue’s direction told him that his wife was quickly drawing her own conclusions.

  * * *

  Peter shook his head, trying to clear the ringing in his ears. He groaned as the movement sent pain exploding behind his temples. Breathing through the discomfort, he tried to gather his thoughts. His mind felt dull and stupid—trying to think was like trying to wade through thick pudding. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, but it must’ve been a long time—his body felt cold and stiff.

  Turning his head gingerly, he surveyed his surroundings. He was lying on a dirty mattress in a tiny room. High above him, he could see flickering light, but even as he watched, the light began to fade. He realized the candles in Spider’s parlor were guttering in their wax.

  Suddenly, his heart seized with fear as he thought, Where’s Laura?

  Despite the pain, he sat up swiftly and looked around. In the dim light, he saw her. She was sprawled in a crumpled heap at the foot of the mattress.

  Crawling over to her, he whispered in a voice taut with fear, “Are you all right?”

  She didn’t respond.

  Peter put a shaking hand in front of her lips and felt breath fanning his fingers. He sighed in relief, but looking at her twisted position, his relief faded. Her neck looked broken.

  Afraid to move her, he searched for their backpacks in the semidarkness. Finding Laura’s, he took out a blanket. As he tucked it around her, a line of Spider’s poem came to mind—And if you like to rest awhile, I’ll snugly tuck you in. They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed.

  He rubbed the back of his neck roughly. Every line in that blasted poem had a sinister double meaning. Standing in an agony of indecision, he finally made up his mind. Laura was in danger resting on the mattress—anything Spider provided couldn’t be good. Trying hard to protect her neck, he lifted her gently in his arms. As he stepped away from the mattress, the last candle in Spider’s parlor flickered and died. A cold, heavy darkness filled the room.

  * * *

  Wrinkling her nose, Nicki leaned across Zeke’s backseat and whispered covertly to Sue, “Do you smell dead fish?”

  Sue chuckled and whispered back, “Zeke’s car always smells this way. Remind me to tell you why when I get a chance. It’s a funny story.”

  As Nicki nodded and tried to avoid breathing through her nose, Zeke said from the driver’s seat, “That fancy building over there is DC Gallery 180. I’ll drop you folks at the door and go find a parking place.”

  When Zeke pulled up to the curb, Nicki quickly hopped out of the car—relieved to be away from the fishy aroma. She’d been chatting happily all day, but she turned silent as she approached the gallery doors. Putting one of her hands into Sue’s, she asked nervously, “Do you think my older-self will like me?”

  “Of course she will!” Sue said firmly.

  Sam took Nicki’s other hand and gave it a squeeze. “We like you, and we can be awfully hard to impress.”

  Nicki gave a gurgle of laughter. “Yah, right! You’re both such softies that you’d like me no matter what.”

  “That may be true,” Sue said, smoothing Nicki’s bangs and straightening the lace collar of her dress, “but you don’t need to worry. You’re extremely likeable, and you look just perfect.”

  Sam gave one of Nicki’s curls a gentle tug. “I’ll second that.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked timidly.

  “Sure, I’m sure!” he replied. “I picked out the dress, remember?”

  Nicki giggled. “Sue and I picked it out. You just paid for it.”

  “I knew I had an important part to play.”

  * * *

  Laura felt flame exploding behind her eyes. As she moaned, she heard Peter murmur, “Lie still. I’ve got you.”

  Fighting her way back to consciousness, she realized she was sitting on Peter’s lap. His arms were around her, and his lips were burying themselves in her hair. Truth be told, if her head hadn’t been killing her, she would have felt delightfully content. For a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the sensation of being in his arms, but then she remembered Phoebe.

  As she stiffened, Peter said quickly, “Before you move, tell me where it hurts. Is your neck okay?”

  Laura sat still and took stock. “Except for a splitting headache, I think I’m all right.”

  “Good!” he replied. “We took quite a tumble, and you were unconscious for a long time.”

  “How long was I out?”

  “I’m not sure—I was out too. I woke up about an hour before you did, I think. My watch broke when we fell, but even if it was working, I wouldn’t be able to see it.”

  “Why not?” Laura tried to open her eyes but then realized they were already open. Oppressive darkness was all around her. “Oh, I see,” she murmured.

  “Well, I don’t.” Peter gave a small chuckle. “You must be reaping the benefit of eating all those carrots.”

  She gave a weak smile. “I think I know a way to calculate the time. Did Spider blow out the candles?”

  “They burned out on their own.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Votives burn at a rate of seven to nine hours per ounce of wax, and larger wick candles yield five to seven hours of light per ounce of wax. From what I remember, some of the parlor candles were at least three ounces. That means we’ve been down here for approximately twenty-four hours.”

  “Miss Marvel strikes again. Where’d you learn that handy little trick?”

  “When I was growing up, our power fizzled out whenever there was a snowstorm. Mom and I took up candle making as a way of coping.”

  “Will you make me a fancy candle for Christmas?”

  Laura started to laugh, but her laughter died in her throat. “Peter, where’s Phoebe?”

  “She stopped screaming a long time ago.”

  Peter’s voice held a note of quiet, controlled calm. Laura could tell by his tone that he feared the worse where Phoebe was concerned. She could also tell that he was trying to keep a fierce grip on his emotions. Placing her hand on his arm, she said gently, “She may be gagged or unconscious. Don’t picture the worse—not yet.”

  She felt him nod and rest his cheek against her hair.

  “So, where are we?” she asked.

  “We tumbled through a hole in Spider’s parlor floor and landed on a mattress. Before the candles went out upstairs, I was able to look around. I think we’re in the small cement room on the second floor.”

  “The room with the automatic lock?”

  She felt him nod.

  “Have you talked to Spider?”

  “He hasn’t shown himself.”

  “We fell smack-dab in the middle of his trap, didn’t we?” she asked in a shaky voice.

  She felt his arms tightening around her. “We’ll get out again, I promise.”

  “I know,” she replied, desperately wanting to believe it was true.

  “It isn’t as bad as it seems,” he said briskly. “Our backpacks fell with us. We have food, water, and blankets. I didn’t manage to find our flashlights, but I’m sure they’re somewhere about. In a little bit, we’ll look for them and see exactly what we’re up against.”

  “Why didn’t you find the flashlights before the candles went out?”

  “I was occupied with other important matters.”

  Instantly, she realized what he meant. He’d been busy keeping her safe and warm. Her wellbeing had been his top priority.

  Rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, she murmured softly, “Thank you.”

  Once again, she felt his lips in her hair.

  * * *

  Nicki watched as Sam inclined his head toward the door. “Shall we?” he said. “Having the privilege of escorting two pretty ladies is going to make me the most envied man in town.”

  Nicki smiled and took Sam’s offered arm. As she entered the gallery, she gazed around in awe. The
architecture was breathtaking. Giant skylights loomed overhead, and pedestaled sculptures reposed in artistic rows across a marble floor. Prominently, along the east wall, she caught sight of Nicole Cunning’s paintings.

  Nicki’s eyes sparkled like stars. Feeling as if she were in a dream, she let go of Sam’s arm and walked slowly toward her future paintings. The first canvas depicted a sunset turning a snowy forest into a rosy, enchanted land. Joy seemed to leap from every brushstroke. She sighed in contentment.

  “I’m pretty proud of that one,” a laughing voice said behind her. “It was only seventeen degrees outside, and I almost froze to death trying to get it just right.”

  Swinging around, Nicki looked into the face of her beautiful future-self. Nicole Cunning was wearing a scarlet chiffon dress with a fitted bodice and sleeves that fell slightly off her shoulders. Her shining dark hair was twirled up in a loose French knot, and her makeup was flawless. Nicki caught her breath—her future-self was stunning. She’d hoped she’d look pretty when she got older, but she hadn’t imagined she’d end up looking like a movie star.

  Nicole’s lips quirked into a smile. “Approve of me?”

  Nicki nodded and grinned.

  “Good! You look nice tonight too, Nicki. Sue’s taste and Sam’s checkbook, if I remember?”

  Giving another grinning nod, Nicki watched as Nicole turned to shake Sam and Sue’s hands.

  “Thanks for bringing me to meet myself,” Nicole said.

  Sam’s blue eyes twinkled. “Quite happy to be of service. We’ll wander around a bit while you show yourself your work.”

  Nicole’s musical laughter rippled through the air. “What ridiculous sentences this situation produces.”

  Sam grinned and put his arm around Sue’s shoulders. As they turned and walked away, Nicki motioned toward the paintings. “I can’t believe these are mine!”

  “Believe it,” Nicole replied. “You’re going to be a great success, but you’ll have to work for it.”

  “I won’t mind.”

  Nicole smiled. “I know.”

  Nicki studied her future paintings carefully. Each work was infused with sparkling personality and seemed to shimmer with living, breathing color. When she came to the final canvas, she asked in awe, “How do you make the paintings seem so real?”