MELT: A Psychological Thriller (3 page)

'How are you feeling?' asked pajama man.

'Abducted!' Megan shot back. ‘Who are you?’

'I'm Glen. This is Carl. You’re Megan, right?'

Megan nodded.

The UPS driver, Carl, spoke with a strong, almost exaggerated southern accent. 'How were you abducted, Megan?'

'I want answers first,' demanded Megan. 'What the hell is going on here?'

‘We have absolutely no idea,’ admitted Carl, twisting his UPS cap. ‘We’re just trying to find out. Just like you. Will you help us or not?’

Megan saw sincerity in Carl’s eyes. Although twice her size, he looked just as lost and confused as she felt.

Glen looked even more pitiful in his pajamas.

And he’s sick.

‘All right,’ she nodded reluctantly. She told them everything she remembered from the moment she saw the demented cleaner to when she woke up in the chamber.

Neither man interrupted her. Chrissie and Victoria came around the ice to listen.

When Megan finished, the five of them stood shuffling in a circle.

Carl tried to rub the goose bumps off his arms.

Glen tightened his bathrobe. 'Had you ever seen that cleaner before?'

'No.’ Megan blew into her cupped hands. ‘But she probably has two black eyes now.'

Carl smiled at that. The three others swapped glances. Megan had no idea what they thought.

Nor did she care. She’d told her story. She wanted answers.

‘Now where are we?’

‘No idea,’ said Carl instantly.

Megan pointed at Carl. ‘But you’re from the south, right? Is that where they abducted you from?’

Carl nodded. ‘Texas. And you?’

‘Colorado,’ answered Megan.

‘I’m from California,’ said Glen.

‘New York,’ said Chrissie.

Victoria rubbed her hands together. ‘I’ve lived in Florida all my life.’

‘They took us from all over the country,’ realized Megan. ‘Is this all of us?’

‘There’s two more,’ replied Chrissie.

Seven
, realized Megan.
They abducted seven of us.

‘Have they said anything yet? Made any demands?’

Everyone shook their head.

‘Have you even seen them?’

More head shakes.

No wonder they wanted to ask me questions,
Megan thought.
They’re just as confused as I am.

She looked around.

‘Well, what’s with this ice?’

Mentioning the ice made the entire group huddle closer.

'Megan, we have no idea about the ice,’ admitted Carl. ‘No idea why we're here. No one has told us jack-shit. We woke up every bit as confused as you.’

‘Then we found the
real
problem,' added Glen.

‘Real problem!’ blurted Megan. ‘What’s more real than being abducted?’

'Go look.’ Glen shifted his tall pajama-clad frame. ‘We all had to see it.'

Frustrated, Megan walked around the ice.

The shuffling had worked. Her legs felt steadier.

She avoided looking into the ice, worried she’d see someone staring back.

She heard movement ahead. Breathing.

She yanked her hands into her sleeves.

Coming around the ice, she found herself staring at a soldier.

 

 

#

 

 

Relief swept through Megan.

A uniform!

Uniforms were good when you were in trouble.

The soldier was tall, broad-shouldered and dressed in camouflage fatigues.

His forearm muscles bulged as he pushed against the wall.

What's he doing? Keeping warm?

'Hello,' she said. 'I just woke up.'

The soldier turned his head. At first he looked handsome, in an assembly line kind of way, but as he faced her, Megan felt a chill of instinctive revulsion. He didn't smile.

‘I know,’ he said flatly. ‘I heard you scream. You were better off asleep.'

They stood there, Megan and the soldier, his words hanging between them as though no one wanted to own them.

'What do you mean?' she finally said.

He pointed to his big black watch. ‘It’s only forty-one degrees in here. You need to keep moving.’

Megan began shuffling again.
His watch must have a thermometer.

He pointed around the ice before turning back to the wall.

'Keep walking and you’ll see what I mean. Alex is watching it. Don't touch it.'

Megan felt her 'uniforms-were-good' theory crumble to dust. The man before her didn’t radiate leadership or authority. Pushing against the wall, he now resembled a soldier ant trapped under a glass.

He’s awful.

Continuing around the ice, she still had no idea what to expect.

It certainly wasn’t a pimply schoolboy.

They abducted a kid?

Megan reassessed as she watched him.
He’s not a kid.

His features were those of a sixteen or seventeen year old. A young man, really, wearing gray high school track pants and a gray hooded track top.

He still had a smattering of pimples, but in profile his dark hair and intense features would suit him well when his small frame caught up.

He hadn't heard her approach.

He stared at the ice.

What's he looking at?

'Oh, my God!' Megan burst out. 'Is that a bomb?'

The weapon hung horizontally in the ice. About five feet long, its drab olive paint was broken by two yellow stripes at nose and tail. The tail tapered into four fins confined within a metal box.

Half of the bomb hung free of the ice.

It could fall at any moment!

Alex jumped in fright, spinning toward Megan. ‘Shit! Don’t do that! I thought the fucking thing was falling.’

Alex shook his hands out as though releasing adrenalin.

‘So it’s real then?’ asked Megan.

Alex nodded. ‘World War Two, Carl says.’

He pulled his hood over his head and pinched the fabric under his chin. 'You're Megan, right?’

Megan hugged herself and nodded.

Alex pointed at her feet. ‘You have to keep moving. Otherwise you’ll freeze. Seriously. Don’t stop.’

Megan didn’t need much incentive. Her hands and feet were already feeling numb. She began shuffling again.’

‘Did they dart you?' asked Alex.

Megan shook her head. 'No dart. This crazy woman squirted disinfectant in my eyes. Then she smothered me with her cleaning rag.’

'Ouch. How are your eyes?'

Alex was the only person who’d asked.

‘All right now. They stung when I woke up. Felt like acid.'

Alex winced. 'Your eyes still look red. Try not to rub them.’

Megan approached the bomb. It hung sideways about chest-high.

'Are you sure it's real?'

Alex pointed at its stripes. 'Carl says the Allies in World War Two marked their bombs like this.’

'How does he know?’

‘DVDs,' shrugged Alex. 'Books and stuff.'

'What did the army guy say?'

'He said not to take my eyes off it.' Alex gave a little salute.

 
It’s real then
, thought Megan.

Alex gently scratched some ice flakes off the bomb.

As the flakes fell, Megan experienced a surge of survival instinct.

It's real. I know it. If it falls, we’re dead.

'Don't touch it!' she cried. 'It's barely holding.'

Alex shook his head. 'The tail is anchored. The bomb can't fall until that melts out.'

Megan disagreed. 'Enough weight will break the tail loose. It won't need to melt out.'

'That's why everyone’s freaking out,’ admitted Alex.

Chrissie, Victoria, Glen and Carl came around the ice. Everyone except the soldier.

Glen thrust his hands into his bathrobe's pockets. 'Now you know.’

Alex nodded. ‘She knows if this thing falls we're all red fucking paint.'

'That's disgusting,’ said Victoria, glaring at Alex. ‘Keep that filth to yourself.'

Victoria crossed her arms over her gardening apron and walked off to study something on the floor.

Chrissie turned up the collar on her tan business jacket to protect her neck.

'Let's just escape before it falls,’ she said. ‘Or we freeze to death. It’s sub-zero in here.’

'It's warmer than 32 degrees Fahrenheit ,' reasoned Carl, adjusting his cap. 'That's why the ice is melting.'

Shuffling in his slippers, Glen said, 'This chamber was designed for storing ice, not us. They'll
have
to move us soon.'

'That makes sense,' agreed Chrissie.

Nothing in here makes sense
, thought Megan.
I’ll find the door.

She strode around the chamber and found herself back where she started. The only thing she’d found was a drain in the floor.

I missed it.

She went back, watching the walls carefully this time. At the drain she long-stepped over the shallow flow of melt water flowing into the hole.

That’s a big drain hole.

The drain resembled a slotted manhole cover. It needed to be big. Water was pouring into it.

She stopped behind the rude soldier.

‘Where’s the door?’

'No doors,' he replied, turning to look her slowly up and down. 'And no windows. Just the drain and the air vent above the ice. We’re sealed in here like a tomb.’