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Chris shook himself. He dialed Michael’s number and hit Send. Thank god they had a phone. Some guy in a tech room somewhere would be able to trace the signal, and they’d send, like, a bazillion cops, and—
The phone beeped. No signal.
Chris swore.
The phone went dark. He punched a button to make it light up again.
“I knew it,” said Nick, his voice resigned. “I knew he wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave it on me.”
“At least we can see—”
“See what, Chris? Our prison?”
“Each other.” Chris had never heard his brother sound so bleak. He stared at him, hitting a button on the phone again when it went dark. “I’m going to walk around the edge in a minute, see if I can get a signal. But first I want to see your leg.”
He braced himself for something bad. He’d never been a squeamish guy, but he’d never seen a bone come through skin before, either. It got worse when he realized Nick was holding his breath in grim fascination, too. He gritted his teeth and turned the phone.
No bones.
Instead, a splint. Old school and rustic, made of thin strips of wood, cotton bandages, and duct tape.
Chris had no idea what that meant. No frigging way Nick had done that himself.
“He did that?” he said. “The Guide? Why?”
“Who knows,” said Nick. His voice was still strained. “I’d rather have a Percocet. See if there’s a way out of here.”
Now that he had the cell phone light to work by, Chris walked the length of the room. The light didn’t penetrate far, and by the time he made it to a wall, his brother was left in total darkness.
“You all right?” he called.
“Just keep talking.”
Of course then Chris couldn’t think of what to say. He just started narrating. “The walls are stainless steel, the floor concrete. Stainless steel shelves line the wall at one end.” Chris had yet to find a door.
“Are there vents on the ceiling?”
Chris pointed the phone up. “Yeah. But I don’t think the air is on.”
“We’re lucky it’s not.”
Chris pointed the phone at him, but still couldn’t see him. “You know where we are?”
“Not where. We could be anywhere.”
Great.
“Use your brain, Chris.” Nick paused. “Airtight, not a drop of water in sight. It’s the perfect room to hold us. No wonder we can’t get a signal.”
Chris touched a hand to the wall, letting his fingers streak down the stainless steel.
Then he had it. “A freezer. Like a walk-in kind.”
“Yeah. And you know what sucks about these? One door. Easy to lock from the outside.”
“No way out.”
“Yeah,” said Nick. “Trapped.”
