She reached, reached, turning her head so she could press her face against the cold metal and shifting her eye so she could see the small outlet off to the side of the dumbwaiter. Her fingers barely brushed it, and she let out an exhale. She hadn’t been positive until now that she could reach it at all, though she’d attempted to measure it using her vision alone and hoped she was right in her calculations. She used the small pair of scissors to unscrew the outlet plate, each screw coming off easily and falling to the floor. She dropped the scissors and reached back through the bars for the small piece of graphite she’d set down, her breath coming shallow. Breathe, breathe, stay calm. One step at a time.
“Fuck,” she murmured when she dropped the piece of graphite, picking it up, letting those two precious seconds go. They were gone, she couldn’t get them back. Breathe, breathe, breathe.
Behind her, Evan had ceased pounding the bones of his hand to mush, only his small grunts and whimpers meeting her ears. You’ve got this, Evan. I know you do. She couldn’t look, though. She had her part, and he had his. They couldn’t afford to pay attention to anything except their own assigned tasks.
Noelle retrieved the graphite and the handful of fabric petals, reaching out with both hands now, her face pressed between the bars so hard her cheekbones hurt. One hand was poised to stick the graphite in the socket; the other held a rose petal as far toward the back of the outlet as she could manage in order to catch the spark.
Please please please.
Evan let out a roar of agony, and then she heard the beep of a button being pushed. He’d forced his collapsed hand through the smaller bars of the door. He was accessing the panel with his broken fingers. She held her hands steady as she jabbed the piece of graphite into the socket. Nothing. Oh God, oh God. She did it again, a little harder, but not hard enough to break the small tool, and a tiny spark shot off the back. She heard three more beeps behind her and then the sound of Evan’s cage door opening. A sob welled up inside her. But it was far too soon to celebrate. Stay calm. Keep going. She pressed the rose petal closer and then stuck the graphite in again. A bigger spark this time, that jumped to the edge of the petal, catching and glowing red. Yes yes yes yes.
Evan’s agonized yell as he pulled his hand back through the bars made her stomach cramp, and then she heard his footsteps and a loud kick, wood splintering, but she tuned all that out as best she could as she held the petal steady, the edge barely burning, bringing it from the outlet and touching it to another petal. The small fire transferred, and now two petals were burning, a thin trail of smoke rising in the air.
She heard the pounding of footsteps overhead now, but toward the rear of the building. Someone was, or a few someones were, on their way. But they weren’t coming from the direction of the only room she’d been in upstairs. They’d been in a different room farther away. Thank God, thank God.
And then Evan was there, going down on his knees next to the tiny fire she was keeping burning by adding one rose petal after another. His hand dripped blood, creating a small puddle on the floor. He stuck a splintered piece of wood—a portion of the counter holding the power tools that he’d kicked apart—into the fire, holding it steady until it caught fire; then he stood carefully, walking the short distance to where there was a hole in the plywood wall. She watched, breathless, panting with fear, heart beating out of her chest.
He held the stick to the edge of the jagged wood, waiting as the splinters turned orange, and then the fire began spreading and growing rapidly. Noelle let out a surprised gasp when the flames leaped up the wall with a whoosh. She leaned away, the heat finding her even from several feet away.
Shouting now. More pounding from above.
Distract with fire. But she hadn’t expected it to work quite this well. She heard an explosion in the wall and then the pause of their feet as they changed direction. Whatever was in the walls wasn’t fire-retardant insulation. No codes had been followed here. From the way the fire was spreading, it seemed like there was paper and kindling between the studs. The men above were obviously confused by the sounds of the traveling flames. Noelle and Evan were getting lucky. Good good good. Please hold out.
Noelle’s breath came short, her limbs shaking.
Evan opened the dumbwaiter and used the burning stick to light the walls inside there as well. He closed the door, and through the cracks, she could see the red glow of the flame and hear as it began climbing the walls, moving upward as well. There were sounds everywhere now. The men’s footsteps went one way and then another. Their shouts were full of confusion.
“Let me out, let me out,” she chanted, smoke billowing into her cage as Evan ran around to the front, and she crawled quickly on her hands and knees. She kept chanting, and her voice sounded very far away. She worked to breathe, to stay calm. She couldn’t lose it now. They still had so far to go.
“I’m going to get you out,” Evan said, his hand creating another puddle on the floor as he used his good one to punch in the three numbers she’d been able to see: 330.
“I think the last one was on the right,” she said, her words stumbling over each other. The man with the tie pin had moved his hand to the right . . . she thought.
“Okay.” He punched in a number. She thought he’d tried 3306 but couldn’t be totally sure, as she couldn’t see. And there was nothing reflecting what he was doing. She had to wait. She had to trust.
She went lower to the ground, coughing as the smoke made it to the front of her cage.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Evan chanted, punching in a second code that didn’t work.
Oh God, oh God. What if it only gave him a certain number of chances? What if it reset? She would burn to death. The fire was raging behind her, smoke billowing into the room. The heat was already intense, and she could feel it getting closer. Evan’s chest rose and fell, blood splashing in the puddle at his feet from his limply hanging, ravaged hand. Noelle went low, staring at the puddle of blood, drawing her feet in as the heat came closer, clenching her eyes closed. Maybe they shouldn’t have planned to light the walls on fire first. But they’d discussed and calculated, and it had seemed wiser to buy time, to hope the men above went for a fire extinguisher, or to potentially set off an alarm, something, considering they only had three of the numbers to her code. She hadn’t expected the fire to spread so quickly. But now . . . oh God, she was scared.
“I won’t leave, no matter what,” Evan said, his voice strangely calm. “We leave here together.”
“No, Evan,” she whispered. “No. One more try and then you run. Bring back help.” She was okay, even if she burned to death in this cage. It would be better because she’d chosen it, rather than giving her death to the monsters who’d put her here.
A strange peace came over her, and tears pricked her eyes. They’d given it their all; they’d made it farther than she had dared hope they would. She’d give him the final tool and tell him what to do. He still had time to make it out.
She heard the beeps as he tried a third code. The door unlatched, and Noelle fell forward as it opened. For a beat, she didn’t understand what had happened. Then Evan was yanking her to her feet and they were running unsteadily together toward the door.
Another code.
She reached in her pocket for the small pair of scissors, almost unable to say whether she’d put them back there per the plan, letting out a gust of relief as her fingers found them.
The heat was almost unbearable now, the smoke thick. She brought her sweatshirt over her mouth, and beside her, Evan was using his shirt in the same way.
Tears ran down her face, and she blinked away the burning smoke, prying the cover off the electronic panel on the wall that held the wiring for the door. She prayed the system was simple. Why wouldn’t it be? They’d been in locked cages. There was no need for anything more than simple security to access the room.
The fire had spread quickly through the walls, and it had already made it to the inner portion of the one that held the door. It was still far enough away—she hoped—that the electric system hadn’t melted.