see her surroundings.
It was a long and wide cellar, possibly extending to exactly the same floor area as the ruined church building that stood above it. By the foot of the staircase was a cleared circular area, in the center of which was a large oblong stone table, looking something like an altar. Marietta guessed that it was positioned directly below the broken altar in the church above. When she looked at it again, she realized that it wasn’t a perfect oblong, because it had a small square extension in the middle of one of the two shorter sides, and at each corner a hole had been drilled through the stone. Behind that table was another table, also made of stone but much smaller.
Along one side of the cellar were four short stone walls that extended from the floor up to the low ceiling and created a line of small, open-fronted rooms that had possibly been used as storerooms originally. The three men led Marietta into the first of these and hustled her across to the back wall. There she saw a rough wooden bed covered by a thin mattress and, bolted firmly to the wall above it, a new steel ring. A single metal handcuff dangled from the ring on the end of a metal chain.
The men pushed Marietta onto the bed. One of them reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pair of pliers, which he used to sever the plastic ties holding her wrists together. The moment he did so, another man snapped the handcuff around her left wrist, chaining her to the wall. It didn’t matter that there was no door to her room. She would not be leaving.
“Please, no,” Marietta shouted after the men as they walked away. “Don’t just leave me here. Please.”
Moments later the light clicked off, and she was left in the stygian blackness and utter silence of the cellar.
For several minutes Marietta just sat motionless on the hard mattress, eyes wide, willing them to adapt to the dark, to allow her to see something, anything. She sought a glow, a chink of light—something, however small, to provide her with a frame of reference. But there was nothing. Not even the faintest scintilla of illumination penetrated the blackness.
She gave way, and for a few minutes sobbed out of fear and frustration, but then she started to pull herself together. She tried to slide the handcuff off her wrist, but it was clamped too tightly. She tugged on the chain attached to the ring in the wall, but it was new and strong, and the ring was completely immovable.
When she finally accepted that there was no way she could get free, she set about exploring her immediate surroundings. Before the light had been extinguished, she’d seen the wooden bed, but hadn’t noticed anything else. Now she walked to the limit of the chain, and then,with her right arm stretched out in front of her, she moved first left and then right, feeling her way through the blackness. All she found was empty space, and the cold and damp stone walls of her underground prison.
As she walked back to the wooden bed, her shoe hit something beneath it, and she bent down, her fingers probing. Moments later, she realized it was a metal bucket shoved under the bed, the purpose of which was fairly obvious. There was even a half-used roll of toilet paper on the floor beside it.
For a few minutes, she sat on the edge of the bed, trying to make sense of what had happened to her, and listening intently, alert for the slightest sound.
And then she heard a noise. Very faintly, and from somewhere at the far end of the cellar, it was like a distant whispering of several people, a sound that seemed to be getting slightly louder, though Marietta wasn’t even sure of this.
“Who’s there?” she yelled at last, in as strong and determined a voice as she could muster.
There was no response, except for a slight and temporary reduction in the volume of the sound, which then continued just as before.
Marietta listened again. What was it? Where could it be coming from?
With a sudden start she realized what
It was a long and wide cellar, possibly extending to exactly the same floor area as the ruined church building that stood above it. By the foot of the staircase was a cleared circular area, in the center of which was a large oblong stone table, looking something like an altar. Marietta guessed that it was positioned directly below the broken altar in the church above. When she looked at it again, she realized that it wasn’t a perfect oblong, because it had a small square extension in the middle of one of the two shorter sides, and at each corner a hole had been drilled through the stone. Behind that table was another table, also made of stone but much smaller.
Along one side of the cellar were four short stone walls that extended from the floor up to the low ceiling and created a line of small, open-fronted rooms that had possibly been used as storerooms originally. The three men led Marietta into the first of these and hustled her across to the back wall. There she saw a rough wooden bed covered by a thin mattress and, bolted firmly to the wall above it, a new steel ring. A single metal handcuff dangled from the ring on the end of a metal chain.
The men pushed Marietta onto the bed. One of them reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pair of pliers, which he used to sever the plastic ties holding her wrists together. The moment he did so, another man snapped the handcuff around her left wrist, chaining her to the wall. It didn’t matter that there was no door to her room. She would not be leaving.
“Please, no,” Marietta shouted after the men as they walked away. “Don’t just leave me here. Please.”
Moments later the light clicked off, and she was left in the stygian blackness and utter silence of the cellar.
For several minutes Marietta just sat motionless on the hard mattress, eyes wide, willing them to adapt to the dark, to allow her to see something, anything. She sought a glow, a chink of light—something, however small, to provide her with a frame of reference. But there was nothing. Not even the faintest scintilla of illumination penetrated the blackness.
She gave way, and for a few minutes sobbed out of fear and frustration, but then she started to pull herself together. She tried to slide the handcuff off her wrist, but it was clamped too tightly. She tugged on the chain attached to the ring in the wall, but it was new and strong, and the ring was completely immovable.
When she finally accepted that there was no way she could get free, she set about exploring her immediate surroundings. Before the light had been extinguished, she’d seen the wooden bed, but hadn’t noticed anything else. Now she walked to the limit of the chain, and then,with her right arm stretched out in front of her, she moved first left and then right, feeling her way through the blackness. All she found was empty space, and the cold and damp stone walls of her underground prison.
As she walked back to the wooden bed, her shoe hit something beneath it, and she bent down, her fingers probing. Moments later, she realized it was a metal bucket shoved under the bed, the purpose of which was fairly obvious. There was even a half-used roll of toilet paper on the floor beside it.
For a few minutes, she sat on the edge of the bed, trying to make sense of what had happened to her, and listening intently, alert for the slightest sound.
And then she heard a noise. Very faintly, and from somewhere at the far end of the cellar, it was like a distant whispering of several people, a sound that seemed to be getting slightly louder, though Marietta wasn’t even sure of this.
“Who’s there?” she yelled at last, in as strong and determined a voice as she could muster.
There was no response, except for a slight and temporary reduction in the volume of the sound, which then continued just as before.
Marietta listened again. What was it? Where could it be coming from?
With a sudden start she realized what
Similar Books
