Trapezoid (The Base)

Chapter 8

Standing in front of the target house as it was called, Chris felt sick. The butterflies in her stomach made her feel nauseous—but why? It was a rectangular-shaped, one-story building made of brick. There was nothing outstanding about its double door or its cottage-shutter windows. Her "kidnapper" had told her it was riddled with all kinds of traps and ambushes—and they changed them after every practice. Some came out injured. Chris could already picture herself with a broken arm, bleeding in the floor in one of the rooms having not found her way out.

She glanced up at her "rescuer" for some motivation or encouragement. His deep blue eyes held nothing. He just stood there, arms crossed, staring at her. She could feel the chill. What had she done? He looked so hostile all of a sudden. He hadn't been like that a few minutes ago. He'd returned her embrace and even consented to wash the black stuff off his face in the stream.

"You don't have all day. Get it over with!"

Her mouth felt like sandpaper. She'd seen a scar across his neck at the stream. Was it from some ambush from this house? The door creaked open when she pushed it. It was dark on the inside. How was she supposed to make her way around in there?

"Are you scared of the dark?" the teasing tone of his voice almost made her slap him.

She ignored him, and mincingly put one foot in. The strange feeling she'd had this morning came over her. She knew something wasn't right. She stepping into the door but didn't have the nerve to walk forward. She felt strong warm hands lightly squeeze both her shoulders, urging her to move.

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She gathered her nerve and stepped in—after having removed his hand from her shoulder and clasping it in hers. Levi couldn't help being surprised by this woman—it was like the only emotion she brought out the most in him. At first sight, he'd seen her as a delicate female. But time told that she was headstrong in her decisions—but then at the same time was emotionally driven. The way she clasped his hand in her own delicate one was not out of fear, but determination.

The door slammed shut, automatically locking them in. They would have been in total darkness if it hadn't been for the dim skylights above. The woman's hand became clammy as she minced on, him making no effort at all to lead. Out in the light, he'd seen the slender-chained necklace with a tiny cross that rested on the gap between her collarbones. He grinned to himself. He knew a little about this type of person. After all, his best friend had been one. The realization hit—like it always did—hard. Chris had been.

He pushed his deeper thoughts away. "Are you scared?"

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Chris started. The guy's voice seemed lower and more menacing somehow—maybe it was the building. They seemed to be in a living room. The place was fully furnished with vintage couches, coffee table, and even a fireplace. The head of a bear was hung over the mantle but Chris had a feeling it was not just some wall décor. In fact, nothing felt ordinary no matter how ordinary it looked. She slowed, hoping her "rescuer" would take initiative and lead. He didn't. "So are you?"

Chris feared matching his volume. This place must be bugged. "Am I what? Scared?"

"Oh, come on. What am I supposed to think when you take me along with you—cutting the blood circulation in my hand?"

Chris instantly retrieved her hand. Her face heated up. "I-I thought I heard somewhere that guys see better than girls in the dark. I need to find my way out of here, right?"

"It's not pitch dark in here, for your information."

Chris heard a buzz. She wouldn't have heard it if her nerves hadn't been on the edge they were on now. Had they set something off? The skylights looked eerily dull down the hall filled with baby pictures, a family portrait, and a door up ahead. Doors were on either side, too. Were they locked? Suddenly all the skylights dimmed. Night could not have come that fast. She instinctively reached back and grabbed the guy's shirt. They were in complete darkness.

Levi felt something zip past his head.

It had started.

The woman was clinging on him with one hand as she moved on—but he was going to take over. He stretched his arms against either wall, his palms gliding across to feel for any specially hidden fixtures. He lowered his mouth to her ear. "Stay below the picture frames." Having kept his eye on the family portrait, one of the son's eyes followed until out of range. The zipping past his head had followed.

He ran his hand across a crack in the wall. A blade, the width of a man's hand, instantly jutted out to pierce to opposite wall. Levi was quick enough to crouch low, putting pressure on the woman's shoulders; he'd bent her knees to the same position.

On her hands and knees on the wooden floor, Chris silently prayed with all her heart that they'd both make it out of this place in one piece. Her heart drummed so hard in her chest, she felt nauseous. She'd seen the blade flash across. If it hadn't been for the guy behind her, she'd probably be pinned to the opposite wall.

"Move on, ma'am. Move on," he said encouragingly near her ear. But she just couldn't. She just couldn't bring herself to move at all! She felt she'd throw up if she took an inch forward.

"I don't think I can." She whispered back.

He squeezed her shoulder urgently. "We gotta! We have no idea what's coming—" A slim red ribbon of light was suddenly inches from his face. "Don't move at all, ma'am. Stay in the position you're in."

Chris, staring directly at the floor, dared to ask, "What now?"

"Lasers."

That one word chilled her to the core. She dared look up. One was right above her head. Looking ahead, she saw the red ribbons threading across from left to right at different angles. Some even seemed to intersect. "God, help us outta here."

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God. Well, if it helped the lady think of a way out, let her speak to someone who never seemed to hear even the prayers of one Levi knew was fully devoted to him.

He let go of her shoulder. If anything happened, may it be in the hands of her God. May he not share the blame in any way—the opposite of how he felt about Chris' death.

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The buzz of exhilaration she'd felt after going under the last beam was enough to make her squeal in delight—if she wasn't afraid of setting off something else. She could faintly make out the man's still crouched silhouette in the darkness and distance. She whispered as loud as she could, "You can do it too!"

Something whizzed by and hit the wall beside her head. She ran her fingertips across a hole—bullet size. If she hadn't twitched from the sound, she could only imagine how she'd be. Everything inside her was screaming for her to get out of this place—but she felt some type of loyalty to the guy. She just couldn't leave him—even though he did look very up to this whole thing. That seemed heartless to her reasoning. "And besides," she reasoned to herself silently, "I might need him."

She saw his tall figure against a few beams. He was halfway! But had she taken this long? The more time that passed made her think something else was going to set off.

A bullet zipped just above her head—and another near her shoulder. Instinctively, she ducked down as they sprayed all above her mercilessly. A door was just an arm's length to her right—but she couldn't bring herself to leave the man alone in this hallway of death. She fixed her eyes on his silhouette, praying he made it out, and fast. The bullet spray was getting lower.