Trapezoid (The Base)

Chapter 25

It had the feeling of déjà vu. But they were not in the target house. There was no hope of a friendly agent coming to the rescue. No, this was now the real thing. They were literally stuck in a dungeon, underground, with a rotting corpse. All her mind pictured were two additional corpses added to this horrible place. Panic and anxiety swelled in her chest. She shivered, cold sweat running down her back.

She shook her head. No, Chris! What are you thinking?

This was not the time to think of the worst scenario. They were going to make it out of here. They had to make it out of here! Slow starvation was too horrifying to imagine. "We're gonna make it out," she stated to herself, forcing herself to believe it. "God, help us outta here," she breathed, a sincere plea. She expected the door she leaned against to swing open right then.

Nothing happened.

"What? Are you waiting for your God to send down an angel to kick the door down?"

Chris head perked up at the scornful nature of Stevens' question. She resisted the urge to kick him. What right did he think he had to dampen her spirits farther? "What, do you have something more impressive up your sleeve?" she retorted, matching his tone.

She looked up into his darker eyes, daring him to answer. He didn't.

"Like I'd thought."

But before she could bask in the glory of her victory to render him speechless, "But that doesn't mean I'm not gonna get us out."

She huffed in an unladylike manner. Mr. Ego was in the house! Gone was her flicker of fondness for him. For a few minutes, she'd been comforted by his closeness. But it seemed his big head had swallowed up all the space. She set the golden light on the dusty ground, unable to stand being near him any longer, she retreated into the dark of the corner. Sliding down the length of the wall, she drew her knees up to her chest.

This is so immature. Her logic scolded her.

She ignored it, hugged herself to keep from shivering so viciously. Then her conscience joined in with singeing realizations. Here she was, sulking while she could at least be a helpful. But how do you help someone she didn't want to help—someone who probably didn't want her help? So she'd rather sit, falsely telling herself they'd make it out while she was wishing he'd not succeed? And then maybe give him a sucker punch for emphasis.

This time her conscience knocked her low.

Her head dropped to her raised knees. She immediately remembered what she'd done to his lip. Everything flooded back, embarrassment suddenly attacking her for his misunderstanding—and then fury. What desire forced him to come to the conclusion that she, of all people on earth, would want to kiss him? He was not ugly, but completely the opposite—but still! She defended to herself that she'd not led him on in any way. Maybe she'd stared at his lip, imagining in delight the pain he'd experience. . .

Wait, had she really desired to see him in pain? A stab to the lungs could not compare to how she felt right then at the realization. She felt sick—at herself! How could I be so—evil? What was wrong with her? God, please forgive me! her heart cried out.

But there was someone else. She raised her head. Stevens wasn't by the lantern. Had he made it out? Without her? A surge of panic and a multitude of other thoughts assailed her mind, making her disoriented. She stumbled to her feet and to the door, hoping—almost believing it would be open. It wasn't. She madly pounded on it, not caring who'd hear. Why was she here in the first place? For all her curiosity, all that was found was some dead person! Maybe that corpse would get two extra buddies! An unbidden tear slipped from her eye. She hated her job!