Frightened Boy

Chapter Four - Horseman

4. Horseman

The door banged against the frame like war drums. It was clear that the wooden sheet wouldn’t last; the force of his kicks vibrated the barrier savagely. I was trapped inside the dark security room with only the dead faces of gray monitors for light.

“Open… the fucking… door!” he shouted between kicks. He shot through the door; the bullet tore through the panel.

There was a long pause as he tried the doorknob again.

“If I can’t see you, you can’t be you,” the leader mumbled angrily.

I crouched underneath my desk and pulled my knees to my chest. All I could do was pray that one of those bullets didn’t rip through me.

I shouldn’t have come to work today.

“I don’t necessarily want to kill you, whoever you are. I just need that footage.”

I remained silent. The last thing I wanted was for him to know I was in there.

“I know you’re in there!” he shouted, exasperated.

Fuck!

“I know this door only locks from the inside, and I know there’s only one door that leads into that room. Just open the door; I will stand back. I just need access to those computers. Do as I say and you won't be harmed.” As though he had only just realized he was screaming at me, he softened his voice. “Hey, it’ll be fine.”

I didn’t say anything. My vast experience in hiding had taught me that assailants often talk to you kindly and offer empty promises just to lure you out.

Then he started kicking again, and in moments his boot was through the door. He cursed and struggled to pull his foot out of the hole he’d made.

I pressed myself into the corner underneath my desk. I saw his thick hand, adorned with a single large ruby ring, reaching through to turn the doorknob.

The leader stepped into the room and pointed a large silver pistol at me, as though he’d known where I hid all along. I noticed his beard and hair were a striking dark crimson color—the color of fresh blood. He was maybe six feet tall, but seemed ten from the way he towered over me.

The intensity of being in the same room with him was unbearable. It felt like I was standing in the same room as Napoleon, Hitler. This guy was some kind of Genghis Khan, I swear. There was some presence to him that was overwhelming just from. I held my breath until he looked at something other than me.

“Where is the footage stored?” he asked angrily, staring directly into my eyes.

I cowered and stuttered, “It’s—"

“It’s where?” He cocked the gun meaningfully and pressed the long barrel to my temple.

“In that locker,” I said, pointing a trembling finger toward the security box that held the taping mechanism. The security boxes were made of heavy steel with large locks.

He tried to open it, to no avail. The lock didn't seem as scared of him as I was.

“Key,” he said simply.

My heart dropped, and I couldn’t respond. I didn’t want to have to tell him that I’d lost the key, but I truly had no idea where it was. I’d never used it.

“Key!” he roared, this time pushing the gun into my face again. “I am going to kill you if you do not give me the key.”

I was too petrified to respond. No one ever told me how to unlock it. My head shook back and forth again.