She wanted to kill Marlin Jones very badly.
It seemed there were some hidden lights giving off just enough light so she could see just about a foot around her. She knew she was in a big deserted building. She also knew she wasn’t alone. Marlin Jones was here, somewhere, watching her. With infrared glasses? Maybe so.
She rose slowly to her feet, rubbing the back of her head. She had a slight headache, nothing more now. Oh yes, Marlin was good at what he did. She wondered how long he’d keep quiet. She called out, her voice credibly shaky, rife with rising panic, “Is anyone there? Please, where am I? What do you want? Who are you?”
Hysteria bubbled up, making her voice shrill now, raw in that silent air. “Who’s there? You cowardly little bastard, show yourself!”
There was no answer. There was no sound of any kind except for her hard breathing. She didn’t bother checking the boundaries of the building. Let him be disappointed that she was shortening the play, shortening his fun. She looked down to see the string lying where her hand had lain. It disappeared into the distance. She leaned down and picked it up. Skinny, strong string, leading her to the maze. It was fastened to something a goodly distance away. She slowly began to follow it. As she walked the dim light behind her disappeared, and the darkness ahead of her became shadowy light. Slowly, so slowly, breathing hard, she walked.
Suddenly a light snapped on just overhead, fiercely white, blinding her momentarily. Then she saw a woman staring at her, a woman whose mouth was hanging open, a wild-looking woman, pale as death, her hair tangled around her face. She screamed at her own image in the mirror staring back at her, frozen for an instant in time and terror.
Slowly she backed away from the mirror, one short step, then one more. She saw that there were walls, props, really, some fastened together with hinges, others with brackets, not amateurish like the ones she’d made. No, Marlin’s props were professional all the way.
Then the bright light snapped off as suddenly as it had come on, and she was left again in the narrow dim light.
It was then she heard breathing. Soft, steady breathing, just to her right. She whirled to face it. “Who’s there?”
Just the breathing, no voice, no answer. An amplifier of some kind. She whimpered, just for him, then again, making it louder, hugging herself, then started following the string again. Suddenly the string ran out. She was standing in front of a narrow opening that had no door. She couldn’t see beyond the opening.
“Hello, Marty. Come in, I’ve been waiting for you.”
His voice. Marlin Jones.
“Oh God, Marlin, is it really you? How did I get here? You’ve come to save me?”
“I don’t think so, Marty. No, I’m the one who brought you here. I brought you here for me.”
She felt rage pour through her. She pictured Belinda standing here, not knowing what was happening or why, so frightened she could scarcely breathe, and here that maniac was talking to her in a voice as smooth and gentle as a parish priest’s.
“What do you want, you pathetic bastard?”
He was silent. She’d taken him by surprise. He was expecting tears, pleading. She yelled, “Well, you fucking slug? What do you want? You too scared to talk to me?”
She heard him actually draw in his breath. Finally he said, his voice not quite as smooth as it had been, but calm enough now, “You were fast coming here. I expected you to search around, to check for a way out of the building, but you didn’t. You looked down, saw the string, and followed it.”
“What the hell is the damned string for? Some sick joke? Or are you the only sick joke in this silly place, Marlin?”
His breath speeded up; she could hear it. His breath was wheezing with anger. Push him. She wanted to push him. Let Savich curse her, let all of them curse her, it didn’t matter. She had to push him to the edge, she had to defeat him, then obliterate him. “Well, you fucking little pervert? What is it for? Something to excite your sick little brain?”