"Daddy? Daddy, are you awake?"

  Chris awoke to find his daughter staring up at him from the side of the bed, her Elmo doll clutched in one hand. He pushed aside the covers and sat up groggily. The clock on the nightstand read 2:10 am, and he stifled a small groan for the sake of his daughter. Sarah was looking up at him intently, and even in the dim light of the bedroom he could tell something was upsetting her.

  "What's wrong, baby? Did you have a bad dream?" He stood up slowly and stretched as he made his way across the room to the bathroom entrance and flipped on the light.

  "No, daddy. Not that."

  Chris grinned to himself as he watched her pad across the room to him in her new nighty and pink slippers ensemble

  I told Beth she didn't need any more pajamas... But I'm glad she bought them for her anyway. I'll be damned if they're not cute on her.

  and took his hand in her much smaller one.

  "I've got to show you, daddy." She tugged on his arm, and he found himself being dragged out of his room and into the hallway.   "Come on, daddy. It's in my room."

  He followed her past his sons' bedrooms and to the doorway of her own. Together, they peered into the darkened room in the dim light that one small lamp provided them from across the hall.

  "So whatcha wanna show me, huh?" He asked in his best make-the-lightest-of-the-situation tone. "I don't see anything..." He crouched beside her and watched her as she stared intently into the room, and then pointed in the general direction of her bed.

  "It's under there, daddy." She stated with pronounced confidence, her small chin raised almost defiantly. “I know it’s hiding under there.”

  Chris made a show of looking the bed over carefully - exaggerating his head movements as if he were scanning every inch of it from end to end before gently picking her up and walking into the room. He reached for the light switch, but she stopped him quickly.

  "No, it's only there when the light is off." She looked at him with an expression that conveyed exactly how serious she was about the whole thing. "It disappears whenever you turn on the light."

  Chris paused as if he were pondering this new bit of information very carefully before asking, "Well, where do you think it goes when the light goes out?"

  This seemed to be a detail that Sarah hadn't quite hammered out as of yet, and a puzzled look came over her face.

  "I don't know, daddy. Maybe it goes out the window."

  "But the window is closed and locked, honey. See?" He walked her over to the window and raised the blinds enough for her to see that the lock had been flipped into place. He gave the window's lower half a firm tug.

  "See? It won't budge."

  Sarah looked anything but convinced. "I don't know, daddy. Maybe it just disappears." She waved her arms dramatically. "Maybe it has magic."

  "Hmmm." Chris set her down, got onto his knees beside the bed, leaned over, and looked beneath it. "I don't see anything, sweetheart. And I'm sure there's nothing there." He patted the carpet beside him, inviting her to join him. She seemed to think about it for a long moment before slowly kneeling beside him.

  "See? Look under there. There's nothing there. Except a lot of dust and toys that need to be put away. I don't think anything would even want to live under there. I know I wouldn't - it's pretty nasty under there." He grinned at her, and the smile she gave him in return hinted that her trust in what her father told her was an incredibly strong force - even against fears of monsters with magic that lurked in the dark. She peered under the bed suspiciously, but seemed to be satisfied that there was nothing there for the time being, at least.

  "When I was a boy, I used to think that there might be things under my bed, too."

  Sarah gave him a surprised look. "You did? Really?"

  Chris nodded his head matter-of-factly. "Yup. But that was only until my dad showed me there wasn't really anything there. It was just my imagination. The dark isn't anything to be scared of. If it never got dark, we wouldn't get any sleep, would we?"

  She grinned up at him. "Nope. There would be too much light and stuff."

  Chris smiled. "See? That's right."

  Sarah leaned over quickly and hugged him, and he suddenly didn't mind being up at two in the morning. Didn't mind being dragged out of bed to look for magical monsters. Didn't mind at all.

  "I love ya, girl. You gonna go back to bed and get some sleep now?"

  She nodded and climbed into her bed with her Elmo.

  "You're going to tell Elmo that there's nothing to be afraid of if he gets scared, aren't

ya?" Chris asked.

"  Yep. I will." She closed her eyes as he pulled the covers over her.

  He watched her for a few moments.

  "Goodnight, baby."

                            

  The sound was incredibly low at first, and Chris wasn't sure that he had actually heard it. He stopped walking instantly, his ears straining to pick it up again. Closing his eyes, he breathed in and waited. He could feel -- actually feel -- his heart beating in his chest as he sifted the silence in search of anything his mind could label as noise, anything that could be taken as a sign of life other than his own.

  Jesus Christ. He thought. Please. I heard something. I know I heard something.

  The thirty seconds that passed as he stood there as motionless as he could were perhaps the longest that Chris Porter had ever known.

  And then he could hear it again. And he could breathe, because he hadn't imagined it as he had imagined hearing countless sounds in the past hours. It was real. He could hear something - an incredibly low, almost inaudible series of muffled tones.

  Structure. I think it has structure. Maybe speech. Shit, it could be speech.

  Chris realized his hands were trembling and balled them into fists almost as if he was afraid they might make noise - that he might lose what he was hearing.

  Get a grip, Chris. Come on, think. You've got to think. It could be a person out there. Don't lose it. Whatever you do, don't lose the damned sound.

  He struggled to pinpoint the direction from which it was coming as exactly as he could, and then forced his aching legs to begin moving again. His steps were small and controlled at first in an effort at remaining as silent as possible until he was sure that he wasn't walking in the wrong direction - that the sound wasn't fading. But the structure quickly evolved into clearly distinctive words, and Chris finally abandoned any attempts at silence and somehow managed to force himself into a labored sprint.

  "Is there someone there? Hello! Can you hear me?"

  The sound of his own shouting was almost a surprise to him. He stopped briefly to listen for a response, and wasn't forced to wait long.

  "Hello? Oh my God! Are you there? Is there someone there?" The voice was clearly female, and seemed to be on the verge of hysteria - the words intermixed with erratic sobbing. "I'm over here! Follow my voice. Oh my God. I'm over here!" Chris felt a momentary pang of disappointment at the realization that whoever the voice belonged to seemed to be just as surprised to find him as he was to find her. The odds that she knew any more about where they were than he himself did quickly became more remote.

  But at least there's someone in this damned place with me. He thought. At least the odds of finding some answers are much better.

  It was great to hear her voice - to hear any voice. The fact that she might not know any more about where they were or how they had gotten there than he himself did could do little to detract from his elation.

  Chris was out of breath by the time he stopped running. The voice had become continuously louder as he attempted to close the distance to it, but he was surprised at just how far he was forced to run before it seemed the voice's owner was close enough in the darkness to alleviate the need for yelling. The woman sounded as if she was going hoarse.

  "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I'm not alone. Oh my God." She was sobbing uncontrollably then, and as Chris walked the last few steps towards her, he realized her voice was coming from nearer the ground than his own. As if she had sunk to her knees, or even laid down. He crouched down and reached out instinctively - his hand searching for the body that he couldn't see but knew was there. He felt something that could have been her hair, and then his fingers found warmer flesh - perhaps her neck or shoulder. But she pulled away from his touch instantly, and Chris withdrew his hand.

  She has no idea who I am. She doesn't even know if I'm a friend or foe, and I'm reaching out and touching her blindly. Christ. I've got to lay off the stupid pills.

  Chris struggled to find something he could say to her - something that might comfort her in some way - but he found himself at a complete loss, and so he simply knelt there beside her in the darkness, whispering that everything would be ok more out of an effort to remind her that he was there - that she wasn't alone- than out of an any real conviction he was telling her the truth. He didn't know how long it was before her tears began to slowly abate, but at some point she found his hand and clutched it almost painfully in her own. The human contact was more comforting to him than he would have wanted to admit, even to himself.

  The woman’s sobs faded entirely, and then there was only the sound of her breathing. After a few minutes of near silence, Chris realized that she had fallen asleep. Being careful not to wake her - even in her sleep, she still held his hand tightly - he settled himself into a more comfortable position and made a mental note not to let himself fall asleep.

  He wasn't sure what he had been expecting. Perhaps a quick exchange of what information they had both managed to collect - no matter how small those collections might have been - and then a decision on what they should do, formulation of a plan of some kind. Something that they could both put some hope into. Something for him to focus on other than the maddening reality of an environment comprised seemingly of only an endless sea of darkness – a reality that had been slowly chipping away his belief that there had to be some logical explanation for where he was. An explanation for why he hadn't woken in his bed beside his wife - why he had been walking for what seemed like, and, he was afraid to admit might have actually been, dozens of hours without finding a wall, a door, a single imperfection in the bizarre floor beneath him.

  Some part of his mind screamed that he couldn't afford to wait and let his apparent fellow abductee sleep - that he needed to keep moving. Needed to figure out where he was as quickly as possible so as to minimize the amount of potential stress his family would endure upon realizing he was missing. Needed to find where the blackness ended - the opening, the window, the way out.

  Because it had to end, didn't it?

  But another voice - a voice that frightened him yet demanded to be heard - somehow understood it wasn't going to be that easy.

  Not this time. Something's wrong. Very, very wrong. This isn't a normal puzzle. This isn't a normal place. And I'll be damned if I really believe that any of the scenarios that I've dreamed up are the truth. How can you solve an equation when most of the variables are practical impossibilities? How can any place be so large? How could any structure have such an expansive area of open space without walls or beams for support? Where would it be possible to achieve such utter and complete darkness and silence?

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Chris smiled dryly. Or maybe I'm losing it. God knows I've got a great excuse. If there was anything that could drive a man insane, wouldn't it be an experience like this?

  "Where am I?" He had asked the question so many times it had taken on an almost comically absurd quality to him, and as he heard himself whisper it once again he felt a wave of intense frustration overwhelm him. But there was no way for him to vent it, and no answer came to him in the blackness. What was happening to him simply didn't add up.

  If you don't get a grip on this, ol’ boy, you really are going to lose it. They're going to drag you out of this place in a straight jacket whenever they find you. Assuming they find you.

  Chris grimaced. Not supposed to think like that, am I? Isn't that what makes the heroes in everything from movies to comics so impressive, so badass? They never quit, never even consider the fact they might actually be completely fucked with no way out. They stay optimistic no matter what. Defy danger. No, not defy danger - laugh in the face of danger. They laugh in the face of danger because everyone knows that’s what a quintessential badass should do.

  He felt the urge to laugh. Chris Porter the badass. Now there's an insane thought.

   Chris sat holding the hand of a stranger within the nightmare that was real, and he laughed to (at) himself until his eyelids slowly sank and his intent to stay awake was finally, mercifully forgotten.

                            

  The pressure on his shoulder brought him abruptly back to the waking world, and for a moment he was forced to relive the same blind confusion as his eyes searched in vain for his bedroom - his home. But memory returned to him quickly and the confusion was replaced with a sense of resigned disappointment that it hadn't all been a dream. He had awakened again to find the darkness still there. He didn't know where he was, couldn't make sense of where he was. The hand on his shoulder shook him gently again. It was her - the stranger in the blackness - attempting to wake him.

  "What's your name?" He asked softly.

  The hand pulled back from his shoulder quickly, as if in surprise at the sudden question. There was a short hesitation.

  "Lynn," came the whispered reply. "My name's Lynn Hilder."

  Chris heard an audible exhalation of breath, and realized the woman was nervous. He was making her nervous.

  "I'm Chris Porter," he said. "I'm guessing that you and I are probably about in the same boat. I'm a friend, though. I'm definitely not a danger to you. I couldn't promise you much right now, but I can promise you that."

  "Do you know where we are?" She asked after a brief silence.

  Chris grimaced at the unmistakable ring of hope in her voice.

  "I wish I did." He moved to sit up, and groaned at the pain in his legs as they voiced their protest. "I'm sorry. This whole situation crazy’s - so crazy it’s almost surreal. Nothing makes sense, nothing adds up. I went to bed with my wife Thursday night - sometime around midnight - and woke up here." He paused. "I'm glad to meet you, Lynn. Wish the circumstances weren't the same. I don't know what happened to you, or what you've been able to figure out about this place, but I haven't been able to make much sense of anything. So far."

  "I wish I knew something..." Lynn's voice was unsteady, as if she was in danger of breaking into tears. "I don't know anything. I just went to bed. Fed the damned cat and went to bed like I always do. In my apartment. And I woke up here, and I've been walking for forever. I don't know how far, but I've walked a really long way. I haven't found anything. I'm so tired. There aren't any walls or lights or sounds. It's like maybe I've died." And then her voice cracked, and she began to sob softly.

  "Like I've died, and this is what's left. Oh my God, I thought I was alone. I'm so scared."

  Chris struggled for something assuring to say, but ended up saying simply, "I don't think we're dead."

  He kicked himself. He needed to keep talking - needed to be positive and give her something to distract her from her own uncertainties. A kind of paternal instinct had begun to change the focus of his thoughts.

  In some subtle way, Lynn Hilder reminded him of his daughter.

  "How old are you, Lynn?” He asked her. “It's weird not being able to see anything at all, but if we both can't see, maybe I haven't gone blind. I had considered that. That I had lost my vision."

  Chris thought a short moment before continuing with a second question. "You can't see me, can you?"

  "No. I can't see shit.” Lynn’s tone was edgy, hinting at a frustration that possibly teetered precariously on the verge of hysteria. “I've never seen it this dark anywhere. I'm twenty-three. I know I probably sound like a little kid."

  She laughed softly through her tears. "I'm sorry. I'm not taking this very well."

  "I don't think anyone would take this well. I've had my moments since waking up in this place, believe me."

  Chris felt her reach out and touch him lightly.

  "We've been kidnapped, haven't we? That's what this is, right?"

  He knew that she needed him to re-assure her, and so he nodded despite the fact that she couldn't see him. "That's what makes the most sense." He said.

  And then he lied some more. "I'm guessing that if we hang tight, they'll eventually either let us know what they're after, or contact people close to us and make some type of demands."

  "You're talking about like a ransom?" Again, there was that faint sound of undisguised hope in her voice.

  "That's what I'm thinking, yeah." Chris spoke with as much conviction as he could manage.

  "What about this place, though?" Lynn asked. "It's just not right. It's too big. Almost like we're outside, only there's no wind or sound like there should be. And this floor is so weird it's been creeping me out like crazy. It's too smooth. Too smooth and too clean. Almost perfect. Like we're walking on glass or something. It's all so weird. I don't know how any place could be this big."

  Chris could hear the questioning in her voice, and realized she was expecting him to have some working theory - some idea of where they were.

  So what do you think, ol' boy? He thought. What do we have for her behind curtain number X? Want to give her the "Giant Space Ship Theorem"? Or what about that little idea you were working on with the alternate dimension - all that jazz? Think she might like that one? Think you can explain a room with a floor of glass and no light of any kind that stretches for at least a couple dozen miles without walls or beams or any kind of support? Or better yet, want to let her know what number you had gotten to when you stopped counting your steps? The voice in his head was laughing. Do you really think you have any answers for her?

  Chris found himself remaining silent. The truth was that he didn't. He didn't have as much as a plausible guess as to where they could have been taken, because Lynn was right. It didn't seem possible that a building could be that big, and they couldn't be outdoors because there would have been some kind of light, some kind of sound to give that fact away. And then there was the ground. Perfectly flawless. Almost eerily cool to the touch. It didn't belong indoors or out. It didn't belong anywhere.

  "Have you heard anything other than me since you've been here?" Lynn asked. “I mean have you heard any other sounds at all?”

  "I've thought that I've heard things a few times,” Chris answered, “but I wasn't sure that I was actually hearing them. If they were coming from someone, the person would have had to have been pretty far off. The sounds were extremely faint if I wasn’t imagining them."

  "But I mean any sounds at all. I've heard this one sound a bunch of times. I'm not sure how far off it is, but it doesn't really sound like a voice." She laughed nervously. "This has really stressed me out to the max, though. I wouldn't really be surprised if I was hearing things."

  "What kind of sound?"

  "I don't know.” Lynn said. “This will probably sound incredibly stupid, but when I was a kid, my dad took me and my little brother camping at least once every summer. I think I was like thirteen or fourteen when he took us to this huge reserve one year. One of the only things I remember about that trip is the nights that we spent out there. We stayed close to the fire, and we could hear them. Wolves. A lot of them. I don't think they were close at all. They might've even been miles off, but it didn't make much of a difference to me. They would howl and howl. I remember being scared pretty shitless. Me and my brother both."

  Lynn laughed quietly. "I was just a kid. Wolves seemed like the scariest things back then, even if I knew they were nowhere near us. The weird thing is that some of the only sounds that I've heard since waking up in this place have sounded just like that - that howling sound that the wolves made. I know it's crazy as hell. But that's really what it sounded like. They were really low - I could barely hear them - but I swear to God it sounded like there was a wolf howling somewhere out there. Wouldn't that be insane? I mean if there was a wolf in here with us?"

  She was laughing at the idea, but Chris could still hear the nervousness in her voice.

  Christ. This girl has no idea what to do with this. I think it's tough for me, but she's hearing wolves.

  "Any idea what else the sounds could have been?” Chris asked her. “Maybe a person yelling? Or even a person in pain, maybe?"

  "I don't know. I mean it could have been, but I just don't know. It didn't really seem like a human sound."

  "What about some type of machine? Maybe even something big? Heavy machinery even, maybe?"

  "I guess it could have been. I don't know what kind of machine would make a noise that sounded like that, but then I don't know a lot about that kind of stuff. All I could think of whenever I heard it was wolves. My mother always told me I had a one-track mind."

  There was a short silence before Lynn added, "She's going to be so worried when she finds out I'm missing. My whole family will. They won't stop looking for me until they find me." Her voice cracked, and she was sobbing again.

  "Why is this happening to me?” She asked. “I mean to us. What do they want?"

  "I don't know." Chris stared blindly into the darkness and shook his head. "I wish I knew."

  He waited for her tears to slowly calm, lost in his own thoughts for a moment.

  "Are you married, Lynn? Any kids?" He decided he needed to distract her – deny her the time necessary to nurture the hysteria he sensed she might be harboring beneath a barely maintained exterior calm.

  "I'm finishing school this year. A degree in advertising. I've been going out with the guy I'm with for three years now." Lynn's voice softened. "I think he's waiting for me to finish before he asks me. He's talked about marriage a lot lately - I really want him to ask me. I would say yes in a heartbeat. I love him. He's out there looking for me right now. If they go to him for a ransom, he'll do his best to come up with it. I’m sure of it. My parents would help him."

  She paused. "What about you? Do you have kids?"

  "I've got the perfect family at home. I mean really. Don’t know how else to put it, however cheesy." Chris was surprised to find he was struggling to keep his voice steady. "I couldn't really imagine it any better. My wife's name is Laura. I've got two sons, Kyle and David, and a daughter named Sarah. Love them all to death. They're doing the same thing - looking for me right now, I mean."

A question occurred to Chris. "What part of town are you from? I live out on the west side of the beach."

  "The beach?" Lynn sounded almost startled. "You live on a beach?"

  "Yeah, way out on the west side of town. You don't live near there?"

  "Wait. I don't understand. What beach? The nearest beach is like what – a thousand miles away?"

  Chris frowned. "You live a thousand miles from the beach?” He asked the question slowly, uneasily even as the blackness surrounding him suddenly seemed to be nearly claustrophobia-inducing.

  "I don’t understand." There was obvious confusion in Lynn’s voice. “There aren't any beaches in South Dakota, are there?"

  Chris felt something - the small part of him that had wanted to believe that it could all have perhaps been something as simple as a kidnapping for ransom - threaten to crumble.

  "I don't live in South Dakota." He licked his lips. How long had it been since he had had something to drink? "I live in Bradenton Beach, Florida. I actually write a satirical column and occasional news pieces for the Bradenton Herald."

It took Lynn a moment to absorb what he had said.

  "Rapid City." She finally whispered in response. "I'm from Rapid City."

  The silence that followed was filled with an almost palpable air of shock.

  "Do you remember what day it was when you were at home last?" Chris asked finally. "I mean the date?"

  "It was the fifteenth. I watched one of those late night talk shows, fed my cat, and went to bed. I don't remember anything else happening at all after that until I woke up here."

  What kind of kidnapper would abduct two people from opposite parts of the country in one night? How the hell does that make sense? Even if there's more than one of them, why would they do it that way? Christ. Something about this whole damned thing has to make some kind of sense.

  Chris suddenly wanted to be moving. He got to his feet slowly, expecting his legs to fight him, but was surprised to find that the aches and pains were gone.

  "I'm thinking it might be a good idea to walk while we talk. If we walk long enough we'll eventually have to come to something - it's a given."

  A given. A simple matter of physics, right? Why do I feel like I'm lying to her then?

  "Are you with me?" He asked her.

  "Sure, sounds like a plan to me." Lynn groped for his hand as she stood. "This might sound really childish, but, if you don’t mind, can I take your hand so we don't lose each other, though? Moving around when I can't see where I'm going makes me nervous as hell. "

  "Trust me, you’re not alone on that." Chris took her hand. "Shall we?"

  He chose a direction at random, and found himself walking through the darkness once again.