On paper, this cabin was perfect. It belonged to Derrick’s family. There was no cable. No Wi-Fi. No mail service. No close neighbors. And it was winter, so all the summer hikers and bikers would be gone.

It had started out as a fantasy, but the more Bob thought about it, the more real it got. It was, he realized, a genius idea. Once at the cabin, he would have no choice but to write. And so it had all been arranged—Derrick to pretend to fake kidnap him (but not in front of witnesses, lest anyone call the police), the isolated cabin, the old-fashioned typewriter.

Bob had told Derrick not to let him go, no matter what he said. While they’d designated a safe word, he’d planned to never use it.

It had seemed a perfect plan. But clearly Bob hadn’t thought about it enough. And he hadn’t anticipated them adding their own wrinkles. Like chaining him to a treadmill instead of a desk. And the food was supposed to be cold pizza, regular Coke, beef jerky, and a variety of flavors of Doritos, Takis, and Kettle Chips.

Now under Derrick’s watchful gaze, Bob lined up the edges of the paper with the typewriter. With a clicking sound he turned the knob to move it down and around the roller. He hadn’t used a typewriter in decades, but the muscle memory returned without conscious thought.

Derrick was still staring at him, arms crossed. “You need to start the treadmill. Press that green button.”

Bob made a face. “I can’t write with you watching me. I need to put myself in the scene, and I can’t do that when you’re just standing there staring at me.”

And there was no way he was going to be able to figure out how to free himself if he was being observed.

BRIDGET

Show Some Respect

Despite standing in line seven hours, Bridget had barely managed to snag a seat. For Haldon she’d decided to endure the panicky, trapped feeling being in a crowd sometimes gave her. Many people in the audience were dressed in elaborate costumes, which added to the feeling of unreality. The lady ahead of her was wearing a plastic unicorn horn and wings covered with real feathers. She kept shifting, which meant that in order to see Haldon, Bridget had to constantly alter her own position as well. But she didn’t care. She was hearing Haldon himself talk about the book that would soon take her out of her life, make her forget the hole that could never be filled.

After he finished his reading, he took questions from the audience.