He would invite Derrick to read what he’d written. Imagining the boy bending over the page, he hoisted the typewriter. The effort forced a grunt between his lips. It was heavier than he’d thought. He brought it down on Derrick’s imaginary head. Once he did it for real, he would search the unconscious boy for a phone, the key to the shackles, or both. With luck, he would also find the key to the car, so he could drive away and not have to worry about him regaining consciousness before the police showed up.

He set the typewriter back in its original position, turned on the treadmill, and resumed typing. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. Sweat gathered on the small of his back as he typed and walked and waited.

Finally, he heard the hinges creak. Turning to look, Bob nearly lost his balance.

“I’ve been productive,” he said jovially. “Want to see what I’ve come up with?”

Derrick came closer. Bob hit the OFF button for the treadmill. In the sudden silence, his breathing sounded too loud, too fast. Would it give him away? Maybe Derrick would chalk it up to him being out of shape.

The boy stopped a few feet away. Not close enough for Bob to bean. But perhaps, he feared, close enough to read what he’d typed.

Derrick pointed up at the ceiling. “You really think I’d leave you alone?”

Bob followed his finger. And then he spotted it. Black, round, not much bigger than a car fob. It blended in with the knotholes, but it was a tiny spy camera.

Pointed at him.

DERRICK

Non-Player Character

Sitting in the back row of Introduction to Economics, Derrick surreptitiously checked his phone for the dozenth time. On it was the video feed of what he now thought of as the Haldon Cam. Bob was typing steadily, as he had been every time Derrick checked. It was such a temptation to ditch school, drive back to the cabin, and immediately read what he’d written. To finally return to Derrick’s beloved world of Swords and Shadows.

But he forced himself to wait. Reading only a few hundred words would just whet his appetite. Would remind him of how long he’d been starving.

Away from school, Derrick was usually at a LARP or preparing for one: sewing new garb, crafting weapons, and working on plotlines. Mostly in his room, because his mom was not a big fan. Joanne thought fantasy in general and LARPing in particular was a waste of time, a way to avoid real life, and a time suck. And that was when she was being charitable.

Earlier in the year, his mom had unexpectedly found herself out of a job. Her then-employer, a model turned actress, had impulsively shaved her head and jetted off to the Himalayas, planning to meditate for a year.