The Lives
Copyright© 2026 by R. E. Bounds
Chapter 17: The Executive
By the time I wandered into the dining room, half the company seemed to already be there.
The lodge sat on the edge of a lake somewhere in the Adirondacks, tucked far enough into the mountains that my phone had given up trying to find a signal sometime boarding the busses from the airport.
Honestly, I hadn’t minded. For once, nobody could ask me to “just jump on a quick call.”
Morning sunlight poured through the wall of windows overlooking the water, burning away the last of the mist. Outside, the dock was empty except for a pair of Adirondack chairs that looked far more inviting than anything on today’s schedule.
Inside, the smell of coffee almost made the mandatory retreat worth it.
Almost.
I grabbed a mug from the buffet, filled it nearly to the top, and added enough cream that anyone from HR would probably call it a wellness concern.
I scanned the room for an empty table.
No such luck.
“Planning on hiding?”
I looked over my shoulder.
Emily stood there balancing a plate with scrambled eggs, toast, and enough bacon to concern a cardiologist.
“I was hoping.”
“I saw that look.”
“What look?”
“The one where you’re calculating which table gives you the lowest chance of making small talk.”
“I don’t make that face.”
“You absolutely make that face.”
She nodded toward an empty table near the windows.
“C’mon.”
I followed her over.
“I’m only sitting with you,” I said, “because you’re technically less exhausting than everyone else.”
“I’ll take it.”
We sat.
For a minute neither of us said anything. The room buzzed with quiet conversations, clinking dishes, and the occasional burst of laughter from the sales department, who somehow had enough energy to be loud before eight in the morning.
Around the room, everyone was doing the same thing people always did at company events—pretending they weren’t paying attention to who was talking to whom, who was sitting where, and who seemed to be doing well.
Emily buttered her toast.
“So...”
I pointed my coffee mug at her.
“That ‘so’ never leads anywhere good.”
“You looked at today’s schedule?”
“Enough to know they’re feeding us again at noon.”
She laughed.
“You didn’t actually read it.”
“I skimmed.”
“You skipped everything between breakfast and lunch.”
“I prefer surprises.”
“No, you prefer pretending mandatory activities don’t exist until someone physically comes to collect you.”
“ ... That’s also true.”
She reached into the canvas folder we’d all been handed at check-in and unfolded the printed itinerary.
“‘Group A,’” she read dramatically, “‘will report to Conference Hall B at nine a.m. for Executive Rescue.’”
I frowned.
“I remember seeing that.”
“What do you think it is?”
“I assumed an escape room.”
“So did I.”
Emily flipped to another page.
“But apparently not.”
“Oh?”
“I was talking to Melissa from Accounting last night. She said the company running it travels all over the Northeast doing corporate events.”
“So ... portable escape room.”
“Apparently a really elaborate one.”
I took another sip of coffee.
“I’ve done one escape room.”
“How was it?”
“We escaped.”
“Good ending.”
“The zombies probably disagreed.” I looked at her. “Or was it werewolves.”
Emily smiled.
“I’ve never done one.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“I’m not worried.”
“You sound worried.”
“I’m curious.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The face.”
“What face?”
“The one that means you’re interested even though you’re pretending you’re not.”
I opened my mouth to object.
Didn’t.
She was right.
“Fine,” I admitted. “A little.”
“Thought so.”
At the next table, someone was telling a story loudly enough for half the room to hear.
“ ... my cousin did one outside Syracuse...”
“ ... said they had actors...”
“ ... felt like being in a movie...”
Emily leaned slightly closer.
“I also heard something else.”
“Oh no.”
“No, seriously.”
“If this starts with ‘Mike told me—’ I’m going to go pack and catch the next bus out.”
“It does start with Mike.”
I groaned.
“He swears the company uses real equipment.”
I blinked.
“What kind of equipment?”
“He said restraints.”
I laughed.
“Mike also spent twenty minutes last night explaining how the bartender used to be in the CIA.”
“That’s fair.”
Outside, movement caught my eye.
A white box truck rolled around the side of the conference building.
The logo on the side read:
North Ridge Experiences
The rear door lifted.
Two people in matching black polo shirts began unloading large road cases onto dollies.
Not plastic storage bins.
Real equipment cases.
Heavy ones.
“ ... Okay.”
Emily followed my gaze.
“Yeah.”
“That seems...”
“Professional.”
I nodded.
Another long black case appeared from inside the truck.
One of the men set it carefully on the pavement before unlocking it.
The lid opened.
I caught a flash of sunlight glinting off something nestled inside custom-cut foam.
The lid closed again before I could make out exactly what I was looking at.
I sighed.
Emily looked at me.
“What?”
“I thought we’d be solving crossword puzzles.”
She chuckled.
“I don’t think crossword puzzles come in Pelican cases.”
“Fair point.”
The dining room doors then opened.
Karen from Human Resources walked in carrying a clipboard.
She smiled the kind of smile that suggested she’d had far more coffee than anyone should legally consume.
“Morning, everyone.”
The room quieted.
“I hope you’re enjoying the lodge.”
A few polite murmurs.
“I just wanted to remind everyone that Group A will be meeting in Conference Hall B in about twenty minutes. The North Ridge team got most of the setup done last night. The second truck just arrived with the remaining equipment, so we’ll be starting right on schedule.”
Someone near the buffet raised a hand.
“What exactly is Executive Rescue?”
Karen smiled.
“I’ve been specifically asked not to spoil it.”
Groans answered her.
“I will say this.”
She glanced toward the windows.
“It’s ... considerably more immersive than a traditional escape room.”
Someone else called out, “Is it scary?”
“No.”
Another voice.
“Is it physical?”
“A little,” she replied. “But nothing taxing.”
“Yes, Bob,” someone called out. “You actually have to move around.”
Laughter rippled through the room.
Then, from somewhere behind us:
“I heard there are real handcuffs.”
I looked over. Naturally, it was Mike.
Laughter spread through the room.
Karen hesitated just long enough to make everyone notice.
“I’ve been assured that the North Ridge team has safety protocols in place for every part of the activity.”
That only made everyone laugh harder.
Emily leaned toward me.
“That’s either incredibly reassuring...”
“ ... or not.”
Karen checked her watch.
“Comfortable shoes are recommended.”
Emily pointed at my shoes with her fork.
I just looked at her.
“That’s why you should read things.”
With that, Karen walked back out.
Conversations slowly resumed.
I looked out the window again.
The North Ridge crew had disappeared into the conference building.
I watched as Emily finished the last bite of toast.
“So.”
I sighed.
“What?”
Emily glanced at her watch.
“We have enough time to head upstairs and get you some more comfortable shoes.”
“I’m not changing.”
“Just put on flats.”
“They’re going to be taking pictures.”
“And?”
“And those pictures don’t disappear.”
Emily raised an eyebrow.
“What does that mean?”
“It means they end up everywhere,” I said. “The company newsletter. The internal site. Leadership presentations. Maybe someone’s next team meeting deck.”
I looked down at my shoes.
“I’m not interested in being remembered as the person who showed up to a leadership retreat in a tailored suit and sneakers.”
Emily opened her mouth to argue.
I pointed toward the dining room.
“Look around.”
Most of the women were dressed exactly the way the company expected us to be. Blazers. Dresses. Tailored pants. Professional, polished, put together.
And almost every one of them had made the same choice.
Heels.
I looked down at Emily’s shoes.
Then back at her.
I didn’t say a word.
I didn’t need to.
She followed my gaze.
“Fine.”
I smiled and took the last sip of my coffee, completely unaware that the shoes she was so worried about would soon become the least of my problems.
By the time Emily and I left the dining room, the hallway had filled with people heading in the same direction.
Conference Hall B was at the far end of the lodge, past the meeting rooms and the old stone fireplace where everyone had gathered the night before. The closer we got, the more it stopped feeling like a casual team activity and started feeling like something the organizers had put a lot of thought into.
There were signs taped to the walls.
NORTH RIDGE EXPERIENCES — GROUP A CHECK-IN
A woman in a black polo shirt stood behind a folding table with a tablet.
“Good morning. Group A?”
A dozen people raised their hands.
“Perfect. If you could check in here, I’ll get everyone accounted for.”
We formed a loose line.
Emily stood beside me, looking around.
“Okay.”
“What?”
“This is more elaborate than I expected.”
I glanced around.
She wasn’t wrong.
The conference room doors were open, and inside I could see sections of the room had been transformed. Portable walls divided the space. There were tables, lockers, old-looking filing cabinets, and what appeared to be a mock control station.
It looked less like an escape room and more like a movie set.
A man carrying a clipboard walked by.
“Morning, everyone. I’m David. I’ll be one of your facilitators today.”
He smiled.
“Before we start, I want to go over expectations. The goal of today’s exercise is communication, teamwork, and problem solving. It is not about strength, speed, or trying to outsmart the staff.”
A few people laughed.
“Trust me,” he continued, “we’ve been doing this long enough to know when someone thinks they’ve found a shortcut.”
Mike raised his hand.
“So, you’re saying there’s shortcuts?”
David smiled.
“I’m saying people always think there are shortcuts.”
More laughter.
The woman at the check-in table finished scanning everyone’s names.
“All right. We have everyone.”
She looked down at the tablet.
“For this exercise, we randomly selected one of you to be our kidnapped executive.”
She glanced at the screen again.
“Sarah Mitchell?”
I raised my hand.
“That’s me.”
“Great. You’re the executive.”
Emily glanced at me.
“Of course you are.”
I looked at her.
“You do realize it was random, right?”
“Sure.”
“No, seriously. She literally just said random.”
Emily shrugged.
I shook my head.
“You don’t even know what that means yet.”
The woman smiled politely.
“Sarah, if you could step over here with me, we’ll go through the first part of the briefing.”
I followed her toward the front of the room.
The rest of the group gathered around.
The woman introduced herself.
“I’m Rachel. I’ll be handling equipment orientation.”
She gestured toward a table.
On it were several black cases.
“Before anyone gets nervous, I want to be very clear about what we’re doing today.”
She looked around the group.
“The equipment used in this scenario is authentic,” Rachel explained. “North Ridge provides training services for a variety of professional organizations, including public safety agencies, as well as corporate groups like yours. Our staff are trained in the proper handling, application, and safety procedures associated with this equipment.”
She paused, letting that settle in.
“Everything we use today is legally owned, inspected before each event, and applied only by trained facilitators. The purpose is not to make anyone uncomfortable. The purpose is to create a realistic scenario while maintaining a safe environment.”
She looked at me.
I nodded.
Hopefully, I wasn’t making one of my faces.
Emily had a talent for knowing exactly what I was thinking just by looking at me. Unfortunately, my face had never been as good at keeping secrets as I was.
“Before we begin, I need to review the rules.”
She spoke in the same calm tone someone might use explaining safety instructions before a ropes course.
“You will not attempt to defeat or manipulate the equipment,” Rachel continued. “Not because we think you’re going to, but because people naturally test things when they’re unfamiliar. Pulling against equipment or trying to force a release is the fastest way to create unnecessary discomfort.”
She looked around the group.
“The equipment is designed to hold. It isn’t something you fight with. If you have any discomfort, you tell us immediately. Numbness, pain, circulation issues, anything unusual. We can adjust it. We would much rather you speak up than try to work through it.”
“Got it.”’
“Good.”
She turned slightly so the group could hear.
Rachel addressed the group.
“This exercise is designed around communication and trust. Sarah will have very limited mobility.”
She looked at me.
“That is intentional.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“The goal isn’t to make one person sit out,” Rachel continued. “The goal is to see how the team adapts when one of its members needs support. Sarah will still be an active part of solving the scenario, but she’ll have to rely on everyone else to help carry out any physical tasks.”
She looked around the room.
“Good teams don’t just work well when everyone can contribute in the same way. They work well when they can recognize what each person needs and adjust.”
Emily glanced at me.
“So basically, we have to take care of you.”
I looked at her.
A few people laughed.
Rachel motioned toward the equipment.
“Sarah, the first part will be the equipment application.”
Even though I knew it was coming, hearing it said out loud made the room feel a little quieter.
Rachel noticed.
“Again, this is a controlled activity. We’re going to take our time. If anything feels wrong, you let us know.”
“Okay.”
She nodded.
“Let’s start.”
David, who had introduced himself earlier, stepped forward beside Rachel.
“As Rachel applies the equipment, I’ll explain what you’re seeing.”
Rachel smiled at me.
“Ready?”
I nodded.
She gently took my left wrist.
“The first step is the wrist equipment,” David said. “Rachel will fit them individually before they’re connected to the transport assembly. We check for proper fit, wrist alignment, and comfort before moving on.”
The metal was colder than I expected.
Not dramatic.
Not intimidating.
Just solid.
Real.
Rachel snugged the first cuff into place, then repeated the process with the second.
She slid a fingertip between the metal and my wrist.
“Too tight?”
I flexed my fingers.
“No.”
“Any pinching?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Without taking her attention away from what she was doing, Rachel checked both cuffs a second time before inserting the handcuff key and engaging the double lock.
David continued addressing the group.
“Once the cuffs have been properly fitted, they’re double locked. That prevents them from tightening any further through normal movement and is part of the standard safety procedure whenever this equipment is used.”
Rachel gave each cuff one final check before nodding.
“Comfortable?”
I flexed my fingers.
“Yeah.”
“Good,” she said. “That’s exactly what we’re looking for.”
David continued with the briefing.
“Once the wrist equipment has been properly fitted, the security box is applied. This limits arm movement while distributing the load across the waist rather than the wrists.”
Rachel had me hold out my wrists and opened a black box, closing it over the handcuffs and pushing a metal piece over it, holding the box closed.
I kept my wrists up at Rachel’s direction, realizing I couldn’t bend them anymore.
“The waist chain is then applied,” David explained, “and looped through the security box so that the wrists are securely and safely held in front.”
Rachel guided my cuffed hands down after wrapping the chain around my waist, under my suit jacket. She pushed a metal bar through the chain, added another long chain over the bar that fell down toward my ankles, and then guided the box into place, pushing the metal bar through a hole in it. She then pulled the excess waist chain through the bar that was now protruding through the box, snaking it over the box and then back down.
It left me surprisingly limited. Very limited.
I could move my hands.
My fingers.
But my wrists were now secured in front of me at my waist.
I couldn’t pull them away.
“As you can see,” David explained, “Rachel has applied a lead chain from the waist. It’ll be used shortly, connecting to the leg equipment. Meanwhile, Sarah’s wrists are now safely held at her waist.”
Rachel walked behind me.
I heard a click before she stepped back in front of me.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
I didn’t look at her.
I just tried moving my wrists again
They still didn’t move.
“The padlock at the back holds the waist chain in place,” David explained. “It must be released before the chain can be pulled back through the box. The box covers the keyholes and prevents the wrist equipment from being released.”
As he spoke, Rachel gently turned me to the side so everyone could see the padlock.
“Attempting to reach the padlock isn’t possible,” he continued, as Rachel gently moved my wrists along the chain to either side, demonstrating what little movement I had.
Finally, Rachel crouched in front of me.
“And the last component is the leg equipment.”
She looked up.
“Just stand naturally.”
I did.
Seeing my heels, she stood, walked over to the table, and picked up another set of restraints. Shorter ones. Then she knelt in front of me again.
The cuffs settled around my ankles one at a time before being checked just as carefully as my wrists.
“Comfortable?” she asked.
“As comfortable as someone can be wearing all of this.”
She smiled.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
David looked back to the group.
“This is a standard transport configuration. As you saw, my colleague selected the shorter leg equipment. Sarah is wearing heels, and we know a longer connecting chain can become entangled or increase the risk of falling. For that reason, shorter-chain leg equipment is often used. They’re safe when used properly, but they do require a little more care during movement.”
Rachel and David treated the entire process like a routine they’d performed hundreds of times.
Professional.
Methodical.
Almost boring.
And I stood there completely restrained.
Rachel stood back and looked me over one more time.
“All right,” she said. “Before we begin, I want you to take a few steps. Not because there’s anything wrong. Just so you understand how you’ll be moving.”
She turned slightly toward the group.
“The goal isn’t to make this difficult,” Rachel said. “The goal is to make you aware of the limitations so everyone understands how to work together. It’s also so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself by trying to do something you can’t safely do right now.”
I looked down at my shoes and the short chain between my ankles.
That sentence would have been more comforting before I ignored the advice about footwear, I thought to myself.
I glanced over at Emily.
She was mouthing the words:
I told you.
Rachel noticed the exchange.
“Small steps,” she said. “Take your time.”
I moved forward.
The first step was shorter than I expected.
The chain between my ankles went tight almost immediately, stopping my stride.
“Remember, you’re wearing short-chain leg equipment,” Rachel explained. “Your stride is limited. You’ll need to take small, controlled steps. Don’t rush yourself.”
I nodded and took another step.
The second one felt just as unnatural.
That was when I realized how much I normally relied on things I never thought about.
My arms.
My stride.
The ability to adjust my balance without consciously thinking about it.
The restraints didn’t make movement impossible.
They just made every movement something I had to consider.
Every step had to be intentional.
I took another step.
Then another.
“Good,” Rachel said. “Exactly like that.”
I looked up at her and smiled.
Then I glanced around the room.
A few people smiled back.
Some still looked uncertain.
But the tension had eased.
That was probably what Rachel wanted.
Not for anyone to forget what was happening.
Just for everyone to understand that this was still a team exercise.
Not a punishment.
Not a performance.
A controlled exercise.
“All right, everyone. Let’s move into the exercise space,” David said.
Everyone quieted as we slowly filed inside.
I moved carefully beside Rachel, who stayed close enough to help if I needed it.
The space beyond looked halfway between an abandoned warehouse, a holding area, and a movie set.
There were multiple doors leading to what appeared to be other rooms. A large timer mounted near the ceiling.
David waited until everyone had settled.
“The premise is simple. Your team is responsible for completing a rescue.”
He looked at me.
“Sarah is a company executive who has been kidnapped and is being held for ransom. Your leadership has hired you—an elite team of professionals—to get her out.”
A few people glanced at me.
I raised my eyebrows.
“Glad I’m getting such a flattering role.”
A few people laughed.
David continued.
“But as you can see, her kidnappers have placed her in high-security transport equipment. You cannot simply move her like this. You need to get her out of the equipment first.”
He gestured toward me.
“As Rachel explained earlier, cutting them off is not an option. Neither is manipulating the equipment. We assure you; the equipment is very real.”
He pointed toward the room.
“There are a series of rooms you’ll move through. Each one will provide clues. Clues that will help you get Sarah out of the equipment and then get her to safety.”
He paused.
“There are challenges you must complete in each room.”
A few people looked around.
“So, we’re solving clues,” Mike said.
“Exactly,” David replied. “And completing challenges.”
He pointed up at the timer.
“But as you can see, once that clock runs out, so does the opportunity to complete the rescue.”
He smiled.
“And you know what that means for Sarah.”
“So, just to clarify,” someone called out, “our company isn’t actually paying the ransom?”
“Sounds about right.” another voice answered.
The room laughed.
David smiled before continuing.
“Sarah cannot physically search the environment or retrieve items. Again, this is intentional.”
He looked back at the group.
“She is still part of the team. She may notice things you miss. She may connect pieces that others overlook. But completing the assignment requires communication.”
He gestured around the room.
“You can’t leave her behind. Some clues require her involvement. That means getting her from room to room quickly, but safely.”
Emily glanced at me with a smile.
I just gave her a look.
Of course.
The one time I wanted to sit back and watch everyone else work, I was the center of the entire exercise.
David looked around the group.
“Are there any questions?”
“So, she’s stuck like that until we find the keys?”
It was Mike.
Obviously, he was the one who would ask that.
But I looked at David.
Then Rachel.
Hoping they were joking.
Hoping they had the keys ready and this wasn’t actually how the exercise worked.
“Yes,” David replied. “That’s one of the objectives. Get her out of the equipment, then get her to safety.”
Emily nodded.
“Got it.”
Rachel stepped forward.
“The important part is communication. Once again, Sarah’s limitations are intentional. She can’t use her hands. Her movement is restricted. She needs your help.”
She looked around at the group.
“This is the point of the exercise. You’re not solving this by having one person do everything. You’re solving it as a team.”
With that, David walked over to the control station and started the clock.
The timer above us came to life.
I started forward with the group.
Immediately, I noticed the difference.
Everyone else moved naturally.
They opened drawers.
Moved chairs.
Picked things up.
I stood there.
Watching.
Waiting.
A strange feeling settled in.
Not embarrassment.
Not fear.
Just awareness.
I was standing there, unable to open a cabinet or move a piece of equipment without someone else doing it for me.
“Sarah?”
I turned.
Emily was holding a folder she’d pulled from one of the cabinets.
“You’re staring,” I said.
She looked at me for a second, then smiled.
“It’s hard not to.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Why?”
She glanced down briefly, then back up.
“You look really good in those.”
I closed my eyes.
When I opened them again, she was still smiling.
“Emily.”
“What?”
“Really?”
She laughed.
“Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”
I shook my head.
She looked at my hands, then at the way I was standing.
“Can you actually move at all in those?”
I looked down.
I tried shifting my wrists slightly.
Nothing.
Not enough to matter.
“No,” I said. “Not really.”
I took a careful step forward.
“See?”
Emily watched as I moved.
The short steps.
The way I had to think about every bit of balance and distance instead of just walking normally.
She opened her mouth to say something else.
Then—
The alarm sounded.
A sharp, sudden tone cut through the room.
Everyone froze.
For a second, nobody moved.
It didn’t sound like the kind of alarm built into the exercise.
Or maybe it did.
I looked toward David.
Rachel.
The others did the same.
The room went quiet.
The timer above us was still counting down.
But something about the sound had changed the atmosphere.
“Everyone out.”
The voice came from the doorway.
The conference room doors opened, and a lodge security guard stepped inside.
“I need everyone out of this room.”
David looked over.
“What’s going on? We’re in the middle of an exercise.”
The security guard shook his head.
“This is not an exercise.”
The room changed instantly.
The joking stopped.
The searching stopped.
“I need everyone to calmly head to the nearest exit. Now.”
He pointed toward the doors.
“Please.”
Everyone started moving.
The group that had been spread throughout the room suddenly became a crowd of coworkers trying to understand what was happening.
They filed out of the room into the larger area.
Toward the exits.
I stayed where I was for a moment.
Rachel had turned back toward the table.
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