Chapter 1

Stormi Sincere didn’t really like her name. A lot of the other kids at school made fun of it. She finally just learned to put her head down and deal with it. She was just glad that her mom had started her out in school with just her middle initial, instead of her actual name. Nobody knew her middle name, and nobody would, if she had her way. She just told people she didn’t have a name, just an initial. An “F”. Most people accepted that. Some of her friends called her by her initials, kind of, they called her “STFU Sincere”, at least in notes and such, which amused her. She liked that more than her name.

Anyway. She was a fairly normal fourteen year old girl, living in a fairly normal small town, in a fairly normal state. There wasn’t really anything about her that wasn’t fairly normal. She’s so normal, I’m not even going to really describe her, except to say that she’s a brunette, long, waist-length hair, dark and dusky, and really exceptionally beautiful, when you stopped and looked. At first glance most folks passed her over, but she often got second glances. And third, and fourth. She had that special something, that charisma, or whatever you want to call it. She was special, in spite of being normal.

Everybody noticed it, eventually. Some people quicker than others, like Mr. Grody, who lived down on the corner from her. He was the neighborhood weirdo. Every neighborhood has one, it seems. He was an older gentleman, probably in his mid fifties, and I say gentleman loosely. He was not very gentle. He bitched at the kids for walking in his yard. He bitched at the garbage men if any trash fell on the ground and they didn’t pick it up. He bitched at the manager of the local Walt-Mart if they didn’t have exactly what he wanted, which was pretty much every time he visited. He was one of those people that most folks avoided. But, just because he was a gripy whiny old man doesn’t mean he was evil or anything. But most folks that had been in town a long time knew the real truth behind him. He was evil. Or rather, he had been evil, in the past. He had done time, back in the seventies, for beating a woman, and trying to kidnap another one. Shit like that. That had been a long time ago. You had to give people a break, at some point. Now, most people just treated him like a whiny old bitchpot and avoided him.

Anyway, Mr. Grody seemed to have a soft spot for Stormi. Well, and any other cute girl, but her in particular. Nobody knew it except her. He always bought Girl Scout cookies from her, and stuff like that. Lots of it, usually, and he liked to stand at his door and talk to her as he did. He would always say “howdy” to her when she walked by on the way to and from school, if he was out. And, he was usually out, to make sure the kids didn’t walk in his yard. Maybe he liked her because she never walked in his yard. Then again, maybe he liked her because she was cute, and ... dare I say it ... sexy. Who knows.

Stormi knew. She could tell he was undressing her with his eyes. She felt it. She avoided him, as best she could, which wasn’t hard, since she hardly every saw him. She knew, though, at least subconsciously, that he perved over her. She could just feel it. She knew he was a dirty old man. On those rare occasions that he ran into her, though, he treated her like a long lost friend, and would want to stop and talk. She always did, just to be polite, but she avoided him if she could see him coming. And those damn breath mints. He always offered her a breath mint. He was always sucking on one. He probably needed to, she thought. But it made her paranoid about her own breath. I mean, she thought, why is he always offering me one? Am I that bad? Mr. Grody, more than her dentist, was responsible more than anything for her excellent dental hygiene.

She often saw him walking down the alley, shuffling, really, his head down, as he returned from Walley World, carrying those damn white sacks. He kind of made her laugh, then. She often sat out in her back yard, in the porch swing, sometimes until well after dark. One clear beautiful summer evening after she finished her chores up she went outside. She called her friend Bethany on her phone, but Bethany and her family were going to her Grandma’s house. Foot, she thought. Nothing to do. She wandered out into the back yard and sat in the swing like she often did.

The funniest thing was there, in the swing. A stupid breath mint. Oh god, she thought, did he leave this for me? He sees me sitting here when he walks down the alley. Did he leave this, for whatever reason he’s always trying to give me one? What a weirdo. She flicked it onto the ground, and sat.

It was a calm evening. It slowly turned into night. She opened her eyes with a start. What the hell was that? She’d been asleep, or close. A possum ran across her field of vision, and she laughed. She looked at the house. All the windows were dark, except for Filbert’s. Filbert wasn’t really his name, Phillip was his name, but she called her little brother Filbert, just to annoy him. It was Tuesday night, her mom would be across the street at the Devlin’s, playing poker. She relaxed, checked her phone for messages, and leaned back in the swing. She felt restless, and bored. She wished something would happen.

Something did happen. Somebody behind her clamped their hand over her mouth, and pressed something into her neck. She tried to scream, but she couldn’t even breathe at the moment, much less scream.

“Don’t make a peep,” a voice whispered, “I got a taser on your neck. You don’t wanna get tased, trust me.”

She didn’t really know what a taser was or what it did, but it was beside the point, she couldn’t even breathe. The person finally stopped pinching her nostrils, and she drew a shuddering gasping snuffle through her nose. She tried to struggle then, but the guy pressed the taser harder into her neck, and clicked the switch for a brief second. Searing pain, centered around her neck, ran through her body. She just froze, and stopped all resistance.

Now the guy had a problem. She was in the swing, and he was behind it. He finally just roughly dragged her over the back and let her feet fall to the ground. She didn’t even have the strength to stand. She realized by now that she was in deep trouble, and she knew that trouble’s name. Mr. Grody. She could almost recognize his scent. You bastard, she thought, you’d better not touch me or I’ll ... I’ll...

She didn’t know where to go from there. She didn’t have a dad, to stick up for her. She was mad enough at that moment to do her own sticking up for. If he’d just let her go. And that damn taser thing, that had really sucked.

“Stand up!” he hissed at her, and pulled her up a little. She stood, and tried to kick him in the nuts, behind her. She didn’t even get close.

“Uh uh!” he said, and pressed the taser to her neck again. She froze, out of fear, and was glad that he didn’t fire it again. He dragged her towards the alley. There wasn’t even a gate, just an opening to walk through. In seconds they were in the alley, headed towards his house.

Oh shit, oh shit, she thought. I cannot let him take me into his house. I just cannot. Her mind raced for things to do, for ways to get away from him. God, she thought, he’s strong for an old fart. Stormi wasn’t a big girl, but she wasn’t small, either. She was, like I said, average. But she was powerless in his grasp, she felt like a little kid again. He just dragged her along, through the darkness, headed for his house, now barely a few hundred feet away.

It was Mr. Grody, she now knew for certain. They were right at his house. Shit! she thought, how can he do this, how can he think he’ll get away with this, everybody knows he’s a perv ... and she knew about the stuff he’d done before, she’d heard people talking. He’ll be the first suspect, she thought. He’ll be number one on the list.

They were in his yard, now. She didn’t feel much satisfaction at being right, though. She was more scared than satisfied. He dragged her around back, to where two cellar doors lay opened.

“Step up,” he said, roughly, and she stepped over the concrete threshold, and down into the cellar. She did fight him then, taser or no taser, but it was too late. The two of them stumbled down the stairs, and at the bottom he zapped her again with the taser. Good, this time. She collapsed to the ground, quivering, unable to speak or scream or anything. He dropped her, and went back up the stairs to close the doors. By the time he returned she had recovered a little, but she still couldn’t stand. He went to a large water tank in the corner, and put his back into it, shoving it aside. He fiddled with the wall behind it, and then came back to her and roughly pulled her to her feet. He took her to where the water tank had been. A small doorway was now exposed, and it was dark inside. She fought him again, and she finally was able to scream. For just a second, though, and his hand clamped again over her mouth. She tried to bite him, and he pressed to taser to her neck.

“Don’t make me,” he said, and she stopped struggling. He pushed her head down, and shoved her through the hole. She stumbled and fell, and tried to get up in the darkness. He had followed her through, and he stepped on her as he tried to get situated. He finally found a switch and flipped on the light, and as she got to her feet she could hear the water tank scraping the ground as he pulled it back over the small doorway.

She turned to him, opening her mouth to scream, her hands out like claws. She was ready to gouge his eyes out, if she had to. He was a guy, and bigger and stronger than her, but not that much bigger and stronger. He body was vibrating with adrenalin. She knew that his was her only chance. She was in his basement, in his secret room. She just didn’t know it was a secret room, yet.

He held the taser in one hand, and now he had a small pistol in the other. Shit, she thought.

“Scream if you wish. No one can hear you in here. No one. This whole room, and the door, is soundproofed,” he said, waiting for her to attack. He could see the panic in her eyes, and the trembling of her hands. He knew he had to break her spirit, and quick.

“Don’t make me tase you again. And don’t make me shoot you. Look. Look behind you.”

She didn’t trust him enough to look. He motioned again, somewhere behind her. She finally turned, and glanced for a second behind her, and then back to him. She’d seen what looked like a large hole, dug in the earthen floor that was still in that corner.

“That’s your grave, if you don’t behave yourself,” he said. “I’ll put you in that hole and no one will ever find you. Nobody even knows this room exists. I dug it myself. It’s not on the plans of this house, even if they exist somewhere.”

“You bastard!” she screamed at him, feeling powerless. She was breathing so hard right now she was almost hyperventilating. She felt like she could kill him with her bare hands, if he hadn’t been armed.

“Get used to it. Turn around,” he said. She just stood there, staring at him, trying to burn him up with her hatred.

“Turn around!” he said, coming towards her with the taser. She flipped him off, and turned, turning her back to him like she didn’t care, like she wasn’t scared shitless.

He must have put the gun back in his pocket, because he grabbed her again, his arm around her neck. She didn’t struggle. Now is not the time, she told herself. Let it go. You will have your moment.

She looked up, as he dragged her forward. There, right in front of her, was a cage. Her mouth almost dropped open. Seriously, a cage? This almost seemed like something out of a bad movie by now. She almost stopped and shook her head.

The front of the cage was made out of some kind of thick clear plastic, an inch thick, at least. Metal strips ran up and down where the sheets were fitted together. A door with piano-case hinges stood open, and he shoved her in it, and shut the door. There were two clasps, one at the top, and one at the bottom, and he slid padlocks through each one. She ignored him for a moment, and turned and looked. The main body of the cage was made of steel beams with separated metal welded to them. The floor was some kind of hard plastic. There was a cot in one corner, with a single pillow and blanket. A small toilet chair was in the other corner. A table and a single chair was at the front, on the side where the door was not. In the middle, close to where she was standing now, was a slot, covered over at the moment, but hinged to allow it to swing down. At several places on the front of the cage dozens of holes were drilled in the plastic, assumably to allow airflow or conversation. She turned to stare at him.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” she finally said. He just stared at her.

“A cage? I mean, really? A fucking cage?” she said, almost laughing. She felt hysteria just a moment away. Get a grip, she told herself.

“Stormi,” he finally said, still just staring at her, “this is your new home, until you learn to appreciate me. Get used to it. Accept it, and things will get better. Fight me, and you eventually will not exist.”

“Shit,” she just shook her head, and looked at him.

“And watch your language. Young ladies do not cuss,” he said. Again she felt hysteria bubbling just beneath her surface. Here she was, in a cage in a crazy old man’s basement, and he was lecturing her on her language.

“You better look around your new home in a hurry,” he said. “Until you prove you deserve it, I’m not leaving the lights on when I leave.”

Oh shit. The reality set in, and that. She did not want to be down her alone, in the dark. She plastered herself against the front of the cage, fighting down tears.

“Mr. Grody ... please,” she hated herself for begging. “Please don’t turn out the lights ... I’ll be good...”

“It won’t be totally dark. There is a red LED for my cameras in there. But, like I said, you need to earn it. We will start right now. Just be good and do what I say, and everything will be okay. Okay?”

She nodded, hating herself again. She made a vow, that instant, that she would have her vengeance on this motherfucker. On this crepuscular old fart who dared to put her in a cage. She would live, for no other reason, from here on out, to see his sorry ass in prison, or dead. So help me god, she told herself. So help me god.

He double-checked the locks, and turned to leave.

“I’ll be bring you breakfast in the morning. Just stay calm and quiet,” he said, and flipped off the lights. It was instantly, absolutely dark. She heard the scrape of the water tank. She heard the inner door shut, and the tank scraped again. Then there was silence.

In the upper front left corner of the prison cell, she saw a red LED shining. Another shone from the left rear corner. So, she realized, that was where the cameras were. Right before he had left, she had hurriedly looked around the basement, just to try and familiarize herself with her surroundings. In the far corner stood a regular toilet, looking funny all out in the open by itself. A sink was nearby. A table and a few shelves were pretty much it. In the other corner was some kind of weightlifting machine. And that was it.

Ha ha, you stupid old bastard, she thought, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She pushed the button, and it lit up, illuminating her face and a few feet around her.

Shit! No signal! She shook it, feeling hysteria mount again. Her hands trembled and she fumbled with the screen, going to messages. She sent a misspelled text to Phillip, saying simply “Mr Grody house”, but it didn’t send. No signal. She felt tears running down her face. She finally went to the cot, and slumped down, her back against the smooth wall of the cage. She did cry then, she cried her eyes out. For an hour or two, at least. She felt helpless, and alone, so alone. I cannot understand this, she told herself, I cannot understand why he is doing this. He could have raped her in the back yard, if he had wished that. He could have just raped her and left her. That would have been better than this. She had seen the hole in the floor. He’d called it her grave. She wondered if she’d go into that hole, eventually, no matter what. He wouldn’t dare turn her loose, after this.

She realized that as dark as it was, the two red LED lights in the corners of the cage provided a minimum of illumination. Now that an hour or so had passed, and her eyes had adjusted, she could see pretty good, in fact. She could make out the cot, and the toilet chair, and the other chair and table. There was something on the table. She rose and went to it, walking carefully, since it was still plenty dark. One the table was what looked like a stack of books, and several bottles of water. She opened one, and sniffed it experimentally. Just smells like water, she thought.

She jumped as some kind of buzzer went off. A few seconds later it buzzed again. She had no idea what it meant. She returned to the cot. She looked at her phone for a second, to see what time it was. A bit past nine. Her mother wouldn’t be home for another hour, she realized. She wouldn’t be missed, until then.

She realized about that time, in all the confusion and craziness of the abduction, that she had wet herself. Not a whole lot, but enough to be uncomfortable. It was slowly drying, but it would take a day or two for that to happen, if he didn’t give her more clothes.

Hours later, she was depressed. Really depressed. She realized that she wasn’t going to be found immediately. Don’t those idiots know? She thought. Can’t they figure this out? Who the hell else would do it? Who else but this guy?

She drank some water, and finally lay on the cot, and curled up under the blanket. It seemed hopeless to her, it they weren’t going to find her right away. She was in his hands, now.

She had no idea how long she’d slept. She looked at her phone, but it was just a number. She didn’t remember when she’d lain down. She finally heard the water tank being moved, and she got up and waited until he flipped on the light. She watched him enter the basement. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t want to start the conversation.

He had brought some food. He opened the feeding slot, and placed the plate on it. She smelled scrambled eggs and saw toast. Her stomach betrayed her by growling. She just stared at him, willing him to feel sorry for her and let her go.

He didn’t. He finally spoke, and it seemed like to her that he gloated. “I can’t stay long. I’m helping look for you.”

“You pathetic bastard,” was all she managed.

“Lot of excitement around her early this morning. Cops even showed up. I took them all through the house, even down into the cellar. Lots of excitement, over a little runaway girl.”

She just shook her head. She believed him, actually. She knew her mother would never believe she ran away. Where would she run to? There wasn’t anybody. She had no money. She had no street-smarts. She knew her mom wouldn’t believe that, for an instant. She wished she’d told her mom about Mr. Grody, before this. But, then, she wished lots of things. Wish in one hand, and shit in the other, as her uncle used to say.

“I guess you figured out your phone doesn’t work, down here,” he continued, “you are in a Faraday cage. No signal can get in, or out. Otherwise I would have taken it off of you. I’ve tried five different phones down here, including one just like yours. None of them even came close.”

He finally left. Just for the hell of it, she tried her phone again. Nothing. She looked at the time. It was hard for her, without sunlight or nighttime to help her judge the passage of time. It was day, her phone said it was daytime outside, and the day passed slowly. She badly wanted to play games on her phone, but she didn’t want to run the battery down. She still tried to text every now and then, hoping that at least one message would make it out. None ever did.

Mr. Grody made a few brief appearances, to give her a meal in-between lunch and dinner, and brief her on the search party progress. He seemed to find that amusing, and it pissed her off even more. She didn’t want to give him any satisfaction, so she tried her hardest to show no reactions to the things he said.