Wrong Place, Right Time(9)

My pleas are falling on deaf ears. Dev says nothing as we rush past a set of cubicles.

“Is this where I’m supposed to work?” I look over my shoulder, the comfortable-looking chairs and cubicles disappearing in the distance. I complained before about coding, but I won’t complain anymore. Just let me code! I don’t want to run from strange sounds!

“Later,” he says.

Another boom echoes out behind us, this time fainter because we’re farther away. I pick up the pace, no longer interested in those damn cubicles. Screw coding . . . get me outta here. He better be bringing me to a back door.

“Is somebody trying to get into the warehouse?” I ask, fearing the obvious.

“Could be.” We reach a hallway and he turns right and then takes another quick left.

“Where are we going?” I’m whining now. I can’t help it. I’m so going to kill my sister when I see her again. Forget nipple twists. Those are for minor transgressions; I’m going to put her in a figure-four and make her beg for mercy.

“You’ll see.”

He stops at a door that has a keypad on the outside of it. He jabs in a code, and the click of a lock releasing follows.

Pushing the door open with his shoulder, he takes me by the elbow and drags me in behind him. A dim overhead light illuminates the small closet-sized space we’re now standing in. I am so not impressed with this rescue plan. There are mops hanging on the wall, for God’s sake.

I crane my neck back to look up at him. “You’re seriously hiding me in a broom closet?”

Dev doesn’t answer me. Instead, he reaches over and starts pressing buttons on a keypad hidden behind one of the mops on the wall. As he enters another code, the keypad lights up, displaying both the numbers and a black screen below it. This device looks a lot more sophisticated than the one on the outside of this closet, which should make me feel more secure, but instead it makes me more worried. Exactly how much trouble am I in right now?

Dev finishes with the code and puts his first three fingers on the screen below. The click that I hear when he’s done is much more substantial this time, leading me to believe it’s a more secure place that we’ll be entering; which is awesome, because this closet we’re in now is only good for protecting janitorial supplies. A portion of the wall housing a shelving unit separates from the back side of the space and swings inward.

Whoa. Super-secret hideaway bat cave. I’m not sure if I should be impressed or worried that I’m about to enter it.

Dev steps inside and turns on a light. I can’t see all of what’s behind him, but what I can see is enough to make me scared all over again.

“What the hell is that?” I’m pointing to a space that has not just chairs and tables, but a bank of computers and a row of bunk beds. There’s enough room for at least ten people in there.

He reaches down and takes my hand again, pulling me through the door. “This is a panic room. But you’re not supposed to panic when you’re in here, because you’re safe. Stay calm.”

When I’m clear of the threshold, he shuts the door behind us. There’s a long beeeeeep and then the sound of locks clicking into place. The place is as silent as a tomb, and I can now smell the strong scent of iron coming off of him, probably from his workout or whatever he was doing before I came in through the door of this crazy place that I am now going to call the Hotel California. If he tells me I can check out any time I like, but I can never leave, I’m going to do something he seriously won’t like. I’m not sure what that thing would be exactly, but I’m sure I can come up with something.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I say, snorting my disbelief. “Not panic? Stay calm? Dude, you must be high.”

He lets go of my hand and walks over to a telephone that’s hanging on the wall. Without responding, he picks up the handset and presses a single button. He waits in silence, and I pass the time by listening to my heart beating in my ears. It’s going way too fast. I look around to see if they have any of those electric heart attack paddle units attached to the wall. I might need one of them soon.

This cannot be happening. This has to be some kind of joke, but I have no idea why my sister would work with a bunch of jerks who play pranks like this on people when they show up for their first day of work. That guy Ozzie must be seriously good in bed for her to put up with it. I knew I shouldn’t have backed out of my bathe-and-drink-wine plan. Stupid, stupid, stupid . . .

Dev puts the phone back on the hook and shakes his head, hissing out a sigh of frustration.

“What’s wrong?” I’m not even sure I want to hear his answer.