I thought about the camera above me and took my hand away from my face. I rolled back to the desk and sat there, trying to stop from shaking, trying to make myself take a breath. Think about it slow. The first thing was, should I hit a button?
The red button was for an emergency. If she was a prisoner or something, and she was trying to escape, they might think that was an emergency. But no one had been hurt that I knew of. And I think Mr. Solomon meant save that for something that was like a police or ambulance emergency, not something like this. But what about the green button?
This was definitely something “noteworthy”. Not only that she was asking for help, but that she was asking me for help.
I made myself stop for a moment. I couldn’t know for sure she was asking me. I had gone to school with several boys named Thomas. It was a common name. But the chances of her painting that name when I was working here? I didn’t want to be silly, but I wasn’t trying to be too…what’s that word. Mom used to say it when she read her angel books. Skeptics. I didn’t want to be a skeptic either. I had to believe it was probably meant for me. And that was something they would want to know.
But should I hit the green button? My hands were drifting toward the metal box on the desk, but I hesitated. I didn’t like breaking rules, and I was scared of what would happen if I broke these. If they really were holding her prisoner, then they were probably very bad people. But I didn’t know that. Maybe they were good and she was bad. But I just…
I looked back at the monitor for the first time since reading the words. Rachel was already moving the paintings back off the sofa, as though she knew the message had been received. A canvas in each hand, she glanced up at the camera as she moved across the room, and it felt like she was looking right at me. My chest tightened as my hands moved away from the buttons.
No. I didn’t think she was bad. I had watched her for years. I felt like I knew her, would know if she was bad. Strange as it seemed, in a way she was my friend. And I was going to try and help her.
I spent the rest of my shift trying to act normal and think of what to do. I knew whoever else was watching might have noticed the paintings or seen how I acted, but I couldn’t worry about that. I would try to play it cool and try to think how I could help her.
The only people I had actually met connected to this job were a couple of people when I filled out the papers and then Mr. Solomon when he showed me the model room and told me the job. I had no way of contacting any of them except through the buttons. My checks were deposited electronically and I had never run into anyone else who worked at the surveillance room.
That thought made me stop a second. I had always thought it was weird that I never ran into someone when I was coming or going—the person I was taking over for or the person who was taking over for me. I had always figured there must be other people, other surveillance rooms even, and they just scheduled us so we didn’t run into each other. And I still thought there were others.
Part of why I thought that was because it seemed like I wasn’t the only person who used my surveillance room. The water cooler, the toilet paper, the soap, they all seemed go down faster than I think I was using it by myself. If that was true, maybe I could figure out who they were, and maybe they would be safer to talk to than whoever it was that I worked for.
I got off work at eight that night, and instead of grabbing some food and going home, I drove my car around the block and then parked down the street from the building where I worked. Nothing had changed while I drove around for a minute—no new cars had parked or anything—and if I was right, they didn’t send anyone to replace me until they were sure I was gone anyhow.
So I sat and waited.
I was tired and the street was pretty empty and boring, but I was too excited and scared to fall sleep. Every time a car passed or someone walked down the sidewalk, I tensed. I kept imagining a SUV or van pulling up behind me. Men getting out and pulling me from my car, taking me somewhere like where they had Rachel to kill or torture me. Half a dozen times I almost cranked up and drove away, but every time I would think of her alone in that room. She had no one but me to help her, and I had to try.
Two hours later, a fat balding man parked and started heading for the building. As soon as I saw he was able to unlock the door and enter, I opened my car door to go talk to him. Then I stopped. I needed to be smart. I didn’t know where they were, but I was sure there were hidden cameras in the locker room and outside the building. If I go running in there and confront that guy, they’ll know for sure that I’m up to something.
Sighing with frustration, I shut the door back and waited until his shift was over. I considered tailing him like in the movies, but I was scared I would just lose him or he would call someone for help. So I waited until he was walking back to his car after a six hour shift, hopefully far enough away that the cameras wouldn’t see. And then I met the man I came to know as Charles Jefferies.
“Hey…Hey, man, can I talk to you for a minute?” His back was to me and he just waved his hand absently without looking up.
“Sorry, I don’t have any money. Have a good…” He froze as he glanced back at me while talking. “Oh God. No. No. You need to get out of here, kid. We aren’t allowed to talk.” I could tell he was scared, but I couldn’t risk letting him go yet, not after all this. I stepped up and pushed the door back shut as he was trying to get into his car.
“So you know who I am?” I tried to not sound mean, but I could hear how mad I was in my voice.
He yanked at the door again, but I was still holding it, and I was stronger than he was. After a second, weaker tug, he turned around, his face strained and tired-looking. “Yeah, I know who you are. You work here just like me. And I’m telling you, we aren’t supposed to be talking. We aren’t supposed to meet, ever.”
I frowned. “Mr. Solomon never told me that. He never said it was one of the rules.”
The man shook his head. “Mr. Solomon. Yeah. Well there are plenty of rules they don’t tell you. I bet they didn’t tell you what you were going to be watching before you started, did they?” When I just lowered my eyes, he went on. “Yeah, me either. I’ve been at this job for ten years. I’ve seen other people come and go, usually because they broke one those rules they never mentioned. The only reason I’m still here is because I keep my head down and my mouth shut.” He wagged a finger at me. “You should do the same, if it’s not already too late.”
I felt my stomach curling into a cold knot. “Too late?”
The man rubbed his face. “Kid, do you think they don’t know we’re talking? Do you think anything happens that they don’t know about?” He looked back toward the building, a look of sadness and fear in his eyes. “Hell, for all I know, you’ve already killed us both.” Shaking his head, he pushed me back and started opening the door. “Either way, I’m done risking it. You need to stop asking questions and just do your job. It’s a lot healthier.”
With that, he got into his car and shut the door. I didn’t try to stop him this time. Even though I had already been worried about what he was telling me, hearing it confirmed was paralyzing. What exactly was my plan? He probably didn’t know any more than I did, and even if he did, what could I do with anything he told me?
I walked back to my car with a heavy heart. I was still afraid, but more than that, I was sad and ashamed. I wanted to help Rachel, but I wasn’t sure how. I wasn’t giving up, but as I drove back to my apartment, I couldn’t think of what I should do next. This wasn’t a movie. I wasn’t a hero. And the only ideas I had left were to either go to the police, who might be controlled by whoever I worked for, or try to get proof of her being held prisoner myself.
As I parked my car and walked into my apartment building, I made a decision. Unless I thought of something better overnight, I would do both ideas. Tomorrow I would break the rule about carrying anything in. I’d use my phone to record a video of the surveillance room, of Rachel and how she was trapped somewhere, and of me telling everything else I knew. And I would email it to every newspaper, website, and internet channel I could think of. I’d then go to the police and give them a copy too if I could make it that long without getting caught. Maybe if I did all that, even if they got me, someone would help Rachel.
I was filled with worry and dread at the idea of being hurt or killed. A part of me kept saying I should just do as I was told and hope that it all went away. But I couldn’t live with myself if I did that. Even if I messed up, I felt like I had to try. I was so preoccupied that I didn’t hear the person coming up behind me as I unlocked my apartment door.
“Thomas?”
I turned around and felt my legs weaken as I stumbled back against my door. I had to be dreaming or crazy. I grabbed the door knob for support as I looked at the woman in front of me. It couldn’t be her, but somehow it was.
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Credits
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