The other door led to a lavatory. It was dimly lit and crude; the water only came out cold, and the bar of soap next to the sink was cheap and smelled like antiseptic, but at least they could wash. They had facilities. It was more than Rose expected, though still less than Cal was willing to accept. He stood at the top of the stairs, banging his fist on the trap door. "I demand you let us out!" he yelled. "This treatment is outrageous! It's—It's inhumane! We aren't animals!"

"Cal!" Rose cried. He ignored her. She grabbed his arm. "Cal, stop!"

He stared at her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting a headache," she replied. "Please, stop."

"I'm trying to—"

"It won't do any good," she said. "They aren't listening. They probably can't even hear us, and if they can, they don't care."

"Well, they should care," Cal said. Arrogance thickened his voice. "We can't be treated this way." He jerked his arm out of her grasp. "We aren't—" He was cut off by Rose's laughter. She couldn't help herself. It was all so absurd.

"You still don't understand, do you?" she said. "We're here against our will, for some reason they've dreamed up. We aren't guests. This isn't a hotel. We can't change out rooms or leave if we don't like the accommodations. Cal, we're trapped here."

"It's not like you to give in so easily," he said.

"Who said you know what I'm like?" she replied quietly.

His voice was sharp. "What?"

"Nothing," Rose said. "It's not important. Look, I'm not accepting this. I'm not happy about being here. I just don't see how screaming and bruising my hands is going to change anything."

"I have to do something," Cal said. "I can't sit by and wait to see what happens next." His dark eyes flashed.

"This time you may have to."

….

"Did you read that somewhere?" he asked.

Rose shook her head. "No."

"Well, then how do you know?" Cal said.

"You can see it," Rose said. She laid her arm against her foot. "There it is. They match."

Cal eyed his forearm. "I don't believe it."

"That's because I said it and not you."

His tone was sharp again. "What?"

"Nothing," Rose said, shaking her head. "It's not important."

"You've been doing that a lot."

"I'm surprised you noticed," she said.

"What does that mean?"

Rose stood up. Brushing off her skirt, she said, "I need a walk. It's no good sitting still."

"Where's there to go?" Cal said dismissively.

"Over there. At least it's exercise."

"I can't catch your optimism," he said.

"I wouldn't call it optimism," she replied.

They still weren't sure how long they'd been down there. At some point they'd fallen asleep again, but no more food had been brought down. They were both getting hungry, though they tried to ignore it. Rose hugged herself and shivered. It seemed to be getting colder.

"Here," Cal said, draping his jacket across her shoulders. She gave him a curious look. "Aren't you cold?" he said.

"Yes, I am. Thank you," she said.

There was an awkward silence as they both searched for what to say next. Cal's hands rested on her arms. It occurred to Rose they were physically closer now than ever before. Normally, she would have moved away from his touch, but there was something reassuring about it. Whatever their problems in the outside world, at least she could trust him here. In a way, that made her feel worse. Did it really take a life threatening situation to make him trustworthy?

"Of course," Cal said. His lips moved, as if he wanted to say more, but he didn't.

Rose put her arms through the sleeves and drew the jacket around her. It smelled faintly of him.

…..

"I wasn't gonna touch her," Sid said.

"Sure looked like it," Dan said. "And that's not part of the plan. We didn't agree to that."

"Maybe I should go down with Dan next time," John suggested. "Avoid the problem."

"He'd recognize you," Sid argued. "No way."

"Then you gotta stop looking at the girl like she's a steak, and you're starving," Dan said.

"Why?" Sid asked. "If it makes them nervous, so much the better. He needs to be nervous for a change."

"It's not right," John said. "And aren't you the one who did all that talking about our lofty goals? Wasn't this supposed to be a revolutionary enterprise?"

"So I did," Sid agreed. "And that reminds me. Time for another call."

"Are you making the demands this time?" Dan asked.

"Next time," Sid said. "When they're all good and scared."

…..

The house swarmed with detectives. They were posted at every phone. Nathan paced in his office. His wife, Marianne, refused to leave her room. She wasn't Cal's mother; in fact, she'd never shown much interest in that role or in him, but she did have a well-developed sense of the dramatic. Ruth sat in the drawing room alone. Newspapers were spread across the table. She'd read them all; they offered nothing new. Her gaze kept returning to a framed photo of Rose. It had been taken at the engagement party. The photographer caught her off-guard. She was looking away from the camera, laughter still on her lips. It was nothing like the portrait sent to the newspapers, but it was the one Cal inexplicably chose. He'd made a point of asking for it.

She jumped when the phone rang. A detective answered. He held his hand over the receiver. Ruth twisted her hands together. What was happening now?

…

They were startled by the door opening. Dan and Sid hurried down the stairs. Before she could speak, Dan grabbed Rose, pinning her arms at her sides. A cloth was placed over her eyes and tied. "What do you think you're doing?" Cal yelled, jumping to his feet. He moved toward them. "Let go of her!"

Coolly, Sid produced a gun from his pocket. "I wouldn't," he said warningly.

Rose heard it click. Her palms began to sweat. Her stomach was in knots. What did they want now? She tried not to think of the possibilities.

"Rose," Cal said. His voice was muddled. She couldn't read it.

"Don't, Cal," Rose said. She felt herself being pulled up the stairs. Her heart raced. "Cal!"

He watched the door close behind them. There was the sound of something being pushed across it, and then, silence. He stared at the outline on the ceiling. Where were they taking her? Anger coursed through him, thawing his fear. Cal rushed at the door, screaming. He pounded the wood with his fists, heedless of the dark bruises forming or the torn skin on his knuckles. "Rose!" he bellowed. "Bring her back! Rose!"

As she'd pointed out before, it was no use.

….

The phone receiver was shoved at her. "Talk," Sid ordered.

Rose heard Nathan on the other end. "Are you there?" he asked. "Cal? Is it you?" He couldn't hide the fear in his voice. She wondered why they'd brought her to the phone. She wasn't the one he wanted to speak to; she doubted he even cared what happened to her. Where was her mother? Was she listening as well?

Rose's voice cracked. "It's me," she said. "Rose. Cal's here."

"Rose? He's with you?"

"Yes," she said. "We're alright."

"Where are you?" Nathan demanded.

"I don't know. I—"

"Rose?" Ruth's voice startled them.

"Mother?" Rose said. "You-"

The phone was yanked away before any more could be said. "That's enough," Sid said. Into the phone he said, "You've spoken to one of them. As promised. We'll be in touch." He hung up.

"What's going on?" Rose asked. "What are you planning?"

Dan pushed her back toward the trap door. She dug her heels in, slowing their pace. "Tell me!" she cried. "You can at least do that!"

She heard the creak of the door opening. "We don't have to tell you anything," Sid said coldly. She felt herself being pushed forward; her heart skipped a beat as she fell through the air. She put out her hands to catch herself, sure she was about to tumble down the stairs. She braced herself for the pain as the door slammed shut, but to her astonishment, she landed in Cal's arms.

Her face hit his chest. His arms closed around her, and she breathed in the smell of him. It was just like his jacket, only stronger. She felt his heart beating. He was solid but softer than she expected; he felt like someone you could land on safely.

Cal removed the blindfold but didn't let her go. "Are you alright?" he asked. His eyes roamed over her. "What happened? Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine. I—"

"I'll kill them," he said, not hearing her. His eyes were back on the door.

"Cal, you—"

"If you laid a hand on you, Rose, I'll—"

"Cal."

"I mean it," he said. "I won't—"

"Cal!" she said impatiently. He looked at her, eyes widening slightly. "I'm alright," she said. "You caught me."

"What did they want?"

"They had me speak to your father on the telephone," she answered. "I think my mother was there too. She must be worried sick. Both of them must be." Without intending to, she drew closer to him.

He smoothed her curls. "I'm sure they're fine," he said, trying to sound reassuring. He mostly just sounded uncomfortable. "They're doing everything they can to find us. We won't be here much longer."

"We don't know that for sure," Rose said.

"I know it," Cal said firmly. "And you should too." His eyes flashed with confidence. He lay his knuckles against her cheek. His gaze found hers. Rose had always thought of his eyes as a deep brown, almost black, but now she saw flecks of gold in them. His hand felt nice against her skin. Warm. The gentleness in his touch startled her. She couldn't remember him ever touching her this way. Cal had never hurt her, but there had always been an impatience in his touch. It was almost probing, as though he were searching for something in her but never finding it. Or maybe, he was expecting something from her.

That made a certain sense. He expected her to be soft and yielding, and when she wasn't, when she held herself at a distance, he pulled her closer, gripping tighter. As if that would change anything.

"It's perfectly natural for us to be afraid," Cal said. "But rose, you must remember who we are. People like us don't die this way. We will survive this, one way or another."

And just like that, the moment was over. "I wish I had your arrogance," Rose said. "But it seems to me who we are—or rather, who you are, is what got us here. Forgive me if I don't quite believe your name is enough to save us." She moved to continue down the stairs. "Thank you for catching me," she added.

"Of course," Cal said. He held himself stiffly now, his former posture erased, as if it never happened.

…..

"I don't like this," John said. "Why haven't we asked for a ransom yet? What are we waiting for?"

"This isn't just about money," Sid said.

"Isn't it?" John said.

"No, it's about making a change," Sid replied. "It's about dignity. We'll get money, but first, we'll make them feel the way we do, the way they make people feel every day. Afraid. Hopeless. Dependent."

"I'm just worried," John said. "I can't stay out here much longer. My wife'll suspect something, and I have to find a new job soon."

"Why don't you take part of the money we found in his wallet?" Dan suggested. "Tell her you found a job up here, a temporary one."

"I guess that could work," John said.

"Sure it will," Dan said. He handed him five twenties.

John shook his head. "Hard to believe someone carries around that much cash every day."

"It's nothing to him," Sid said. His nose wrinkled in disgust. "Our families could live for years on what he throws away in week."

"They wouldn't have anything without people like us," Dan said. "What bothers me most if they don't appreciate that. We aren't even people to them, just cogs in a machine. If something happens to one they just get another. All I want is a fair chance, a chance at a decent life, a wage I can life on and to be treated with a little respect. Don't we deserve that?"

"We do," John agreed.

"Look guys, I know this seems extreme," Sid said. "And it's hard now. But you have to go to extremes to make an impact. We aren't going to hurt them."

"For sure?" John said.

"Of course we aren't," Sid said. "We're trying to make change, not just collect money. We might scare them, but-" He held up the gun. 'This is empty. When they agree to our demands, and we see them in action, then we'll let them go."

"What if the old man won't agree?" Dana sked.

"He will," Sid replied. "They don't know the gun's empty."

…..

Food was brought down. Water and oatmeal. This time they were given slices of bread. "I think they're feeding us once a day," Rose said. "Which makes this our second day here. The third since it happened." Knowing this didn't make her feel any better, and knowing they were likely to get only one paltry meal each day made her even hungrier. She tried to eat slowly, but the bowl was empty before she knew it. She tore the bread into strips and ate it in small bites.

Cal picked at his food. "They must be trying to torture us," he said.

"It's possible."

"That's not funny," he said.

"I wasn't trying to be funny," Rose said. "I'm just being realistic. They're obviously not interested in our comfort."

"Why are you so calm?" he demanded.

"What do you mean?"

"You say you're afraid, but you act so detached. I can hardly tell you feel anything sometimes."

"I've had a lot of experience with detachment," she replied. "It's a good way to cope with an unbearable situation. That doesn't mean I don't realize the gravity of this one. I don't want to die here. I wasn't so sure before, but-" Rose cut herself off. "You should eat that. I doubt it tastes any better after it sits for a while."

"Nothing can make this any worse," Cal said. He stirred the lumpy oatmeal. "What did you mean just now?"

"Nothing. Forget I said anything."

"You meant something," he persisted. "What was that about unbearable situations and not wanting to live? What in your life could be so bad?" he scoffed.

"Nothing you would understand."

"What does that mean?" he said. "Do you think I'm incapable of comprehending the depth of your feelings?"

"I'd rather not discuss this," Rose said.

"Tell me!"

"No." She turned away from him.

"Rose, I—"

"You can't have everything you want," she snapped.

She'd told him too much already. No good could come of it. She was jeopardizing her future—assuming she had one, of course-and for what? To share her feelings with him? What would that accomplish? It wouldn't change anything. Cal didn't care; he wouldn't understand. No-one would. She might as well have a heart-to-heart with their abductors.

Well, maybe someone, somewhere would understand, but thinking about that was a waste of time.

It was the situation. It was making Rose bolder than she should be. She'd made little comments in the past but nothing like this. Her remarks had always been sarcastic, the sort of thing to annoy her mother and Cal, but never serious enough to elicit more than reproachful look or reply, as if she were a misbehaving child.

With the threat of death hanging over her head, Rose was finding it increasingly difficult to care about anything, let alone making sure Cal was in a good temper. It was hard to imagine life with him at all anymore. It had never been something she liked picturing, but now she wondered if, in spite of everything, marrying him would just be another way of giving up.

….

"Is it bigger than a bread box?" Rose asked.

"No."

"Is it smaller than bread box?" she asked.

"No."

"Cal, don't tell me it's a bread box," she said.

"Yes," he replied. "How did you guess so quickly?"

"You already chose that," she said. "Pick something else. I know creativity is hard for you, but try it."

"There's no need to insult me. I can't think of anything else," Cal grumbled. "And I have plenty of creativity," he added, an arrogant lilt in his voice.

"Sure you do. This isn't a hard game either way."

"We only have these walls to stare at," he said. "Just grey blocks and dirt. How can I think here?"

"It doesn't look so different from your house."

"Excuse me? What does that mean?" he said.

"Just that you should be used to dull surroundings," she replied.

"I had that house professionally decorated," he replied.

"Then you wasted your money," Rose said. "It's a good thing you have so much to throw away."

Cal stared at her. Who was this snarky, surly girl? Where was the girl he knew? Or had she been this way all along, and he simply never noticed? Was the prim outer shell hiding more than just unknown passions? He was vaguely aware of her intelligence. She read far too much and mostly, he suspected, inappropriate materials, but now he wondered at the depth of her mind. What was she thinking? What were these things she almost but wasn't quite telling him? And did he actually prefer her this way?

Cal remembered the photo he kept on his desk, the one taken without her knowing. She reminded him more and more of that photo now. She wasn't happy, but at times there was the same lack of self-consciousness. There was still distance between them, but Rose seemed freer and less like she was playing a role she not only didn't enjoy but also didn't quite fit.

What must that be like? Cal couldn't remember ever being uncomfortable with his place in life. He was, as they say, to the manor born.

"I didn't know you disliked it," he said. His face was impassive.

"I didn't tell you."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Why bother?" she said.

"You could change it. Isn't that something wives do?"

"I suppose some do," Rose said. "I doubt we would agree."

"I'd let you," Cal said. "It doesn't matter to me."

"You'd only let me because you have no taste. And it may never happen."

"Don't talk that way, Rose," he said sharply. His tone softened. "Please, don't."

"I'm sorry. Let's assume it will," Rose said. It was more of an encouraging remark than an indication of her desires. At least it was a future. There was something in that. She burrowed into his jacket. "It's your turn again," she said. "Think of something else."

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"Aren't you?"

"Yes," he said. He moved closer. Their bodies touched. She glanced at him but didn't move away.