"O-okay," says Martin, though he's not really sure how to be smart about this. He's all right at maths and he likes reading enough that he gets good marks for it, but this... he's pretty sure they don't teach this kind of thing in school. Maybe they should.
Part of him wants to steal back to the bedroom where they woke up, not to hide, but to look for clothes in their size. Their clothes must be somewhere around here. And maybe there's something else, too? He isn't sure what, but it feels good to have a proactive thought, at least.
But before he can do any such thing, John's motioning him over, moving from the front door to a chair at the table, and it doesn't take Martin long to piece together his plan. He feels a fresh spike of fear as he notices all those latches — what are all those for? He's pretty sure that's not normal. But at least it's all on the inside. They might be able to slip out, if they can reach them all.
So he helps John lift the chair, quiet as he can. Neither of them are very strong, and it's much harder to manage with only one free hand each. But he doesn't want to be a burden, or to be found out or left behind, so Martin just grits his teeth and does his best to keep quiet as they awkwardly carry it toward the door.
It's only when the chair's finally sat down that Martin finally realizes what all those horrible latches — and that they're done up inside really means, and he jolts, covering his mouth again to stop from crying out. He'd just done all that without realizing their kidnapper must still be here.
He turns around, surveying the flat frantically for any sign of them. They must be watching, ready to jump out and grab them. Or is there some secret exit they don't know about? None of this makes any sense. He just wants to go home.
"Hurry," he whispers, barely audible, as John clambers up and works on the locks.
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Part of him wants to steal back to the bedroom where they woke up, not to hide, but to look for clothes in their size. Their clothes must be somewhere around here. And maybe there's something else, too? He isn't sure what, but it feels good to have a proactive thought, at least.
But before he can do any such thing, John's motioning him over, moving from the front door to a chair at the table, and it doesn't take Martin long to piece together his plan. He feels a fresh spike of fear as he notices all those latches — what are all those for? He's pretty sure that's not normal. But at least it's all on the inside. They might be able to slip out, if they can reach them all.
So he helps John lift the chair, quiet as he can. Neither of them are very strong, and it's much harder to manage with only one free hand each. But he doesn't want to be a burden, or to be found out or left behind, so Martin just grits his teeth and does his best to keep quiet as they awkwardly carry it toward the door.
It's only when the chair's finally sat down that Martin finally realizes what all those horrible latches — and that they're done up inside really means, and he jolts, covering his mouth again to stop from crying out. He'd just done all that without realizing their kidnapper must still be here.
He turns around, surveying the flat frantically for any sign of them. They must be watching, ready to jump out and grab them. Or is there some secret exit they don't know about? None of this makes any sense. He just wants to go home.
"Hurry," he whispers, barely audible, as John clambers up and works on the locks.