The last rays of sunlight vanished behind the peaks, plunging the area into deep purple shadows. Lena shivered, pulling her sweatshirt tighter. It was much colder now then 14 hours ago when she began her journey. She moved forward, boots crunching on loose shale. "Stupid map, "she muttered. “Isn't even accurate.” But she wasn't overly worried as she was a skilled hiker and outdoors woman. She had hiked a lot during her 30 years on earth.
A glint caught her eye—unnatural dark metal uphill off the path about 50 feet away. She went to it and looked. Cold metal. A well-built clean flush-fitting door, barely visible against the mountain slope. Built quite nicely right into the mountain. It had one handle, but no visible keyhole or lock. Weird. Lena knocked hard, the sound echoing unnaturally. Panic surged. She scrambled 25 feet away behind a large boulder and just watched. She didn't want to reveal herself if some crazy wilderness man lived there off the grid, or something.
She waited. Only the wind answered, sighing through the brush and trees. She knocked and hid a 2nd and a 3rd time. She wanted to be sure there was no one inside before she attempted to open it. The chilly air made itself more known to her. Some shelter. She needed it. Risking another glance, she saw no movement, no light, and heard no sounds. Lena crept back to the metal door, its surface slick and cold under her fingertips. She traced its edges –seamless, precise. Definitely a lot of money spent. Then she slowly gently used the metal handle. It clicked and the door moved. It was surprisingly easy to swing for such a heavy door. Hello? she yelled. Waited. Listened. Nothing.
The door had hydraulic arms next toits hinges, which helped with the weight a solid metal door wouldnormally be. Lena hesitated on the threshold, peering into thedarkness. She flicked her flashlight on. The beam illuminating only anarrow stairway descending deep down, maybe 12 to 15 steps. At thebottom of the stairway was a single black door.
She descendedthe first couple of stairs slowly, noticing that the heavy metal doorslowly began to close. It wasn't trapping her. It wasn't automated.It allowed her arm to halt it if she wanted. It was simply built toeasily close without slamming, to close as slow or fast as someoneallowed it to. She carefully allowed it completely shut. The momentit shut, the narrow hallway illuminated with LED lights. She switchedher flashlight off. She immediately noticed a thick very solid metalsliding lock on the inside of this door. Observing it, she couldeasily see that if slid into place, no one could open this door fromthe outside. She did it. It made her feel a little bit safer for now,knowing that at least no other person could get inside.
Sheslowly descended. Listening closely for any sounds, her eyes focusedon the door at the bottom, especially on the doorknob, in case itmoved.
At the bottom of the stairs, she paused, her breathshallow. Her hand hovered over the metal knob. Slowly, silently, sheturned it. It yielded. Unlocked. She pushed the door open just acouple of inches, creating a narrow slit to the beyond. She pressedher eye to the gap, straining to hear anything over the franticdrumming of her own heart. The silence felt thick, alive. It smelled... clean.
No movement. No voices or shuffling. Just...stillness. She widened the opening inch by inch, the hinges wereutterly silent.
Light bloomed instantly as she crossed thethreshold – cool, white, and emanating from hidden strips along theceiling. It revealed a single, vast chamber. The air tastedunnervingly sterile, like a hospital corridor. The walls were smooth,seamless panels of deep, non-reflective black. Lena stood softly on apolished concrete floor devoid of dust or debris. It felt less likeshelter, more like a strange laboratory. Her gaze scanned quickly: nofurniture, no clutter, nothing… except for in the center of the farwall, there was a heavy, floor-to-ceiling curtain, approximately thesize of double doors. It hung still, a dense velvet blackness deeperthan the walls themselves. Another room or hallway?
Sheedged sideways, keeping her back to the solid door she'd justentered, putting distance between herself and that mysterious drape.The silence pressed in, amplifying the dry click in her throat andthe soft rustle of her backpack. Her eyes darted to the corners,searching for vents or cameras, finding nothing obvious. Theemptiness felt deliberate, almost aggressive. Who builds deep into amountainside to house nothing? Her focus snapped back to thecurtain.
Lena slid forward, one silent footfall at a time,closing the gap to ten feet, then five. The thick velvet absorbedsound and light. She stopped inches away, straining every sense.Stillness. She reached out slowly, fingertips brushing the densepile. It felt cool and heavy. She hooked her index and middle fingerinto the center seam and pulled sideways, just enough to create anarrow slit – a vertical band of pure darkness thicker thanink.
No sudden light bloomed beyond. She leaned forwardcautiously, pressing her eye to the gap. Nothing resolved. Justdarkness. The air smelled exactly the same – clean, filtered,empty. No sounds leaked through.
Decision made. Lena grippedher flashlight, thumb hovering over the switch. In one fluid motion,she parted the curtain just wide enough and slipped sideways throughthe opening into the consuming dark. Instantly, soft, recessed lightsflickered on along the ceiling – not the harsh white of the outerchamber, but a muted, warm amber glow. Her breath hitched.
Thespace was small, maybe fifteen feet across in each direction, wallsthe same seamless black as the outer room. At its precise centerstood a smooth, matte-black cube on the floor. And protruding from aperfectly round padded opening on the top, was a young man’s head,his neck only half showing, the opening was snug, only large enoughfor his neck. He looked to be 19 or 20 years old, his green eyeslooking at her, his face soft yet chiseled, and tan. His chin lengthbrown hair was only slightly wavy. He was very handsome.
Lenafroze in fear, in surprise. All she could think to do was stand stilland observe, try to make sense of this. Try to figure out if she wasin current danger.
Her gaze snapped downward, tracing thebizarre geometry of the cube. Sticking out from its front face, withtoes pointed upward, were ... his bare feet. They emerged from snug,padded holes that gripped his ankles like vise-lined sockets. The fitwas terrifyingly precise; no amount of straining would pull thosefeet back through the holes. Worse, each toe was individually pinned.Thin, taut leather straps anchored every toe slightly backwardagainst a small, padded area on the cube's surface, holding themmotionless. Not a centimeter of give. Trapped. Completely. That factcoupled with that his ankles could not be pulled backward, nor pushedforward, was assurance they could not move ... at all. They couldflex a little bit but not move in a way that mattered.
Lena’sbreath hitched, a sharp, dry sound in the amber-lit silence. She tooka couple steps sideways, looking at the walls for clues. The youngman’s eyes tracked her, wide with fear, a desperate plea that shedidn't yet understand. He couldn’t move his head to much, justsmall rotations against the padded collar. The cube held him like atrophy, displaying his helplessness. The utter stillness of his bound feet, the high arches, the impossible smoothness of his skin – it was mesmerizing and horrifying in equal measure. Who would do this?
The cube itself offered no clues. Matte black, smooth seamless, featureless except for the openings imprisoning him. It sat cold and indifferent on the polished floor, absorbing the dim light. Lena inched closer, her own boots whispering on the concrete, her mind trying to process those straps pinning his toes in place. The leather looked supple, soft, but unyielding. The setup was meticulous, deliberate. Not restraint for safety, but for…presentation? Control? His eyes locked onto hers again, begging silently. He attempted a faint smile to show kindness, humility.
Lena's logic screamed run, unlock the outer door, get out. But the sight of his handsome face and perfect feet pinned her there for the moment, a morbid fascination warring within her. He was trapped. Like, utterly. Her eyes darted around the room again –still no cameras, no vents, no visible doors besides the curtain behind her. Just the cube, the boy, and silence. The smooth arches of his feet, held in that unnatural, beautiful tension, suddenly feltlike the most obscene detail in the room. She swallowed hard, her breath shallow, her own pulse thundering in her ears. "Who…"she started, her voice a raw scrape, "who did this to you?" He seemed relieved that she had asked. It no doubt gave him hope.
His eyes were locked onto hers. "Can you hear me? "she asked. He very timidly nodded, the movement restricted, his brown hair brushing the padded edge. "Yes," he breathed. "Ican hear you." The questions tumbled out, sharp and urgent. Shehad to know. What is your name? Why are you here?
He took aslow breath, his gaze unwavering. "My name is Silas," hebegan, his voice surprisingly steady despite the circumstances, lowand resonant in the small space. "I don't know why I'm here"He paused, the green of his eyes deep and clear, framed by thicklashes and high cheek bones. "Can you help me get out of here?"His voice was humble, devoid of accusation or blame. Lena noticed thefullness of his lips as he spoke, soft and expressive, a starkcontrast to the harsh black box surrounding him.
Her eyesdrifted downward again, pulled as if by gravity to view his barefeet. The soles were impossibly smooth, unmarred by calluses orimperfections, like polished alabaster. A faint, intricate pattern ofcreases curved across the arches, delicate and precise. She foundherself wondering what they would feel like, to touch, what herfingertips would discover –? The thought was sudden, intrusive, andutterly baffling. Why would she even consider that? It felt wrong,yet undeniably... it was there. The way the amber light caught thesubtle sheen of his skin was ... mesmerizing.
