Derek

I finish my fourth lap around the track, then drop down for push-ups. Even though I’m physically tired, I have to burn off some energy.

It’s been a little over twenty-four hours since the door was closed and locked. And I’ve spent most of that time racking my brain, trying to figure out how the hell this happened.

Nothing I come up with makes sense. John was the only other person on the property, and I can’t think of any reason he’d lock us in here.

I had my hunting retreat built on the wooded seventy-four-acre parcel of land I bought a few years ago, and there’s nothing else close by. That was by design—I wanted complete privacy from the stalkerazzi who hound me endlessly. If I’m in New York, the home city of my team, there are photographers following me every time I walk out of my apartment.

Picking up a coffee, going to the gym, or grabbing some dinner are all occasions they want photos of. I swear they’d shoot photos of me taking a shit if they could get into the bathroom. And if I have a woman with me, they get whipped into a frenzy, shooting photos of every glance, every door I hold open, every smile between us.

I love the seclusion here, in the place that feels most like home to me, but that’s exactly what has me so worried right now. If something fell from the sky and hit the house, were my teammates in there at the time? If John got them from the airport and they were all waiting in there for me, there’s no way they’re okay.

Just thinking about the whys and the what-ifs is enough to drive me crazy. And I can’t let any of my worry show. I need to stay strong and solid for the others.

Kenna’s hanging in there, but Matias and Bruce are worried. And Erin…she’s got issues. Her knuckles are swollen, cut up, and purple. I offered to clean them up and put some antibiotic ointment on them, but she refused. Wouldn’t even look at me.

I’m afraid to ask her if she has mental issues, but it would be good to know. If there were something I could do to help her be less of a basket case, I would.

This afternoon, I was scheduled to fly to New York. I have meetings with my agent and attorney, and I need to get settled in before I have to report for training camp next week. I wonder if the police are looking for us.

Five people can’t just vanish. And people knew all of us were here at the lodge. Maybe not in an underground bunker, but still.

Why are we still down here? And who locked that fucking door? The what-ifs are driving me crazy again.

I stand up, grab the towel I left on a bench beside the track, and wipe off my face, then open the door that leads back into the main bunker area.

Kenna is pacing from the kitchen to the living room. Bryce is watching a movie. Matias is sitting next to Erin on the floor. She has her knees pulled up to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. She still looks like someone just stole her puppy.

“Are you claustrophobic?” Matias asks her.

“Yeah,” she says so softly I almost don’t hear it.

“Man, that has to be rough. This place isn’t small, though. Does that help at all?”

Erin lifts her head and looks at him. “I don’t have a fear of small spaces. It’s being trapped that’s the problem.”

Kenna cuts in. “You’re perfectly safe down here. What are you afraid is going to happen?”

“What I’m afraid of already happened,” Erin responds. “I’m trapped down here.”

“But not forever. Just enjoy the vacation from delivering groceries.”

I sit down next to Bruce on the leather sectional. “Hey, man. Can I interrupt your movie?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“You’re a subcontractor to Courson Builders, right?”

“Yeah. I was gonna set up the radios, but all my stuff is still in my truck. I was just checking things out down here before starting.”

“Is there anything at all down here that we can use to communicate with the outside?”

He looks around, his expression blank. “Nothing I can see. Cables were run inside the walls, but there’s nothing to connect them to.”

I nod. “Yeah, I figured it was unlikely, but I thought it was worth asking.”

“Derek,” Kenna says from behind the couch, “you still haven’t slept. Why don’t you lie down, and I’ll keep watch on the door?”

“I’m okay. I wouldn’t be able to sleep.”

After a few seconds of silence, I stand up. “Hey, why don’t I see if I can put together some dinner for us tonight? An actual meal instead of eating out of cans?”

Kenna laughs. “I’d better help. You’re not much of a gourmet.”

“I cook for myself sometimes.”

“You do grill an amazing steak.”

I blow out a breath. “No steaks down here. I’ll come up with something, though.”

On my way to the supply room, I pause by Matias and Erin.

“Are you drinking plenty of water?” I ask Erin.

She nods silently.

“I don’t want you getting dehydrated.”

“I won’t.”

I shift my attention to Matias. “You doing okay, man?”

“Yeah. You need help with dinner?”

“Nah, I got it. With any luck, we’ll be out of here before it’s even ready.”

He returns my confident smile, and I head to the storage room. I take two boxes of pasta and a big jar of tomato sauce from the shelves. It’s just fucking wrong to make meatless sauce, but I’ve got to work with what I’ve got.

I’m glad for the distraction as I boil water and heat up sauce. Questions are still racing through my mind, but there are no answers to any of them. I finish the pasta and ask Kenna to keep watch on the bunker door as I take a quick shower.

There are two bathrooms side by side down here, and they’re both small, with minimal frills. My shower’s pretty hot, though. I put my clothes back on when I’m done and walk back out to the main living area.

“Let’s eat,” I say.

Everyone comes over to the table the contractor made from one of the trees on the property. It seats up to twelve people. I run my hand over the smooth, lacquered surface, taking in the grooves from the tree trunk.

Kenna brings over the pot of finished pasta, and as she sets it down on the table, I realize there are only four of us. Erin is still sitting against the wall.

“Time to eat,” I tell her.

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“You need to keep your strength up.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Being upset that we’re down here isn’t gonna change anything,” I say.

“I know that.”

I sigh softly. It’s like dealing with a teammate who’s being a fucking baby, which I’ve done many times. Being team captain is sometimes a pain in my ass.

“Just have a few bites,” I say.

“I might later.”

Kenna rolls her eyes in my direction, and I give up. The rest of us sit down and spoon pasta onto our plates.

“So…” Matias moves his food around on his plate, sets his fork down, and looks around the table. “This you guys’ first time being stuck in a doomsday bunker, or…?”

We share an awkward laugh.

“What are you missing out on right now, man?” I ask him.

He pulls his brows together and considers. “It’s early afternoon, right? I’d be down here hanging trim.” He shrugs.

“What about you?” I ask Bryce.

“I’d hopefully be on the way home for dinner with my wife and kids.”

“Where’s home?”

“Denver.”

“What about you, Kenna?” I ask.

“Let’s see…I think you’d be in New York right now. You have meetings there. So I’d be making sure the lodge gets cleaned and the groceries restocked after the party last night.”

I nod and put a bite of bland noodles and sauce in my mouth.

“What about you, Erin?” Matias asks.

Everyone turns to her. She looks up and over at us.

“What am I missing?” She smiles sadly. “I’m supposed to be leading a ten-day hiking and camping expedition about forty miles from here.”

“No shit?” Matias arches his brows, sounding impressed.

“No shit.”

I wasn’t expecting that from her. Of everyone down here, Erin seems the least like a leader. We already know she doesn’t stay cool under pressure.

“What kind of expedition?” I ask her. “Hunting?”

She shakes her head. “No, a group of teenagers. At Camp Caroline. I volunteer there.”

Ah. So, by “hiking and camping expedition,” she meant walking on marked trails and pitching a tent every night at a campsite.

“Nice. You ever done that before?” I ask.

“I’ve been doing it for eight years. Started when I was eighteen.”

“Sounds like fun.” I give her a polite smile.

“It’s fun, but challenging too.”

“Anything with an uphill trek is a good workout.”

She gives me a look. “I’m not talking about hills. I’ve done 5.14b climbs.”

I eye her skeptically. I’m a seasoned outdoorsman; I know the Yosemite Decimal Rating System. A 5.14b rated climber would be expert level—one notch away from the best climbers in the world.

“You don’t believe me.” Her tone is amused.

“I’m in peak physical condition, and I’m maybe at a 5.12b,” I say. “Maybe.”

“Well, how often do you climb?”

I shrug. “When I can. Maybe three or four times a year.”

“There you go. I climb at least twice a month.”

Kenna jumps in. “Anyone could say anything down here, and we’d have no way to know if it’s true.” Her tone is laced with sarcasm.

“I have no reason to lie about it,” Erin says, shrugging. “And I don’t care whether you believe me.”

“I believe you,” Matias says. “And I think that’s awesome. Especially that you volunteer for it.”

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Bryce laughs and says, “Well, you could all outclimb me.” He pats his slightly rounded belly. “Climbing the stairs in my house is as advanced as I get.”

He gets some smiles and polite laughs, and then we fall back into quiet.

“Why hasn’t John come for us?” Kenna vocalizes the thing we’re all probably wondering about.

No one responds. I’m already weary of telling everyone to be patient, that help will come.

There are only two answers to her question, and I don’t like either one. Either John—the only person who knew we were down here—is the one who set this whole thing up, or he’s dead.