The boy stepped down the stairs and paused at a landing. He wished he could find a window or door, but the stairs continued down and he had spent enough time in the basement of this building to know that he didn’t want to ever go back there again.
Struck with indecision, he looked back up the stairs towards the room with the dead cat. Before the spikes had impaled it, the cat had been eating, so somebody must come to this part of the building. The man might be very close to him right now, and anyone close could have heard the awful noise the cat had made while dying.
He shook his head and tried to get that sound out of his head. Back in the chair, he had learned to control his panic. Now, he found himself fighting for control again. It wasn’t a battle you could win forever; panic would always come back stronger.
He sat down. He glanced back and forth — upstairs, then down. He pointed his flickering otoscope upstairs, then down. After about ten minutes of overload, he rallied. He remembered the feeling of being caught and he desperately didn’t want to experience that again. Back on his feet, he took a deep breath and headed down.
Five steps down, he discovered another landing and had to take a right. A couple more turns, through a door, and he found himself back on a cold, tile floor.
The boy took a few tentative steps down the hall. Up ahead he could see a thin strip of light on the floor along the right-hand wall. As he approached, the boy realized the light was coming from beneath a door. An electronic beep sounded above him. The red light of another camera turned on.
Despair flooded through the boy, and he felt helpless to shake it off. After everything, he stood right back in the same situation. He considered his options — he could run upstairs and try to find one of the third-floor windows he had spotted earlier. He could press further down this hall, or he could try the door.
The boy couldn't make a decision; too much weighed on his choice. He felt sleepy, and gave into the feeling. He just wanted to sit down for a minute, to think it all through. The boy leaned heavily on the wall as his legs weakened. He slid down the wall and dropped his head to his chest. His left hand flicked off the wavering otoscope and his only light was leaking from under the door next him.
A loud bang startled him. He raised his eyes, but his head didn’t move. A second later, blinding overhead lights came on, forcing him to squint. He didn’t move. Another noise down the hall drew his gaze. He saw a large form approaching. He didn’t try to run.