I'm Going Home

Who: Camber
When: Late Morning
Where: The box, and at the end, back on Elm Street.

Camber woke with a start, curled up on the couch where she'd fallen asleep, hoping beyond hope that someone would get back to her with the keys to unlock the kitchen, but knowing they wouldn't. The bathroom hadn't been as big a deal to her - you do what you have to do. It wasn't like she was going to feel sorry if some scientist flunky had to clean up piss on the carpet.

Somewhere in her brain, though, the simultaneous lockdown of all the niceties of houses had taken her back to the woods, and not in a good way, if there was one to be had. Survival mode had kicked in: there was no food, there was no bathroom, there was no foraging this time and nowhere to run to, there was a whole lot worse it could get and she needed to be ready. And maybe that was why she was sitting here curled up in a hoodie on the couch, not the computers.

Cam was trying not to think about it. The woods. She'd slept uneasily - at least, for a while until whatever They did kicked in - and it had been full of fear and hunger and blood. Nothing clear, but clearer than it had been in a long time. She could never remember those dreams, and yet somehow, with one day of having the kitchen locked. Well, fuck. It had started out all fun and games, right? Pirates. And then almost no one on the lines all day, and she had known this was all going to hell.

When she woke up, everything looked the same. Computers, locked kitchen, everything. No new messages.
And then she saw the door. It was where Jenny's room would have been, if this had really been a big stretched-out version of their apartment. Had someone else been put in here? Was there a way out?

She got up, easily ignoring the pain in her stomach, and getting out the knife, approached the door obliquely. She swung it open with the side of her hand and stepped sideways, fully expecting something horrific to jump out at her.

No. Instead, a cylindrical, closet-like elevator sat behind the door.

Camber looked back at the computers. She looked at the elevator.
There wasn't much of a choice here, was there? She could go and get chopped up or eaten or probed or whatever it was that they were planning to do to her, or she could stay in this place. And this place had no food. And no bathroom. So she stepped in, and pressed the lighted button.

The door closed behind her.