He rushed to the wardrobe and grabbed the keys from the hook, then dashed back to first locked door in the corridor. There were four keys attached to the smiley face key fob, three that were standard Yale-type keys all identical in appearance, and a fourth key that was longer and had a triangular base. Each key showed no visible clue as to what it would open.
He picked a Yale key at random and tried it in the first door, a sense of excitement suddenly rising inside him, like a child about to open a present on Christmas Day. The first key didn't unlock the door, so he tried again with another one, this time successfully. The locked released and he grabbed the handle ready to push open the door.
Before pushing down on the handle, he paused for a moment. This was, after all, an environment that was entirely foreign to him; he could be absolutely anywhere. What if he had been kidnapped and this door led to wherever the kidnapper might be waiting? He might be about to walk into a whole mess of danger.
"Hold on," he thought to himself, "if I'm being held prisoner somewhere then why would they leave me the keys?". He had a point. No self-respecting kidnapper would lock someone up in a room along with a key to get out again.
He pushed down on the door handle, and the door swung open into a long, narrow, well-lit room. He immediately saw what was causing the buzzing sound he had heard from the corridor: a huge, black machine with the word "GENERATOR" stamped on the side occupied the entire wall on the right side of the room. Wires coming from the generator disappeared into the walls and ceiling near the machine, obviously providing power to the electrical devices here and in the other room.
One end of the generator had twelve large cylinders stacked vertically in rows of four, seemingly some sort of batteries or power cells. He looked closer at the cylinders and noted that above each one were too small LEDs, one named POWER and the other CHARGING. Some of the cylinders had a green light next to POWER while others had a flashing amber light next to CHARGING.
As he watched the cylinders, the POWER light on one briefly changed from green to red, before disappearing entirely as the amber CHARGING light came on. It seemed as though the cylinders would use up their power and then the generator would automatically recharge them. He wondered exactly how this would work; was it some kind of self-charging power supply? Was it connected to a power grid somewhere or entirely self-sufficient? If it was the latter then whoever built this might have just created an ongoing power supply, and is therefore a genius.
Drawing his eyes away from the generator, he noticed a cupboard at the far end of the room, occupying the wall adjacent to the big machine. He walked over and opened the cupboard door, and found it to be full of tools. Spanners, wrenches, screwdrivers, soldering irons, hammers, saws, pliers and countless other tools that he couldn't even recognise lined the wall, all held up on individual hooks. Below the tools were several small, thin drawers filled with nails, bolts and screws of varying sizes, as well as sand paper, gauze and wire reels of varying thickness, as well as reels of solder.
Hanging on the sides of the cupboard were a series of power tools, including Black & Decker drills, a mean-looking tool with a circular saw, and some sort of sanding machine. The charging units hung next to each tool. At the bottom of the cupboard were some equipment for use with the tools, such as safety goggles, heat-resistant gloves and protective earmuffs.
He reasoned that the owner of this cupboard must have been a professional metalworker/carpenter/odd jobs man. People who did a spot of maintenance at home would have a set of tools as extensive as this. Whoever was responsible for him being in this place obviously had enough money to spare no expense.
He thought again about his situation. Here he was, in a strange, unknown place, with no memory of who he was or how he got here, having just emerged from some sort of metal coffin. He had rifled through a wardrobe that didn't belong to him and borrowed clothes that seemed to fit him like a dream. To top it all off, he had just discovered the solution to the world's energy crisis in the next room.
At least his headache appeared to have finally subsided.
At that moment, he remembered the other two doors in the corridor. He walked out of the room and closed the door, leaving it unlocked. In the excitement of opening this first door, he had neglected to separate the key that had opened it, so he had to try all the keys again on the lock of the second door in the corridor. It unlocked with the third key, so he pulled the key off the fob and left it in the lock.
He pushed open the door and found himself looking at a small but clean bathroom. There was a toilet, sink and a small shower cubicle. In the far corner of the room was a large boiler that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. He reasoned that it was almost certainly the source of the water for the utilities in the bathroom. Attached to the shower cubicle was a small, handwritten sign that said "2 MIN MAX", clearly stating that long showers were out of the question.
Was this the handwriting of the person who had put him here? It held no further clues, no name or signature that might help to unravel some of the questions zipping around his mind.
He looked at the boiler and noticed at the very top, where the boiler met the ceiling, was a large square box with the words "Purification Unit" stamped across the side. No prizes for guessing what this was for. A small, electronic control pad was attached to the side of the boiler. He looked closer and saw a bright green LED was illuminated, next to the word "Power". There was a button above the light that said ON/OFF.
Whoever built this place was apparently determined to be self-sufficient, considering the continuous electricity generator and the controlled water supply with it's own filter. It must have been a very expensive setup, as equipment like this generally would not come cheap. It looked to be the latest technology, but designed to be simple to use. He wondered who would want all this, and why.
As he pondered his latest discovery, he looked back at the toilet and realised that he desperately needed to urinate. He unzipped his trousers and let nature run its course until he felt much better and slightly lighter. He pressed the handle to flush the toilet and heard gurgling from the boiler behind him. He looked at the boiler and noticed the LED on the purification unit briefly flashed amber, and turned green again as the gurgling stopped.
He washed his hands and noticed another handwritten sign that said "Drinking Water" above the cold tap. Ignoring the gurgling boiler, he took the opportunity to put his mouth under the tap and drank until he felt refreshed. He glanced again at the LED flashing amber.
"So I'm drinking the same water that I just pissed in?" he thought, "How delightful. Tastes alright though."
Taking a last look around the bathroom, he went back out into the corridor, and closed the door behind him. Then he looked at the third door. Having found a huge generator and a fully-equipped bathroom behind the other two, he wondered what he would find behind this one.
He tried one of the two remaining Yale keys on his fob and was pleased to find it unlocked the door straight away. He removed the key from the fob and put it in the lock, then opened the door. He was shocked to find himself standing in an enormous pantry.
There were shelves covering all the walls in this room, each one stacked high with tins of food. There must have been thousands of them in this room, enough to feed a small army for several months. He looked at some of the labels and found that the tins were organised according to their contents: several shelves were devoted to fruit and vegetables, others to meat-based products, and others contained powered substances, such as milk. There were even a few large bottles of cooking oils and some simple spices and seasonings. One shelf on the far wall had a few basic items of cutlery, a few plates and bowls, plus a couple of saucepans.
Then he noticed a wooden door at the far end of the room, surrounded by shelves. He pushed it open and saw a tiny kitchen, with a small electric hob and an even smaller oven. There was a small sink and a cupboard underneath that held washing liquid and soap, as well as a few scrubbing brushes and sponges. It was, in essence, a typical kitchen, only on a smaller scale. There was a tube in the corner of the room, the kind you would see in the mail room of a large corporation. On the tube was another handwritten sign that said "Trash Disposal". He took another quick look around the room and realised there was no rubbish bin, so he guessed that any garbage was placed into the tube and whisked away to some unknown location.
He turned around and found another wooden door behind him. Pushing through this one, he now found himself in a small bedroom. The bed - which seemed freshly made - took up most of the space in this small room, the only other furnishings a small bedside table with a lamp and some hooks on the wall, one of which held a dressing gown.
"Am I in the smallest, weirdest apartment in the world?" he wondered. "Whoever lives here doesn't get out much."
He walked out of the tiny bedroom, through the kitchen and the pantry, into the corridor. He stopped to put the remaining Yale key into the lock of the door that hid the generator room, before heading into the main room. He was even more puzzled by his surroundings than ever before. He seemed to be in the tiny apartment of a man (or woman) who was obsessed with being self-sufficient. They had their own self-charging generator, a water supply that could purify itself, and a ridiculous amount of food.
Who would live in a place like this? Where were they now? And why did he wake up in a box?
He thought about the box for a moment. It struck him that it would be a very unusual place to be held captive; surely a kidnapper would have bound him to a chair, or at least tied his arms and legs so he could not escape? Instead, he had woken up in a box that seemed to open itself, and from there he had free reign of the entire apartment. He even had access to the keys that opened locked doors in other parts of the apartment.
He approached the box again. He shuddered briefly at the memory of waking up in such an enclosed space, the feeling of being trapped inside a coffin and left for dead. Examining the side of his former prison, he noticed wires that led from it to the computer on the desk, where the words "PROGRAM TERMINATED" still hung on the screen.
He inspected the box more closely and found it had a sign on the side. This wasn't a handwritten sign like the others he had found. This was a stamped, stencilled sign showing the name of the company and product. The name itself, however, did not answer all his questions. Instead, it only made things worse.
On the side of the box, the sign read:
CRYOSTAY
CryoFix 2000
Chapter 3 - Taking Stock
The words hung on the screen in front of him as though it was the computer's last words. He tapped the ESC button to see if anything happened, but to no avail. The words did not change or disappear, and the display remained the same.
Puzzled, he pushed away from the desk and took another look around the room. His gaze was drawn back to the large metallic cupboard.
He carefully got to his feet, his legs feeling slightly stronger now, and began shuffling over to the cupboard. He glanced back at the wall opposite and spotted the kitten poster above the sofa, which seemed so out of place here. A tiny speck of kindness in the harsh, metallic environment.
Finally his unsteady legs carried him to the cupboard. Upon arrival he noticed that the first two of the three doors seemed built to open a single, wide cupboard space, and the third handle appeared to conceal its own section. He reached out for the handles of the two doors on the left and grasped them firmly before pulling backwards.
The doors swung open effortlessly, belying their heavy appearance, revealing that the cupboard was, in fact, a wardrobe.
A single rail spanned the length of the wardrobe at eye level, from which were suspended several t-shirts, jumpers, cargo trousers and thick coats. All the clothes had camouflage designs, a mixture of grey, dark brown and white.
Some materials were visible sticking out over the edge of a shelf right at the top of the wardrobe, the rest hidden from view from this angle. Below the suspended clothes were three thin drawers, the first containing underwear and socks, the second containing what appeared to be vests and thermal underwear. The bottom drawer, slightly larger than the other two, had two pairs of thick boots, two pairs of running trainers and some fluffy pink slippers.
Although he did not recognise the clothes, the fact remained that he was naked, so he decided to borrow them until he found his own later. After pausing to check whether they were clean, he pulled a pair of boxer shorts up to his waist, carefully edging them up to support his still tender genitals. He slid a pair of black socks over his feet and climbed into some cargo trousers.
He pushed his arms and head through a dark brown t-shirt from the rack. It was tight but not uncomfortably so, the outline of his toned muscles visible through the material. Finally, he pulled a pair of trainers over his feet, and then suddenly realised that all the clothes fit him perfectly.
"Guy must be the same size as me," he muttered. Feeling more solid on his feet now, he walked back to the desk and wheeled the office chair over to the wardrobe. Standing on the chair he could see the contents of the top shelf. He found a rolled up sleeping bag, a neatly packaged two-person tent and a large rain poncho, all of which also had camouflage designs.
"Guy must like army stuff," he mused.
He climbed down from the chair and pushed it away to the centre of the room, then closed the two open doors before opening the third one to reveal a cupboard space made up of four shelves, each within easy reach, so no need to fetch the chair again.
He inspected the first shelf, which was at eye level, and found a multitude of camping equipment: a heavy duty torch with several spare batteries, a Swiss army knife, a portable camping stove with five disposable gas canisters, several pocket lighters, two compasses, and a map of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. A set of keys hung on a hook on the right above this shelf, with a small key fob of a smiling yellow face.
The next shelf down looked like a miniature pharmacy, with band aids, bandages, gauze, disinfectant, medicinal alcohol, aspirin, sunscreen, antibiotic cream, tweezers and a tiny sewing kit. To the side of the shelf was a green zip up bag with a white cross on it, presumably meant to hold all the medical equipment on the rest of the shelf.
Next he inspected the third shelf. On it were some rope, wire, a fishing line and lures, a flare gun, sailing life jacket, what appeared to be an inflatable dinghy packaged into an impossibly small bag, and a fishing net.
The fourth and final shelf at the bottom held a large back pack designed for camping and hiking, and what seemed to be a large piece of tarpaulin. The back pack looked heavy but spacious, the kind you would see being carried by people climbing Mount Everest.
Having finished his inspection, he went back to the medicine shelf and helped himself to a couple of aspirin, which he dry swallowed.
"If that doesn't fix this fucking headache, then I give up," he told himself.
He walked over to the padlocked cupboard and gave it a cursory tug to check if it was actually locked. The padlock didn't move. The cupboard itself looked much tattier than it's neighbour, with scrapes and dents on both the door and the frame of the cupboard.
Stepping back from the cupboard he turned and focused his attention on the large door with the keypad. It appeared to be a very heavy door with no visible hinge from this side. He looked at the box to the right of the door which contained a small, LED display and a numeric keypad. The only way to open this door was through the entry of the correct code, which he definitely could not remember. He couldn't remember ever being in this room, or any details as to how he got here.
He still couldn't remember who he was, either. He was able to recognise objects and how to use them, like the computer and the aspirin, but he couldn't remember anything about himself. It was an odd sensation, a mixture of confusion and fear, like he had been stripped of everything he was without any known reason.
He wandered over to the wooden door on the other side of the room and tried the handle. It opened easily, so he stepped through the doorway to find himself in a narrow corridor. The right side of the corridor had three separate doors, spaced about two metres apart. Each door appeared to be of the same wooden design as the door he had just opened.
He tried the handle on the first one but it did not budge.
"Bugger, locked," he said. He pressed his ear against the wooden frame and could hear a buzzing noise, much like the one he had heard whilst laying in the metallic box.
He walked further down the corridor and tried the other two doors, but they also seemed to be locked. He couldn't hear any noises from behind either door.
He trudged back through the doorway and stood in the centre of the room. He couldn't see any way out. There was no telephone to call someone, no windows to look through. He was stuck in this unknown place by himself.
Then he remembered the set of keys he saw in the cupboard.
Puzzled, he pushed away from the desk and took another look around the room. His gaze was drawn back to the large metallic cupboard.
He carefully got to his feet, his legs feeling slightly stronger now, and began shuffling over to the cupboard. He glanced back at the wall opposite and spotted the kitten poster above the sofa, which seemed so out of place here. A tiny speck of kindness in the harsh, metallic environment.
Finally his unsteady legs carried him to the cupboard. Upon arrival he noticed that the first two of the three doors seemed built to open a single, wide cupboard space, and the third handle appeared to conceal its own section. He reached out for the handles of the two doors on the left and grasped them firmly before pulling backwards.
The doors swung open effortlessly, belying their heavy appearance, revealing that the cupboard was, in fact, a wardrobe.
A single rail spanned the length of the wardrobe at eye level, from which were suspended several t-shirts, jumpers, cargo trousers and thick coats. All the clothes had camouflage designs, a mixture of grey, dark brown and white.
Some materials were visible sticking out over the edge of a shelf right at the top of the wardrobe, the rest hidden from view from this angle. Below the suspended clothes were three thin drawers, the first containing underwear and socks, the second containing what appeared to be vests and thermal underwear. The bottom drawer, slightly larger than the other two, had two pairs of thick boots, two pairs of running trainers and some fluffy pink slippers.
Although he did not recognise the clothes, the fact remained that he was naked, so he decided to borrow them until he found his own later. After pausing to check whether they were clean, he pulled a pair of boxer shorts up to his waist, carefully edging them up to support his still tender genitals. He slid a pair of black socks over his feet and climbed into some cargo trousers.
He pushed his arms and head through a dark brown t-shirt from the rack. It was tight but not uncomfortably so, the outline of his toned muscles visible through the material. Finally, he pulled a pair of trainers over his feet, and then suddenly realised that all the clothes fit him perfectly.
"Guy must be the same size as me," he muttered. Feeling more solid on his feet now, he walked back to the desk and wheeled the office chair over to the wardrobe. Standing on the chair he could see the contents of the top shelf. He found a rolled up sleeping bag, a neatly packaged two-person tent and a large rain poncho, all of which also had camouflage designs.
"Guy must like army stuff," he mused.
He climbed down from the chair and pushed it away to the centre of the room, then closed the two open doors before opening the third one to reveal a cupboard space made up of four shelves, each within easy reach, so no need to fetch the chair again.
He inspected the first shelf, which was at eye level, and found a multitude of camping equipment: a heavy duty torch with several spare batteries, a Swiss army knife, a portable camping stove with five disposable gas canisters, several pocket lighters, two compasses, and a map of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. A set of keys hung on a hook on the right above this shelf, with a small key fob of a smiling yellow face.
The next shelf down looked like a miniature pharmacy, with band aids, bandages, gauze, disinfectant, medicinal alcohol, aspirin, sunscreen, antibiotic cream, tweezers and a tiny sewing kit. To the side of the shelf was a green zip up bag with a white cross on it, presumably meant to hold all the medical equipment on the rest of the shelf.
Next he inspected the third shelf. On it were some rope, wire, a fishing line and lures, a flare gun, sailing life jacket, what appeared to be an inflatable dinghy packaged into an impossibly small bag, and a fishing net.
The fourth and final shelf at the bottom held a large back pack designed for camping and hiking, and what seemed to be a large piece of tarpaulin. The back pack looked heavy but spacious, the kind you would see being carried by people climbing Mount Everest.
Having finished his inspection, he went back to the medicine shelf and helped himself to a couple of aspirin, which he dry swallowed.
"If that doesn't fix this fucking headache, then I give up," he told himself.
He walked over to the padlocked cupboard and gave it a cursory tug to check if it was actually locked. The padlock didn't move. The cupboard itself looked much tattier than it's neighbour, with scrapes and dents on both the door and the frame of the cupboard.
Stepping back from the cupboard he turned and focused his attention on the large door with the keypad. It appeared to be a very heavy door with no visible hinge from this side. He looked at the box to the right of the door which contained a small, LED display and a numeric keypad. The only way to open this door was through the entry of the correct code, which he definitely could not remember. He couldn't remember ever being in this room, or any details as to how he got here.
He still couldn't remember who he was, either. He was able to recognise objects and how to use them, like the computer and the aspirin, but he couldn't remember anything about himself. It was an odd sensation, a mixture of confusion and fear, like he had been stripped of everything he was without any known reason.
He wandered over to the wooden door on the other side of the room and tried the handle. It opened easily, so he stepped through the doorway to find himself in a narrow corridor. The right side of the corridor had three separate doors, spaced about two metres apart. Each door appeared to be of the same wooden design as the door he had just opened.
He tried the handle on the first one but it did not budge.
"Bugger, locked," he said. He pressed his ear against the wooden frame and could hear a buzzing noise, much like the one he had heard whilst laying in the metallic box.
He walked further down the corridor and tried the other two doors, but they also seemed to be locked. He couldn't hear any noises from behind either door.
He trudged back through the doorway and stood in the centre of the room. He couldn't see any way out. There was no telephone to call someone, no windows to look through. He was stuck in this unknown place by himself.
Then he remembered the set of keys he saw in the cupboard.
Chapter 2 - Emergence
The metal wall rose away from him, tilting to the right as though on a hinge. Bright light now filled his eyes, much more powerful than the faint blue glow he had grown accustomed to.
Instinctively he sat up and gulped in air as if he had been holding his breath under water, glad to no longer be face to face with a metal wall. He was temporarily blind as his retinas struggled to adapt to the sudden change in brightness.
His headache was still there, burning in the centre of his head, although he momentarily forgot about it through the overwhelming sense of relief he felt at no longer being imprisoned in that claustrophobic space.
Instinctively he sat up and gulped in air as if he had been holding his breath under water, glad to no longer be face to face with a metal wall. He was temporarily blind as his retinas struggled to adapt to the sudden change in brightness.
His headache was still there, burning in the centre of his head, although he momentarily forgot about it through the overwhelming sense of relief he felt at no longer being imprisoned in that claustrophobic space.
Chapter 1 - Awakening
Headache.
He could feel the pounding in his head before he had even opened his eyes.
He couldn’t remember having a headache this bad before. The aching seemed to start in one ear and pulse around his brain, concentrating behind his eyes in a searing pain that felt like someone was jabbing needles in his eye sockets.
He realised that he also couldn’t remember much of the night before. He couldn’t remember much of anything. Come to think of it, he couldn’t even remember his own name.
Introduction
My name is Paul Reed-Peck. I live in Switzerland with my wife and our young daughter, living a simple family life.
I have always enjoyed reading a wide range of literary styles, from science fiction to crime to comedy. When I was (much) younger, I also wrote a couple of small books for children, although this was only to raise money for my local school.
Inspired by similar websites, I decided to create this blog to finally have a written record of a book idea that has been floating around in my head for several years, and to flesh it out in an interactive style by using readers' feedback to shape and build the story.
The first 3 chapters, which I will publish on a periodic basis, are already written but from that point onwards the interactive help from my readers will come into play for every aspect of the story, including characters and character development to overall plotlines and potential story twists.
Hopefully this will be the start of a fun literary adventure. Thanks in advance to anyone who offers their feedback, and above all - enjoy the ride!
Paul
I have always enjoyed reading a wide range of literary styles, from science fiction to crime to comedy. When I was (much) younger, I also wrote a couple of small books for children, although this was only to raise money for my local school.
Inspired by similar websites, I decided to create this blog to finally have a written record of a book idea that has been floating around in my head for several years, and to flesh it out in an interactive style by using readers' feedback to shape and build the story.
The first 3 chapters, which I will publish on a periodic basis, are already written but from that point onwards the interactive help from my readers will come into play for every aspect of the story, including characters and character development to overall plotlines and potential story twists.
Hopefully this will be the start of a fun literary adventure. Thanks in advance to anyone who offers their feedback, and above all - enjoy the ride!
Paul
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