"Let's think for a moment," Sarah said, as Stephen continued to gape at the spike-filled pit, his eyes boggling as he imagined what it would have been like, had he fallen along with the chair and impaled himself and splintered apart just like it but with more blood and Oh God--
Sarah slapped him.
He fell backwards, clutching his cheek, even though it had been a rather light, girly slap.
"I said," Sarah began again, looking sternly at Stephen, who was inching away from both her and the tile shaped hole in the floor, "let's think for a moment."
"About what?" he breathed, pulling himself into a sitting position.
"About how we got here," she said, as though this were obvious.
"Well, if we knew that, we'd be able to get out, wouldn't we?" he answered irritably.
"What were you doing this morning?" Sarah asked.
"Waking up?" he said belligerently.
"Come on," she said, mildly frustrated. He stood up, leaned against one of the walls, and began to think, begrudgingly, about the events that had preceded his arrival into this room. He had, of course, woken up--showered, had a bit of a bagel with cream cheese, watched a little Good Morning, America. He was a police officer, hence the gun, and he realized suddenly that he ought to
have been wearing his uniform. Stephen was in his mid-twenties, but had already been on the force for several years, as both his mother and father were officers as well. He didn't mind joining the family business, especially since his parents had never pressured him into it.
"I was on duty," he said out loud, and Sarah's head raised with interest.
"You're an officer?"
He nodded slowly.
"Well, that explains the gun, doesn't it? Where's your outfit?"
"Good question," Stephen murmured, tugging at the clingy white T-shirt and jeans he was currently dressed in. While he was sure he had others like them at his apartment, he was fairly certain that this particular clothing set was not his. He felt a red warmth creep cross his cheeks as he wondered who could have redressed him. The amused expression on Sarah's face told him that she was wondering the same thing.
"Shut up," he said gruffly.
"I didn't say anything," Sarah answered, sing-song.
"You're thinking it, though," he said, and glowered. Her smile deepened.
"So, you were on duty. Then what? Where were you?"
Relieved by the change of subject, he answered,
"Well, I was in the city, just patrolling, you know...and I passed by this alley, and I thought it was a little strange because it was in the middle of the day and this alley was completely dark. So I pulled over and went to have a look, and I all can remember after that is this harsh, hissing sound, like you hear when steam pressure is being released... like a tea kettle or something."