A Bullet in the Dark - Part 2

…there's no contest. I'm going to have to try to get his attention. If I don't, I may very well just stay stuck here until…well, I don't really want to think about what could be waiting.

Cameron cleared his throat as he strained his weight against the handcuff, leaning as far forward as he could manage.

"Hey," he called, speaking much louder than he had before, "you there—kid! Can you hear me? Are you awake? Are you hurt?"

It felt awkward, addressing a strange child in such a manner, but Cameron really hadn't had much choice. He felt stupidly anxious as he tried to rouse the other passenger as gently (yet urgently) as possible—but tried to convince himself it was just the result of his situation. Waking up handcuffed to a train would rattle anyone.

Cameron didn't receive a response. He couldn't even see the kid's shoe anymore. Heaving an exasperated groan, Cameron fell back down roughly against the wooden seat, slamming his head against the back of it. He was just starting to notice exactly how stiff he felt, and couldn't help but wonder how long he had been unconscious.

He didn't have long to contemplate this, however, before a surge of hope washed over him at the sound of a small, tentative voice. It was so quiet, in fact, that Cameron probably would have missed it if there was anything else to listen to besides the rolling sound of the train running against its tracks.

"…not supposed to talk to strangers…" came the meek and high-pitched, but identifiably boyish, whisper.

"That's very true!" Cameron responded hurriedly, putting a great effort into sounding trustworthy and child-friendly, "but in some situations, you have to talk to strangers. I get scared talking to strangers, too, but right now I'm lost, and I need to ask you for your help. Can you help me?"

"I'm lost too," the boy responded after a hesitation. Cameron immediately jumped on the opportunity.

"Then maybe we can help each other. If we work together, we should be able to find our way back home faster." Pausing, Cameron wiped his free arm across his forehead. He felt a little flushed. "My name is Cameron, and I promise I only want to help. You can trust me."

The silence that followed as the boy thought over Cameron's words was enough to make him sweat a little, but when he finally spoke up, sounding a little less cautious, Cameron allowed himself to relax just a little. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

"I'm Perry," the boy had answered, immediately following up his introduction with, "what can I do to help? I'm stuck, too."

Cameron could have grinned, had it not been wholly inappropriate. "I need two numbers, Perry. I already have one number, but I can't open a lock that I found unless I have two more. I think, if I can open it, I'll be able to get us out of these seats. Look around and see if you can find any, okay?"

"Okay."

Cameron could hear vague sounds of movement as Perry rummaged around, and had to will himself to be patient. He found his gaze flickering in agitation toward the digital clock looming overhead.

It now read 12:13 A.M.

"I found a piece of paper!" Perry exclaimed excitedly from his position out of sight, but his tone immediately faltered in confusion. "I'm not sure what it means, though…"

"That's fine! What does it say?"

"_ + _ -_ = 11," Perry recited, unsure. "Like a math problem, only…missing numbers."

Cameron frowned. That had been far less than helpful; he felt as if they had taken several steps backwards. A couple of mathematical symbols and a two-digit number wouldn't do anything to open a lock requiring three single-digit numbers. Just in case, he tried plugging in the number 3 with two 1s. Naturally, nothing happened.

That left Cameron with only one idea: they needed to find two more numbers that would, with the number 3, equal 11.

"Are you stuck down by a handcuff too, Perry? Examine it closely. I found the first number on mine," Cameron prompted, wishing he could at least see the boy's face to better offer him instructions.

Another short pause, presumably as Perry followed Cameron's suggestion. "No…" he breathed, "I don't see any…wait! It's really small but there's a number 9 drawn on here!"

"Great! Now we just need one more. I've already tried looking around at the other seats as best as I can from here—do you think you can try doing that, too?"

Cameron could only assume Perry nodded in compliance. "I'll try."

As he watched the space where Perry sat intently, he was surprised to see a disheveled wad of dusty brown hair pop up, into sight, followed by small hands that gripping the seat for support. Perry must have been handcuffed not by his wrist, but by his ankle; that explained why he hadn't noticed the number as quickly as Cameron had been able to.

Perry seemed to be trying to peer over into the row of seats in front of him as far as he could—Cameron couldn't decide if the struggle was caused more by the boy's confinement or his small statute—but quickly dropped out of sight again.

"Cameron!" He squealed in panic, sounding almost as if he were going to cry. "There's a lady on the floor! She isn't moving! I think she's dead!"

Predictably, Cameron's initial reaction was to shoot up and out of his seat—and of course, came crashing back down once more. Suppressing a curse, Cameron took a deep breath. He doubted that the woman was actually dead; so far the two of them appeared to be physically unharmed (at least, Perry hadn't indicated otherwise)…but he couldn't blame the poor boy for drawing such an extreme conclusion.

"I'm sure she's only sleeping," Cameron assured as gently as possible, "try and stay calm. Please, Perry, look at her again and see if you can spot a number. We just need one more…and if the pattern follows, it should be on her cuff, too. Once I have that number, I should be able to make sure that she really is okay, but right now there's nothing either of us can do."

Perry made a small whimper, but gradually the back of the same head peeked into Cameron's view as Perry hoisted himself as far over the seat in front of him as he could.

The digital clock now read 12:19 A.M.

"…5. It's hard to see…but I think there's a 5."

As soon as the words had left Perry's lips, however unconvincing they sounded, Cameron ran the numbers through his head. He wasn't about to start wasting time, now.

The math was simple enough; it hardly took Cameron any time at all to come up with a possible solution:

9 + 5 – 3 = 11.

Cameron punched the numbers into the lock in that order.

9…5…3…click.

Letting out a breath of air that Cameron hadn't even been aware he had been holding, he threw open the lid of the case. Three small keys were positioned neatly in three separate partitions. Predictably, each one had a number etched into it that corresponded to the numbers on the handcuffs.

Setting the suitcase aside, Cameron grabbed all three keys and, taking the key labeled by the number 3, freed himself at last from the handcuff. He couldn't believe exactly how satisfying it was to free his wrist from the steel; a thin red ring had formed on the skin where the handcuff had rubbed him raw.

But Cameron didn't have time to dwell on the success of freedom.

His legs ached as he stood to his full height, but ignored the soreness as he pushed forward, into the aisle. Slipping the used key into his pocket, Cameron kept the other two keys in hand and headed toward...