The Fort (Aric Davis)

good,” he said. “These streets are no place for a girl as pretty as you. You should be at home with your mom and dad, not out here. Did your dad get a little touchy-feely, make you want to take off? I get that. Happens all the time. But this is your lucky day. I’m going to take you away from all of this.”
    “Please let me go,” said the girl. “My name’s not Amy, it’s Molly. You’ve got me confused with someone else. Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone. I’m not supposed to be out here. I just want to go home.”
    Hooper smiled. She’d be begging to be called Amy soon enough. He was nicer to Amy. “Where are you supposed to be instead, honey?”
    “We were going to the drive-in. This was all supposed to be just a gag or something, just for fun. Just drop me off right here, OK? Just stop and let me out.”
    Hooper raised the gun and pointed it at her. He hated doing it. God, she looks just like her. “Get your hand off of the car door. Now. Do it slowly, and put your hands in your lap like a good girl.” She did it as he watched, just like he’d told her to. They were almost to the park, just a few more blocks, and he was going to have her.
    Out of nowhere, another thought occurred to him: What if, instead of using her and then disposing of her, he saved her? She was as close to Amy at sixteen as he was ever going to get, even if he found his real sister. Instead of turning left, Hooper turned right, sending them away from the park.
    Hooper smiled at the silently crying girl, already becoming resigned to her fate, thanks to the pistol. If I’m going to do this, it has to be perfect. “You said you were going to the drive-in, right?” She ignored him, and Hooper asked again. “Amy, you said you were going to the drive-in, right?”
    “Yes,” she said in a very small voice. “But now I just want to go home. Can you please just let me go home?”
    Hooper smiled at her. Even with the makeup running down her face, she was beautiful. “Of course you can go home, Amy. In fact, that’s exactly where we’re headed. Now, your room isn’t quite like what it was when you left, but we should be able to get it fixed up soon enough, all right?”
    “Just let me go!” she screamed, banging her hands on the dashboard. For a moment Hooper thought he might have to hit her with the gun just to make her behave. That would ruin it, though, mess up that pretty face. She just needed the proper training and everything would be fine.
    “Amy, if I have to ask you to calm down again, I’m going to be forced to hurt you, and that’s the last thing I want to do.” Her screaming turned into bawling, and Hooper ran his gun hand through her hair. Just like Amy.

    Hooper parked the car in the garage. He had never planned to bring one of them here, and wasn’t exactly sure what to do. He got out of the car and walked around it, then opened her door, grabbed the girl by the arm, and yanked her out. She opened her mouth to scream, he knew she was going to, and he dropped the hand holding the pistol on top of her head. He caught her body before she could fall to the floor, and was surprised at how little she weighed. Hooper kicked the car door shut, then carried her into the house.
    He walked through the kitchen with her and laid her down on the couch. He tucked the pistol into his pants and ran back to the garage. There was some nautical rope in his toolbox, he was almost positive. The rope was in the third drawer he checked, and Hooper grabbed it, along with a box cutter, and raced back in through the kitchen to the living room. He let out a deep breath. She was still on the couch. He sat down next to her and began using the rope to bind her hands and feet.
    When he was done, she was stripped to her underwear, her ankles were bound, and her wrists were tied behind her back. Hooper had used additional rope to attach her ankles to her wrists to create a higher level of security. He checked his watch. It was only 11:00 p.m., so if he hurried, he had enough time to make everything else happen. He hoisted up the now-bound Amy and carried her down to the cellar, along with the rope and box cutter. Once there, he laid her back against a steel beam wrapped in cement, then tied her restraints to the pole using the rest of the rope. He gave it a good yank, and when he was sure that she wouldn’t be getting loose, he grabbed the box cutter and stood, giving her one long last look before climbing the steps and locking the