The Never List

of us was tethered with one long, heavy length of chain—it would vary whether we were fastened by the wrist or ankle—and each link, one inch by two, was rusty enough for its coppery dust to rub onto our skin, leaving false scrapes all over our bodies as we hauled it around. The left wall was empty, but I saw a small metal circle jutting out, just so. Room for one more if he wanted.
    I knew it was morning only because of a small crease of light that crept between the slats of the single boarded-up window. I would have screamed, but I was too afraid. I couldn’t even get my first words out when Christine and Tracy finally woke up. I was obviously in shock, but even in my confused state, I was glad I was not alone.
    Tracy rubbed her face and turned to me sadly. Without a word, she crawled over to Christine and shook her awake. Christine turned the front of her body toward the wall, then buried her face back in her hands, mumbling.
    “Christine, come on, meet the new girl. She’s up now.” Tracy turned to me and gave me a half-smile. “I’m very sorry you’ve had to join us. You look like a nice kid. It’s a shame. The other girl—you know her?—has saved one of us from something we were very afraid of, and so, I must admit, for that we are very glad.”
    “Where is she?” was all I could muster, my voice choked off by fear.
    At that Christine sat up, her translucent blue eyes glittering as they slid nervously to the box. I followed her glance and started to cry.
    “Tell me. Tell me. Where is Jennifer? Is she in there ?” I was still whispering, afraid of what was lurking upstairs.
    Christine turned over to face the wall again. This time her shoulders were heaving, so I could tell she was crying. It was enough to bring tears to my own eyes, and I wondered if I would be able to hold back the sobs building up inside me. When she turned back to me again, though, she was smiling, even as the tears poured down her cheeks. It was then that I decided she was not crying over the horror of my condition and hers. These seemed more like tears of relief.
    Tracy adjusted her chain so she could get closer to Christine, carefully twisting and folding it over to make a solid loop on the floor. She knelt down beside her against the wall, maneuvered Christine into her arms, and shushed her quietly.
    “Relax, Christine,” Tracy said soothingly, as though she were her only child who’d just had a bad, but not dangerous, fall.
    Tracy gave Christine a small kiss on the cheek, then started in my direction, pulling her chain and recoiling it carefully at her feet in a slow, methodical rhythm, as though she were engaged in some kind of avant-garde dance. The chains clinked almost musically. Drag, lift, settle. Drag, lift, settle.
    She came close, very close, and I instinctively drew back as shecontinued. “I’m afraid your friend has not been lucky. But you are lucky. I mean, considering.”
    I started crying, wondering what kind of perverse world it was down here. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, willing it away.
    “Where is Jennifer? Where is my friend?” I had found my voice at last and was practically screaming now. “Jennifer? Are you in there? Are you okay?”
    Tracy ignored my question and went on, “You have one thing going for you. Christine and I are very experienced cellar residents. We’ll show you the ropes, as it were.” She laughed as though she’d made a joke. Christine also made a noise apparently intended to indicate amusement. I didn’t find it funny at all, and in that moment I wasn’t sure whether to be more afraid of my captor or of these thin, dejected girls stuck here at the end of the world with me.
    Not taking her eyes off me, Tracy walked over to the stairs, pulling her chains along behind her. Drag, lift, settle. There was a cardboard box at the bottom of the last step. She lifted out two worn-out but clean-looking green hospital gowns. She tossed one to Christine and pulled the other around her shoulders. She reached back into the box and pulled out a third.
    “Ah, see, he is providing for you already.” She threw it over to me. It was soft from many washings and smelled freshly laundered.
    “Your royal robe,” she said dramatically. “And our weekly provisions. Good thing you arrived on a Sunday night. Mondays are good days for us.”
    I grabbed the gown and put it on following Tracy’s example, with the opening in the front, but wrapped tightly around me. Tracy lifted more items