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chain would allow, Gordy could only see part of the door at the top. Something was attached to the back of the door. It looked like carpet padding. To muffle sound maybe? Nobody outside the house would ever hear Gordy cry for help. His screams wouldn’t escape the basement any more than Gordy could.
    The soundproofing worked both ways. Gordy hadn’t heard a sound from upstairs from the moment the basement door shut. Not even a footstep.
    Every basement in the Midwest has window wells. Gordy’s prison had three, but all of them were covered with black plastic. One of them looked bigger. The emergency exit. The thick plastic coverings would keep light from creeping into the basement through one of those windows, and the chain on Gordy’s ankle guaranteed he’d never crawl out.
    Think, Gordy. Think. You’ve got to find a way out of here. Fast.
    A gray box was mounted on the wall a few feet from the washer. Gordy held the beam on the spot, scanning the pipes and conduit leading into the electric panel. Okay. The main breaker would be in there.
    Gordy picked up a handful of chain so the shackle wouldn’t bite into his ankle when he moved. He shuffled to the fuse box and opened the metal door. Two rows of fifteen-amp fuses with labels next to them. And above them the larger, main breaker to power everything.
    Okay, this could help. This could give him some real light in the basement. The batteries in the flashlight wouldn’t last forever.And it could give him a way to signal for help. What if somewhere in the house, a lamp was plugged in—or an outside light on an eave somewhere? That’s all he’d need. Gordy could turn the main breaker on and off until somebody noticed it. Too bad he didn’t know Morse code. He’d signal an S.O.S until some boy scout saw it and called the police.
    Gordy reached for the breaker—then hesitated. What if Taser-man was still upstairs? If he saw a light come on, he’d rush down to the basement. Gordy never wanted to see that man again. Not him—or his taser.
    But he had to take the chance. He flipped the switch. Nothing. He side-stepped over to the washer, made sure it was plugged in and spun the control knob. Dead. Gordy kicked the side panel of the wash machine.
    Okay. So that could only mean the electric service to the house had been turned off by the electric company. He didn’t like the thought of that.
    There was no way out. Gordy shined the flashlight toward the mattress and the cardboard box next to it. Three packs of cheese crackers and three packs of peanut-butter crackers. Two bottles of water. One pack of Twinkies. He hadn’t had Twinkies since the rush to buy them when Hostess announced their closing. They could have been here for months. Except for the water, he’d eat more than this for an after school snack. How long was this supposed to last?
    Were the police even looking for him? They had to be. Cooper would have seen to that. Gordy imagined how the police report would read.
    Male. Fourteen years old. 5’7” tall. 130 pounds. Blond hair. Blue eyes. And stupid enough to get himself kidnapped less than a mile away from home.
    The police wouldn’t be the only ones on the hunt. Coop would be searching for him. And Hiro. Maybe Lunk. Mom and Dad too. And Uncle Carson for sure.
    Gordy checked the beam to be sure the flashlight looked plenty bright. Had it gotten dimmer? Hard to say, but he dreaded even the thought of turning off the flashlight. Not for two seconds. But food wasn’t the only thing he needed to conserve. He’d have to save the batteries too. With one last swing of the beam around the room, Gordy snapped off the light.
    Panic gripped him the moment the basement went dark. Absolutely no light. Zero. Like that cave he’d visited with his family when he was a kid. The tour guide cut the power and Gordy froze, his hand locked in his dad’s strong grip. They told him he wouldn’t be able to see his hand if he held it right in front of his face. He’d tried