She was in darkness. A lightless void in which Mary felt the pupils of her eyes opening wider and wider, unable to fathom total and absolute darkness. She brought her hands up to her face and saw nothing. The heat was already unbearable. Mary felt rivulets of sweat tracking down her cheeks.
Then a more pressing concern hit her. It was air. The vault they had thrust her into was airtight. How long before I suffocate? She moved about feeling all the walls, and she judged the vault to be large, as big as a good size closet. Would there be enough air for an hour, maybe two, hopefully more? She had no idea.
Mary put her hand up gingerly to her swollen jaw. The big man with the crooked nose had clipped her a good one after she kneed him in the crotch. Her father had taught her early on about a man’s most vulnerable spot. She summoned up all her optimism to think that they was not going to let her die in here. She had to believe that, or she would succumb to mindless panic and use up the air twice as fast. Mary resisted the urge to beat on the door with her fists. No one would hear her except the heartless men who had thrown her in here. She sat in the corner and did not move, taking shallow, controlled breaths.
As the minutes slipped away, she could not fight the dark thoughts that entered her mind about the inevitability of her situation. After an indeterminate amount of time, the air was becoming stale and unbreathable. Mary opened her mouth wide and gulped it in, trying to extract any oxygen available.
She did not know when or if she had actually passed out. Mary was only aware of the fresh air hitting her lungs as the door opened. Through blurred vision, she saw the Doctor standing there with his two toadies. Irrationality had taken over her mind, and she truly thought how wonderful it was to see them.
“Our Indian princess is a strong one,” said the Doctor in admiration. “The others were dead by now. They would go through their oxygen screaming and pounding on the door.”
The taller man with the crooked nose and the gaunt janitor each grabbed an arm and hoisted her to an upright position.
“What da ya want us to do with her, boss?” asked the janitor.
“Take her down to my operating table and strap her down. I’m glad she’s not dead. I’ll have more fun with her alive.”
The implications of this did not sink in immediately. Mary was still glad to be breathing fresh air. They tugged her down the hall and into a secret passageway they uncovered by rotating part of the wall. The big fellow had a rag in his right hand that reeked of what she recognized to be chloroform. If she attempted to resist, she knew it would go over her face. She thought it better to feign unconsciousness so she would be aware if some opportunity to escape arose. She let them drag her down the dark, winding staircase that they both seemed to know well.
The basement of the castle had a musty, acrid odor. Although most of the hotel had been updated with modern electric lighting, the basement was illuminated by only a few gaslights. The flickering lights gave the place an eerie, foreboding glow. She thought of Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein that she had read when she was a young girl. Would the townspeople come to storm this castle?
They pulled her over to what appeared to be an operating table and hoisted her upon it. There were leather straps near the top and bottom; a worn bag with surgical instruments was lying open on the floor. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what they were for. The relief she had experienced when she was pulled from the airless vault had now dissipated. Mary struggled to control the terror, the panic, that was taking hold of her. This is it, she thought to herself.
Once prone on the table, Mary wasted no time connecting a well-placed kick to the chin of the big man with the crooked nose. Then she rolled into the janitor who was standing on the other side of the table. He was about her height and weight, and it would have been a fair fight had she not been so flush with fear. Mary overpowered the startled janitor and smacked his head into the stone floor until she saw his eyes roll back in his head. She stood there when she was finished, not believing what she had just done, when the big man came over the top of the table and grabbed her by the sleeve of her dress. She ran for a beckoning doorway, and the sleeve ripped loose leaving crooked-nose with a handful of gingham. She had a few strides lead on him, but he was fast and anger had made him determined. Mary lifted up her long skirt and stretched out her legs, cursing white people for believing a woman should not show her ankles.