Free Death Thieves by Julie Wright

future.
    “Look.” He moved toward the window and waved his hand in front. Nothing happened. “Did you see?” he asked.
    I shook my head.
    “The ring would glow red if the sensors felt I was not approved. It would glow green if the sensors had approved me.” He waved his hand over the window once more. “But see how it doesn’t glow at all? No entry sensors yet. We’re fine.”
    “That doesn’t mean they don’t have an alarm system that tripped when you opened the window.” I peeked out to check for cops. The trees swayed softly in the breeze, but nothing else moved in the shadows.
    He shook his head again. “Technically, you opened the window. But alarm systems aren’t what they were. Ring law was instated in 2090. Everyone has to have an IDR. By 2095, every other form of contact for emergency service was discontinued. If you didn’t install entry sensors in your home or business, then it’s your problem.”
    I looked out. Nothing. I relaxed. The police weren’t coming. Once Tag felt I was under control, he nodded and led us back to the kitchen. He inspected the pantry, pulling out cans of things that might be edible. There were bulk-size cans filled with beans, rice, and flour. I watched as Tag mixed some of the beans up with the rice and put them in his humidifier. “Sorry it’s taking so long. The dehydrated foods work better because they were designed for the humidifier. Real foods work differently.”
    “Isn’t there running water here? Why are you using that when there’s a stove right there?” I pointed at the stove.
    He grunted and looked abashed. “Habit, I guess.” He maneuvered over to the stove, trying to get the pilot light to catch. When it wouldn’t, he pulled a plastic bottle from his jacket and tapped out a match. Blue flame sparked to life around the burner when he touched the match to it.
    I turned my hands over and really looked at them for the first time in hours. I was filthy. I got up and moved to the kitchen sink. But simple hand washing wasn’t enough for me. I wanted a bath. The idea of walking through the dark house alone to find a bathroom made my heart quicken with fear. “Tag?”
    He looked up from the stove.
    “Will you help me find a bathroom?” I guess I should have felt guilty for making him be responsible for the food. I should have felt some need to pitch in and do my part. But he was the kidnapper. This was his party and his responsibility. If he didn’t like it, he could take me home and be rid of me. Even as I thought these things, I had to force down the twinges of guilt that did bubble up. It wasn’t in my upbringing to be served.
    He guided me through the house until we found a bathroom bigger than the master bedroom in Aunt Theresa’s house.
    A huge fluffy towel that could have been used as a blanket hung over the side of the tub. It was too dark to make out any colors, but the bathroom had the feeling of being elaborate and posh. Tag pulled a couple of sticks from his jacket and snapped them in half, giving them a brief shake and dropping them on the counter by the mirror.
    “Glow sticks?” I let out a nervous laugh.
    “What about them?”
    “I’d expected something high tech like your ring.”
    “Some things don’t change. If an idea was perfect to begin with, why alter it? If you keep them by the mirror, you’ll get the light from the reflection, too. It will make the room brighter.” He gave a slight bow, like a butler being dismissed. “I’ll leave you to clean up. Food will be ready when you come out.”
    He left the bathroom, very deliberately pulling the door closed tight so the latch caught with a click. I hurried to cross the room and lock the door, feeling grateful the door did have locks.
    I wondered if Tag was outside—if he’d heard me lock the door. Would he be offended by my not trusting him? I snorted at my image in the mirror. Did I care if I offended him? I frowned. Unsure why some part of me did care.
    Giving myself a