We ask the girls still below to come up with weapons…

““We ask the girls still below to come up with weapons. “Anything,” I hiss to Heidi through the crack. “Nail files. Scissors. String. Forks. I mean, someone has to have pepper spray, at least.” I can hear the call going around down there. Surely they must be able to conjure up something. In the end I have a surprising amount of string, but no scissors and no forks. I guess everyone was taken by surprise when they were kidnapped and didn't have time to get anything other than what they had in their pockets. “Is that it?” I hiss to Heidi. “String?” “That's what you asked for,” she says indignantly. “Some of the women here took the drawstring out of their sweatpants and now they have to hold them up with their hands. Oh, wait ...” She disappears and comes up again with something black in her hand. “How about this?” I take the thing in both hands. It's heavy. “Oh my fuck ...” It's a gun. Very black and matte and ugly. And I can't help but notice that it fits my hand perfectly. It's pretty small. Heidi is talking to someone down there and relaying information to me. “Glock twenty-six,” she says. “Nine millimeter, which I hope is not how far it can shoot ... what? Okay, it's the diameter of the bullet? Sounds kind of small to me. But whatever. You have ten shots.” She peers up at me. “Is that good enough, or do you need more string?””

— Calista Skye