The Employer: A Novelization

By Frank Merle

THE EMPLOYER is a psychological thriller about a contest for a job that becomes a competition for survival. Five strangers, all out-of-work business executives, are kidnapped and drugged. They wake up trapped in a locked room, and are informed that they have become unwilling participants in an experimental corporate interview process. Based on the critically-acclaimed, award-winning 2013 film starring Malcolm McDowell, written and directed by Frank Merle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483504797

Book preview

1

James slowly woke to the realization that his head was throbbing. He tried opening his eyes, but the dim light that came through only made the pain worse. So he kept them closed and tried to remember how he had hurt his head and why he was lying fully clothed on a cold, hard floor. Gradually, his mind started to clear and his last few moments of consciousness came back to him. He had been attacked in his apartment. A stranger had knocked on his door, just moments after he had arrived home. He must have been followed.

As the fog in his brain started to clear, so did the pain. But anxiety rushed in to take its place, as James became aware of how little he understood about his predicament. This apprehension prompted him to open his eyes again, and this time his head barely protested. He could see fluorescent lights high above him, but not much else. Everything looked fuzzy, but he quickly realized that was only because he wasn’t wearing his glasses. With apprehension he reached up to his face and was relieved to find that his glasses had simply slipped down and were resting on his neck. He quickly adjusted them and got his first good view of his surroundings.

The room was just a little larger than his studio apartment. The bare walls were a dirty shade of green, almost the color of money. There were no windows and only one way in or out: a massive, steel door that looked like it belonged on a bank vault. The oddity of the room’s design sent a shiver down his spine, but the next thing he noticed was worse. Lying next to him were four unmoving people he had never seen before, two men and two women. A quick examination of the four indicated that they were all breathing, but he couldn’t wake any of them. They were alive, but completely unconscious. Realizing that he had been one of them just moments ago, James hoped that they would soon come to on their own, as he had. Since there was nothing he could do to help them, he decided to focus his mind on getting out of this room.

Turning his attention away from the sleeping strangers, James got to his feet and approached the door. It had a large metal turn handle in the center that reminded him of the steering wheel on a ship. It looked crude but solid and he had a bad feeling that the door would be locked. With one hand on either side of the wheel, he gave it a good tug to the left. The door was unyielding. He grasped a bar and tried turning to the right, this time putting his whole weight into it, but the wheel didn’t budge. As he rested his arms from this exertion, he noticed four numerical keypads on the wall next to the door, each with nine digits. It immediately occurred to James that he was looking at a complex combination lock, one that would require not one, but four correct codes to open. He tried typing in a random number and got nothing but an angry beep from the control pad.

As he stared at locks trying to think what to do, a soft, troubled groan pierced the eerie silence behind him. He turned around and saw that one of the women on the floor was starting to stir. Hopeful that she might have some answers, he rushed to her side and helped her sit up.

Are you okay? he asked the beautiful redheaded stranger. Instead of answering, she put her hands to her head and held them there while staring at the ground, as if trying to get the room to stop spinning. Apparently she was just as groggy as James had been when he first woke. She looked up at him with fearful eyes.

What’s going on? she asked.

I don’t know. I just woke up, James explained as gently as he could. Although she had only spoken three words to him, there was something about this woman that made James feel protective of her. She was petit and fragile looking, especially with the way she was holding her head. He dreaded telling her the truth of their predicament. As he considered the best way to fill her in, she seemed to clear her head and started looking around the room.

She noticed the three unconscious people lying next to her. What about them?

They’re all breathing, I think. Other than that, I have no idea.

She then pointed toward the imposing metal door at the far end of the room. The door?

Locked, James explained. To demonstrate, he returned to the door and gave its handle another series of pulls and pushes.

The redhead used this time to get a better look at the three unconscious strangers, who seemed like a truly mismatched group. One of the men was wearing a tailored suit and tie, while the other man, the much larger of the two, wore khakis and a long sleeve T-shirt. The unconscious woman, who looked barely old enough to be called a woman, had a slim, athletic build that was shown off by the little black dress she was wearing.

A grunt from the opposite side of the room drew the redhead’s attention to the man at the door, still battling unsuccessfully to get it open. She stood and took a few tentative steps toward him, taking note of the worn out sport coat he was wearing that seemed to be two sizes two big for his lanky frame. Finally giving up on the door, the man turned back to her and gave a big, almost comical shrug, as if to punctuate the end of his demonstration.

What’s your name? she asked.

I’m James.

How did you get here, James? She took another step towards him, but stopped with plenty of room still between them.

James took a moment to think. Although the memory had fully returned by now, he wasn’t sure how much he needed to tell her. Someone attacked me at my apartment. What about you?

I was out having drinks with my sister. When we were done, we each called a cab, since we were headed in opposite directions. Hers came first. After she left, a limo pulled up and the driver offered me a ride. When I refused, he got out and came toward me. That’s the last I remember.

James wondered to himself if they had been attacked by the same person. The man who had shown up at his apartment had been wearing a black suit with a white shirt and black tie. Just like a limo driver. Did he put a rag over your mouth? he asked. The redhead nodded. This convinced James that the same man had visited them both. It must have been chloroform, or something. But why?

I have no idea, she said, suddenly realizing that she had gotten James’ name, but hadn’t offered her own in return. I’m Sandra, by the way.

James started searching through the pockets of his oversized tweet jacket, which had been a hand-me-down gift from his father when James had been a teenager. Both men had hoped that James would grow into it, but at thirty, the jacket still hung off his lanky frame. James’ father had passed away in the intervening years, so despite a poor fit, James still wore his father’s coat on occasion, as he had last night when he was kidnapped. His father had jokingly called it his lucky smoking jacket, but so far, it hadn’t brought James much luck.

Sandra began to wonder what could be hiding in the deep pockets of that jacket. What do you have there? she asked as innocently as she could.

Nothing. I was looking for my phone. He must have taken it. My wallet, too.

Feeling no sense of threat or dishonesty from James, Sandra took a few more steps toward him, until they were both standing next to the shiny metal door. They searched each other’s eyes for answers. Maybe this is some kind of kidnapping. Like, they’re going to hold us for ransom, Sandra offered.

James shook his head. I’m not worth anything.

Sandra scoffed at this. You must be worth something to someone. Do you have any rich family members?

I have no family. Rich or poor.

So maybe it’s not a ransom thing, Sandra conceded, giving up on the idea. She began to examine the four keypads on the wall next to the door. What do you make of these?

Strange that there are four of them, James observed as he began to wonder just how many millions of possible combinations there were with this number of digits. However many there were, James was certain that whoever had put them here did not want them getting that door open on their own.

2

For the second time in just a few minutes, James heard a low groan coming from the back of the room. This time, it was the young woman in the black dress. James and Sandra both rushed to her side, anxious to see if she could add