by R. K. Latch
They scared him. No, more than that, they absolutely terrified him when they changed. That’s what it was like, a changing, an altering, a transformation. They were two completely different people. Luthor with his hollering and cursing and pounding and Gabby with her gleeful delight, her schoolgirl giggling, the absolute madness on which she set to work on the old hobo.
When they wanted to include him, for him to join in on the hell they were paying out to Larry, Wade could not. He did not refuse; he just was not capable. He knew what was at risk. The big white house, the food, the clothing, the sense of security and belonging that started enveloping him as snugly and as warmly as if he were back in his mother’s womb were on the chopping block.
Luthor had made the argument Larry was willing to do worse to Wade and that might very well be true. In that alley, as he clawed at him, Wade did not know what was in store for him, but he knew it would be awful and terrible and ugly and painful. He’d been scared, true enough and he’d also been angry. If he had a gun with him at the time, he would have blown off the vagrant’s head and not thought twice about it, or so he believed.
Almost a full day later, the anger and fear had receded like low tide. Once he was away from the danger Larry posed, he gave no more thought to it and had thought very little about it since, at least until finding him strapped to a worktable in the shop here on the edge of the Duncan’s property.
Mr. Duncan took it as an insult that Wade refused to participate, as he said they were only doing it for him. That the sole reason Larry the hobo was here was because of what he’d done and what he had in store for Wade.
To be completely honest, Wade was touched. He could not remember the last time anyone had done anything selfless just for him. But kidnapping and torturing a man in your garage was just batshit, as a guy Wade had known was fond of saying. Pure batshit.
With all of Luthor and Gabby’s insistence and urging, Wade feared they would turn on him and strap him down to something and begin the whole process on him. That had not happened, but it was still a likely possibility. They would no longer trust him. They could not let him go for fear he would inform on them. Their choices were limited. As were his.
He would have to escape. He had to flee.
The dimness of the shop’s interior was an impediment. There was light, but very little of it. Beyond the scant slivers allowed in by the missed or scratched areas of black paint, the shop itself had a few cracks and loose-fitting joints that allowed some small measure of illumination in. Perhaps Luthor knew leaving a light on would be beneficial to the boy and like all that came before him, decided against allowing him the smallest advantage. It was not all bad. Wade could not see anything of Larry but a mound in the darkness and as the storm continued churning overhead, he heard nothing from the suffering man.
The cage, the very small cage. He thought of it as a cage instead of a pen. He was no animal, he was a boy, a young man and he might be caged but he would not be penned. A silly distinction, for sure, but one he chose to make, nonetheless.
Constructed out of nothing more than chicken wire and wooden boards, one would think it easy enough to break free. However, it was quite sturdy and while not used in its construction, barb wire coated the sides and the top of the cage making attempts for him to get his small arm outside of the cage to gain some type of leverage was painful and next to impossible.
There was one door to the cage, secured with a heavy padlock. Beneath him, a dingy blanket. There was one open slot, too thin even for his bony arm. The small space would serve well enough for poking something in at whomever was in the cage.
Apparently, the Duncan’s had done this many times before, as evidenced by their ample supply of torturous tools and the presence of this cage and the blacked-out windows.
The fact that Larry had lain here, the anticipation of what was to unfold sharp and biting even as Wade lay in the super soft bed that first night was crazy. He remembered the thumping he’d heard from the car that first night, taking it for a noise of the motor, not someone trying to signal for help from the trunk. It had happened all around him without even him noticing. Luthor had taken time to subdue Larry, tie him up, probably gag him and throw him in the trunk. After all that, he still had time to find and pick up Wade. If he were that clever, what hope did Wade have.
Heavy boards reinforced the cage and Wade doubted a grown man could bust free, given the limited moveability the thing allowed. Still, he was not ready to give up. He worked at the small length of wire that supported the hinges. The wire was tiny and stiff and working it soon caused his fingertips to go numb. It was braided tightly onto itself and another length of wire. If he could get the hinges free, all three of them, he might be able to wedge out an opening large enough to free himself. He did this more through touch than sight as the light did not reach well enough to be of much help.
Soon enough the numbness faded, and soreness flowed in. Wade didn’t care for pain any more than anyone else, but at least without the numbness, he could tell more about what he was doing. It was slow going and he only took a few breaks. Later rather than sooner, the storm blew itself out. Thankfully, Larry was silent except for weak breathing that reached Wade’s ears.
Some time later, he had no idea how long, even as his raw fingers continued their task, a creak filled the shop. It was the man door, and it was opening, light filling the shop and stinging Wade’s eyes.
+++
Gabby woke late that Sunday morning. She’d slept like an angel at the feet of the savior and when her eyes parted, all was good with the world. Luthor snored lightly beside her in bed. He would sleep hours still. He always did when they engaged in their occasional nighttime adventures. For her part, she wasn’t drowsy and felt supercharged from last night’s events.
She showered in the bath down the hall and dressed in a thin sundress with dozens of red rosebuds decorating the white material. Having showered last night after returning from the house, she’d utilized the shower cap, so her hair was dry, and she merely patted on a bit of powder and applied a thin stroke of lipstick and she looked like a thousand bucks, or so she thought.
She hummed as she entered the kitchen and started a late breakfast. The food would be cold when Luthor finally woke, but she would throw him something together then. She didn’t think they would have a large lunch today as was their custom but perhaps for supper they could bake a hen.
She switched the on radio and tuned into the one station playing big band and she sashayed and twirled around the kitchen as he scrambled eggs, fried ham, and flipped hotcakes. She felt twenty years younger, and she thrived on the wildness that swarmed through her like a fight of bees in summertime. It was amazing what a little bloodshed could do for you.
As her thoughts fell on Wade, her step lost some of its pep. Last night had been perfect, except for Wade. She was disappointed beyond words. She was so sure he would be right for them. She knew Luthor believed it too or he never would have brought the boy home.
There was still time, not much, but a little. If it didn’t work out, they would start again one day. But she wasn’t getting any younger and she had no desire to wait until she was an old woman.
Gabrielle usually ate like a bird, but this morning her appetite was voracious. She would leave enough for Wade, of course. She couldn’t let the poor thing starve.
After all, what kind of person would do such a thing. She was no monster.
Chapter 11
The door squeaked open. Wade’s heart jumped up into his throat.
It was Mrs. Duncan, Gabby, and she was coming his way.
Wade scooted as far away from the cage door as he could, painfully aware it would not make much difference.
“Wade,” Gabby called. Her voice was bright and clear, nothing like the last time he’d heard it. “Are you awake, sweet boy?” He said nothing. She continued toward him and as his eyes adjusted to the new, stronger light he could make out more than her silhouette against the open door. Thank
fully, the outside was still overcast and lacking the blare of sunlight.
“There you are,” Gabby said as she approached the pen, not once looking toward Larry. She held something in her hands. Wade saw it was a plate or a platter of some kind. As she drew closer, despite his memory of her acting like a cackling, giggling psycho last night, his nose adapted to the needs of a scavenger, picked out the delicious aromas. At the moment, the promise of food would not overpower him. Even if he hadn’t eaten regularly for the past few meals, he would not be too keen on accepting food from anyone batshit. And as much as it pained him to think so, Gabrielle Duncan was batshit personified. “I bet you’re hungry.”
Wade said nothing, only stared at her. Gabby squatted just outside the door of the cage, plate in hand. The food did smell wonderful, but he could not forget what she’d done to Larry. Not that he gave a damn about Larry, mind you, only that he now knew she was a lunatic and he needed to keep away from her.
“What’s wrong, sweet boy? Cat got your tongue?” He expected her to giggle maniacally as he could still hear it in his mind, but she did not. Instead, she was peering into him with what looked like true concern.
“I understand,” she went on. “I’m sure you weren’t expecting what you saw last night.” Wade parted his lips but thought better of speaking.
She passed the plate through the slotted opening, and he realized that was exactly what it was for. A simple food slot. Large enough to put a plate of food through but nothing else. Wade did not move. He’d eaten more in the last two days than he had the whole last week and he could afford to skip a few meals now.
“Come on, Wade. It’s very rude to turn down food, especially after I worked so hard on it.” Again, her voice was kind and soothing and he wanted to go to her. She was right. No matter what, she had thought of him, to feed him. That was more than many had done.
Slowly, he reached over to the plate, expecting her to somehow reach in and grab him. She didn’t move a muscle and soon enough he had the plate in his hands and moved back again to the far wall of the cage.
“Oh, one more thing,” she said. Of course, wasn’t there always one more thing. But instead of something cruel or taunting, she pulled a bottle of Coca-Cola from the front pocket of her apron.
He could see the bottle sweating and this, more than the food, caused his mouth to water. She pulled a bottle opener from the same pocket and with practiced ease opened the bottle. Again, he moved slowly, awaiting her to spring a trap, but spring one she did not. Carefully, she threaded the bottle through an opening in the chicken wire and Wade was careful to not let a single drop spill.
He settled back with his plate and his Coke and looked at her.
“Maybe what we did was not fair to you,” she began. “I see how you look at me. You can’t believe I’m the same person. Can you?”
“No, not really.” His voice was soft and low, almost puny. She didn’t laugh at him, though. She nodded solemnly.
“I am. I promise you that. I’m the same person that welcomed you into my home when Luthor brought you home and that is the same person that you saw last night. Just different sides of the same person.”
Wade breathed deeply. She could not explain this away but still, she tried. He started to think about Larry. He was still snoring softly over in the part of the shed where the light from the door could not reach. Wade wondered what would happen if he woke now. Would Gabby quiet him in her signature fashion as she had just hours before. He thought she might.
“Luthor and I are unique,” Gabby said. “I’ll give you that.” She looked around and found a sheet like the one that had covered Larry and spread it out slightly and then lowered herself on to it.
“He and I both hoped you were too. We are very happy together, Luthor and I. But I’ve always felt there was something missing. Actually, my whole life I felt there was something missing. When Luthor found me, I was just about at the end of my rope. Do you know what that means?”
Wade nodded. “Yeah, I know that one good, I reckon.” She smiled at his words, but it was a sad smile. She didn’t look at him now, but off to the side and, it seemed, off in the distance.
“I was in bad shape and in a really bad place in my life. To tell the truth, I was just about done with this world. I thought Luthor was just like the other men that had come before. Sure, he was nice, and charming and well spoken, but he wasn’t the first. No, not by a long shot. I was not the woman you see before you now.”
She spoke softly, almost like a child, and something about her, the way she spoke, the way she looked off into the distance, but seeing something else, some other time, some other place, endeared her to him. If all the goodwill her kindness had instilled in him was washed away in the flood of the lunacy last night, she was giving birth to a new spark of it.
“Like you, like Luthor, my childhood was not ideal. I had a family, unlike the two of you, but I would have been better without them. They considered me a freak, thought something was off in my head.”
Wade wanted to tell her that maybe they were right. Actually, there was no maybe about it. She’d danced in the blood and the anguish of a fellow human. Still…
“They probably weren’t wrong. I guess you’re probably thinking the same thing.” She risked a glance in his direction but looked away quickly. “But despite that, they were my family. My mother and father and a sister.
“They turned their back on me, just because I was different. By the time I was thirteen I was selling my body on city streets just so I wouldn’t starve to death. And let me tell you Wade, as much as I hate to talk about it, these weren’t gentlemen, in any sense of the word. Oh, some were nice, at least at first, but when a fella is paying for it, he becomes someone else. He thinks he owns you and thinks he can do anything he wants. It’s not like there is anyone to tell. The police wouldn’t care, they’d want their turn too. Especially a little girl. So, instead of telling, I decided to take care of it myself, when I learned to be smarter than them, when I got strong enough, clever enough.”
“When you became a wolf instead of a sheep,” Wade said. She looked at him then. The way the outdoor light hit her, the way her brow eased, and one cheek turned into a slight grin, she melted Wade’s heart.
“That’s right. That’s exactly right. But when Luthor, when we met, after I found out he was not like the others, I could see something past the cold, dirty streets, the awful smelly men, the awful women that wanted to hurt me, not love me. I could see it and I wanted. I wanted it so very badly. After that, we settled into a life, a very good life. He didn’t think I was something ruined or rotten. He didn’t admonish me for occasionally giving in to my darker urges. He enjoyed things others consider dark and sadistic. Together, we made a team.
“Don’t think we are a couple of mass killers out on satanic killing sprees, razing, killing newborn babies and kindly old grandmothers. But most people, well, most people have done things that does justify what we do. At least more times than not.
“That’s actually the best part. Sometimes we make them tell us why they deserve to die. Guess it gives them peace or something because it’s not as hard to get out of them as you might think.”
“But what if they don’t deserve it,” Wade spoke, carefully. “What if they have never done nothing in their life to deserve it.”
“Then we just got to them before they did. Wade, let me ask you this, did you deserve that filthy man attacking you when you were just seeking food. Did you deserve all those terrible days and horrid nights you’ve been forced to survive?” He didn’t answer. “Well, did you?”
“No,” he said. “I didn’t do anything to anyone.”
“Precisely, my little sweet.” She did not look as sad now. Still sad, just not as much so. “Well, in this world of ours, bad things happen to good people. And good things happen to good people. But I can’t worry about the world, I can only worry about my world. Luthor is my world. We don’t fight, we don’t argue, we don’t step out on each
other. We share almost everything. I believe that bond is made so strong because all the aggression, all the anger, and the mistrust, and the worry that this world puts on us, it’s erased—maybe that’s not the right word—but it’s released through doing what we do.”
To Wade it sounded like the reasoning of a monster. He didn’t, couldn’t understand it.
“Well,” she said at length. “When Luthor came across you, dirty face, nowhere to go, I think his heart went out. He’s been there. I’ve been there. He could have easily slit your throat and left you where you stood. But he recognized something in you, some kind of kin. And we have so much room, both in the house and in our hearts for a child. I could never have one. Even if I were younger. I’m ruined on the inside, Wade. My woman parts are torn to pieces. An angry man with a long copper pipe saw to that. I almost died, but in the end, only the part of me that could give life was stripped away. I still have pain, but the pain is of no consequence. The pain, however, of never having a child, is much worse.”
Something was slowly changing in her. Her voice undulated to a deeper, more stoic timbre. “I thought you could be that child,” she said looking at him with blank eyes aimed right at him but looked through him as easily as if he were nothing more than a translucent phantom with no more substance than thin mist. “Again, I was mistaken.”
When she stood up, she did so not unlike a mechanized form, a robot. Stiff and straight, she stood without another word, she turned, closing the door behind her.
A murk once again settled upon everything around Wade and he felt more alone than he ever had before, knowing when the door opened again, it would be either the end for him or the beginning of something much worse.