“She doesn’t know it’s you. You’re just scaring her,” Tooth said.
“Exactly why I want her to know it’s me.”
“She’s in shock, it won’t register. Worry about the chains first and then we’ll get Jamie.”
“These chains are welded tight,” I said as I yanked on them. “I can’t break ’em. You make any progress?”
“No. Plus I can’t feel my leg anymore, feels like I’m floating on air.”
“Can you move your foot?”
He shifted his foot just a little. “I guess, but I don’t feel myself doing it. We have to stop this guy.”
“I’m way ahead of you. But how, when he’s got us bound like this?”
“I think we’re going about this all wrong. The chains can’t be broken, and he ain’t going to let us out. He wants us tightly wrapped so he can pick at us like leftover turkeys in a fridge. So let’s think about this in a different way. How can we get him while we’re chained up?”
We looked about the room, reevaluating what we had noticed earlier. Nothing had changed; it was the same dank cellar with a couple of future murder victims chained to the wall. The shovel was in the stove, the hedge shears were against the wall near the table. The boiler still droned its incessant hum. The arm that had been on the ground near the dog dish was stripped bare and covered in dirt. But those few items made little difference toward escaping.
“This is useless,” I said, “there’s nothing here to help us. He’s crazy but he’s not stupid. Look, he left those shears there to remind us of what he did to my sister. He knows these chains are foolproof and we can’t get out of them.”
“There’s got to be something. You read a lot of comics, what would someone in our position do to escape?”
“Fuck, Tooth, this is real. Nobody in a comic would be in this position unless it involved kryptonite chains or laser beams or some piece of science fiction. But this ain’t fiction. Not even the best writers could get a regular hero out of this.” I thought about Batman using his utility belt again. What would he do without it? He’d probably have to rely on Robin to save him or tricking his captor into setting him free. When it came to real life situations, comic writers weren’t all that imaginative. “They’d just write a rusty link into the chains and break it. But these fucking chains are like new. And the cuffs are sharp enough to cut us open.”
“What about the wall?’
I looked at the concrete behind me, leaned back against it. It was thick. I couldn’t be certain just how thick, but it was part of the foundation, and based on other foundations I’d seen, it had to be at least twelve inches. We weren’t going to break it, which is what I told Tooth.
He ignored me and tried to pull his hands through his handcuffs. He did it until it cut into his wrists and blood trickled down the chain. Finally, resignation settled across his face and he gave up and leaned back. “God, I’m tired,” he said.
So was I. The few minutes I’d been able to sleep had done nothing to revitalize me. And I ached as well. The chains were rubbing away the skin around my wrists, and I could feel blisters forming. My cut wrist stung every time it scraped my bindings. At least I wasn’t alone in that club. It happened to Tooth as well.
We thought silently for a bit, desperately inventing methods of escape that couldn’t come true without Hollywood special effects or an act of God. If only the chains would break. If only the plates could be pulled from the wall. If only someone would come by so we could yell to them. Anything.
Jamie was still crying. Mostly it was a low murmur, but at times it was worse. She would call for my mother or father, and that’s when I felt hopeless. I gave up thinking about escape and sort of floated out of my body, thinking about other things like how no one would ever know what happened to us. How the dog would eat us and shit us out in a small hole in the yard. How my parents would spend the rest of their lives hoping some day we’d walk in the front door saying, “Hi, sorry we were gone so long, just went sightseeing for a while, but we’re back now, what’s for dinner?” Then Jamie’s voice brought me back, because she said my name.
“I’m here!” I shouted.
But she didn’t respond. She was just going out of her mind, calling out any name that was lodged in her subconscious. Tooth met my eyes and then looked away, unsure how to console me. If we got out of this, the therapy we would undergo would be unearthly.
“I lied to you, Roger.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about. “What do you mean? About what?”
“I kind of dig your sister. I was going to try and fuck her when you went back to school. I’m sorry. I’m only human, and your sister is hot.”
I was mad. I couldn’t believe he would do that to me. I couldn’t believe he was even bringing it up right now. “You sonofabitch. Why do you have to screw every girl you see? She’s my sister.”
“It’s funny, you guys have been at each other’s throats for years, now all of a sudden you come back from school and you’re all Mr. Protective. Why the change? You really care about her, huh?”
“Yeah, I know, I never thought I’d see the day. I guess it’s because I’ve been at school. College guys only think of one thing.”
“Was it any different in high school?” he asked.
“No, but the difference is college girls give it up. And sometimes assholes think that because a girl has sex it means she’ll do it with anyone. A girl in my dorm was raped last semester. She didn’t come back this year.”
I didn’t tell him it was the one I had a crush on, with the Star Wars poster, or that it was her own boyfriend who raped her. I didn’t want to talk about it. When I came home and saw Jamie, saw how much she’d changed in those few months, with her tight clothes and low cut jeans, it made me think of what went on at college campuses all over the world. Tooth was right—Jamie was good looking, and he was exactly the kind of guy that would hurt her.
“If it means anything, I wouldn’t have fucked her and chucked her, I would have . . . I mean . . .”
But I think her cries got to him, because he suddenly jerked on the chains until he was almost out of breath.
“Shit! We can’t give up,” he said. “This can’t be our fate. No way, motherfucker, no way. We’re going to get out of here and go out West, sit under some palm trees and watch the waves.”
I thought about that, not the waves and palm trees, but fate. Like I said before, I wasn’t religious, although I was turning fast. I didn’t believe there was a cosmic plan, I just felt that shit happened and you dealt with it. But if fate existed, why was it our fate to become dog food? What end would it serve?
I thought about what Tooth’s father had said, about everyone having a purpose, but I couldn’t figure out how it applied to us. What was Skinny Man’s purpose? He’d already killed one person we knew of, bragged about some others and most likely was going to finish us off, too. What possible purpose was there for him on our planet?
“You’re not giving up on me, are you, Roger? That better not be defeat I sense in you.”
I almost said yes. “No.”
Still struggling, Tooth tried to pull his hand through his cuffs again, and this time he pulled so hard a spout of blood arced into the air. There was no way for me to duck out of its way so it landed on my shoulder. “Nhhhnn!” He ground his teeth and kept pulling and pulling until a flap of skin hung around his palm like a piece of luncheon meat. He was in tremendous pain but he was smiling.
“Are you okay?” I asked like a fucking idiot. “What are you doing, committing suicide?”
“No, but I think I know a way out.”
“What, skin yourself? The cuffs are too tight. Even if you flayed your flesh, you wouldn’t get your bone through it.”
The cut looked bad, but luckily it was on the back of his wrist, away from the artery.
“These cuffs are really sharp, like he purposefully sharpened them.”
“No shit. What’s your point?”
He
just kept staring at me like he’d won the lottery. I thought maybe he was starting to go a little insane. They say you do in situations like ours. Or maybe all that beer in his system had dulled his nervous system and he couldn’t feel pain anymore. If alcohol consumption was a power Tooth was a superhero all right. Then again, maybe he had figured something out. I was about to ask him when he shushed me and motioned toward the ceiling. Dust was falling in time with footsteps. Skinny Man was walking to the stairs.
Quickly, we worked the rags back into our mouths and pretended they were still tight even though they hung a little loose at the back of our necks. A second later the door swung open and our captor sauntered in, rolling my dice in his hand. He carried a black duffel bag in the other. He was clothed in the shirt and pants he’d had on earlier, but the cap was gone. Butch was at his heels, like a piece of shit-stained toilet paper stuck to his shoe.
“Hi, boys. Butch and me were just discussing something upstairs,” he said. “He’s real upset about Sundance and I’m not sure how to console him. Not like I’m a fucking grief counselor or something. I tried to tell him that Sundance is playing in Heaven, having a grand ol’ time, but he don’t believe me. When he gets this way there’s no talking to him. So I asked what I could do to make him feel better and he said he wanted to come play with you, maybe get his mind off things. Personally, I think it’d be kind of therapeutic for him, don’t you agree? Hell, what could I do?”
Skinny Man had this sort of dazed look in his eyes, the kind of look you see on people who don’t sleep much. He probably stayed up all night talking to the mice in the walls. While it wasn’t funny the way he talked to Butch, I thought it was funny that he had named both animals after two outlaws that arguably died at the end of the movie. Was that fate working for us?
Skinny Man played with the dice like he was rubbing his own balls, rolling them over one another. He put the duffel bag on the ground and stared at my chest for a moment, mulling something over.
“Silver Surfer,” he said. “I know that. Used to read that when I was younger. Metal man from outer space imprisoned on Earth, helping mankind fight against the evil of the universe. Boy, that was the kind of hero I loved when I was a kid. That was the kind of thing made you want to do good in school, and bring flowers home to your mama. You ever bring flowers home to your mama?”
I didn’t respond. He grabbed my throat and squeezed hard until it felt like the front on my neck was touching the back. Tears fell from my eyes and through them I could see Tooth watching intently.
“Politeness is a virtue. Answer the question or I’ll go get your mama and bring her back here and we can have a family discussion.”
I cried, “No!”
Skinny Man liked that; he smiled and let go of my throat. Air rushed into my lungs and I immediately started coughing. “Answer the question. Did you ever bring your mama flowers?”
I faked a muffled yes because I didn’t want him to know we’d loosened our gags.
“Son, I’m not stupid. I know that gag has been out of your mouth. You think I was born yesterday? Normally, I got some duct tape lying about but somebody thought it would be funny to bury it, and all I had left was these old rags I used to clean up somebody’s piss.”
Each time he said “somebody” he looked at Butch.
“Anyway, you don’t need to answer. I can tell you were a good boy. You were never in trouble. Must have been a straight-A student, apple of your mama’s eye.”
I didn’t like the way he used the past tense when referring to me. It was not a good sign. He ripped the gag clean off of me and threw it on the floor.
“But you did break one law: trespassing. Why did you trespass on my property?
“Because we heard a woman screaming.” My voice was shaky and unsure.
“Because you wanted to be a hero like Silver Surfer here. But there are no heroes in this world, my friend, only winners and losers, the strong and weak, the chosen and unchosen. Trust me, I know. Ain’t that right, Butch, we know all about that kind of thing. And we know what happens to little boys that break the rules, don’t we? They become the property of the demolition crew. You ever see a building get torn down? They smash that big ol’ wrecking ball into it and kapow! the wall crumbles and falls to the ground. Too brutish, I tell ya. Some poor soul took the time to make that building, took care to place each brick just right, gave a piece of himself in the process. Yet every time, they just bash that ball into it. We’re not like that though, are we? No sir, we’re a different kind of demolition crew. Someone took the time to make you, and we’re gonna take the same kind of care and passion in unmaking you . . . my little rule breakers. But this is neither here nor there. Butch wants to play, so we’re gonna play.”
He put the dice in his pocket, opened the duffel bag and reached inside. He pulled out a length of razor wire and two heavy work gloves. I went flaccid, as if my bones had been turned into wet noodles. Tooth thrust his gag out and yelled, “Fight me, fight me man to man!”
Skinny Man put the gloves on, took hold of the wire, and whipped Tooth across the face with it. It made a sound like someone undoing their zipper. Little pearls of blood splashed against the side of my head, some of it flying into my ear and lodging in the ear canal. No sooner had he hit Tooth than Tooth picked his head back up and looked right at him, stubborn as ever. His right cheek was slashed open in three places. The bruises inflicted yesterday, which had since filled with puss, were pumping out all sorts of blackish fluids.
That’s when Skinny Man thrust the razor wire into Tooth’s mouth and tied it around the back of his head. The razors sliced off part of Tooth’s bottom lip, which fell to the floor. Butch ran over and snatched it up, bobbing his head up and down as he ate it. Tooth screamed. But he stopped quickly, realizing that any movement of his jaw would cut him. It was too late though, the razors cut into the corners of his mouth, and within seconds had sliced them open to his cheeks. The blood ran in rivulets.
I realized I was trying to scream but wasn’t making any noise. It’s funny how they say your voice can be a weapon, but when you’re dead fucking scared, and could probably use it, it takes a hike. Didn’t matter how horrified I was—my throat wouldn’t respond to the image in front of me.
“That’ll shut you up,” Skinny Man said. “I warned you, didn’t I!” He stepped back and admired his handiwork, nodding acceptance. “Okay, enough bullshit. It’s time to play.” He took the dice out of his pockets and held them down to Butch, who sniffed them eagerly. “Blow on ’em for me, honey.” He thought that was something awful funny and broke into that cackling laugh again. He rolled a six.
“This just ain’t your day is it, Mervyn.”
Tooth was beside himself, his slashed face swollen, his charred, cut lips transforming him into something entirely alien. This was not the Tooth I knew. This was biology at its basest, and lacerated skin was only the beginning. All around where his cheek was slashed, bone and sinew peeked out.
Skinny Man took up the duffel bag again and pulled out a butcher’s knife.
“No,” I begged. “Please. Please, leave us alone. We didn’t mean to trespass, we didn’t know. We never meant to do anything wrong.”
“It’s a little late for apologies, don’t you think?”
He reached out and undid Tooth pants.
“Wait,” I said. “Wait. I’ve got money, I’ve got lots of money.”
Skinny Man spun to me and put the knife to my eye, pushed the point into my flesh just under my lower eyelashes, but not enough to pierce anything. “You speak again, I cut your sister’s throat. You all wanted to interrupt my last game, be superheroes, so now you got to take her spot. Fair is fair. Now where was I?”
He pulled down Tooth’s pants and tore off his boxer shorts. Tooth’s dick had shrunk in fear and his scrotum was as tight against his groin as a walnut.
Skinny Man went dazed again, started touching himself as he looked at Tooth’s genitals. He started to dance a bit, rubbing
himself harder and harder. Then he licked his lips and looked at Butch, who was licking his own chops.
“Who’s hungry?” he asked. Butch barked.
Skinny Man lunged, grabbed Tooth’s dick, and sliced it off.
Tooth screamed, the razors opening his cheeks back to his ears. His bowels let loose and evacuated all over the floor, piss spraying out like it was coming from a showerhead.
From the back room Jamie screamed and I followed her lead.
Skinny Man took the wormish body part and tossed it into Butch’s dog dish. The dog walked over and sniffed it and sank his teeth into it, bit it in half and swallowed the pieces. Once again, this was followed by a quick repair job from the blazing shovel, which Skinny Man pressed against Tooth’s stumped, bloody groin. Smoke rose as the hair and flesh fused shut.
Tooth passed out.
Skinny Man put the shovel back in the stove and shot me a smile. “Back in a bit,” he said.
CHAPTER 16
The collar around Tooth’s neck caught him as he fainted and swung him side to side, slowly. I thought for sure his neck would break, but his chin was taking most of his weight. He was alive, though I wasn’t sure how long that would last. His naked lower half was bubbled with third degree burns, and fluids were leaking out like lava from a cracked volcano wall.
Upstairs, Skinny Man was stomping around and talking loudly to someone, no doubt Butch. It sounded like they were arguing about something: a day of the week, laundry, other nonsense that meant nothing—or everything—depending on how you looked at it. This went on for several minutes and then I heard the door to the driveway open and Skinny Man go out, slamming it behind him. Faintly, I heard a car motor start and fade into the distance.
We were alone.
If we didn’t get out now we might not ever. “Help! Anyone! Help us!” I yelled. I didn’t know how long he’d be gone for and I had to try the obvious. “Please, somebody, help me!” I waited and tried again, but still got no response.
“Tooth,” I said, “You’ve got to stand up. The chain is going to choke you.”
The Summer I Died: A Thriller Page 11