Beckon

by Tom Pawlik

  While Elina’s initial impulse was defiance, she decided it would be more prudent, given her situation, to comply with the orders. They were pretty standard directions to get a suspect safely handcuffed. Besides, if they had wanted to shoot her, they could have done that through the window bars. She turned and lay down as Carson had directed.

  A moment later Elina could hear them unlocking the door and a dull creak as it moaned open. Carson spoke again; this time she could tell he was inside the room.

  “Keep your hands behind your back where I can see them.”

  Elina felt cold steel bite down around her wrists and click. Then a pair of hands hoisted her to her feet. They turned her around, and Elina could see there was another man accompanying Carson. He stood in the doorway holding the light, and all she could tell was that he was very tall and burly.

  Carson pulled her roughly out of her cell and shoved her along in front of him, up the dark passage the way they had come. Elina could hear the other captives cursing and issuing warnings, but Carson ignored them for what they were. Impotent threats.

  “Where are we going?” Elina said.

  Carson poked her in the back. “Just walk.”

  At length they arrived at the supply closet entrance and marched through it back into the basement of Vale’s house. They walked down the corridor and stopped at one of the doors. Here, Carson pulled out his set of keys, unlocked the door, and shoved Elina through.

  The room looked like an armory, with gun racks and ammo cabinets lining three of the walls. Whoever these people were, they were well armed. In the center of the room was a wooden chair with some kind of strap system rigged up, obviously to restrain whoever happened to be sitting in the chair.

  Elina knew what was coming.

  Carson pushed her toward the chair as his partner, the big man, took her by her bound wrists and spun her around. He was enormous—at least six foot nine, Elina guessed—with a shaved head and a thick black goatee on his jaw. She remembered him from the road. He’d been one of the guys in the pickup truck. She struggled against his force, but the man was just too overpowering. He sat her down like a rag doll and draped her arms over the backrest while Carson proceeded to strap her feet and legs to the chair’s restraints. Lastly they pulled her jacket down over her shoulders and Carson tore open her shirt halfway to her waist.

  At that point two other men entered the room. Elina recognized the tall man with reddish hair and a beefy mustache as the driver of the pickup truck, the guy who’d nearly shot her with her own gun. The second man she hadn’t seen before. He was small and clean-shaven with short brown hair parted to the side, and he carried a leather satchel. These two didn’t say anything but stood off along the perimeter of the room with the big man while Carson paced in front of Elina. He carried something that looked like a nightstick but which Elina recognized immediately as a stun baton.

  “So you’re a police officer, eh?”

  Elina blinked, taken aback by the question. “Um, yeah . . . I thought we had estab—”

  She felt a sharp jolt and sting on her cheek as Carson backhanded her again. Elina swooned for a moment, gathering her wits. She could feel her lip swelling and her cheek throbbing.

  “What?” she said. “I’m answering your question!”

  Carson chortled. “I know. That was for spying on Mr. Vale.” He held up the baton. “This is for shooting me.”

  He plunged the stun stick against her chest, and Elina felt every muscle in her body seize as though a thousand needles had been jabbed into her at once. Her spine arched, and the room dissolved into darkness.

  Elina heard herself groaning as she regained consciousness. Shadows swirled around her, and a sharp odor stung in her nostrils like razors. She opened her eyes to see the small man bending over her, smelling salts in his hand. He lifted her eyelids and checked her eyes with a penlight.

  “She’s awake,” he said to Carson. Then he took Elina by the chin and whispered, “Just tell him what he wants to know.”

  Carson swatted him out of the way. “Okay, chica, let’s see how smart you are. You said you followed the van. That’s how you found us. Is that right? You followed it here?”

  Through her pain, Elina felt a flicker of hope. She had them nervous. For all of Vale’s arrogance, he was worried about being discovered. And he’d sent Carson down to pry information from her. That meant she had some leverage. She had something they wanted.

  But she would need to proceed with caution. As soon as they got what they wanted, she would no longer be of use to them. “Yes. Actually it wasn’t that hard.”

  “Why did you follow us?”

  “Us?” Elina grinned. She could taste blood in her mouth. “So you were the one driving the van?”

  Carson leaned close. “Why were you following us?”

  “I told you already. I was looking for my cousin. I wanted to find out what happened to him.”

  “Who else knows you’re here?”

  “Why?” Elina almost smiled. “Does that worry you? Are you afraid other people will come looking for me? Well, you better be.”

  The next thing she knew, she was waking up from a second jolt. The little guy—Elina thought he must be the medic or doctor—was leaning over her again with the smelling salts.

  “Stop antagonizing him,” he whispered.

  Carson loomed in the background, grinning. “No, we’re not worried, chica. We’ll just get a new van. And now, thanks to you, we’ll make good and sure it can’t be traced back to us.”

  Elina could barely keep her head upright. Her limbs throbbed from the jolts, but she forced a bloody smile. “It doesn’t matter. They already know about the van, and they know about Vale Corp. So it’s just a matter of time before they come looking.”

  Of course, she had not told anyone about the information she’d gathered on the vehicle. She wasn’t officially part of the police department at the time and therefore not supposed to be accessing the database. Furthermore, since she didn’t want Javier to get in trouble with the INS, she had truly pursued her investigation as a lone wolf. But Vale didn’t know that, so at least she had some leverage, even if it was a bluff.

  “Who did you tell?”

  “You’ll find out when they show up . . . in force.”

  Carson backhanded her across the other cheek. “They won’t find anything. No one ever does.”

  The room spun and Elina’s jaw throbbed. She blinked back her sweat and tears, clenching her teeth against the pain.

  “That’s . . . what Vale said.” She struggled to get her words out. “But still, here you are . . . asking me about it. So maybe he’s not as unconcerned as he pretended to be.”

  “He’s not going to let you go. You know that, don’t you?”

  Elina shrugged as best she could. “Then there’s not much incentive to tell you anything more . . . is there?”

  Carson’s grin faded, and he held the stun stick in front of Elina’s face. And that was the last thing she remembered seeing.

  Chapter 20

  Elina awoke in the dark, back in what she assumed was her prison cell. Her jaw and muscles ached from the beating she’d taken and from lying on the cold rock floor. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious.

  She explored her cell again and found no way of escape. There was a large clay pot in the corner that reeked of human waste but otherwise nothing else inside the cell. No other bit of furnishing. Like in some squalid medieval dungeon, she half expected there to be a rotting corpse chained to the wall.

  Elina found she was losing all track of time. She spent her waking hours talking either to Javier and Miguel or to God. And when she slept, it was in fitful spurts on the cold, damp ground. She struggled to keep her thoughts focused on finding a way out. She had to keep her terror at bay. Terror would lead to despair, which would cause her to give up hope.

  At one point she was huddled on the floor praying for her life when she heard a voice outside her door.

 
; “What’re you doing?”

  Elina looked up, startled. “Praying.”

  She peered through the window in her door and could see the vague features of the man with the smelling salts.

  “Praying? Why?”

  “Because it’s all I can do at this point. And I happen to think God is listening.”

  “Well, it won’t do any good, you know,” he said. His voice held little emotion, as if he had shut himself off to it. “God abandoned this place a long time ago.”

  “Not my God. He doesn’t just abandon people.”

  “You think so? You think He can save you? Because I’ve never seen Him save anyone from here.”

  “I wouldn’t underestimate Him if I were you.” Elina moved closer to the door. “What do you want?”

  He held up a ladle to the window. “I brought you breakfast.”

  “Is it morning already?”

  He tapped the door. “You want it or not?”

  “Yes.”

  Elina heard something rattle and creak, and a small slat at the bottom of the door snapped open. A bowl slid through the opening, and the slat snapped shut again. Elina picked up the bowl and sniffed it. It was half-filled with what smelled like oatmeal. He’d given her no utensil and nothing to drink.

  She sat down and ate the meal, scooping it into her mouth with her fingers. She was desperately hungry, and the bland, lumpy oatmeal paste did little to satisfy her appetite. She could see the guy still looking in through the bars in her door, so she decided to venture a question.

  “Who are you?”

  After a moment he replied, “No one. Nobody important.”

  “You were part of the inquisition, right?”

  “I . . . I was there to make sure you could still answer him.”

  “So you’re a medic . . . or a doctor or something?”

  Another pause. “I’m a doctor.”

  “A doctor.” Elina stood and moved to the door. “Then can you . . . can you at least tell me what’s going on here?”

  “Sorry, I can’t give you any information.”

  “Why not? Just tell me why you’re keeping us prisoners here.”

  “No.”

  “At least tell me your name.” Elina moved to the window and peered through.

  He hesitated, shifting his weight and avoiding eye contact.

  Elina persisted gently. “Mr. Vale didn’t say you couldn’t tell me your name, did he?”

  “Dwight,” he said finally.

  “Dwight.” Elina tried to offer a pleasant smile. “I like that. Not many parents name their kids Dwight anymore.”

  Dwight shrugged, still avoiding her eyes. “I guess.”

  Elina probed further. “What do you do here? I mean besides overseeing the torture.”

  “I do whatever he needs me to do.”

  “So Mr. Vale . . . he’s the big boss man in town. Does everyone in Beckon do what he tells them to do?”

  Dwight shook his head. “It’s not what you think. You don’t know what it’s like here. We have to do what he tells us or . . . or we’ll die.”

  “Really,” Elina said. “He has that much power? He’s keeping you here against your will?”

  “Well . . . not exactly.”

  “So then you could leave if you wanted to?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Elina sighed. “Dwight, you’re not making any sense.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Just then Miguel’s voice came from across the passage. “Son todos caníbales.”

  “Vamos, cómeme!” another voice yelled defiantly from down the corridor.

  Dwight’s face puckered in a quizzical frown. “Cannibals? Is that what you think we are?”

  “That’s what they all think,” Elina said. “Can you blame them? You kidnapped them. You brought them to your little town here and locked them up in your dungeon. You tell me what happens to them.”

  Dwight shrugged. “Well, they get eaten, of course.”

  “That’s what they just—”

  “But not by us.”

  Elina backed away from the door. “What are you talking about?”

  Dwight sighed. “Look, I wish I could help you. I really do. If it were up to me . . . you don’t belong here. You don’t deserve this.”

  “What do you mean, ‘they get eaten’? What’s going on here?”

  Dwight stared at the ground for a moment. He looked over his shoulder and then leaned close. “There’s something in the caves. Something . . . terrible.”

  “What are you talking about?” Elina hadn’t been prepared for this. Whatever was going on in this place, she was more concerned now that this Dwight fellow was mentally unstable.

  “Believe me, the less you know, the better.”

  “Please, just let us out.”

  “I can’t.” Dwight shook his head. “He’ll kill me.”

  “Please, Dwight. Please help us. You can’t just let us die down here.”

  “I told you, I can’t help you. . . . I’ve said too much already.”

  Elina was losing her patience. “You’re a doctor! How can you be involved in this? If you don’t help us, then you’re a murderer, too—you know that, don’t you?”

  “No,” Dwight said. “I . . . I haven’t killed anyone.”

  “Yes, you have. You know what’s going on here—you’re a part of it. And you could let us go, but you’re choosing not to. You’re just as guilty as Vale in all of this. Whatever’s going on here, you’re responsible for it.”

  “No!” Dwight backed away from the door. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me.”

  Elina stepped forward. “I think I do. You might’ve been a good person once. Before you came here.”

  “Stop it.” Dwight moved farther away.

  “So what happened to you? What turned you into a murderer?”

  “I told you, I’m not a murderer.”

  “It’s your choice, Dwight. You don’t have to do this.”

  “No, it’s not. I can’t help you. . . .”

  Elina moved closer still, feeling a certain boldness despite her circumstances. “Do you really think no one will ever find out about this place? You think you’ll get away with this forever?”

  Dwight stammered, “I . . . I have to leave.” He turned and disappeared up the tunnel.

  “Dwight!” Elina called after him. “You choose what you are!”

  Her voice echoed into the darkness, but Dwight didn’t return. The other captives were shouting after him as well. Some cursing. Others wailing.

  Elina slumped against her door, fighting back tears. Praying desperately. A feeling of dread wrapped around her like the darkness of the prison. She felt utterly alone. Buried so deep that no one would ever find her. All she had left inside her was a faint sliver of hope, like a thread suspending her over a vast abyss.

  She’d prayed for several minutes when she heard voices in the corridor. One of the prisoners was pleading for help. She lifted her head. Had the doctor returned?

  She heard a male voice call out in English, “Where are you?”

  Next she heard a woman’s voice. “Here, George. Help me open it.”

  Elina stood and pressed her face against the bars of her door. She could hear someone rattling one of the door handles.

  “They’re all locked,” the man said. “We have to try to find the key.”

  They sounded close by.

  “We’ll get you out. . . . Don’t be afraid,” came the woman again. “We’ll find the key.”

  Elina called, “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  She could see the beam of a flashlight swinging back and forth in the corridor.

  Elina reached her hand through the window. “Who are you?”

  She heard footsteps as someone approached her cell. It was the woman. She stopped right outside the door and clutched Elina’s fingers.

  “Oh my . . . don’t worry. We’re going to get help.”

&n
bsp; “How did you get down here?” Elina said.

  The man arrived, carrying the flashlight. “We were snooping around the lodge and found this tunnel in the basement. It’s hidden. We’re . . . we’re just guests there.”

  He sounded kind . . . and Elina knew it could be a trap, but she could barely keep her hopes in check. She had to try, anyway.

  “Guests? You know Thomas Vale?”

  “Yes, he invited us here,” the woman said.

  “Then listen to me. You’re in danger too. You need to get out and call the FBI. You can’t trust him. You can’t trust any of them. None of the people in this town.”

  “Who are you? Why did they lock you up down here?”

  “I’m a police officer—from Los Angeles. My name is Elina Gutierrez. I was investigating a kidnapping. I followed the van here and they captured me.” Elina spoke quickly. “You need to contact the FBI. They’re engaged in some kind of human trafficking here. There’s something horrible going on.”

  The man with the flashlight was searching the corridor. “We can’t get these doors open. We have to go back and find the keys.”

  “Please help us,” Elina pleaded. “You have to get help right away. Don’t trust them. Don’t trust any of them.”

  The woman squeezed Elina’s fingers. “We’ll get you out of here. Don’t worry. We’ll get you out.”

  Elina couldn’t control her emotions any longer, and tears flooded her eyes. “I was praying that someone would find us. I was praying He would send someone to save us.”

  The woman leaned in and said softly, “He heard you.” She was crying too. “God heard you.”

  “We need to go—now.” The man’s voice sounded urgent.

  “Listen to me,” Elina said. “Be careful. There’s something in the caves. They said there’s something terrible down there.”

  “Don’t worry,” the man said as they started back up the tunnel. “We’ll contact the FBI as soon as we can.”

  And just like that, they were gone.

  Part III

  George

  / // /

  One has to pay dearly for immortality; one has to die several times while one is still alive.