Enamel

by Tim Sabados

  “Yeah.” Zoe nodded.

  “Why did he need to keep them?” Mary asked bluntly.

  “That’s how he gets paid,” Mackenzie said.

  “Paid for what?”

  “To take people on his boat,” Zoe commented.

  Mary flipped the coin over. “You mean people give him this coin to go on a boat ride?”

  “Something like that, I guess,” Zoe said.

  Mary stared at the coin. “That’s an awfully expensive-looking token for a simple boat ride.”

  One of the police officers cleared his throat as he stepped to the side of the bed. “May I see it?”

  “Sure.” Mary held out her hand.

  The officer studied the coin. Wonder deepened the wrinkles on his forehead. Apprehension paled his skin ever so slightly. “Charon,” he muttered.

  “What did you say?” the detective asked.

  “Charon,” the officer said again. “The mythical Greek figure who ferried souls across the river Styx. The dead would pay him a coin for passage.” He paused. “That’s why, long ago, people would place a coin on a dead person’s eyes or mouth before they buried them.”

  The detective clucked his tongue with doubt. “I don’t think some ancient man is actually operating a boat to take the dead across the river.”

  The officer shook his head apprehensively. “It would be hard to believe. But these coins are old and when she said boat,” he handed the coin back to Mary, “it was the first thing….”

  “Well, let’s throw that theory out of the discussion,” the detective said. “I don’t need another whacko asserting to be something they’re not. I’ve got enough mythical figures on my hands, especially the one claiming she’s the tooth fairy.”

  “I’m just saying that it could be something worth looking into,” the officer said.

  The detective brushed away the officer’s suggestion. “We’ll discuss it later.” He looked at Mackenzie and Zoe. “What else can you tell me about this man?”

  “I’m hungry,” Zoe said without acknowledging the detective.

  “Me too,” Mackenzie agreed. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “Can we watch television with you, Mommy?” Zoe snuggled into Mary.

  “Of course,” Mary said fondly. A gesture at the detective to end the discussion. “There’s nothing I’d rather do more than to be with the two of you.”

  Mackenzie smiled. “What should we watch?”

  “Where’s the remote?” Zoe lifted her head off Mary’s shoulder.

  A nearby nurse handed Zoe the small, black device.

  “Thank you,” Zoe said.

  “It’s not your turn,” Mackenzie stated.

  “Yeah, it is.” Zoe aimed the remote at the television and with the press of a button brought it to life.

  “No, it’s not.” Mackenzie’s brows crinkled. “Mommy, tell her it’s my turn.”

  “It’s not your turn,” Zoe said. “You picked that movie with the dog the last time.”

  “No,” Mackenzie shot back. “You got to watch that pirate movie.”

  “We never finished it.”

  “That doesn’t mean…”

  Mary half-smiled as she glanced over at the detective. He shrugged his shoulders with hopelessness. They may never get to the bottom of this. Maybe Mackenzie’s and Zoe’s memory was already disintegrating.

  At the moment, Mary didn’t care. Happiness strolled though her heart and spread to every corner of her being. She was safe with her daughters and that’s all that mattered.

  26

  The sun had quietly worked its way below the horizon. Its invisible hand brushed the sky in a palette of pinks and reds. Varying hues of orange rubbed the clouds’ soft bellies. Ahead of Charlie, the colors varnished the river in a glossy sheen.

  He looked at it. Tried to take it all in. Tried to let it flatten his emotional rollercoaster. Somehow slice away the peaks of anger. Lift up the valleys of bleakness. A grunt. His thoughts were elsewhere.

  Charlie repeatedly punched the boat’s steering wheel with frustration. How had he let it happen, not once, but twice? Let Aryssa fall victim to that jackass, Sammy, and his henchmen. He thought back to the moment when he had been staring down the barrel of that gun. Should he have taken the bullet? Shook his head. Never would have made it without getting killed.

  He thought about the seconds that had ticked by as Aryssa stopped fighting and went limp. Could she be alive? Or was she dead? If she wasn’t dead, would she be soon? Maybe she was being held captive, but for what purpose?

  Charlie let the wind slap his face as a way of punishing himself for his failures. Maybe the repeated blows would knock the fog of doubt out of his mind. Somehow force him to just pick a spot and start the search. But how? He had no idea where she was being kept. No idea where to look. No idea if she was even alive. Charlie had hoped that the drive down the river would somehow clear his mind. It had helped in the past; so far it wasn’t helping at all tonight.

  The sun had strolled even farther down the nocturnal steps when his hands began to suddenly tingle. He opened and closed his fists several times, but the sensation wasn’t going away. In fact, it began to trickle up his arms. What was happening?

  Along either side of the river the numerous apartment buildings, warehouses, shipping yards, bars and restaurants fought back the evening’s advances. Lights flicked on and shimmered off the water. Yet, in the midst of it all stood a dark spot. A black hole in the city’s starlit presence. Charlie drew closer to the void and recognized it for what it was. The abandoned factory.

  The tingling grew stronger. He had felt this before. It had been happening over the last several months, each and every time he’d passed the factory. Tonight was no different. Then again, something was different. An image flashed across the television screen of his memory. That moment in Aryssa’s apartment when he’d dumped the coins out onto her table. Was the sensation one and the same? How was it possible?

  The closer he got to the factory, the more the feeling brushed against his curiosity. Should he pull over and investigate? Snoop around the gargantuan building? Forget every rumor and story he had ever heard and simply step inside? What was he expecting to find?

  Charlie glanced up the river. At the twinkling lights. The darkening sky. Maybe he should just go back to the marina and wait for a client? Or go back home and then what—watch the tube? Remain alone with his thoughts while they slowly squeezed the last spoonfuls of optimism from his decaying hope?

  A discontented sigh. He turned his attention to the factory, only to realize that the distance was closing fast. Back to the river and the way home. What to do?

  The tingling in his hands and arms was even stronger. Almost unbearable. Curiosity lifted itself out of its burrow and nudged the wheel. Charlie couldn’t hold back. Before he realized what he was doing, he had swung the boat’s bow toward the factory.

  Charlie spotted a metal ladder fastened to the sea wall. He maneuvered the boat to the bottom of the ladder, shut off the motor and let the fiberglass hull gently bounce against the rotting tires that were anchored into the metal. He quickly tied down the boat using the dock cleats embedded in the wall.

  He grabbed the ladder and then froze. A head appeared over the top of the wall and just as quickly disappeared. “Is that you, boatman?” called the male voice.

  “Who’s asking?” Charlie questioned cautiously.

  “Me.”

  “Who’s me?”

  “The one who’s asking.”

  Charlie drummed his fingers along the metal rung. Swallowed the annoyance coating his tongue. That voice sounded familiar. “Johnny, is that you?”

  Silence.

  Charlie smiled. It had to be him. He slowly ascended the ladder. “I know it’s you, Johnny.”

  “No you don’t,” the voice responded.

  “Umm, yes I do.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Your voice,” Charlie replied. “I kn
ow it when I hear it.”

  The voice deepened. Cadence slowed. “I was faking it. This is my real voice. See…you’ve no idea who this is.”

  Charlie clicked his tongue and kept climbing. “Johnny?”

  “Yes.”

  “See, it’s you, isn’t it.”

  “Aww, damn.” Johnny snapped his fingers. “You got me.”

  Charlie reached the top and stepped over the wall. “What are you doing here?”

  Johnny nervously paced back and forth. “What am I doing here?” Squeezed the glass bottle in his hand. “What are you doing here?”

  “I don’t know.” Charlie looked at the factory and then turned his attention back to Johnny. “I was kind of pulled here.”

  “Me too.”

  Charlie watched Johnny walk a few steps, turn and walk the same distance in the other direction, only to spin around and do it all over again. He motioned to the liquor bottle in Johnny’s grasp. “Have you been drinking tonight?”

  “No.”

  “What’s that, then?”

  “Bottle with water,” Johnny answered.

  “Looks like a vodka bottle to me.”

  Johnny held it up before his squinting eyes. “So it does.” A pause. “I filled it with water.”

  “Water?”

  “Yes, water.” Johnny thrust it toward Charlie. “Wanna taste it? I’ll let you, if you don’t believe me.”

  Charlie bit his lip with disgust. No way was he going to put his lips to that thing. “I believe you. Why water?”

  Johnny kept pacing. “To prevent them from finding me.”

  Charlie scratched his scalp. “Water does that?”

  “I know it does,” Johnny answered. “The more I drink it, the more it dilutes me. The more dilution, the less chance they have of finding me. If I can’t be found, then they can’t make me do what they want me to do.” He paused the length of a heartbeat. “Don’t you get it?”

  “I think so.” Charlie quietly nodded. “What do they want?”

  Johnny slugged some water from his bottle. Wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm. “What do they want, you say?” He pointed. “For me to go in there.”

  “The factory?”

  Johnny paced. “Yeah, into that forsaken place.” Waved his arm wildly. “There’s something in there they want me to get. But I don’t want to go in there. No sir, I don’t.” he shook his head. “But they’re trying to make me. Made me come this far.” Looked at Charlie with feral eyes. “I’m making my final stand here.” Another swig from the bottle. “I’m not going to let them get the best of me. Not tonight, no sir.”

  “I get it,” Charlie responded. The factory loomed before him. His boat gently rocked below. It would be so much easier to climb down and drive away. Yet there was something preventing him from doing it. Something pulling him into that damn building. Was it the same thing that Johnny was experiencing? Did those mysterious people Johnny always talked about have some influence over Charlie, too? He shook the thought away. If not that, then what was it?

  Johnny looked up toward the night sky. “I’m not going in there.” He bent forward to stretch his back. Then just as quickly looked up again. “You hear me? Not going to do it.”

  “Think they heard you?” Charlie tried to sound as understanding as possible.

  Johnny shrugged. “Don’t know and I don’t care.”

  Charlie once again looked at the factory and let its foreboding presence engulf him. “I know you’ve been in there.” He paused to see if Johnny would resist. He kept on pacing. “Is there anything that I should know about?”

  “Don’t want to talk about it.” Johnny shook his head. Tapped his chest. “You know that he’d be fine with it.” Gestured toward Charlie. “Maybe you too—then again, maybe not.” He looked down at his shoes. “Don’t do it. Don’t go in. I’m not, but maybe he will because they go through me to get him.” Johnny grabbed the sides of his head. “I need to walk. Walk away. Just walk away.” Johnny turned and scrambled along the sidewalk that wound its way along the river.

  Charlie silently watched as Johnny disappeared down the throat of the night. That tingling sensation, that overbearing pull, hadn’t disappeared with Johnny’s presence. Or when Johnny walked away. His warnings didn’t have any effect on it, either. Charlie couldn’t resist. He’d hate himself if he didn’t at the very least take a peek inside. He exhaled any remaining pieces of doubt and began to follow the sidewalk that led to a set of double doors.

  Would they be locked? If so, would that stifle his curiosity? Or would he find the courage to search for another way into the place? He was less than fifty yards away when one of the doors slowly opened.

  Charlie’s heart skipped a beat. Alarm shot liked a lightning bolt across his network of nerves. He leapt behind a nearby bench, took cover and froze.

  A lone figure warily slid outside the door and kept close to the wall. It looked left, then right. Scanned the grounds. Turned its attention along the top of the building. Who in the hell was this?

  The figure began to run down the walkway leading right to Charlie. It drew closer. And closer. Why was this person outside the abandoned factory at this time of night? What should Charlie do now?

  27

  Sammy raced down the steps, his thoughts running faster than his feet. He burst through a metal door and scampered along the dimly lit hallway. Fiddled with the ring of keys with annoyance until he found the right one, then jammed it into the door’s lock at the end of the corridor and threw it open. It slammed shut behind him when he entered.

  Apprehension gelled the air in the room. The three bouncers were huddled near the makeup counter. The women were standing in a loosely knit group. Even though they were decked out in trendy clubwear, any suggestion of sensuality had been sucked out of them. Some fiddled with their fingers. Others had their arms pressed against their chest and uneasily rocked back and forth on the balls of their feet. Uncertainty stooped their shoulders while anxiety was etched into the lines on their faces.

  Sammy grunted and stormed up to the bouncer from the club. “What do you mean, ‘she’s gone’?”

  The other two men took a half step backward, seemingly trying to distance themselves from the fray. Sammy shook his finger. “Oh no, you don’t.” Glared at all three of them. “You’re all a part of the problem.” A tense pause. “So where is she?”

  “I don’t know,” the bouncer said.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Sammy questioned even more harshly.

  The bouncer’s tone was pressured. “I said, I don’t know.” He pointed at the counter. “One minute she’s doing her makeup and the next she’s gone.”

  Sammy snapped his fingers. “Just like that? Poof! Disappears, right into thin air.”

  “Yeah, something like that,” the bouncer replied.

  “Do you realize how stupid that sounds?” Sammy huffed. “No one just disappears.”

  “She did.” The bouncer folded his arms across his chest. “We’ve torn this pace apart and she’s not here.”

  “Then she must’ve gotten out.” Sammy squeezed his gut to keep it from blowing apart with rage. “Did you look?”

  The bouncer pointed at the door Sammy had just stormed through. “You mean out there?”

  Sammy thrust his hands on his hips. “Where else would I be telling you to look?”

  “It was locked and someone was watching it,” the bouncer stated. “There’s no way she could’ve made it past without us knowing.”

  “She must’ve if she’s not here!” Sammy fired back. “Did you check the security cams?”

  The bouncer nodded. “Yeah, we did.”

  “Well?” Sammy questioned impatiently.

  “Nothing. They showed nothing.”

  Sammy looked over the women. “Did she talk to any of them?”

  The bouncer shrugged. “Not really.” He made a halfhearted gesture toward one of the blondes. “Maybe her.”

  Sammy stepped in fro
nt of the woman. “I know all about you and where you’re from, Kamelia.” He straightened his shoulders. Glared coldly to convey his frustration. “Did you talk with her?”

  “With who?” Kami answered.

  “Aryssa.” Sammy grumbled. “The one who’s missing.”

  Kami shook her head while she stared at the floor. “I know of no girl,” she answered in her thick accent.

  “He said that you talked with her.” Sammy pointed at the bouncer. “Did she tell you anything?”

  “I know nothing.”

  Sammy repeatedly smacked the back of his hand into the palm of the other. “I think you’re lying to me.” He paused. “Where’d she go?”

  Kami kept shaking her head. “Know nothing. Only do what I’m told.”

  “Someone in this damn room had to have seen something.” Sammy stood over Kamelia and raised his arm. “Last time! Where did she go?”

  Kami coward. “I know nothing. Honest. Nothing.”

  The steam of Sammy’s aggravation felt as if it were ready to blow through the top of his head. He needed answers and he needed them now. Several cries burst from the other women. A muffled scream from another. He was about to slam his fist into Kamelia’s face, but a movement out of the corner of his eye forced him to pause. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Who?” The bouncer’s gaze homed in on the woman chained to the mattress.

  “Yes, her,” Sammy said with fire scorching the edges of his voice.

  The bouncer scoffed. “She didn’t want to do it.” He paused. “Demanded more money. So I had to take matters in my own hands after she slapped me.”

  “She slapped you?” Sammy questioned tersely. “What the hell happened?”

  “I told you, she was being a little bitch. Started insisting on more money. When I told her no, she thought she could be disrespectful.” The bouncer brows crinkled. “Had to teach her a lesson.”

  “Son of a…” Sammy bent down for a closer look. “You’ve got to be kidding me. She can’t go out looking like that.”

  The bouncer’s complexion turned red with anger. “If she would’ve just listened, then…”