Deceptions

by Dana Mansfield

  “Jack, no,” Penny said behind him but he ignored her. James and Landon advanced on him and wrestled him away from the bed and down to his knees. His heart was racing so fast. Was Penny’s life just seconds from being over?

  William approached Penny and she struggled to move away from him. He grabbed her left arm and yanked her closer to him. She cried out as he jostled her broken wrist and burned hands.

  “We’ve been eavesdropping, Penny,” he said and shook her. “You want it to stop, huh? I can take care of that.” He placed the barrel of his gun to her forehead.

  “Please, no,” Jack begged. William pulled back the hammer on his semiautomatic pistol. Penny gave Jack one last look before closing her eyes. Each second was like an hour and Jack held his breath.

  But then William pulled his gun away.

  “No, I have a much better way to deal with this,” he said and secured his gun. He stood and addressed his team. “Take them outside. Easier to clean up the mess.”

  Landon and James dragged Jack out of the bedroom and to the right, through an inside porch, and out the front door of the house into the frigid afternoon air. It was spitting snow and cloudy. They led Jack through the deep snow. It felt as if his feet were being cut by glass. He was pushed down into the white stuff. It was so cold and he struggled to regulate his breathing in the icy air. He shivered as his breath hung before him.

  James left Landon with Jack and walked back into the house. A few moments later, he appeared with Penny. She struggled as best she could against him but she was just so weak that by the time he pushed her down to her knees into the snow next to Jack, she was as limp as the noodles she used when she made his mother’s kugel. Her shaking was so much worse than Jack’s and her lips were already bluish. The fear on her face was immense.

  William walked out of the house with Vivienne. A sick smile spread across his face.

  “Blood is so difficult to clean,” he explained. “Out here, we can just cover it up with snow and let it melt with the spring thaw.” Again, he put his gun to Penny’s forehead and again, Jack begged.

  “Please do not kill her. She is just doing this to spare me having to watch her suffer. She is not trying to defy you. She is not thinking right. I am sure it is the pain making her talk this way.”

  “I have been impressed at her pain tolerance,” William said. “Most of our guests who experience Vivienne’s drug – she simply calls it Red – are begging for death within forty-eight hours.” William cocked his gun.

  “No,” Jack whimpered. The air around them became very still. Jack focused on William’s face in the hopes of missing the gore that was bound to splatter the pristine snow. William’s eyes, shifty and calculating, moved from Jack to Penny and back. He then widened his sick smile. A chuckle came from his throat.

  “This is still the wrong way to go about this,” he said and stepped back. “Watch them. I’ll be back.” William retreated into the house. The prolongation of Penny’s death was an even more horrific torture.

  Penny had managed to wrap her arms around her thin body but she was shivering so much. She wavered on her knees and Jack caught her before she fell forward into the snow. He put his own arms around her to try and provide even a little bit of warmth in her final moments.

  “I’m so sorry, Jack,” she said.

  “Shush,” he replied and touched her cheek. “You have nothing to be sorry about. Ever.”

  “You guys are so pathetic,” Landon growled and slammed the butt of his gun into the side of Jack’s head. It stunned him enough to effect his balance and he fell sideways, taking Penny with him and they both ended up in the deep snow. “Don’t move,” warned Landon.

  “You’re bleeding,” Penny noted as her teeth chattered. Jack’s head pounded but he was afraid of what Landon would do if he didn’t follow his order to stay still. He and Penny lay in the snow, shivering. Blood dripped on Penny’s cheek.

  When William came back outside, he gave Landon a dressing down for hitting Jack. Apparently, Jack was not to be harmed unless William gave the okay.

  “Both of you, on your knees,” he ordered. Jack struggled as the pounding in his head intensified but he managed and then helped Penny. “I’m feeling a little… generous today.” He pulled out a revolver and spun the chamber before fishing around in the pocket of his black jeans. He held up a single bullet. “I think this is very appropriate.” William put the bullet in one of the revolver’s chambers and spun it again. “How about a little game of Russian Roulette?”

  “No, please,” Jack said, his voice causing the side of his head to pound more. William pulled out his other weapon.

  “Your choice, Jack.” He held both guns out in front of him. “You decide. A trigger will only be pulled once. I’m sure that genius brain of yours can figure out which one has the best odds.” Of course Jack could figure out those odds and even though it was just another form of torture, he made his decision.

  “The revolver,” he said.

  “I figured as much,” William replied and then did something Jack did not anticipate. William turned the gun around so the handle pointed to Jack. “You will do the honors.” Jack was shocked and he looked up at the madman.

  “No,” Jack replied incredulously and shook his head.

  “Either you pull the trigger on the revolver or I use my weapon. Possible death versus certain death,” William explained in a cold and warning voice.

  “But if the revolver goes off, I will have killed her,” Jack said in an emotional voice. “I cannot murder her.”

  “And if you don’t pull the trigger,” he heard Penny say in a quivering voice next to him, “I’m dead anyway.” He turned to her. Her face was calm in such a frantic moment. “Don’t drag this out, Ivan. Please.” She reached over with her bandaged hands and held his hand between them. A flash of pain crossed her face but it went as quickly as it came. “Blame the situation, just as I have said before.” Both of them let their tears fall and he nodded. With a shaking hand, he took the gun. He had never held one before but knew how they worked. They were rather simple yet so horrible.

  “Please close your eyes,” he requested. “Do not look at me.”

  “Okay,” she replied in a quiet voice and did as asked. He raised the gun and pointed it at her head. His crying worsened but he couldn’t help it. What he was about to do was unimaginable.

  “God, forgive me,” he said and pulled the hammer back. “I love you, Penelope,” he said and closing his own eyes, he pulled the trigger.

  The gun did not fire.

  Jack cried out and tossed the gun away from him as if it was burning hot. His stomach lurched and he leaned over to vomit a considerable amount of bile into the snow. His chest hurt and his head felt like it was being squeezed by a giant. It was the worst moment of his entire life.

  “Get them inside,” William ordered and Jack was in a terrible daze as James and Landon pulled him to his feet. He followed Penny, who was being dragged by William and Vivienne, into the house and back into the bedroom. When the thugs let go of him, he sank to his knees. Penny collapsed next to him and their four tormentors left the room.

  Jack pulled Penny up into his arms in a tight embrace. They were both crying and he didn’t care if he appeared weak.

  “Prosti,” he sobbed. “I am so sorry. Prosti. Sorry, sorry…” He kept repeating the word over and over both in English and Russian. He didn’t stop until his tears were dried up and he was drained. Penny still shivered and Jack carefully picked her up and laid her on the bed where he pulled the blanket around her. “Prosti,” he said one more time.

  . . .

  By dinner of that horrendous day, Vivienne started Penny on IV fluids and three protein shakes came on Jack’s dinner tray for her. Penny was still in pain but nothing like before since the terrible drug had worked mostly out of her system. She was weak and exhausted but forced him to eat the simple dinner of a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. Jack couldn’t even taste the food but wanted
to abide by Penny’s wishes. When he finished, he helped her sit up and opened one of the shakes.

  “Promise me we’ll never speak of this day ever,” she requested before taking a sip.

  “Ya obeshchayu.”[15]

  * * *

  Chapter 16

  Jack leaned back against the headboard, a sleeping Penny lying next to him. She had continued on fluids and antibiotics for four more days and her urinary tract infection finally cleared up and she was starting to feel better. She was weak, though, and needed help getting to the bathroom and back. The days after the day they would stay silent about were quiet as Penny slept her exhaustion away and Jack worried. It had been apparent from day one of the ordeal that whomever the Employer was did not care for Penny but to put her through so many days of excruciating pain and then make her face a game of Russian Roulette was just horrifying. It damaged Jack emotionally but not on the level Penny experienced.

  He saw it in her eyes; there was something missing from them. He worried about her mental state and her depression and he couldn’t wait for her to stay awake long enough so he could assess her through harmless chitchat. Making sure she was mentally and emotionally secure was the only way he could protect her. If they were physically hurting her, any act to protect her would cause her death and it was obvious the bastards were willing to force him to do the dirty work. Jack never, ever wanted to be in that position again.

  Penny’s chest rose and fell in even motion and there was slight movement behind her eyes. She was dreaming and he hoped the dream didn’t turn into a nightmare. Both of them saw a dramatic increase in nightmares since that awful day. His relived those last few seconds of the game. Most of the time, it ended as it had in real life but there were a few times where the nightmare merged with the memories of Dr. Shakhnovich and Jack saw Penny’s head explode from the bullet. When the nightmare hit, he woke up drenched in sweat and sick to his stomach. Sleep for both of them was not easy.

  “No, no, no…,” Penny whispered as she began struggling. Very gently, Jack shook her shoulders. She, too, reacted badly to the nightmares and her reaction worried him a lot. Her heart would race for many minutes after waking up and he thought it was irregular when he felt her pulse. The next time it happened, he put his ear to her chest and he was certain it sounded irregular. This was not a good development and Jack hoped it was just a temporary effect of the drug Vivienne used to torture her.

  “Wake up, Penelope,” he called and shook her again. Penny’s eyes popped open.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “You were starting to have a nightmare,” he explained close to her ear so he didn’t have to raise his voice. “Nothing is wrong. I just did not want you to have a nightmare again.” She nodded and took several deep breaths. Jack felt for her pulse in her neck. It was a little fast but even; he caught the nightmare in time.

  “Please don’t worry about stopping them or waking me up,” she said. “You need your rest too.” Jack felt his cheeks blush.

  “I will be fine,” he insisted, then switched subjects. “It is bath day if you are up for one.”

  “Yes,” she said with eagerness. “A bath would help me feel better. I feel greasy from all the sweating I’ve done.”

  Bathing occupied most of the morning. He felt better in fresh pajamas and Penny looked better also even though she was exhausted from the activity. Jack had her back into bed just in time for lunch. There were two trays and Jack was happy to see Penny was moving back to solid foods. He received a bowl of vegetable soup and an orange while Penny received BRATT foods. She ate half and then fell asleep. Jack was tired also and stretched out on his side of the bed.

  . . .

  It was Christmas Day and although neither one of us was one with Christianity – Jack was a practicing Jew and I was a pseudo Jew through Jack – he was singing Christmas carols. He was currently on my favorite one – “Oh Holy Night.” He knew all the songs. Despite being rather religious, he loved the Christian holiday tunes and before the accident, he made a special trip every year to Children’s Hospital in Philadelphia to sing for the kids.

  His singing voice was rough due to lack of use at first but within a few words, his warm tenor voice was spot on. He had his impressive rock and roll singing voice but his other singing voice always moved me. It was the one he used to sing the band’s ballads and it was also the voice he used in the synagogue. He once confessed to me if his secular singing career had not taken off, he would have become a cantor. I now wondered if it would be a possibility with his decision to retire from rock and roll.

  My recuperation from the pharmaceutical torture became Jack’s focus. He was annoying, always fussy and asking how I was, but I humored him because it kept the Big Brain going. I did the same thing to him over our many years so it was payback time.

  Although I was still weak, he insisted I needed to start moving around. I agreed. Even though we were captives, I didn’t like not being 100% and since the night of the abduction, I had been far from my best. I hoped the situation would calm down enough and I could heal up. I wanted to make sure if Jack needed me for any reason, I was there for him.

  Several times a day starting on Christmas, he would guide me on my shaky legs in a path from the bedroom to the bathroom and back. From the south facing window, around the bed, past the low dresser, into the bathroom, to the other door in the bathroom and back. That was the path. Jack kept his arm around my waist in case my legs gave out. At first, I could just do one lap but as 2011 approached, I grew stronger and this helped my emotional state. The game of Russian Roulette made me feel vulnerable and I tried to hide this from Jack. It was hard, however. I kept reliving the moment the gun did not go off over and over whether I was awake or asleep.

  We settled into a routine. Once I was feeling better, my waking up at the crack of dawn kicked back in and I was awake by five in the morning. Jack woke up about an hour later and I hated that hour he was asleep. I felt alone and scared and the Russian Roulette memories were more prevalent. While my hands were still out of commission, Jack had to help me with the bathroom which did not get any less humiliating for me. Breakfast came and it was always the same – oatmeal, milk, two clementines and black coffee. I was glad to see Jack receive his stomach medication. During our orientation, I worried about the fact that he was going without it.

  The rest of the morning we spent chitchatting as Jack continued to try and hone in on a radio station. He did a lot of talking which after an hour or two irritated me but I let him ramble on as he fiddled with the radio. I would have given up after the first or second attempt but I knew Jack needed the challenge to occupy himself.

  We tried to speak little of the children to protect them although we both accepted the fact that whoever was behind this more than likely already knew a lot about them. Jack and I worried they were in danger but also knew the FBI was probably involved and they would be protecting them. We reminisced a lot about college and the conversations we had while he was on tour. There were also many hours remembering the time after the accident where it was just him and me as we took care of each other, the kids and the house.

  Eventually, however, the conversations always circled back to the kids. As much as we tried, we couldn’t help it. These conversations both gave us strength to get through the ordeal but also were saddening, at least to me. I missed them. They had been my life for almost two decades. And, of course, Jack missed them too. He was their father and much more emotionally attached to them than Crystal.

  We decided not to speak about the Employer out of fear of offending him. The Russian Roulette warning hung over us and I did not want Jack to be put in that atrocious position again. As we promised each other, we did not speak about that day but it affected both of us. I could tell Jack’s mind was also held prisoner by what happened when he would stare out the front window at the spot where he almost killed me. My fear level was high and every time William or one of the others would enter the bedroom, I started
shaking. William noticed and I felt so low when he smirked at me.

  What worried me, and also Jack, was how my heart reacted to the nightmares. This was something new to me. It raced as I’d never felt before, even from running, and Jack thought the rhythm was irregular. I kept quiet about the chest pains that accompanied the rapid pulse. I was afraid of his reaction but I was more afraid of what the Employer might decide to do to me if Vivienne diagnosed me with cardiac issues. I convinced myself the heart problem would go away as soon as I was back up to speed.

  As our day continued, lunch arrived at noon and was usually soup and a sandwich with fruit. We napped in the afternoon – I was exhausted by that time – and dinner arrived at six. I called it, respectfully, grandma food even though at one time or another I fixed the same items for Jack and the kids but the kosher equivalent. Meatloaf with mashed potatoes and green beans, tater tot casserole, beef stew and biscuits. Jack was not offered kosher food but he did not complain. When we received ham and cheese sandwiches, I would take his ham and he would take my cheese. Sometimes, he had no choice but to eat traif. This was a situation where he had to do what he could to survive and he said God would forgive him. Jack and I started gaining a little weight which I was pleased about, at least when it came to Jack. The Terrible Voice was beginning to whisper and I was afraid I would not be able to ignore It if It grew louder.

  Our evenings were quiet. Sometimes we talked; sometimes we didn’t. By that part of the day, we were both ready to fall asleep so the next day would come and we would be one day closer to rescue. Jack always turned the lights off at 9:55 and sometime after, we would fall asleep. It was a rarity if we slept through the night. We both had troubling dreams and it was not uncommon for us both to give up on sleep in the middle of the night.

  January 1st arrived and Jack’s mood was low. It was Millie’s twenty-second birthday. It was also the third anniversary of the day Jack and I convinced her to go to drug rehab and stick with it. For most of the day, our conversations were centered on her. Jack worried the stress of this situation may weaken her and she would return to drugs or alcohol to cope. To be honest, I had the same worry. I couldn’t fall asleep and I thought back to that cloudy New Year’s Day.