Endurance

by Jack Kilborn

  “Where you goin’, Debbie?”

  Teddy was close. Very close. To her right. Deb paused, holding her breath, listening for movement.

  She didn’t hear anything.

  He’s either sitting still, moving toward me, or moving away from me.

  So what’s my best option?

  Keep going. Don’t wait for him to find me.

  Deb softly blew out her breath, then continued her trek.

  “I get it. Y’all wanna play a game.” Teddy had gotten even closer. Almost near enough to reach out and touch. “A little hide ‘n seek.”

  She moved faster, feeling a sob well up in her chest.

  I can’t cry. I need to stay quiet.

  “I looooove games, girly girly.”

  She froze.

  Oh, sweet Jesus, he’s right in front of me.

  “I know all sorts of games. ‘Cept I never played none of ‘em with a cripple before. You got no legs, just like me. I won’t even gotta tie you up to make babies.”

  He got even nearer. She couldn’t see him, but she could sense his mass, feel his body heat.

  Can he sense me as well?

  “Maybe Momma will even let us get married. She’ll make us a big ol’ wedding cake.”

  He’s so close.

  Deb could actually feel his warm breath. It washed across her face like a foul summer wind blowing across a garbage dump. She tilted away, turning her head, crazy with fear that the floor would creak and he’d find her.

  I can’t see him. That means he can’t see me. Stay calm.

  “Will y’all marry me, Debbie girl?”

  Teddy was close enough to kiss. He had to know she was there. Sweat rolled down Deb’s forehead, stinging her eyes. She closed them, willing, praying, for Teddy to go away.

  “Teddy and Debbie, sittin’ in a tree. K...... I...... S...... S...... I...... N…...”

  Deb lashed out before he could say G, making her hand into a claw and raking her hundred dollar manicure across his face. He screeched, and she scampered past him, crawling as fast as she could. She smacked her forehead into a joist, didn’t stop to assess the damage, and continued hurrying until she felt a cool breeze. Air flow potentially meant an exit. Deb paused, trying to sense its direction, and adjusted her course.

  “The wedding is off, bitch!”

  He was right behind her again. Deb plowed ahead, reaching a wall. She tried to go left, then right. Each way was blocked off.

  Dead end. I’m dead. I...

  Then her hand touched something solid and familiar.

  A ladder rung. This is a ladder.

  Ladders were Deb’s nemesis, and a large part of the reason she never tried to mountain climb again. If she couldn’t take ten vertical steps, how was she supposed to scale a sheer cliff face?

  Previous ladder experiences—even with small step ladders—tended to end badly. And out of all her prosthetics, the Cheetah’s were the most ill-suited for ladders. The backwards curve meant she had to push her legs out behind her to take a step, which was awkward and threw off her balance.

  “Gotcha!”

  Teddy grabbed her around the thigh. His grip was iron, and his fingers palpated her quadriceps, stroking intimately.

  Deb screamed, bringing her arm forward, then jamming her elbow back. It connected with his face.

  Teddy grunted, releasing his grip. Deb kicked out backwards, felt her Cheetah bounce off of him. He knocked her prosthetic aside, so hard it almost came off.

  He’s too fast. Too strong. There’s no place to escape.

  I need to try the ladder.

  Using only her upper body, Deb lifted herself up the first four steps. The darkness was absolute, and she had to work by feel. Grabbing a rung with both hands, she did a chin up. Then, holding it with one arm, she stretched up her other arm for the next rung.

  Pull.

  Reach.

  Grab.

  Pull.

  Reach.

  Grab.

  Once she got the rhythm, she ascended quickly. And she no longer heard Teddy behind her. Maybe he—

  He’s got my leg!

  Deb pulled, her arms shaking, but she didn’t move an inch.

  He’s going to drag me down. How long can I hold on for?

  Deb hooked her elbow over the rung, waiting for him to tug.

  Teddy didn’t tug.

  Why isn’t he pulling?

  Deb almost laughed hysterically when she figured it out.

  It’s not Teddy. My Cheetah is caught on the rung.

  The curve of the prosthetics acted like a hook, and it had apparently snagged onto the ladder. Deb lowered herself down a few inches, arched her back, and freed her leg.

  But now her adrenalin had run out, and her arms were shaking from the strain. Going up any farther was impossible. She needed to get a foothold, rest for a moment, or else she’d lose her grip.

  Deb prodded around with the tips of her Cheetah’s, trying to feel for a rung. Her leg found purchase. She tested it, easing herself down. It bore her weight. She stood there on one leg in the darkness, getting her strength back, straining to hear any sound of Teddy.

  Where is he?

  Maybe he can’t climb ladders. Maybe he isn’t strong enough.

  Maybe he—

  Deb almost fell when her foothold moved.

  Oh, fuck.

  I’m standing on him.

  She scrambled to get a better grip on the rungs, and then began to ascend again, her tired muscles be damned. Fear gave her speed and strength, and after seven more rungs she reached up for the next and met with a ceiling.

  A dead end?

  Can’t be. Why have a ladder that takes you nowhere?

  Holding on with one hand, her chin resting on the top rung, she pushed up with her free palm.

  The ceiling moved, because it wasn’t a ceiling at all. It was another secret entrance.

  Deb pushed it aside, then chinned-up into the open space. There was a thin strip of light at face-level, and Deb realized she was looking under a door. She hoisted herself up, pulling herself into this new room. Then she moved the board back and stood on top of it, her head brushing against something.

  Coat hangers. I’m in a closet.

  Then the door flew open, and Deb was hit in the face so hard it knocked her down.

  # # #

  Felix stared out the rear window of the police cruiser. A tow truck hauling a Corvette passed them going in the opposite direction. It was the only other vehicle he’d seen in the last thirty minutes.

  “Where are you taking us?” Cam asked the Sheriff.

  He’d asked that same question at least a dozen times. The Sheriff had yet to answer.

  Felix wondered what was happening. Was this going to be some sort of backwoods justice? Take them deep into the woods and beat the shit out of them?

  No. The Sheriff would have done it already. Why drive for this long? There were plenty of woods around here where no one would here the screams.

  So what does he want?

  Felix’s mind switched back to Maria. His brief elation that she was still alive had turned into a deep-rooted, sick feeling.

  They’re raping and bleeding her. They’ve been doing this for a whole year.

  The enormity of the horror she had endured made Felix want to scream.

  I have to save her. I have to. I can’t let them do this to her for one more day.

  But alongside the outrage and the pain, Felix felt a twinge of something shameful. Something he had a hard time facing.

  Is she even Maria anymore?

  He couldn’t shake the image of her, gaunt and gibbering, her mind completely fried because of her ordeal.

  What if, when I finally find her, she’s a vegetable? What if she’s so traumatized she can no longer take care of herself.

  Felix clenched his jaw.

  Then I learn to change diapers.

  I love her. I’m going to save her. Both her body and her mind.

  But
Felix didn’t see how he was going to save anybody, handcuffed in a squad car being taken someplace other than the police station.

  He glanced at Cam. The younger man didn’t seem scared. If anything, he seemed hyper.

  Not for the first time, Felix questioned whether bringing Cam along was the right decision. On one hand, Cam loved Maria just as much as he did. To leave him languish unjustly in a psychiatric institution was wrong, especially when Felix needed help looking for his sister.

  On the other hand, Cam had been in the institution for a reason.

  For ninety-five percent of the time, Cam seemed entirely normal. But every so often Felix would catch him talking to himself, and saying some pretty bizarre shit. And several times over the last few months, Cam seemed to zone out completely, even when Felix was yelling in his face.

  Then again, if I had his history, maybe I’d zone out too.

  Still, the enthusiasm he showed while breaking John’s fingers was definitely not normal. Willingly hurting another human being—even if that person was a kidnapper and a rapist—was really dark stuff.

  “We’ll be okay,” Felix said, more to reassure himself than Cam.

  “I don’t think so,” Cam said. “I think he’s taking us somewhere to kill us.”

  The matter-of-fact way Cam said it was chilling.

  “He’s a police officer. He won’t do that.”

  “He didn’t call it in,” Cam said. “Didn’t report back.”

  “It’s a small town. There’s no one to report to.”

  Cam shook his head. “He’s not the only cop in the county. There are others. Murder is still a big deal. But he didn’t call anyone. Base. The coroner. Paramedics. That means he’s going to get rid of us.”

  Felix felt himself get very cold. He was mentally and physically a wreck, hurting in a dozen places, his mind alternately torturing and tantalizing him with thoughts of Maria. To think that he was going to die soon was almost too much to handle.

  “Don’t worry,” Cam said. “It’s not so bad.”

  Felix let out a half-insane chuckle. “What’s not so bad?”

  “Dying,” Cam said.

  Cam would know.

  The police cruiser began to slow down. Felix looked around. Nothing but woods and darkness. A lump formed in his throat.

  The lump got even bigger when the cruiser pulled onto the shoulder, into a copse of trees.

  “Sheriff,” Felix said. “Please. Don’t do this.”

  “Son, I can’t begin to describe what a pain in the rear you’ve been these last few months. Botherin’ the locals. Stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong. All for one little woman.” The Sheriff stared in the rear view mirror, looking at Felix. “There are other fish in the sea, boy. Didn’t your mama ever tell you that?”

  “She’s alive?”

  “Hell, ‘course she’s alive. I saw ‘er just a few weeks ago. Got my transfusion, and dipped my wick in ‘er honey pot. I tell you, she’s one sorry piece of tail. Does nothing but lay there and cry. I don’t see why you’re so damn anxious to get ‘er back.”

  Rage replaced fear. Felix tried to get at the Sheriff by ramming his head through the Plexiglas partition between the front and back seats. The only damage he caused was to himself, opening up the cut on his head.

  “Careful there, son. Y’all oughta save your strength. Fine looking young buck like yourself. I don’t personally care for none of that sodomite behavior, but to some of my brothers a hole is a hole is a hole. You keep acting so impetuous, you won’t last a week with my kin.”

  Felix sank back in his seat. Of the countless nightmare scenarios he’d dreamed up to explain Maria’s disappearance, none were this bad.

  The car hit a hump, bouncing Felix and Cam. If only Cam had been on his right side, maybe he could have reached Felix’s handcuff keys in his jeans pocket. But Cam was on the left—the wrong side—and he wouldn’t be able to dig them out, not with the Sheriff eyeballing them every few seconds. And Felix had been stretching since the moment he got into the car, and his hands hadn’t even come close.

  Not that it mattered. Even if the cuffs were off, the Sheriff was still armed. Assuming he and Cam could somehow get out of the cruiser, they wouldn’t get far.

  The police car stopped. Felix’s brain popped and sizzled, trying to figure some way out of this mess. He glanced at Cam. Incredibly, the kid appeared peaceful, like he was going for a ride in the country.

  What the hell is wrong with him?

  “We’re here, fellas. Don’t give me no trouble. I get angry, I start breakin’ things on y’all. You hear?”

  The Sheriff got out of the car, gun in hand, and opened the door. Felix got out first, staring into woods so dark he felt like her was being swallowed. There was nothing around, far as he could see. When Cam exited the vehicle, the Sheriff took out a flashlight and marched them forward.

  Out of nowhere, a gigantic house appeared. Made of logs, surround by tall trees on all sides. Not a single light was on.

  Is this the Rushmore Inn?

  “The forest rangers don’t even know this place exits,” the Sheriff said. “Got some trees on the roof, so it can’t be seen flyin’ overhead. Every so often, hunter’ll stumble on it. We take care of ‘em.”

  He marched them inside the heavy front door, closed it behind him, and yelled, “Ma! I’m home!”

  Felix looked around the room, awed by the decor. U.S. Presidents were everywhere. He was so floored by how odd it was that he almost failed to notice the large old woman lumbering toward them.

  “Good evening. I’m Eleanor Roosevelt. Welcome, gentlemen, to the Rushmore Inn.” She fussed with her hair, held in place by a white hairnet, then turned to the Sheriff. “Dwight? Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing guests?”

  “Sorry, Ma. This was last minute.” Dwight took off his cowboy hat and held it by the brim, looking solemn. “I’m afraid I got some bad news. These fellas here killed John.”

  Eleanor blinked her bulbous eyes. “John? My John?”

  “’Fraid so. These are the ones I told you about a while ago. The ones looking for the girl. They shot John in the head. Like a dog, Ma. Nuthin’ I could do.”

  “Better than he deserved,” Cam said. “You people are scum.”

  Sheriff Dwight hit Cam in the stomach, dropping him to his knees.

  “Mind my momma, boy.”

  Eleanor placed a hand on her chest. She moaned, a low, keening sound that grew higher and higher in pitch, like a fog horn.

  “There there, Ma.” The Sheriff patted her shoulder.

  Eleanor stopped howling long enough to pull a handkerchief out of her robe pocket. She dabbed her eyes, but as far as Felix could tell they were already dry.

  “Get me some water to calm my nerves, Dwight. There’s a pitcher on the table.”

  Dwight nodded, heading for the pitcher. Felix flexed his legs.

  If he turns his back on me, I’ll run at the old woman and...

  The next thing he knew, Felix was on his knees, teeth clenched in agony. It felt like a pick axe hit him in the stomach. He stared up at Eleanor, who was now holding a stick she must have had hidden in her robe.

  She touched the stick to Felix’s arm, and it hurt worse than if she’d branded it with a hot iron.

  It’s a cattle prod. But Felix was much more interested in the hand that held it. On Eleanor’s pinky.

  A yellow diamond ring. Pear shaped.

  Maria’s engagement ring.

  She’s here! Maria is here!

  “Shame on you,” Eleanor said. “Shame on both of you. John was a good boy. A special boy. He wasn’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but he loved his momma, and I had big plans for him.”

  “He was a rapist and a murderer,” Cam said.

  Eleanor juiced him with the prod, and Cam cried out.

  “Not another word out of you, boy. Dwight! Where’s my water?”

  “Here it is, Ma.”

  The Sheriff handed her
a glass of rust-colored liquid, and she drank the whole thing, smacking her lips at the end.

  “Not much in the taste department, but wonderful for the nerves. Get my blood kit, Dwight.”

  “Got it already, Ma.”

  “Test ‘em.”

  The Sheriff knelt down, poking Felix in the hip with something that stung. He did the same thing to Cam. Then he opened up a leather satchel and pulled out some vials of fluid.

  He just took our blood samples. He’s going to test if we...

  Jesus, who’s that?

  A giant had come down the stairs. A giant with a gaping split in his face. He walked up to them and stared at Felix, flicking his tongue out through the hole in his nasal cavity.

  “Did you take care of the reporter, Harry?” Eleanor asked.

  The giant nodded.

  “Where is he?”

  “Immmby av imm.”

  “Jimmy has him?”

  He nodded again.

  “Good boy. You done your momma proud. Have you heard from Teddy yet?”

  Harry shook his head. Eleanor sighed. “He’s probably fooling around again. Teddy is a lot like your father. That man was a rascal, never satisfied. Sometimes, your father would mount me four, five times a day.” Eleanor fanned her face with her palm.

  The Sheriff walked over, holding two test tubes.

  “The older one, no,” he said. “But the younger one’s a match.”

  Eleanor pointed at Cam. “Harry, show that one to his new room.”

  “Shouldn’t he take them both down, Ma?” The Sheriff crouched down on his haunches, staring at Felix. “I thought my kin could have a bit of fun with this one.”

  “There ain’t any place for him, Dwight. We’re overbooked as it is. Past capacity.”

  “We could double-up.”

  Eleanor shook her head. “Not safe. When the guests are allowed to mingle, they get ideas about escapin’.”

  The Sheriff grinned, and it was an ugly thing. Felix hadn’t noticed before that he had the tiny, rounded teeth of a child.

  “I’ll cut out his tongue,” The Sheriff said. “He won’t be minglin’ with nobody.”

  Eleanor waggled a finger. “Don’t you dare get any blood on my Richard Nixon rug.”