• • •
Up high in the observation deck, Monica smiled as she watched Domino open the bottle of water and dump it out. She lit a cigarette, leaned back, and smiled some more, thinking about his unexpected meltdown. And it was indeed unexpected—at least this soon.
It was all going so well.
58
Domino entered the third room. The steel door slid shut behind him. All three locks clanked in rapid succession immediately after.
Yup—automated.
He stood in total darkness. Before the door had slammed shut, he spotted a thick rope hanging in the center of the room.
The speakers hummed, and Monica was on a second later. “Hey there, cuddly bear. Kelly and I still need to prep this next one. You mind hanging on for a little bit? I know Ben won’t mind.”
Domino thought of the rope he’d seen in the center of the room. Hanging on, she’d said. Ben won’t mind.
Did she mean to hang him somehow? Hang Ben? Her choice of words was not accidental. They seldom were.
He walked forward in the darkness, arms outstretched and moving in small circles, searching for the rope. When he found it, he gripped it tight and let his hands study his find.
Gym rope was the first thing he thought. Exactly the type of rope you climbed in gym class as a kid. Thick braided fibers pretzeling around one another until one hell of a sturdy rope was formed. He’d seen dozens of similar ropes on obstacle courses in the Corps. The design could support a moose for weeks on end.
Was he the moose? What about Ben? He was no moose. The kid was what? A hundred and fifty pounds? You wouldn’t need rope this strong to hold him. Domino either for that matter.
To climb maybe? She’d worked him out in the previous room, why not here? Make him climb up and down the rope like a damn chimp until she was satisfied.
And what would be the threat to Ben for the duration?
(“…hanging on…Ben won’t mind.”)
She IS planning to hang him. If I fall from the rope, she’ll hang him until I get back on and start climbing again.
Whatever it lacked in originality, it surely compensated in cruelty.
When the lights came on, and Domino eventually got the whole picture, cruelty fell into a pit of uselessness along with every other word.
There were no words to describe the task before him.
59
The lights came on. Domino’s eyes followed the rope toward the ceiling. It was not fixed or bolted at the top, but attached to a pulley system, like something you’d use to hoist bales of hay up into the loft of a barn.
Except he didn’t know where the barn was. The pulley system ran along the top of the ceiling and then disappeared into a hole in the wall. The “bales of hay” could be in the next room, or they could be somewhere outside, depending on how long the rig was. He didn’t know.
“Sorry about that,” Monica said, her voice still emanating from who knew where. “Needed a little extra prep time.”
Domino scanned the remainder of the room. Nothing, just him and the rope. “So how’s this one work?” he said.
“Surprised you’re eager—seeing as you quit on the last one.”
“I didn’t quit.”
“No? Sure looked like it from where I’m sitting.”
“Maybe you’re too far away. Come closer.”
“Nice try. Besides, I’ve got business to attend to here. We’ve got our first ever caller waiting on the line…” A pause, a click, and then: “Go ahead, you’re live.”
“Hello?” A woman’s voice.
“Hello!” Monica said cheerfully. “Who am I speaking with?”
“I was told I’d be speaking with Domino Taylor?” the woman said. “I was told you had information about my son?”
Domino’s head jerked towards the ceiling, eyes wide with surprise.
“Your son is Ben, is that right?” Monica asked.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Kathy!” Domino yelled. “Kathy, hang up the phone!”
“She can’t hear you, Domino.”
“Kathy, hang up the fucking phone!!!”
“And this is Kathy Lennox?” Monica asked. “The actress?”
“I—I’m sorry, is Domino there?”
“Yes, he is.”
A pause. “Who is this again?”
“Are you, or are you not, the Kathy Lennox?” Monica asked.
“I’m hanging up…”
The reverb of a new speaker hummed.
“We’ve got Domino Taylor with us now. Domino?”
Domino bit his cheek until he got blood.
“Domino?” Kathy said.
“He’s here, Miss Lennox—I can see him.”
Domino spit blood on the floor. “Hang up the phone, Kathy.”
“What’s going on? Is Ben okay?”
“He’s fine; just hang up the pho—”
“Evidently,” Monica broke in, “Mr. Taylor and I have differing opinions on the definition of okay.”
“What? Domino, what the hell is going on? Where are you?”
“Kathy, please, just hang up the phone.”
“The reason, Miss Lennox, I’m having you joining us here today is because I think you can be of great value to Domino’s current predicament.”
“Kathy, don’t listen to her. Hang up now. Do you hear me? Hang up—”
The new speaker died.
“—now.”
“Domino?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Lennox, it looks like Mr. Taylor has quit on us. Which brings me to my previous statement about assisting in Domino’s current predicament.”
“I’m not understanding any of this.”
“Plain and simple; Domino is a quitter. Only moments ago, he had the opportunity to save your son’s life by running on a mere treadmill.”
“What?”
“It’s true, Miss Lennox. Instead of running, he decided to throw a tantrum and break the treadmill, thus opting to watch your son slowly suffocate.”
“Oh my God,” Kathy said. “Oh my God, is my son…?”
“Dead? No, no. Though I do believe you have me to thank for that. Technically, he should be dead—seeing as how Domino broke the rules—but in the end I spared him. It was close though.”
Kathy started to cry.
“Now come on, Miss Lennox, I don’t need two quitters on me today.”
Domino paced the room like a madman in his cell, Monica’s last string of dialogue making him hammer a fist into one of the steel doors with a resounding boom.
Monica clicked over and addressed him. “You break your hand on that door and it’s only going to make your next job that much harder.”
“FUCK YO—!”
She clicked back to Kathy Lennox. “Now, Miss Lennox, in order to help Domino with—”
“You’re one of the kidnappers,” Kathy interrupted, voice cracking. “You have my son.”
Monica paused. “I…honestly don’t know what to say. Did you really just figure that out?”
Kathy started crying again.
“Anyway,” Monica continued, “I have a series of questions for you, Miss Lennox. Please answer them quickly and honestly. Domino will be listening, as I believe this benefits him as well.”
Domino stared at the ceiling, waiting, heart pounding from adrenaline and exhaustion. His head ached like a hangover.
“Your son nearly drowned when he was eight, didn’t he?” Monica asked.
“I…where did you—?”
“Quickly and honestly, Miss Lennox.”
“Yes.”
“Your ex-husband was supposed to be watching him?”
“Yes.”
“Those rock stars do enjoy their heroin, don’t they?”
“Yes.”
“A lot of it was kept out of the papers—your ex had a good lawyer I imagine—but I was able to dig a little. Ben nearly drowned in a hot tub of all places, that right?”
“Yes.”
“A neckl
ace Mr. Heroin had given him got caught in the suction at the bottom of the tub?”
“Yes.”
“Funny, I’d heard of that happening to people before. It’s not as uncommon as some might think.”
Kathy said nothing.
“How long was he under for?”
“We’re not really sure.”
“He had water in his lungs.”
“Yes.”
“So long enough.”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Heroin’s girlfriend found him?”
“Yes.”
“Were you two still married at the time?”
“Yes. I was away on location.”
“Shooting a film?”
“Yes.”
“So he’s fucking someone while you’re away, and nearly killing your son.”
A brief pause. “Yes. What does any of this have to do with—?”
“You know what I think must have been most terrifying for Ben? Being so close to the surface, yet still drowning. Seeing freedom—hell, probably being able to reach up and touch it, kick at it—but being unable to do anything about it. Drowning in only a few feet of water.”
“What the hell is your point?”
“Does he remember the incident well?”
“Yes.”
“Is he afraid of the water?”
A pause, then an obvious lie. “No.”
“No? He looks pretty fucking scared to me.”
The movie started on the wall behind Domino. He spun and faced it. When he heard Kathy’s scream, he knew that somehow, she was watching too.
Ben dangled from a harness above a tank. The tank was glass, the shape of a large cylinder, about eight feet high and filled to the top with water. Ben’s wrists and ankles were bound in chains, the chains around his ankles attached to a weight the size and shape of a black bowling ball. The harness was like a parachute attached to his back. Ben was not gagged as he’d been for all prior events. His mouth was free, and he was sobbing. Kelly stood next to the tank. She waved into the camera. “Hi, Miss Lennox.”
“BEN! OH MY GOD!”
Ben lifted his head when he heard the voice over the speaker. His body turned slightly in the harness. “Mom?”
“OH BENNY, OH JESUS GOD…”
“Mom?” His tears paused with curiosity.
“She’s not here, Ben,” Monica said, “but she can see you. She can see Domino too. At least she should be able to. Hold on a sec…Kathy, can you see Domino now?”
Domino spun away from the film on the wall and looked at the ceiling. He waved his arms overhead like he was signaling a plane. “Kathy, can you hear me?”
Behind sniffs and a cracked voice, Kathy managed a yes.
“Kathy, listen to me. Do not believe anything this woman tells you. She’s fucking crazy. She—”
Monica laughed, cutting him off. “She doesn’t have to believe anything I tell her. She has eyes; she can see for herself.”
“I’m talking about me quitting on Ben. I did not quit, Kathy.”
Monica sang: “Bulllshiiiit…”
“I don’t care,” Kathy broke in. “Just please save him now.” She started crying again. “Please don’t let him die, Domino.”
(…please don’t let me die, Dom…)
Domino roared and stomped the floor. “GODDAMNIT!!!”
“Another tantrum coming?” Monica asked.
“What do I have to do? You crazy fucking cunt, tell me what I have to do so I can do it and kill you.”
Monica laughed again. “I think it’ll all be pretty self-explanatory once we start. Is everybody ready? Can everyone see okay?”
Only Kelly said, “Yes.”
“Okay then.”
A few metal clanks, heavier than the locks, and Ben plunged into the tank, immediately sinking to the bottom.
Kathy screamed.
The rope in Domino’s room hitched and shot towards the ceiling. He lunged, grabbed it immediately and stopped its ascent. He began pulling, his eyes on the movie on the wall. The more he pulled, the more Ben rose from the tank. Before long, Domino had pulled the boy’s entire body free, as it had been before he dropped. It was not too difficult, but it wasn’t easy.
Ben, soaked, dangling and coughing, called out to his mother again. Kathy could only sob a reply.
“Okay?!” Domino yelled to Monica. “We done?”
“Uh, hardly. You’re going to have to keep him above water, stud.”
“For how long?”
A digital countdown appeared on the top right corner of the movie screen. Fifty-nine minutes and counting.
“An hour?” he blurted.
“You think it should be longer?”
Domino began wrapping the rope around one of his forearms to brace the weight. It was starting to get heavy. “An hour,” he said.
“Taking a lunch break,” she said. “I’ll keep you on with Kathy. Ciao.”
Domino repositioned his feet for more balance. The rope was already cutting into his forearm and making him rethink tactics.
He switched his grip to both hands and leaned back with all his weight. He looked at the timer. It was less than a minute before his hands started cramping. Two minutes before the rope started burning his palms.
And that was just his hands. His back muscles would never allow an hour of this. At home he could bang out twenty pull-ups easy—no small task for a man his size.
This was a different beast altogether. He was expected to pull his chin to the bar and hold it there for an hour. Christ, could he even dangle from the bar for an hour? He had the aid of his legs of course, but his legs were rubbery after the damned treadmill room.
Think, damn it. Think.
Kathy came on. She was no longer crying, but her voice sounded lost. “Please don’t let my son drown, Domino.”
He would hold the fucking rope with his teeth if he had to.
60
The timer was only at forty-nine minutes and Domino’s hands felt like arthritic claws, his palms like someone had taken a lighter to them.
His back—lats and lower—was no better. He shifted his stance often, adjusting his grip and dominant hands like a man desperate to regain the advantage in a game of tug-o-war. It would help only briefly. Thirty seconds tops.
And then the idea hit him. Smacked him, like a good belt upside his head from his mother. And rightly so. He should have thought of it sooner.
He would climb the damn rope and hang from it.
What was the first thing they taught you to do as a kid in gym class when your upper body was too weak? Use your legs.
Yes, his legs were rubbery from the treadmill and the dehydration, but he wouldn’t really be climbing. He’d be climbing at first, but once he made a ledge of rope with his feet, he could stand. Stand on the goddamn rope. Once he was standing, he would only need his hands on the rope for balance.
So he started to climb. And it was easy. In less than a minute, Domino had his rope ledge beneath his feet.
And then he started to rise, like a man in a makeshift elevator. Domino looked at the movie, saw that as he was rising, Ben was sinking.
Ben, the chains, the iron ball, they all weighed more than he did.
Domino climbed down and gripped the rope again. His palms felt like raw blisters being sanded—and they were.
He looked at the timer. Forty-four minutes. Ben’s lower body was submerged. That was okay. As long as his head was above water. He just had to keep his head above water. He could let his grip slip some, but as long as his head stayed afloat, he was okay.
Forty-three minutes.
• • •
Thirty-nine minutes. Domino had gone back to wrapping the rope around his forearms, pulling in different directions at different intervals. He could feel his left shoulder threatening to dislocate.
Kathy had remained curiously quiet the entire time. Either she wasn’t there, or she thought she’d be a distraction to him.
• • •
<
br /> Thirty minutes. Monica was back from lunch.
“Thirty minutes to go,” she said. “How you holding up?” She chuckled. “Sorry, I do like my puns.”
Domino’s shoulder was on fire, threatening to pop at any moment. His palms wept puss. His lower back felt as if a metal clamp had seized it.
“How’s Kathy doing?” Monica said. “Kathy?”
“What?”
“How are you doing?”
“Fuck you.”
Monica laughed.
• • •
Fifteen minutes.
Domino’s left shoulder gave. He groaned and let go of the rope. Ben plunged into the water again. Kathy screamed.
Domino turned towards the movie on the wall. Ben underwater, cheeks puffed, eyes wide, flailing uselessly in his chained cocoon. He’d dropped suddenly, without time for a good breath. It wouldn’t be long before his lungs took in water.
Domino had dislocated this shoulder before. It was stubborn. It would not go back in without help or time—of which he had neither.
With his right arm, he gripped the rope and pulled. It moved some. Some. He pulled harder, enough to gather slack to begin wrapping it around his torso. His left arm, though useless for strength, still had dexterity, and helped guide the process.
Another almighty pull with the right, and the rope gave a little more—a little more slack to wrap around his torso.
Domino did this two more times until the rope was a half-belt around his chest. He looked at the movie on the wall. Bubbles were rising from Ben’s nose and mouth. No more air. He’d be taking in water next.
Rope around his chest, both arms securing its position, Domino fell forward onto all fours, the sudden weight of his drop buying him precious few feet. He glanced back at the movie. Ben’s head was above water.
But Ben weighed more than he did. It would not be long before Domino was dragged backwards.
Crawl. Legs, arms, hands, fingers, fucking lips and tongue, CRAWL!
He crawled. His legs and right arm doing the work, his limp left flopping along for the ride, periodically singeing him when the dislocated joints and nerves grinded against one another.
Bad Games- The Complete Series Page 69