Bad Games- The Complete Series

by Jeff Menapace

  Jesus, then hurry the fuck up, man.

  But how to approach? Ray had a damn good point about the police. If Caleb acted likewise, kicking down the door, guns blazing, it might be all the forewarning those assholes needed to kill his mom and sister before they went for him.

  What then? Case the house? Check from window to window to see whether you can spot the goings-on therein? Sure, that made sense. Made damn good sense. Like he’d told Ray, he didn’t want to go in blind. But such a reconnaissance would eat up critical time.

  What choice do you have? You can’t kick down the door, yet you can’t go in blind. There’s also alarm systems to be wary of. You break in and you’ll trip it. It would have been so much easier to catch them in transit. Fucking Ray. Bastard should have been watching from the start. From the moment they had your sister.

  (And hindsight is helpful right now how? You better think of something fast, buddy.)

  A single word came back to him: alarm.

  The infamous white van was parked in the driveway. The battered piece of shit likely had no car alarm, but his mother’s SUV sure as hell did.

  If he were to trigger the house alarm, it would be cause for serious panic, might make the two assholes do something drastic. But if a random car parked on the street just outside the house started making a racket? A continuous, unattended racket? Drawing attention, alerting the neighbors? It would definitely be cause for concern, but not the threat level of a house alarm. It would require investigation. It would require one of them to leave the house and investigate. And if he could get his hands on one of them, then he would have one hell of a bargaining chip.

  50

  The incessant car alarm could be heard from the bedroom upstairs. Amy and Carrie exchanged an anxious glance. A car alarm sounding at night in suburbia was not too odd. An alarm continuing its staccato honk without the owner attending to it? That did seem odd. If they could hear it from the bedroom upstairs, certainly the owner of the vehicle could hear it wherever he or she was stationed.

  And yet the alarm continued its cry with seemingly no ending in sight.

  Charlie and Andy left the room to investigate.

  51

  There was a holly tree, thick and tall, to the right of the front door. Caleb was generously pricked by the leaves while hurrying into hiding behind it, but adrenaline had anesthetized him to their sting.

  The front door opened. The little guy with the shaved head stepped out onto the front porch, frowning at the flashing, hollering SUV in front of the house. He was no more than a few feet from Caleb.

  “Fucking turn off your car already, whoever you are,” the kid muttered.

  Caleb pressed the remote on his keys and switched off the alarm.

  “Finally,” the kid said, and turned to head back inside.

  Caleb pounced. Leapt from behind the holly tree and grabbed the kid by the neck, spinning him into a rear choke, one arm tight around his neck, the other digging the barrel of his mother’s Glock 19

  (poetic fucking justice if there ever was such a thing)

  into the side of the kid’s shaved head.

  “Don’t say a fucking word,” Caleb whispered into the kid’s ear.

  “What the—?”

  “Shut up,” Caleb hissed. He switched his grip to the kid’s shoulder and shoved him inside, shutting the door behind him with his heel. Caleb snatched the kid back into his one-armed choke again, dug the barrel of the Glock deeper into the side of his head. Still in urgent whispers: “Where’s your buddy? And you better be fucking quiet when you answer.”

  “That sounds like a contradiction,” the kid said.

  Caleb tightened his grip around the kid’s neck. “You think I’m playing with you, asshole?”

  “We’re all playing here tonight, Caleb,” the kid said.

  The kid’s words—his confident manner, his knowing who had him—hit the pause button on Caleb. It gave Andy the precious seconds he needed to emerge from the shadows with the tire iron and turn Caleb’s world black.

  52

  The bedroom door flew open. Charlie and Andy began dragging an unconscious Caleb inside.

  “Look who decided to join us after all!” Charlie said. “Can this night get any more meant-to-be?”

  Carrie’s eyes bulged. Amy roared into her gag, began frantically fighting her binds, nearly toppling over.

  “Amy…Amy—stop,” Charlie said.

  Amy continued to fight.

  Charlie stepped forward and slapped her across the face. Amy stopped. She snorted wildly from both nostrils. She then said something into her gag.

  Charlie looked as though he heard her correctly and angrily ripped the duct tape off her mouth. “What was that, Amy?”

  “I said you hit like a bitch.” She then spat in Charlie’s face.

  Charlie smashed his fist into Amy’s nose, shooting her head backwards. Amy shook away the blow, blood pouring from both nostrils. She started laughing. “Like a fucking bitch.”

  Now Carrie started with muffled laughter.

  Charlie reddened. He raised his fist to hit Carrie.

  “Dude, leave it,” Andy said, grabbing the duct tape and slapping a fresh piece over Amy’s mouth. He then gestured down to Caleb on the floor. “We need to take care of him before he wakes up.”

  Charlie wiped Amy’s spit from his face and pointed a finger at mother and daughter. “I am not done with you two.”

  53

  Fire shot up Caleb’s nose. His eyes popped open, and he began to cough wildly—or what would have been a cough had his mouth not been duct-taped closed. Instead, his cheeks bulged, his face went beet red, and the recently squirted ammonia shot back out of his nose as he struggled to breathe.

  “There he is!” Charlie exclaimed.

  The last of his coughing done, Caleb’s vision settled. He stared into the grinning face of the kid with the shaved head and lunged for him, rocking the chair he was bound to with such force that he fell forward onto his face.

  Charlie and Andy laughed.

  Caleb turned his head to one side on the floor to breathe…and spotted his mother and sister. Tied up and gagged like him. Helpless like him. Amy looked down at her son with impossible sorrow.

  Caleb fought his binds, rocking from side to side, screaming into his gag.

  “Your mom already tried that, chief,” Andy said.

  Andy and Charlie grabbed Caleb’s chair and sat him back upright. Caleb stopped his struggle.

  “Quick learner,” Charlie said. “You getting any sense of déjà vu yet, Caleb?” Charlie asked.

  Caleb remained stoic. He then spotted Mike Childs pushed back against the furthest wall—the back of his head gone, his penis gone.

  Jesus Christ.

  “Don’t mind him, chief,” Charlie said. “He’s just the producer.”

  Andy laughed.

  “You’re a bit late to the party, Caleb,” Charlie went on. “We did, however, manage to wrangle you up an extra ticket.” Charlie produced another small piece of paper with “admit one” written on it. “I’ll just place this here—” He set the homemade ticket in Caleb’s lap.

  Again, Caleb sat stoic. He didn’t even look down at the ticket in his lap.

  “So serious, this one is,” Andy said.

  “Think his father was like that?” Charlie said. “What was Dad like during his ordeal, Caleb? Do you remember?”

  Amy yelled something into her gag. Charlie turned towards her. “You know what the craziest thing is, Amy? We’ve actually met before, Caleb and us. We didn’t realize who he was that day, but what are the fucking odds it turned out to be the Caleb Lambert? You know, I never used to believe things happened in this world for a reason, but I’m starting to become a believer. I’m starting to believe this all truly was meant to be.”

  Amy looked at her son. Caleb did not look back.

  “Small world, isn’t it?” Charlie said.

  Caleb flashed on Ray’s exact words spoken to him that n
ight in his cellar. He then flashed on Ray himself. Ray was watching the house. Had to be watching now. How long had he been unconscious? Long enough for them to drag him upstairs and tie him securely to a chair. How long before Ray began to wonder why Caleb hadn’t emerged from the house with his mother and sister? Would he suspect something was wrong? And if he did, would crazy Ray and his selfish take on the world actually do anything about it?

  But wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait…there was something far more pressing here.

  They had known he was coming.

  Sure, it was possible they’d suspected something was amiss with the car alarm and prepared their ambush accordingly, but the kid with the shaved head had spoken Caleb’s damn name the moment Caleb had hold of him inside the house. And sure, they’d met earlier in the alley behind the bar, but the kid with the shaved head had just admitted they’d had no idea who Caleb was that day. How could they know it was him tonight? Had they simply assumed it?

  Caleb’s aching head spun. He kept coming back to the same conclusion: Only one person knew where I was going tonight. Ray. Is it possible Ray contacted these fuckers and tipped them off? No—that makes no sense. Less than no sense. What possible motive could Ray have for doing such a thing? Caleb wondered about Jack Dixon’s contempt for Ray. Did Ray have equal contempt for Jack? Was this Ray’s way of getting back at Jack somehow?

  “He looks deep in thought,” Andy said.

  “Probably wondering how lightning could strike his stupid family so many times,” Charlie said. “Can’t speak for the other times, other than saying once Pandora’s Box is opened, it doesn’t seem to close so easily. I know, I know, you didn’t open it to begin with, but it was opened all the same. But here’s the thing, Caleb and Carrie, you can thank your mother for keeping it open. You see, you actually did have a chance to close it. After your last ordeal, you could have simply disappeared. Vanished into obscurity. Anyone who’d ever had a beef with you was dead. There was no more vengeance to be had.

  “But you didn’t do that, did you, Amy? You kept that box open by staying in the spotlight all this time. Was it the money? Was it the need for continuous notoriety after your ‘final’ ordeal? Bit by the celebrity bug or something like that? No matter. Look what it got you. You really have no one to blame but yourself, you stupid bitch. So, be sure to thank your mom for your next little episode in hell, kids.”

  Charlie paused there a moment, pleased with his speech, grinning at the camera in the corner. The surviving Lamberts sat quiet.

  “Can we move it along?” Andy asked Charlie.

  “By all means.” He gestured to the camera in the corner. “Check and see how much tape we’ve got left, if we need a new one. The delightful new addition of Caleb here has added to our running time.”

  Andy did. “We’re good.”

  “Awesome. Caleb, I’m afraid you missed the opening scene of The Lambert Family Meet The Fannelli Brothers; however, something tells me you won’t be lost. Something tells me you’ll be able to catch up pretty damn quick.”

  Amy dropped her head. Carrie looked away. Caleb frowned, confused.

  Charlie smiled, hit the lights, and pushed play.

  54

  A panoramic shot from across a stretch of highway. A place called Tony’s Pizza. The silver Highlander from the gas station pulls into the restaurant’s lot. Patrick and his family begin to exit the Highlander. Patrick’s wife goes to help her daughter from the car, but the little girl appears insistent on doing it on her own. Once out, Patrick’s wife goes to close the car door, and her daughter begins to panic about something. The mother retrieves a doll from the SUV and hands it to her daughter, calming her.

  “I’m one to challenge myself,” Arty says off camera as he films. “Right now, I’d like to see whether I could get that doll away from their daughter.”

  “Do you remember that doll, Carrie?” Charlie said while the movie played on.

  Carrie looked away.

  Cut to a shot of the restaurant’s interior. Arty is wearing the body cam. He is seated near the family, close but not too close. He watches them eat. The daughter continuously asks for candy from the display by the register, and the mother continuously refuses, growing more and more agitated at her daughter’s persistence.

  Cut to a shot just outside the restaurant’s entrance. Through the restaurant’s large, storefront windows, the wife can be seen paying at the register with her daughter by her side. The daughter’s treasured doll is tight to her chest. Patrick and his son are not there. The daughter is transfixed by the candy display below the register. She looks up at her mother and says something while gesturing to the candy. Again, the mother appears to flatly refuse.

  “‘Come into my parlor,’ said the spider to the fly,” Arty can be heard saying. He grabs the girl’s attention through the storefront window while the mother is busy paying and beckons her outside. The little girl hesitates, and Arty flashes a large blue lollipop. “I’ve got caaaaandyyyy…”

  The little girl leaves her mother’s side. The mother is too preoccupied with digging in her back pocket for exact change to notice. Her ignorance of her daughter’s disappearance deepens more so when she is forced to chase a runaway dime that got away from her.

  The little girl steps outside.

  “Hi there,” Arty says. His outstretched arm appears on camera. In it is the big blue lollipop. “This here is the most delicious lollipop in the whole wide world. And this restaurant is the only place that sells it. Would you like to have it?”

  The little girl nods up at him.

  “I can’t give it to you for free, though. That wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

  The little girl shakes her head, transfixed on the lollipop in Arty’s hand.

  “Want to make a trade?” Arty asks. “Your doll for my lollipop.”

  The little girl clutches the doll tight to her chest.

  “What if it’s just a temporary trade?” Arty asks. “Do you know what temporary means?”

  She nods.

  “I’ll give you this delicious lollipop, and you let me BORROW your doll.”

  The little girl hesitates.

  “You get to KEEP the lollipop, and I promise to return the doll to you very soon. What do you say? That sounds like a pretty darn good trade to me.”

  The little girl looks down at her doll, and then back up at the lollipop.

  “It really is the most delicious lollipop ever made, you know. It would be a shame not to eat it.”

  The girl hands over her doll. Arty takes it and hands her the lollipop.

  “You are one smart cookie,” Arty says. “I promise to return your doll to you very soon. And I always keep my promises.”

  Arty turns and hurries towards his white Pontiac in the distance.

  “Like candy from a baby,” he says once he’s back inside the car, and giggles.

  Arty quickly removes the body cam. Cut to a shot with the handheld cam now positioned accordingly to catch the scene transpiring out in front of the restaurant. The whole family is there. The mother appears furious, chastising her daughter about the candy. Patrick asks his daughter something.

  “Where’s your dolly?” Arty says.

  The little girl replies. The mother is now livid.

  “Time to exit stage left,” Arty says, and rolls by the family, grinning and waving.

  Patrick and his wife can only stare back, dumbfounded. The little girl points at Arty as he drives away.

  “That guy there, Daddy…” Arty says, giggling some more, looking into his rearview mirror at the bewildered family, at the little girl still pointing at him. “I traded my dolly to that nice man there.”

  Charlie hit pause.

  “Is it all coming back?” he asked the group. He looked at Carrie. “Why on Earth would you trade your doll for a lousy piece of candy, Carrie?”

  Carrie looked away again.

  “Let’s call this part ‘bonus features.’ A behind-the-scenes kind of thing where we get
to interview the cast on the making of the film. Amy, what was going through your head when you realized what Carrie had done? How shocked were you?”

  The question was rhetorical, of course, Charlie hamming it up for the camera. He did not expect any sort of insightful reply, would not have even if Amy hadn’t been gagged. It did not stop him, however from continuing his theatrics for the camera.

  “Carrie, I’m still more than a little stunned at your ignorance. Being so easily swayed by candy from a stranger.” He looked at Amy. “Didn’t you ever have the classic talk with your daughter about taking candy from strangers?”

  Amy muttered “fuck you” into her gag once again.

  Charlie and Andy laughed.

  “We’re about halfway through,” Charlie said. “Dad and son skipping stones at Crescent Lake is coming up. You remember that, Caleb?”

  Caleb sat expressionless.

  “Love that scene,” Charlie said. “According to Mom’s book, it was that little father-and-son venture that gave Arty and Jim the idea to skip stones at Patrick after they had him tied up.” He laughed and added: “Then they started ‘skipping’ knives.”

  Now Andy laughed.

  “So, we’re about halfway through,” Charlie said again. “Should we pause for intermission? Caleb never did get his popcorn.”

  Andy pointed to Amy and Carrie. “They ate it all, the greedy pigs.”

  “Nonsense,” Charlie said, motioning towards the popcorn scattered about on the bedroom floor. “There’s plenty left. Fair is fair. Caleb didn’t get any popcorn.”

  Andy spotted a large pile that had gathered behind Amy’s chair. Went towards it, bent for a handful, and paused. “What the hell?” He stood with something small and silver between his fingers.

  “What is it?” Charlie asked.

  Andy studied the small silver item, stood next to Amy and showed it to her. “I think it’s the rose from her wedding ring.”