by Marie Reyes
“Playlist three,” Samuel said, and in a second classical music blasted from the speakers. “Blinds down.” As soon as he said it, a mechanical whirring started as a covering came down from above the front doors and windows, lowering slowly like a garage door, and the house grew dim as the sunlight disappeared bit-by-bit. “Cool, no?” He grinned, baring perfectly straight, white teeth. Pleased with himself like a teenage boy who had gotten his hands on the latest gaming console. Michael shuffled on the edge of his seat. What was Samuel waiting for? Why didn’t he just kill them already and get it over with? It was the waiting that was excruciating.
The other guy laid his gun out on the bar and answered his phone, talking a mile-a-minute, pacing up and down—a caged lion in a zoo enclosure—frustrated and unpredictable. Michael couldn’t bring himself to look at their faces, so concentrated on the tattoos on the man’s arms, his eyes following the lines and patterns.
The man then relayed whatever was said on the phone to Samuel. The words were foreign to Michael, but the volume and tone didn’t inspire him with confidence. Anger always sent his heart-rate soaring. In all his years of working in customer service, he could never get used to it. Josie groaned at his side as she started to come around. He wished he could reach out to her, but didn’t dare move.
A projectile hurtled towards the back wall. He hadn’t even realized what it was until the glass bottle exploded against the wall, leaving liquid dripping down the walls and shards of glass firing in every direction. Something had seriously pissed Samuel off, and he strode towards them, shoving a phone towards him.
“You call your friend. Tell him to get back here now. Don’t you dare tell him anything is wrong. Tell him whatever you need to tell him to get his ass back here.”
“Who?” he stammered and looked over at Josie, who looked confused and held her hand against her head, where she had been struck.
“Your driver. Don’t play dumb with me, you little shit-stain. Stop looking at her. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
“I… I.”
Samuel yanked Michael’s arm back, nearly ripping it from its socket, and leaving him struggling for breath. “Call him. Now, or I’ll tear your girlfriend a new one, literally.” He let go of his arm and took a step back, dropping the phone on the cushion. Begging his body to co-operate, Michael scrolled through Josie’s contact list. The words were a blur and might as well have been hieroglyphics. His fingers felt numb and tingly, like they were not part of him, but he finally managed to find Alex’s number and pressed the bright green dial button.
“Speakerphone!” Samuel demanded, but Michael could barely function enough to find the right button. The phone went straight to voice-mail.
“Don’t leave a message. We will try again in a minute.”
He wandered over to the bar, poured a large measure of some see-through liquor in two thick glass tumblers, pulled some ice from a mini-fridge and threw it unceremoniously into the glasses. He came to Michael and shoved a glass in his hand. The ice-cubes chinked against the glass as Michael’s hands trembled. It took a monumental amount of effort to keep the glass still, so he used both hands to steady it. He looked down at the white bubbles of air trapped in the ice-cubes.
“Drink. It’s good stuff. You’ll enjoy.” He took a sip from his glass, his hands calm and steady. Samuel swayed from side to side with the music like he didn’t have a care in the world, or he was putting on some show. Being up on this platform made Michael feel like he was on stage. This wasn’t real; it couldn’t be.
Josie finally sat upright in a groggy daze. He could only imagine what was going through her head right now.
“Ah, sleeping beauty. Let me get you a drink. Gotta say, love the blonde hair.”
“Please, just tell me what happened to Tanya. That’s all I ask.”
“Let me do the asking first.” He passed her a glass, and she took it obligingly. “You speak to your friend. Get him back here. Then we talk.”
“Give me the phone.” Her arm stretched out; her hand open.
He dropped the phone in her hand, not taking his eyes away from hers.
She held the phone up to her ear and waited. “Hey. Alex. If you get this message, don’t worry. Everything’s fine. False alarm. We’re stuck here though. We need a ride back to town.” The slow and steady timbre of her voice was so calm Michael almost believed it.
Samuel took the phone back straight after the call. “Good girl.”
“My sister?”
“You’ll find out when your friend comes back, and only then.”
They sat in quiet contemplation. Michael couldn’t believe Josie’s cold voice message, like she had no qualms with endangering an innocent to get the truth. As if the truth was the only thing that mattered in the world, everyone else be damned. She could make her own decisions. Michael didn’t fear death, but lying to Aleksander didn’t sit right with him. The mournful sounds of the piano from the speakers made him feel like he was a star in his own movie, destined for a tragic ending. He hoped Alex would have some sense and stay away.
“Let’s go outside,” Samuel said, with a frenetic energy, bobbing up and down like a dog waiting for their owner to take them out for a walk. He was excited for something, and Michael didn’t want to know what.
Chapter Twenty Eight
The dusk had painted the sky lilac by the time they went outside. Michael hadn’t expected it to be getting dark already, but his grasp on time had slipped. Everything looked so much more beautiful at twilight, and his mind drifted back to the beautiful sunset he had witnessed at the petrified waterfall near Oaxaca. This would likely be his last view.
The stark silhouettes of the palm trees cut into the sky, which had now darkened into a deep magenta. Samuel walked in front, making his way up white steps up the terraced garden, and the man with the machine gun was behind them. At the end of the main part of the garden was a huge circular fire-pit made of pale brick.
The colors above the tree-line seemed to change every few seconds and he couldn’t take his eyes off it. The knowledge that it was probably his last sunset made him focus on every nuance—the way the burnt-orange clouds feathered into the stratosphere.
“You still with us.” Samuel clicked his fingers in front of Michael’s face. “Here, take this. You need it more than I do.” He passed Michael his drink and went to fetch something from his right-hand man. He dropped the hefty bags onto the ground in front of Josie and Michael. The knock-off North Face backpack and Josie’s dark purple luggage was instantly recognizable—their bags from the hotel. “Let’s see what we have here.” Samuel leaned down, starting with her bag. He unzipped it slowly, as if he was trying to build up tension. He pulled out a dress and held it up to himself. “Hm, I don’t think this would suit me.” He tossed it into the fire pit as the man—still armed—went to work to get a fire going.
There was already wood in the pit, and he dowsed it with a liberal squirt of gasoline. The smell stung Michael’s nostrils, and a white flash of light blinded him as the gas combusted. Michael blinked as the flames subsided enough so he could see. “Hm, boring, boring.” Samuel threw various items of clothing in the fire indiscriminately. Embers floated up into the sky before fading into white dots of ash and then disappearing entirely. The fabric fed the flames and the pile of clothes started shrinking in on itself as it burned, like a body decomposing in fast-forward.
Next, he pulled out her makeup bag and chucked it straight in the fire, then toiletries. The fire expanded with a whoosh as something fueled the flames. “See. It’s like you never existed.”
“You know, the police are probably coming here now. Alex would have told them. You really want to have them stumble upon this? You’ll go down for this. If you let us go… I swear we won’t tell anyone.” Josie pleaded.
“I doubt it.” He unzipped the small pocket at the front of the bag and pulled out her passport. “Lastly, but most importantly.” He opened her passport at the photo page and held
it up next to her face before adding it to the rest of her burning belongings. He added the whole bag to the fire and watched as it popped and crackled. “There’s something about fire, don’t ya think, something primal.” No-one responded or said a word after that for a good five minutes, transfixed by the fire as the bag started disintegrating, making room for whatever was next.
Shadows danced across Josie’s face, her eyes glistening in the orange light as she watched her things disappear into the fiercely rising and falling flames. She swallowed hard, and Michael wondered if she was holding back tears. As Samuel started on Michael’s bag, he felt nothing. His limited personal-effects meant nothing to him. It wasn’t the reaction Samuel wanted, and he looked pissed off as he kept checking Michael’s face for a reaction. “Okay, now that’s over with. There’s one more thing missing.” Miguel’s right-hand man passed him a small bottle as if he and Samuel had rehearsed this moment. Samuel held the bottle up to the light emanating from the fire. “What’s this, Michael? You left it in your locker. You must have wanted to keep it safe.”
“That’s not mine.” He coughed, the thick smoke catching in his throat.
“Come on. Michael. We both know that’s not true. So tell us, what is it?” Something in Samuel’s expression told Michael he already knew full well what it was.
“It’s nothing.” Michael said, knowing already that Samuel would just keep pushing, and wondered what he should say.
“What were you doing with it then?” He paced in front of the fire, the flames licking him from behind. “Why are you here, Michael? Tell us. I’m interested.”
“Fine.” He could tell Samuel wouldn’t let this go. “I came here to get pentobarbital. I came here to die.” It felt strange finally saying those words to another person. No-one ever knew he’d had these thoughts, not that there was really anyone to tell.
“You came here to die?” A smirk twitched at one corner of Samuel’s mouth.
“Yes. I came here to kill myself.” He looked down at the paving slabs, unable to rid the shame from his voice. The words hung awkwardly—their implication suspended in the silence without response—met only by the roar of the fire.
Finally, someone spoke. Josie shuffled towards him just a little. “You should have said someth—”
“So you’re a man with nothing to lose.” Samuel’s smirk turned downwards. “In other words, dangerous.” He stoked the fire with a metal implement, making sure the remnants of everything would be consumed. “I’ve got my eye on you Michael.” He led them back to the house, leaving the fire to burn.
Chapter Twenty Nine
They watched in silence as Samuel poured himself another drink and snorted a line of cocaine off of the granite countertop of the bar. “So, I was thinking. How best to deal with you two.” He sniffed and rubbed his nose. “My man Che here likes to keep things simple, quick. But where’s the fun in that? This guy has no imagination.” He playfully elbowed the man, who continued to stand straight, holding his gun. His expression unchanging. “Then it occurred to me.” He went back to the counter to have another line. Michael couldn’t bring himself to look at Josie as they sat, planted to their seats. “You know what?” He approached Josie slowly, and she flinched as he tucked a tendril of bleach-blonde hair behind her ear. “You look just like her, you know. Younger and hotter, though. I bet he can’t wait to meet you. He always liked a younger-model. Don’t we all?”
“Who?” Josie’s voice wavered as her lip quivered ever so slightly.
“You’re playing dumb again. El Verdugo.” He sat down next to her and leaned in closer, resting one hand on Josie’s thigh, and slipped his other arm around her shoulder, his hand loosely holding his drink. “When Che told him you were in town… wow… his face. You should have seen it.” He noticed Josie transfixed on his hand placed on her leg that shook underneath. He laughed as he noticed her discomfort and took his hands off her. “You think I would? I’m not a monster.” He got up from the seat. “Anyway, I need to deal with your boyfriend first.”
“So, I was thinking, how should I dispose of you. Then it came to me. Give the man what he wants. Everyone wins. What do you say, Michael?” He grabbed the bottle of pentobarbital and shook it. “Less messy. You want to leave a good-looking corpse, right?”
Michael looked at the bottle in Samuel’s hand. It was the best thing that could happen to him. Relatively painless. He could just fall asleep. Not have to deal with this hell he was currently in, but couldn’t imagine leaving Josie alone in that hell, not by choice. Before he knew what was happening Che restrained him from behind as Samuel unscrewed the bottle. “Not to be cliche, but do you want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?”
It crossed Michael’s mind that they could be safe at the American Embassy right now. If he could just go back in time, he would have made sure of it.
“No.” He tugged his arms trying to pull them from Che’s vice like grasp
“Fine. I tried to play nice.” He pinched Michael’s nose in between his fingers, squeezing his nostrils so no air could get through. “Just open your mouth. Easy.”
Michael had never been able to hold his breath for long and knew it would only be a matter of time before he would have to open his mouth.
“Everyone is always the same. They think they’ll go out like a man. They think they’re brave. But when it comes down to it, they just can’t face their own death. They beg, and they beg. This one guy even pissed himself. Like some little kid.” He chuckled. “You wouldn’t have done it. You would have pussied out.”
The feeling of being unable to breathe was indescribable. It wasn’t pain per se. Discomfort. Yet somehow, it was so visceral. His cheeks flushed red-hot as every cell of his body screamed for oxygen. His body started shaking. It happened, his mouth opened like a floodgate to let the air stream in and in that second, Samuel rammed the neck of the glass bottle into his mouth and tried to tip Michael’s head back as Che tightened his grip. The bitter liquid attacked his taste-buds making him gag.
Chapter Thirty
Before he even knew what was going on, Samuel pulled back and the bottle smashed against the hard floor. Josie hung off of Samuel, her arm wrapped around his neck. He ripped her off of his back and slammed her onto the floor with the precision and ease of a professional wrestler.
“Oh, Josie.” He stood above her, watching her struggle on the floor. “Maybe it was you I should have been keeping an eye on.” Che released Michael from his grip and approached Josie. He had switched to a handgun and pointed it down at her.
“Never mind. I was trying to do you a favor. I guess it’s time to get out of here.” Samuel disappeared to the front of the house, leaving them both with Che. Josie had got up from the floor and stood—stuck to the spot. “Did you miss me?” He came back with cable-ties and span Josie around and secured the plastic around her wrists. He chucked another cable-tie over to Che who grabbed Michael, slipped the tie over his hands and yanked it tight enough to make Michael wince, and within a minute it felt like his circulation was being cut off. He could feel the pulse beating, twitching, trying to get blood to his numb fingers. Che grabbed Michael’s pinkie finger and wrenched it, snapping it to the side, unleashing an agonized scream from Michael’s throat that drowned out the music blaring from the speakers. The intense pain ripped through him, bringing him to his knees.
***
They marched from the house into the night. As insects chirped and trees rustled, they followed the path to Samuel’s car. There was no use running. They were slower, weaker, and unarmed. They wouldn’t stand a chance. All they could do was let Samuel dictate their every action. An image slipped into Michael’s head. He imagined slamming Samuel’s head against the car, and pounding it into the metal again and again and again, until his face was nothing but a slippery, bloody mush. Somehow the thought made him feel better.
A weird sense of calm and drowsiness washed over him and wondered if the small amount of pentobarbital he had ingested had some
thing to do with it. They were forced into the back of the car and told not to cause any trouble. The engine started, and the headlights flared into the darkness of the road in front. The low purr of the engine and the rocking movement as the car started was soothing, lulling, taking away the harshness of the outside world and into the cocoon of his mind.
“Michael.” Josie nudged him with her knee.
“What?” He widened his eyes to try to counteract the sleepiness that tried to take over him.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
“Brilliant. Why do you ask?” He was surprised he was able to muster sarcasm in his current state.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to—”
“It doesn’t even matter now.” He interrupted her. He didn’t want to talk about it. The way people talked about stuff like this made him cringe. People would go all high pitched like they were talking to a three-year-old.
Samuel’s eyes narrowed as he eyed them up through the rear-view mirror. “You better not be conspiring back there.”
Josie stopped talking, and Michael was almost glad. He wasn’t ready for this conversation. This is why he never told anyone in the first place. He was certain he would hear the standard platitudes: but there’s so much to live for, you can’t appreciate the good without the bad, permanent solution to a temporary problem. He agreed to the latter point in part. It was a permanent solution, hence its appeal. He disagreed, however, with the temporary problem part. What the fuck did they know? Just because life was easy for them. What right did they have to try to force him to continue living? They didn’t have to live his life, and he was certain, if they had, they would be singing a different tune. Michael bounced up in his chair, with no seatbelt to secure him, or free hands to steady himself. The bumps in the road tossed him around. The headlights of another car came from the opposite side of the road, and for a microsecond, he considered trying to get their attention, but if he tried, it wouldn’t end well. His head felt heavy, like a bowling ball balanced on his neck, gravity willing it to roll right off. He tried to lean back against the headrest, but his hands behind his back made it difficult. His hands were completely numb now like they had been dunked in ice-water, in contrast to his arms which pulsated with a burning sensation from being bent back in such an awkward position. Instead, he leaned his head to the side. It hammered against the window with every bump in the road, but he was too tired to care. He wondered if he cared about any of it anymore. None of this was his responsibility. The only thing that he wanted in that moment, was to close his eyes. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t come to pass as Josie opened her mouth.