He walked in a circle, kicking more dirt. He wasn’t kicking the dirt in anger now, just kicking it in front of him. Suddenly his nose became wrinkled, like he was an animal that smelled something awful.
He said, “What’s your name again?”
“Who, me?” Beth heard herself say. The words had slipped out, which was bad. She was trying to be a good little social worker and say all the right things. Her life depended on it.
“Yes you. I didn’t ask the asshole what his name is. I don’t care about him. I don’t like him. He’s not my friend. He’s going to die. Why would I want to know the name of a dead man? It’s a trick question. I don’t want to know his name. When I figure out his name I’ll give it to him. I want to know your name. Your name, not his… yours.”
“It’s Beth.”
“Oh yes, of course. Beth. Big Beth, isn’t that right? Big Beth, Big Beth. Okay there, Big Beth. If I remember correctly you said you’d do anything I want, isn’t that right? Hmm? Speak up now, I can’t hear you.”
“Of course, I’ll do anything you want. I’m not going to be a problem, not at all.”
“Well that’s good.”
“Do you mind if I ask a question?”
“Which question? Are you going to ask something stupid? I hope not. I hate stupid questions. They make me… ” Nicolas slapped the palm of his hand against his temple hard enough to hurt. “Know what I mean?”
Beth didn’t know how to respond.
With her face still planted in the dirt, she said, “I’m wondering about your name. I don’t know what your name is. Do you mind telling me? If you mind, that’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”
Nicolas grinned. “Awe, you’re pretty cute for a big girl. You’re very giving, very charitable and considerate. That’s nice. I like that.” He moved back and forth where he stood, like he couldn’t stand still. Like he was thinking. He licked his lips and blinked his eyes a few times quickly. “I’ll tell you what, Big Beth. You can call me daddy. Yeah. Daddy. For now… and if that works out, well then… we’ll just see. How does that sound, hmm?”
“Daddy?”
“Yes.”
Beth tried to keep her spirits up but she didn’t like where this was going. Calling the man ‘daddy’ was not what she had in mind. “Okay. I’ll call you daddy.”
“That’s great. Say it for me, will ya?”
Beth hesitated. “Uh… daddy.”
“Beautiful. That’s just great. Now… Big Beth, I’m going to need you to do something for me and I don’t think you’re going to like it. But you said you’d do whatever I want, right?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Beth’s closed her eyes. She didn’t like this at all. She needed to find a way out her dilemma as soon as possible. She wondered if William was going to jump up and attack the man. She was starting to think it might be the best option available.
With a defeated voice, she said, “Yes, daddy.”
“Oh, that is so good, Big Beth. That is so good. I think you and I could be best friends, don’t you?”
“I suppose.”
“You suppose, what?”
Again she hesitated. “I suppose so, daddy.”
“That’s just great. Stand up for me, will you? Let me get a better look.”
Beth stood up and dusted herself off, looking him in the eye. The man reminded her of a snake. It was in the way he moved, the way he spoke, like his words were poisonous weapons and he was striking out with them.
“See, I’m liking you more and more already. You’re not so bad, not so bad. Are ya? Naw, you’re all right. So, I want you to do something, Big Beth. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
A sigh. “Yes, daddy.”
“Great. I want you to crawl into the trunk of my car.”
13
Pat was on his hands and knees, digging at the plaster, making the hole in the wall bigger. His objective was to make the opening big enough to crawl through, but the hallway was dark and he had no idea if he was achieving his goal. He also didn’t know what was on the other side of the wall, could have been anything, anything at all.
There was a pile of plaster between him and the aperture, and although he lost precious time doing it, he stopped his frantic digging and pushed the debris away with hands that were bleeding and hurt like hell. They weren’t just bleeding a little either; they were bleeding a lot. Rusty staples and pins were sticking out of the strapping and it seemed like every two or three seconds he was impaling himself with at least half of them. He ripped a fingernail from his right hand at one point, possibly from the pins, possibly from the wood. He wasn’t sure what happened exactly, but when his fingernail tore away from his skin a hot wave of pain came to him so fast, fierce, and unexpected, he felt dizzy, lightheaded, and ready to surrender all hope. Of course, he couldn’t give up so easily. The average person can endure more than a sore finger before they hang up their skates and call it a night. Pat wasn’t ready for that course of action, not yet anyhow.
After the nail ripped free from his dusty hand Pat rammed his blood-drenched finger between his lips. Blood squirted against the roof of his mouth and down his throat. It ran through his teeth and onto his chin. He thought he might pass out.
The feeling passed.
The creature moved closer.
Pat still couldn’t see it, but he could feel the beast and smell the beast and it was only a matter of time before he would be able to touch the beast too.
And worse than that, it would be able to touch him.
Pat pulled his finger from his mouth, found a piece of strapping, grabbed it with both hands, and yanked. The strapping came out easily, which helped his depleted spirits immensely. He grabbed another piece of wood and tried his luck again. It also came free. He popped more planks from the wall, creating a good-sized hole, at least on the one side, but what about the other side? That was the question.
He stuck his hand through the opening and found that the wall in the other room was missing. It must have been an unfinished room. His spirits lifted higher than before and he began to work faster. His fingers continued screaming at him. Each digit was begging him to take a break, stop the madness, and create a new game plan. He disregarded the voice of his fingers completely. Digging continued. The pain continued. Sometimes the wood came from the wall effortlessly and sometimes the wood wouldn’t break free no matter how hard he tried. In moments such as these he found that punching the problem areas seemed to be the best ticket. It hurt like hell to do it. Punching pins and staples always hurt, but with time being so valuable his first concern was escape. Pain endured rated a very distant second.
Dust entered his lungs. This caused a bout of coughing that slowed him down some, but not much. He removed another board, wondering if he’d be able to fit through the hole. If he could, that’d be great. But what if he couldn’t? What if he tried to squeeze through and got stuck? Would he have time to abort the getaway attempt and remove another board or would the time wasted cost him dearly?
Something soft touched the back of his neck––the warm, boneless limb of the creature.
His body lunged forward and he almost screamed. Almost. He didn’t. Screaming would do nothing but waste time and energy and he needed both. But now that the creature was within striking distance, it was time to scramble through the hole.
Or die trying.
The boneless limb tried to wrap around him and he pulled away from it, dropped onto his stomach, and stuck both arms inside the opening. He gripped the cold floor in the unexplored room and crawled like a lizard. Broken chunks of wood scraped against his body. There was a nail sticking out of the wall, digging a line into his right shoulder. It hurt lots but he pushed on bravely, clenching his teeth together. His shirt ripped and the skin beneath it began bleeding. His knees banged off the strapping and another nail stabbed his skin. He turned onto his back and pulled his legs through the openin
g.
Pressure on his shin; the beast was touching him again.
Pat pulled away from the probing limb and stood up. He did it. He was through. So what the hell was he supposed to do now? He needed to block the hole but the problem was, he couldn’t see anything.
Question: What’s the best way to find something in the dark?
Answer: Turn on a light.
Question: Where are most light switches located?
Pat felt himself panicking. It was strange that it was happing now and not three minutes ago. The entire time he was ripping the wall apart his thoughts were organized and under control, but now that he made it to another area things had changed. He was standing in a dark room, in the unknown, and his fears were ready to consume him. A few seconds ago he had a clear agenda; now he none. But he was still under pressure…
He stumbled towards the door he couldn’t open from the hallway. He raised both hands towards the unfinished wall, searching. The back of his hand touched a thick cable of wiring. He felt––
A light switch!
He clicked it on and before he had a chance to wonder if it would work a florescent light hummed and flickered and came to life, causing him to stick his bleeding hands in front of his eyes. The light seemed very bright now. That was okay. It would pass, and when it did he’d know exactly what to do.
14
Daniel started down the ladder for the fourth time in the past few hours; he had his gun tucked into his belt and kept his eyes on the rungs. Sometimes he stopped moving and looked towards the ground because he didn’t want to be ambushed. It was the smart thing to do.
The air was cold and with every rung he descended the air felt colder still. Somehow he had forgotten.
Climbing, climbing, climbing––with his limbs turning numb and his teeth pressed together. Inevitably he reached the bottom rung; that’s when the fear claimed him. Not before, and arguably not after. But on the last rung fear strangled him without mercy. He felt exposed then––exposed, vulnerable, and in-between tasks. This caused his stomach to clench and goosebumps to form constellations on his arms. If someone drew his caricature the illustration would have his hair standing on end, his eyes shaped like eggs, and his mouth opened in the shape of an O. Next to the O shaped mouth there’d be a bubble and inside the bubble OH MY GOD! I’M SO SCARED!! would be written in terror shaped letters that dripped blood.
He had to get it together, didn’t mind tell himself as much. Get it together or die, he thought. And what kind of choice was that?
The answer: none. It was no choice at all.
Daniel pulled the gun from his waist, unlocked the safety, and walked into the giant room, listening to his footsteps echo off the walls. The room, he soon discovered, was empty. He wasn’t sure if this was good news or bad news but as he approached the place Roger had been killed, he moved cautiously, like the room might not stay empty for long. He looked at the floor. Roger’s arm was gone and the area around it was wet, sticky, and peppered with bits of bone, entrails, and God knows what else. He looked at the mess for five seconds or more before kicking a chunk with his shoe. Was it a piece of flesh? He didn’t kick it hard, or far. Just touched it really, making sure it was there, making sure it was real. He wasn’t imagining things. The tissue was real but it wasn’t flesh. It was half a finger.
Daniel stepped through the doorway.
He saw the cocoons and the crates and surprised himself by thinking about money. The crates belonged to him now; maybe he’d discover a treasure after all. And become rich. Or maybe he’d say ‘screw it’ and set the place on fire. It was definitely one way to go, but was it the right way?
After I find Patrick, I’ll decide.
He heard something that sounded like fingernails clicking against glass.
He followed the sound with his eyes and saw a hatched cocoon with several dozen of those strange, multi-legged creatures crawling out of it. More monstrosities were creeping across the top of a wooden crate, each about the size of a human head. Some were faced towards him; some were faced away.
15
“Can you do that for daddy?” Nicolas said. “Be a good girl and crawl into the trunk of my car? Or should I cut off your lips with a straight razor?”
Beth felt something die inside of her. This was bad. Terrible. She said, “I’d rather sit in the front seat with you, uh… daddy. Do you mind if I sit in the front with you? I enjoy riding in the front.”
Nicolas’ face became an exaggerated frown. “Oh, I’m sorry Big Beth. The front is reserved for the dead man.” He turned towards William, who was still lying face down in the dirt. “Did you hear that, asshole? I’ve got a new name for you. It’s ‘Dead Man Walking.’ Do you like that, huh tough guy? Dead Man Walking.”
William didn’t respond. What could he say?
“Like I said, Big Beth. Dead Man Walking is going to sit in the front with your daddy and you’ll be in the trunk. You’ll do whatever I want, right? You’re not a liar, are you? If you are, I’m going to punish you. Do I have to punish you?”
Beth chose her words wisely. “I’m not a liar, daddy. But I don’t want to be in the trunk. Can I be in the back seat?”
“No.”
“Oh.” In the moment that slipped past next, Beth opened her mouth but found that she had nothing to say.
Nicolas did. He said, “Something else you need to be aware of, Big Beth. There’s already someone in the trunk. So, you know… it might be crowded back there.”
Beth looked at his car. The trunk was open but she couldn’t see inside from where she was standing.
“Don’t worry,” Nicolas whispered. “The girl in the trunk has been dead for weeks.”
Beth’s thoughts drifted. She wondered if she was taking part in some elaborate joke but feared that she wasn’t. So what was she supposed to do? Was she really going to crawl into the trunk of a madman’s car and lie next to a corpse? If she said ‘no’––a word she was trained to avoid using––what would happen next? Would the outcome be a pleasant one? Probably not.
It was a tough spot.
Getting into the trunk was the wrong move, possibly the worst move. But saying ‘no’ was also the wrong move. So what was left?
William needed to attack the man. Simple. She could almost see it happening too; see him leaping up like a comic book superhero with his muscles bulging and his eyes stern. And oh, wouldn’t that be perfect? But Will was in no position to fight, nor was he a stern-eyed muscleman. He had fat arms, a potbelly, and he was working on chin number three. Not to mention the fact that he was lying facedown in the dirt and was afraid to move––with good reason. The man with the gun wanted to shoot him. Might even do it.
William couldn’t help; Beth was the one standing. Not Will. So was it was time for her to swing her fists into action? Was that her best option? Or was it the only option that didn’t have her locked inside the trunk of a car––
She looked at the shotgun.
The gun was held low, pointed just below her chest.
“Don’t look there, Big Beth.” Nicolas said. “Don’t look at the gun. I see what you’re doing. I know what you’re thinking. Yes I do. I know what you’re thinking and I don’t like it. You’re wondering what to do because you don’t want to get in the trunk. I get that, I really do. I understand. It’s cramped back there, I know. And Pauline Stupid-Head is a tad slimy right now. She isn’t the most pleasant girl in the neighborhood, if you catch my drift. She’s stinky. She has flies on her. She has worms crawling out of her belly, cooties in her eyes, and mold on her skin. She hasn’t brushed her teeth in years. She hasn’t showered. She’s been pissing on herself forever. I understand. I’ve seen her and you haven’t––so trust me, I know how rough she is. I’m not sure I’d want to crawl back there and I like that sort of thing. But here’s the situation… ” Nicolas clamped his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes narrowed. “Get on the ground, NOW!”
Beth dropped to her knees and put her face int
o her hands.
If he shoots me in the head my hands will blow apart too, she thought morbidly. Oh Gawd, don’t shoot me in the head. Don’t kill me.
“Hey! Dead Man Walking! Stand up. Let me get a look at you.”
William pushed himself to his feet.
Once he was standing, Nicolas moved away from him. He didn’t trust this man. He didn’t trust him or like him. The easiest thing might be to shoot the asshole, right here and now. It was something to consider.
“Come with me,” Nicolas said.
He backed away from William, moving towards his car. The gun was angled appropriately. Once he had William standing next to his car, he said, “Would you like to get in the trunk? It’s nice back there, nice and disgusting. Naw… just kidding. You can lie on the road again. Do it. Do it now.”
William felt his chin tremble and his eyes water. There was nothing he could do to change things. He was beat, and at this point he didn’t want to hesitate. If the psychotic man happened to be a ‘three strikes, you’re out’ type of guy, then Will’s next error would be his last. He said, “Yes sir.” He squatted, got onto his hands and knees and dropped onto the road.
“Open your arms and legs wide.”
William did.
Nicolas made his way to Beth. “Okay Big Beth. It’s time to get up again.”
She got up slowly, trying to drag the moment out, hoping that something good would happen. She needed leverage here, because right now she felt like she didn’t have any leverage at all.
Down the road, a blue minivan pulled from a driveway. After a slight pause it began driving towards them.
Terror Town Page 15