Survivor

by J. F. Gonzalez

  "I'll be right here," Tim said. "And remember what I said before: If you scream or cause a scene or make a break for it, we'll find you and we'll kill you later. Only we'll kill you slowly. And we'll get hubby and baby, too. You got me?"

  Lisa nodded. The threat echoed in her mind; it didn't seem real anymore. Nothing did. "Let's do it."

  Animal opened the side door of the van and stepped out. Lisa followed him and began to lead the way to the front of the restaurant where, just three days before, she and her husband had stopped to help a woman in despair.

  Sixteen

  Lisa was cursing herself the entire time for being too chickenshit to do anything. The only thing she could think of was that line of thought part of her conscious mind kept whispering to her a few hours before: You were only thinking about saving your skin. You weren't even thinking about your unborn baby, were you? You just wanted to save yourself

  It was that thought that kept running through her mind, as well as her general fright, that kept her from doing anything. It wasn't until they were back at the van and Tim emerged to make the capture that Lisa sprang into some kind of action. And what triggered it was Animal-who had been walking behind her as the three of them walked to the van (while Alicia carried Mandy, who was strapped into her carrier)-as he damped his hand over her mouth and attempted to shove her in the van.

  No! her mind screamed, and then she fought. Something deep and primal awoke within her and she struggled hard, more ferociously than she'd struggled when Tim had abducted her back at that motel a thousand years ago. Animal's left hand found her left wrist and attempted to bring it behind her back in a choke hold, but Lisa moved with it, thwarting him. Animal panted. "Thought we were just gonna let you go after this, huh? Think again, cunt!"

  She screamed but nothing came out of her mouth, and then she saw the glint of steel and her eyes grew wide. He pulled her toward him, hand pressed down over her mouth, and he brought the knife up, and she could dimly hear movement in the van as Tim tended to Alicia and Mandy and she tried to forget the look Alicia gave her when it all happened. She pushed all that out of her mind and burst through it, fueled by a sudden explosion of adrenaline that seemed to give her extra strength. The knife came up toward her throat, and then she bit down hard on Animal's palm.

  She felt her teeth pierce through his skin, and sud denly the hand was gone and she heard a yelp of pain. His grip on her loosened, and she took this small window of opportunity to drive her elbow into him. She felt it connect solidly with his solar plexus and she felt something hit her shoulder, then heard the link of metal as it hit the ground at her feet. Animal's grip on her loosened to the point of letting go as he doubled over, the breath knocked out of him, and now she did scream. She let loose with one motherfucking wail of a scream, and then she was running. She screamed and ran toward the front of the restaurant, ignoring the surprised looks of entering restaurant patrons as they froze to look at her, and then she was in the restaurant, screaming at the twentysome- thing hostess to call the fucking police, and then she collapsed on the floor in a shaking fit of sobbing, not even aware of the commotion around her and the excited voices that accompanied it, not even aware of the van as it peeled out of the parking lot and set off down Burbank Boulevard heading for the freeway.

  Brad Miller sat in the Lexus as the garage door opened to his and Lisa's home, feeling a numbed sense of detachment.

  The day had gone by in a blur the brief arraignment and dismissal of his case; filing a missing persons report with the Ventura County Sheriff's Department; then a late breakfast at some restaurant with his parents and William Grecko as they all tried to console him. Well find her, don't worry. SheW be all right. Well get to the bottom of this.

  Brad had told William Grecko that if they wanted to find Lisa they needed to do one thing: find Caleb Smith. He had something to do with this. Brad knew it. But Grecko told him it was going to be tough. As far as any body knows, Caleb Smith doesn't exist. ft's probably an alias of some sort and the guy's long gone by now. For all we know, he might not have had anything to do with Lisa disappearing.

  Brad had wanted to leap over the table and throttle the smug sonofabitch, but his parents were there, and then they were joined by one of the detectives Grecko had called. They had talked some more, and Brad had mostly listened to the conversation, simmering in his anger at the lawyer and the detective, silently screaming at them to get the fuck out there and find her! Then they had driven back to Orange County with Brad's father driving the Lexus. They had gone to his folks' house first, and that was when Brad knew he had to get some kind of plan going. If the police weren't going to do anything about finding Lisa, then he would. He would hire a private detective if he had to. But he would find her.

  He felt a little better after coming to this realization, and he had told his folks he was going to go home. His mother had been against it-she seemed to think he was on the brink of a nervous breakdown and might harm himself. Brad dismissed it. "I'm tired, Mom. 1 haven't showered in three days and I'm tired. I want to go home and take a shower and go to sleep. Maybe if I get some rest, I'll feel better."

  His father had felt that was for the best too, so both parents had escorted him back to the car and helped him with his things. They watched as he drove away.

  Now as he pulled the car into the garage he realized that for the first time since this whole nightmare started he was actually starting to think in a positive manner. First things first: Get a shower and a good night's sleep. Take aValium if you have to, but get a good eight or more hours of sleep. Then tomorrow we'll tackle this thing from all ends. Maybe he would do some calling around and find a good private detective. He would spare no expense. 'Thank God he and Lisa had been made partners in their respective firms this year, because the extra income they'd been throwing into savings was going to be dearly needed.

  The garage door whirred dosed behind him. Brad sighed and got out of the car. He retrieved both bags from the trunk and trundled them through the laundry room and the kitchen. He'd get them both upstairs and then he'd-

  He was just crossing the living room with the suitcases when the telephone rang.

  He rushed to the phone after dropping the bags in the entry hall. "Hello?"

  "Brad?" It was Lisa. She burst out sobbing.

  "L.rsa!" Brad's voice broke. "Oh my God, Lisa, what happened-where are you?"

  "Oh Brad, thank God you're home." Lisa was crying hard, and Brad could hear voices in the background over the line. It sounded like she was calling from an office or something.

  "Lisa, where are you?" Brad's own nerves were on edge at the sound of her voice, and he thought, Thank God she's all right.

  "I'm in Burbank," Lisa said. "At the police station… I don't know… near… I don't know where this fucking police station is! It's in the valley-"

  "Stay right where you are!" Brad said, his mind racing. "I'm leaving right now!"

  "Oh Brad!" She started crying again. Hearing her voice, hearing her break down like that, broke Brad's heart.

  "I love you, Lisa," Brad said, his throat choking up. "I'm leaving now."

  Another voice came on the line. "Mr. Miller? I'm detec tive Morse. Your wife is fine. We're having her transferred to USC Medical Center to have her checked out, but physically she looks okay. She's been through a terrible ordeal, though, and.. "

  The minute the conversation was over, Brad hung up and was racing back to the car, then peeling out of the garage and down the street to the freeway, his heart racing with anticipation at seeing his wife.

  He couldn't get to USC Medical Center fast enough. What would. have normally been a forty-five-minute or more drive took Brad less than thirty minutes. It was a miracle he made it to the hospital at all; his mind was completely focused on Lisa and reuniting with herseeing her, touching her; holding her close to him. He barely paid attention to his driving. When he arrived at the hospital, he pulled into the first available spot and leaped out of the car, racing tow
ard the hospital with bated breath.

  When he burst into the lobby, he went directly to the receptionist desk. "My wife Lisa was just brought here! She was kidnapped and-"

  A uniformed officer who was standing near the receptionist desk stepped forward. "Brad Miller?"

  Brad turned to the officer. "Yeah. Is Lisa okay, is she-"

  The officer nodded at the receptionist and a security guard who had approached. "She's fine. Come with me."

  Brad barely noticed as the officer gave him a visitor's badge and led him through a seemingly endless maze of corridors. He could hardly keep his emotions in check. He'd cried briefly on the drive over, the thought that he had almost lost her had hit him hard. He still couldn't grasp the concept that she had been given a second chance, that she was safe. He had to see her.

  They reached the emergency ward and the cop nod ded at a nurse who was standing at the nurse's station. "This is Brad Miller," he said. "Lisa's husband."

  The nurse held out her hand and smiled. Her features were calm and reassuring. "Mr. Miller, I'm Candace Thorton. Come with me."

  Brad followed Candace on trembling legs. She opened one of the doors to a triage unit and Brad's eyes fell on the figure lying in the lone bed in the center of the room. "Lisa!"

  The figure looked up, and at first Brad thought he had it all wrong, that it wasn't Lisa dressed in a white hospital smock lying in the hospital bed. The woman who looked at him from across the room was too pale, heavy dark cir- des under her eyes, her blond hair a stringy mess, the skin stretching tightly over her bones, her face weathered. This couldn't be Lisa. Maybe they had it wrong; maybe the men who had kidnapped her had tracked her to the hospital and snuck off with her, replaced his wife with this wraithlike stick figure who looked like she had been through hell and back and-"

  "Brad!"

  It was hearing the sound of her voice that confirmed it for him. The minute he heard it, he knew The face, still pretty but bearing the emotional and physical strain of the past few days, the dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. It was Lisa, all right. There was no question about it.

  Nothing else mattered to Brad at that moment-not the nurse or the cop that he barely noticed, who was sitting in a chair near the bed, not even the cop who had met him at the receptionist desk or the doctor that came in to talk to him. All that mattered was Lisa, the confirmation that she was alive. He didn't care about anything else at that moment; those people did not exist for Brad as he quickly crossed the room to Lisa's bedside and swept her into his arms, the tears coming so strong and so sudden that he didn't even bother trying to stem their flow. He let it all out, let the tears come, let himself cry his heart out as he held her close to him, not wanting to let her go, not wanting to lose her ever again, and Lisa cried against his chest and he let her, everything outside of their little world nonexistent right now as he held her and told her he loved her over and over again and that everything was going to be all right.

  Seventeen

  They had just finished filming when the shit started going down.

  Tim had thrown up at least twice during the shoot. He couldn't help it; he'd never seen anybody get done like that before, and he had never seen a baby get done before, either. That was the worst. They'd actually kept the baby's mother alive and tied up while Animal did it, too. Her hands tied behind her back, legs lashed together, her mouth gagged tight, she'd been forced to watch in anguish as Animal… even thinking about what Animal had done to that baby made him sick.

  Tim took a deep breath, closed his eyes, trying to gain control of himself. He had to keep telling himself that in the grand scheme of things, he didn't give a shit. Nearly a quarter of a million bucks was riding on this gig, split three ways between him, Al, and Animal. That was a lot of dough for one night.

  But then, every time he tried to tell himself that, Alicia's terror-stricken eyes, her anguish, stabbed into his conscious. He had watched her as she watched helpless, powerless to do anything, and in doing so was transported back to when he had been in her shoes.

  The rabbit's name had been Binky. Stupid name for a fucking rabbit, but Tim had loved it anyway. The rabbit had been a gift from his mother, for Easter, and he had doted on it the way most boys fawn over dogs. He'd built a little hidey-box inside its cage, fed it, made sure it had water. And he played with it every chance he got. When he came home from school, Binky was always there waiting for him. Tim would lose hours in a single afternoon playing with the creature, absorbed in his own world.

  Tim had loved Binky. And he was sure that Binky had loved him.

  He must have forgotten to do a chore or somethingplaying with Binky made him forget a lot of things, made him neglect stuff around the house. His mother went after him about it constantly, and he would quickly perform whatever task had needed to be done before Dad came home. But one day he hadn't been so quick about it and his father had come home early. And when Dad saw that the garbage hadn't been emptied and that Tim was lying on his stomach in the backyard, laughing and talking to Binky as they played, he had stalked across the yard and plucked the rabbit up by its ears.

  Tim had protested, quickly sensing the error of his ways. Please, he had beseeched. I'm sorry, it won't happen again.

  How many times have I told you, his father had said, grasping the rabbit's body with one meaty forearm, that chores come first?

  Tim had begged his father not to do it, but he knew the begging would be in vain. Dad had done the same thing to his brother Doug's cat two summers ago, to teach him a similar lesson. There was no reason to suspect he would change his method of operation now

  Dad had pushed Tim on the ground and said, Now you watch and you think about the inadequacy of your ways which has caused this great and terrible injustice to be done. And then, as Tim had watched, helpless and horrified, unable to do anything to intervene lest he receive the whooping of his life, his dad had grasped the rabbit's head between his meaty hands and pushed them together. Binky's little red eyes had bugged out in terror and pain, his hind legs had kicked frantically, his little body wriggled as a horrible mewling cry rose deep from within him; that cry had sounded like the scream of an infant. Blood had spurted from the rabbit's eyes and nose and then the head just exploded in a watery pop that sent brains and thick red blood gushing everywhere. And all Tim could do was stand there helplessly while his father killed the only thing he had ever loved.

  Tim blinked, trying to chase the memory from his mind. The agonizing screams of that baby, seeing that same look in Alicia as she'd watched her daughter being torn apart by Animal, had brought the memory of what Dad had done to Binky rushing to the surface, making him feel helpless. The feeling was so great that Tim turned away from the scene, throwing up and crying.

  Jesus motherfucking Christ! What the luck are we doing?

  He'd forced himself to watch the rest of it. Forced himself to watch as Animal had ravaged the infant in front of its mother, who screamed and moaned and strained against the ropes binding her to the floor as she tried to break free. Al had remained silent, catching it all on film. When Animal started in on Alicia, it got a little easier to watch; Tim was used to watching Animal torture and kill adults. Even then, watching this scene was harder than all the others. He had thrown up a second time as the memory of Binky's death rose in his mind, and he'd had to fight back the sudden unmistakable feelings of regret he was now beginning to feel. Jesus fuck, I never thought it would be this bad. Christ, I never thought it would be this bad.

  Animal was standing in the center of the room over the worn metal bed frame, naked and covered in blood and pieces of flesh. Even the black leather bondage hood he wore for the shoot was drenched with it. He stood rigid, hands held out at his sides, clenching and unclenching his blood- and flesh-stained hands. Tim stood up from the pool of vomit on the floor and saw with a sickening sense of horror that Animal still had an erection. His dick was covered in semen, blood, and red gooey flesh.

  What was left of Debb
ie Martinez was huddled at the foot of the bed. More of her was on the floor and walls.

  There was virtually nothing left of the infant. Just pieces, realty.

  In his frenzy Animal had even eaten parts of the infant. Another first. Tim wondered if they could get more money for the film now that it had cannibalism in it.

  "Goddamn," Al said, packing away his camera equipment. "Goddamn, but wasn't that some shit. Jesus Fucking Christ!"

  Tim was panting, trying to catch his breath. He felt hot and sweaty. His eyes felt hot and moist; he felt the unmistakable dampness of tears on his cheeks. He didn't think he would react this way, that he would actually weep the way he did. He had watched Animal torture and mutilate people before. He had watched Animal stick his prick in places of the human body not designed for phallic objects as whatever junkie whore or butt boy he was doing wailed and screamed in pain before passing out and going into convulsions. Probably the grossest scene he had witnessed was the first time Animal had skull-fucked one bitch while she was still alive. The bitch had been uncon scious, yeah, but Animal didn't give a shit. He was paid not to give a shit. Animal didn't even use his knife to gouge the woman's eyeball out; his thumb and forefinger had sufficed perfectly, and the woman was still screaming when Animal guided his dick into her blood-spurting eye socket. Tim had watched that one in morbid fascination, not even aware that he had thrown up at that shoot, too. By the time Animal was pumping his cock in and out of the woman's eye socket, she was beginning the shuddering dance of death, hemorrhaging out of both eye sockets, her nose, and her mouth. She had even shit blood when Animal came.

  Until tonight, that had been the most extreme flick they had ever shot.

  "Hey, Tim. Tim!"

  Tim looked up. Al was grinning at him. His lean features were sweaty. And even though his hazel eyes danced with glee, Tim detected something else in them. Something that suggested that even Al had been disturbed by this latest shoot. "We did it, man! We fucking did it!"