Assimilation

by James Stryker

  He bent and coughed, holding his stomach.

  “Are you okay? Sit.” Robert guided him to the bed.

  Andrew sat and tried to look queasy. Tried to look green.

  “I’m not feeling well. Can you get me something?”

  “What do you need?”

  “Something for the nausea.” He swayed, blinking repeatedly as if he were dizzy. “It’s horrible. I don’t know why.”

  “Yes, you do. It’s normal.” The most horrible, chilling look – the glowing, proud face of an expectant father. If there’d been anything left in Andrew’s stomach it would’ve come up.

  “But it’s bad. A ginger ale. Please … sweetheart?” He choked on the endearment.

  Take the bait, you fucking bastard, and leave!

  “Okay, you lie down.”

  Andrew lay back and covered his eyes with his arm. Robert rose from the bed and walked to the door. His nerves tensed and he tried not to move.

  “Natalie, I’m locking this door. It doesn’t open from the inside.”

  “I hardly feel I can move my fingers. Please, go.”

  Robert left, but Andrew waited. He remained where he was for several moments before sitting up. A new vigor filled him.

  He slid to the floor and crawled to the window. He cautiously looked across the parking lot below. There he was. The captor. The rapist. The devil. Leaving the building. Climbing into the car. Driving away.

  It’d been too simple. Having been practically catatonic for the past three weeks, Robert had been lulled into the sense of security that Andrew wouldn’t try to escape. Robert trusted him, but Robert had always trusted too easily. And he’d get the ankle monitor off. If he had to saw through his leg, he’d get it off. But first, the hinge pins.

  Andrew ran to the door and inspected the hinge. It looked new enough and the pins might come easily. He snatched a pen from the desk and slammed it under the top pin. The head budged slightly, so he hit the pen up again. And again. And—

  Snap. The pen broke as the pin was halfway there.

  He dragged over a chair, climbed it, and tried to pull the pin’s dome.

  Nothing.

  Something to make it slide. Something to free it.

  Andrew dashed into the bathroom and returned with the cheap liquid soap dispenser. He worked the pump over the pin and tried to pry it out. It wriggled a fraction more due to the slime, but stayed fast.

  From atop the chair he surveyed the room, his panic rising. Robert wouldn’t stay gone long, and this was his only chance. There had to be another tool. A couple hits would work. Something thin and sturdy, something—

  Natalie’s suitcase was open on the floor, and shoved inside the inner pocket were a pair of shoes. Delicate silver laced sandals with a five-inch stiletto heel.

  For the first time, I love you. Thank God.

  He jumped off the chair and grabbed one of the shoes. Holding it by the middle, he rammed the heel up into the hinge.

  The pin popped out and sailed into the poorly-textured ceiling. With a push to the top of the door, the whole thing tilted.

  No, bring it in. Bring it in! You don’t have time to worry about the bottom.

  Andrew curled his fingers in the gap he’d created and pulled the door toward him. The wood creaked and he hung his entire body weight on the perch until finally—

  Crack. The door broke in half.

  He climbed over the jagged wood, ran down the hall and stairs, and rushed out of the building. Once outside, he took a breath. He smiled for the first time in three weeks. He was free.

  He ran.

  Chapter 43

  The crisp, fresh air filling Andrew’s lungs felt amazing. He kept the concrete building with its blue truck in his sights. He ran toward Oz. Toward everything he wanted, and reclaiming what mattered to him. He started to feel better.

  Until the anklet began beeping.

  Oh, my God.

  Robert knew of his escape. He was probably tearing back, foaming at the mouth.

  Andrew ran faster. His legs ached, his sides burned, but he couldn’t stop. As the beeping reminded him, he was being chased. He just didn’t know how close Robert was or how much of a lead he had. His shoes slapped the pavement, and he veered to the right, only a hundred yards from the building.

  He thought he heard a car engine behind him, but he barreled through the door into the moist, dark room. As usual, Red was in his booth, watching I Love Lucy and smoking marijuana.

  “Red! Red!” He beat the call bell with his hand. “Red!”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming. Lay off my damn bell, will ya?”

  But Andrew hammered on it, so sure he’d heard a car on his heels. There was nowhere to hide if Robert burst through the door. He’d drag him out and throw him in the car. Never, ever would he have the chance to be free.

  “What, what?” Red finally stumbled out and his jaw dropped.

  Andrew realized why. He wore Natalie’s clothes, and he knew how horrified he must look.

  “Andrew? What’s wrong? Is Oz with you?”

  “No, but Robert’s after me! You’ve got to hide me!”

  “Come back quick!” Red hit the button on the counter and the door unlocked.

  Andrew ran through the door and turned the corner into the booth. He collided with Red. And as bad as the obese man smelled, as greasy as his clothes and skin were, Andrew hugged him close. He was familiar. He could be trusted and wouldn’t hurt him. He would’ve sobbed into the dirty tank top if there’d been time. Red. Radiant, grotesque Red.

  “What’s that beeping?” Red clapped Andrew on the back.

  “The ankle monitor!” He held out his leg. “Help me get it off! If I get it off, he can’t track me!”

  Red squatted to examine the anklet. He pulled at it, testing its strength and trying to determine how it was fastened.

  “These newfangled things.”

  “There’s no time! Shoot it off me! Shoot it off!”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. We’ll shoot the hell out of that black box afterward. Calm down, boy. Get in here.”

  He nudged Andrew into the other room where Lucy was on the television and smoke curled from a bong near an olive couch. Andrew sat on the couch and tried to stop shivering.

  Red came back in the room with Oz’s .22, Caroline, and a lug wrench in his hands.

  “Hold still. This may hurt.”

  “I don’t care. If this doesn’t work, you’re going to help me cut my leg off. Or shoot it off. It’s coming off! I’m not going to let him take me!”

  “Shh, shh,” Red said. “You’re going to be okay. No one is taking you anywhere you don’t want to go.”

  “You don’t understand. He’ll call the police, they’ll drag me out.”

  “Pfft, the police. Do you know how many guns are in this place? Trust me, you’re not going anywhere. If that motherfucker sets a toe in here and starts to cause trouble, I’ll shoot him myself. Hold still, goddamn it!”

  Andrew steadied his leg at the knee as Red took the socket off the lug wrench. When he pulled back the strap with a large thumb, the opposite side bit into Andrew’s skin. The end of the wrench slid under the black strap, and Red twisted the tool. Andrew felt like his ankle was being severed as the strap cut tighter and tighter. He ground his teeth and held his breath. Red gave a powerful jerk of the lug wrench and the rivets finally gave way.

  Again, he was free.

  But the monster still lived. The light flashed red, and the box beeped. Before Red could do it, Andrew snatched the gun. He didn’t bother to check if it was loaded. For a short moment, there was the beeping and Lucille Ball. Then he fired. And there was only Lucy.

  Now he was free.

  He sighed and sank into the couch.

  “What do you want me to do with it?”

  “I don’t care. Burn it. Bury it.”

  “I don’t have time for that shit.” Red tossed the broken ankle monitor against the wall. It bounced into a garbage c
an that looked like it hadn’t been emptied for months. He held his lower back as he got out of the crouched position he’d been in. “I’m getting too old for this.”

  Since the worst was over, Andrew calmed. He inhaled before speaking, his throat scratchy from the running and panic.

  “Can I use your phone to call Oz?”

  “Sure.” Red waddled to the television and retrieved a cell phone from the top. He tossed it to Andrew. “If he answers, tell that fucker I’m running out of weed. I’ve been trying to reach him for days and I’m on my reserves.”

  Andrew scrolled through Red’s contact list until he found Oz’s name. He pressed call. He waited.

  The phone rang.

  Pick up, Oz, pick up.

  The phone rang again.

  He wanted to hear Oz’s voice more than he’d ever wanted to hear anything.

  The phone rang a third time.

  And then, mid-fourth ring—

  The beep to leave a voicemail.

  He tried again. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ri—voicemail.

  “You said you’ve been trying to reach him for days?” Andrew asked as he called again.

  “Yep. Left messages and everything. No response.”

  A cold fear iced through him. Robert hadn’t said he’d killed Oz, but there’d been the blood on his shirt. And beating his head into a cement wall? Was he dead? He couldn’t be. Someone would’ve called Red, right? He was just busy. Maybe looking for Andrew.

  As connected as I am to you – I’d feel it if you were gone.

  Andrew tried to speak around the knot in his throat. “Who else’s number do you have? Santino? Tinks?”

  “I’ve got—”

  A loud bang came from outside the room. The sound of a door being torn off its hinges and glass shattering.

  “Natalie! Where are you? I know you’re in here!”

  Andrew dropped the phone and looked to Red. His eyes circled the room until he felt dizzy.

  “Come out right now, you fucking bitch!”

  There was another crash, and he heard the call bell’s dying bleat.

  “Jesus!” Red opened the door and shuffled out.

  “What’s your problem, mister? I’m trying to run a fucking business here and you come in throwing around my shit! Look at my door, you’re going to pay for that!”

  “You’re going to pay! Send her out! I know she’s in there! Natalie!”

  “I don’t have anybody here but me, jackass. Me and about forty loaded guns. So you need to back the fuck out, before I shove the longest one in your asshole!”

  That’s right. It’s okay, Andrew, it’s going to be okay. You’re safe.

  “No.”

  Robert’s voice dropped and he heard the distinct click of a gun safety being taken off.

  “I’m not leaving without my wife. And I will stop anyone who tries to keep her from me.”

  Oh, God. He’s going to come in. He’s going to rape me, right here.

  “Let’s cool off, mister, okay? You don’t want to be doing something you’ll regret. It’s against the law to point a gun at someone, even if it’s not loaded.”

  “Believe me, it’s loaded.” A gunshot sounded.

  Andrew grew lightheaded from the panic.

  He’s killed Red. Poor Red, who was only trying to help me.

  “And you know what’s also against the law?” Robert continued. “Holding a hostage. You turn her out here, or I’ll blow your head off and find her myself.”

  “I told you, I don’t have anyone back there. I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  Another gunshot.

  “Natalie! If you don’t want me to kill your friend, show yourself! I don’t want to, but I will!”

  “Mister, there is no one here—”

  “Shut up, you fat fuck!”

  Another gunshot.

  “Natalie! This is your last chance! If you come out, I won’t punish you! I wouldn’t endanger the life of our baby! I’m an excellent father!”

  Another gunshot.

  “And husband!”

  Another gunshot.

  “We have a perfect family! And we’re going to be happy!”

  There was a pause.

  “I can’t do it without you, honey! Come out! If you try to run away with that motherfucker, I’ll find you! I will always find you! And I’ll kill him next time! You know I will! Natalie!”

  Andrew glanced at the phone on the ground. He looked at Oz’s .22 beside Red’s bong. He took the gun and cradled it to his chest.

  Do it. It’ll be over quickly. Put it to your head and pull the trigger. If you don’t do it, Robert will take you. He’ll imprison you. He’ll make you have this child, and then he’ll rape you again. And he’ll keep raping you. You don’t want that. Your life is over. There’s nothing left for you.

  Unless Oz was alive. And he realized that even if his life meant nothing to him, it mattered to Oz. What would he do if Andrew killed himself?

  I’ve caused pain to so many people by existing. By being what I am. But finally there’s someone I mean something to. And I can’t give that up. I won’t. And if he finds value in me, then I’m worth fighting for.

  “Natalie! I’m tired of this game! Get your—”

  “Promise you won’t hurt me.” Andrew lowered Caroline and walked to the door. “I got scared, Robert. I’ll come out if you won’t hurt me.”

  “When have I hurt you? Come out here.” Robert’s answer was still a yell, but it was less frantic and not at full lung capacity. “You have no reason to be afraid of me.”

  No reason?

  “But I’m not just scared for me.” Andrew used his next shout to cover the noise of pushing the safety off the .22. “Promise you won’t hurt me or the baby! Please lower your gun!”

  Another pause.

  “It’s lowered. Come out here. Now.”

  Andrew walked out of the room into Red’s booth. He imagined Oz’s voice in his head as he’d placed the final clip in Andrew’s hand on their first day at the range:

  “Take down whatever motherfucker you want.”

  Robert stood in front of the bullet-proof glass with his gun lowered. Andrew stepped to the closed window in the middle and slid it aside.

  “See that wasn’t hard, Natalie,” Robert said with a smile.

  “My name is Andrew.”

  Andrew brought Caroline above the counter and as he’d done weeks before, he fired ten rounds without care to aim.

  Chapter 44

  Red leaned down and pressed his fat fingers to Robert’s neck.

  “He’s dead.”

  After emptying the .22’s entire magazine, Andrew had dropped the gun and sunk to his knees sobbing. He’d held his stomach at first, until he remembered what resided within it. Then he brought his hands to his face and continued to cry. Red had stood behind him, patting his shoulder until he was able to compose himself.

  When Andrew could get up, they circled the counter. Robert lay on the concrete floor, five red splotches saturating his chest. Most of the blood pooled underneath his body.

  Andrew looked into Robert’s wide, unblinking eyes and nudged his arm with the toe of his shoe.

  He didn’t see the man Natalie had loved, who, despite his faults, had just sought to reunite the family he’d lost.

  You’re a rapist. Not just of my body, but you tried to rape me of my identity. You deserved to die, and I’d do it again. I wish I’d had more bullets.

  But he also saw something else in the body on the floor, someone else. Yes, Robert had been a man corrupted into doing inhumane things, but he’d been more than that. Somewhere there was an eight-year-old shadow of him.

  An orphan.

  He couldn’t feel guilty about it though. Simon was better off with his grandparents. He was better off never knowing the person his father really was. What had Oz eloquently called Brigman? A “sugar-crusted shit rag.” So was Robert.

  But now you’ll never know. You’re welcome.

&
nbsp; Andrew looked away from Robert’s body toward Red.

  “What are you going to do?” Red asked.

  “I guess I probably shouldn’t tell you that.”

  “Why not? He came in here with a gun and threatened us both. You had every right to take him out.”

  “I doubt it’ll be seen that way.” Andrew glanced to Red. “How much time can you give me?”

  “I’m not touching him. And this is a gun range. I wouldn’t be able to pay my bills if shots weren’t being fired. If you want to go, then go. No one will chase you for a while.”

  “Good.”

  He knelt and reached into the pocket of Robert’s slacks, removing his car keys. A moment’s hesitation later, he pushed the body up slightly and also took his wallet.

  “Now that will look bad. Fleeing the scene and robbing him. Just sayin’.”

  “Who knows how much fuel is in the car?” Andrew let Robert’s body go and it flopped into the puddle of blood. He stood and walked to the door.

  “When you find Oz, tell him he owes me extra Skunk Special for this bullshit.”

  “I promise it’ll be the first thing I’ll tell him.” Andrew turned and smiled. “Thanks for everything, Red.”

  Red returned the gesture. “Take care of yourself, kid.”

  *

  Andrew hated to drive. Being behind the wheel brought back memories of the initial accident. He remembered slamming into the dash and being pinned under the wheel.

  But I’ve killed a man. Nothing can pin me anymore. Nothing.

  He’d flown down the highway at top speed without fear and despite the pouring rain. It’d been such a hot day that steam rose from the asphalt as he parked outside Oz’s house.

  Andrew cut the engine and ran up the walk. The door remained unanswered after he knocked and rang the bell multiple times.

  God, I hope you’re not sick, or maybe you’re too injured to come to the door?

  After circling to the side, he found a partially open window. He pushed it higher and pulled himself over the wet ledge.

  “Oz?” He cupped his hands around his mouth to shout. “Where are you?”

  But he wasn’t there. Andrew searched the rooms, including the basement. Math textbooks were spread across his desk, but his marijuana plants were dry and sorry looking.