Ensnared

by I N Foggarty

  Ramone drew on his cigarette and found it had gone out. He scowled and fumbled for his zippo to relight it. Why the hell had no one bothered to wake him he thought bitterly. On flicking the lid up he promptly dropped the damned thing. Stooping to pick it up a red-hot flare of pain shot up his stiff left-hand side. “Ahhh fuck it!” he spat grasping the offending ribs with both hands and straightening. He dropped the lighter once again.

  The Doctor’s attention immediately focused on Ramone with a level of interest that had not existed moments prior. The man’s beady eyes roved up and down his prospective patient. “Hmmm,” he purred. “That sounded…painful.” He licked his pearly white teeth with his tongue.

  Ramone pressed his hand into his side again and bent to scoop up his lighter. The pain worsened this time and left him gasping slightly. A thin sheen of sweat covered his face and neck. He would bet his last dollar that in the good doctor’s head the word ‘painful’ was synonymous with ‘expensive’.

  “I’m fine,” he grunted and succeeded in relighting his smoke.

  “Hmm…I’m sure you are,” the doctor retorted, a sly smirk now evident on his face as he watched the man before him take a long draw from the half cigarette between his lips, wince, and turn pink then red and begin to cough violently. “Cracked a rib or two I’d expect. Though I can’t possibly be sure unless I take a look.”

  “I’m fine,” Ramone reasserted. Defiantly he took another draw and tried to suppress a cough only just succeeding but turning pale and causing his eyes to water in the process.

  “Yes well, I am sure you know best.”

  He watched the doctor turn and head for the stairs to the first floor. This routine he had experienced before first-hand. Jasper would walk away feigning disinterest and off handily make a final convincing remark or prophesy of doom just before he vanished to the area of the house that was for his own personal use; never actually making it to the top of the stairs.

  “You know the last person I saw with suspected cracked ribs…” here it came “…was brought back to me a few days later with a punctured lung. Very messy… very expensive and despite everything I did they, like your friend, what’s his name, ended up leaving through the back door.”

  Ramone sighed, rolling his entire head around his neck along with his eyes. The last time Jasper had gotten him like this he’d paid over $500 only to find out he was allergic to the fabric softener Maria had been buying. At least Sergio would be footing the bill this time. “Fine…just give me some painkillers all fucking ready,” he relented. The pain in his side had become a sharp throb now and deep breaths were proving difficult.

  Jasper paused and turning on the step brought a hand to his heart in a wounded sort of gesture. “Why my dear fellow… you cannot possibly expect me to give you painkillers without first examining you. That would be… highly unethical.” A smirk covered his face, like the cat that was about to get the cream, the cow and the dairy farmer into the bargain.

  The black-hearted bastard had no right to lecture anyone on ethics, however, when in hell the devil's word was law. There would be zero chance of him getting anything other than supermarket branded tic-tac’s unless he submitted himself to the man’s pricey process. The bitterness of realisation must have shown on his face as the doctor’s smile widened further still. Jasper turned and shepherded Ramone through the Livingroom/waiting area and through a set of double sliding wooden doors into his exam room. “Right this way.”

  “I know where I’m fucking going,” Ramone spat back, walking the short distance into the room. The doctor closed the doors again after him.

  “Well, if you will insist on playing so rough with the other boys, Ramone, you’ll end up in the doctor’s office all the more won’t you?”

  “Cut the bullshit and get on with it”

  “Well, if you had wanted silver service you should have paid for it up front.” Jasper turned to a metal basin of water on a stand and began washing his hands. Ramone would have laughed if he hadn’t known the man wasn’t joking. The good doctor had a price for everything and the advent of a silver service did not surprise him in the slightest.

  Ramone stood looking around uselessly at the room. Clean and well lit, unlike the rest of the house. Immaculate and painted white its mix of old wooden cabinets, exam table and the large green leather topped desk and chairs gave it an antique sort of feel. The only metal in the room was that of a standing exam light by the wooden, paper covered table and the metal washbasin Jasper currently stood at drying his hands.

  Behind the glass of the cabinet doors, Ramone could see what appeared to be some macabre looking medical implements which he hoped were not still in use. Then again Jasper probably charged extra for the use of modern equipment. He shuddered at one particularly gruesome implement that caught his eyes.

  “Beautiful isn’t it,” Jasper said, sending a chill up his spine. “It’s a nineteenth-century tonsil guillotine… rather effective in its day in fact. Bar the strong possibility of haemorrhage and of course death from blood loss. Do you have your tonsils, Ramone?”

  “I thought you wanted to look at my ribs,” Ramone replied trying to steer the conversation away from unnecessary treatment.

  Jasper pulled on a pair of latex gloves and Ramone could have sworn he heard the man mutter, “Hmm pity,” under his breath. He swallowed and paled slightly further, the sawbones could be a creepy Bastard sometimes.

  “Well let’s get it off then,” the doctor said advancing, flexing his fingers in their latex coating. The cracking sound it made caused another shiver to run down Ramone’s spine, Jasper was enjoying this he realised. “Your shirt, Ramone,” the doctor elaborated. He complied and winced on hauling the t-shirt over his head, not failing to catch the doctors contrived sympathetic sound. “Dear me that does look nasty. You really do need to take better care of yourself you know.”

  Looking down Ramone saw the large purple coloured splodge that covered his side flecked with blue and black. It was a deep bruise and a small wonder he hadn’t felt it sooner. Must have been when he threw himself behind the crates he reasoned. He must have stared too long at it though as the sudden appearance of the doctors gloved hands took him by surprise. Before he could protest Jasper prodded him firmly in the centre of the bruise. “Urgh,” he grunted, pain flaring up again. “Stop that.”

  “Oh do stop squirming, Ramone. A big man like you afraid of the doctor?” Jasper’s tone was both condescending and sarcastic. “How else do you expect me to examine you? Unless of course, you want to pay for a rather expensive X-ray… my machine may be old but it will do the job.”

  Ramone had seen enough of Jasper’s old medical implements that he forced himself to stay still as the man continued to poke and prod his side. A few hmms and humms later that probably amounted to an extra couple of dollars the doctor indicated for Ramone to move to the exam table. He grudgingly sat down wrinkling the paper under him. “Lie down on your unbruised side please.” The doctor shook his head and gave him a look that told him he should have anticipated this. Resentfully he did as he was bid. “Have you been playing with the kitty cats again, Ramone?”

  The fuck? Ramone thought and counted himself fortunate the doc could not see the dumb look that had formed on his face. Before he could reply the doctor began his poking and prodding again in earnest, causing him to swear. Like he could read his mind the man then said, “your back looks as though it has been clawed. Tell me, how is Maria?”

  “Pissed as a hornet… Argh!” He squirmed, a fresh stab of pain emanating from the spot Jasper had pressed his palm onto.

  “Really now. I’ve treated four-year-olds that did not complain this much,” the doctor admonished.

  “Oh yeah? Why don’t I poke and prod you and see how much you like it.” It was childish but the best he could come up with. Naturally, it received a reproving snort. Retaliation came in the form of a physical chill in his spine this time. The doctor had pressed something metal into the region above his left
lung. He turned his head and relaxed slightly when he saw the stethoscope Jasper wielded. He breathed heavily into the paper of the exam table.

  “Are you going to cough for me or shall I pinch your mouth and nose closed like I would a child?”

  Ramone frowned into the paper. To hell with being a child treated by this loon; it was bad enough being an adult. Regardless he gave a small cough of compliance. A moment later and Jasper strode away from him, he sat up. “Two cracked ribs and a bruise the size of Belgium I would wager. Though I would need an X-ray to confirm.”

  “No,” Ramone said simply shaking his head “No X-ray just patch it the fuck up and give me the fucking painkillers so I can get the fuck out of here.”

  “Very well have it your way. Though if I were you I’d avoid any strenuous activity for the next week and you had better cut out those cigarettes,” the doctor replied and tossed something at Ramone who caught it last moment before it hit him in the face; an ice pack. Gratefully he pressed it into his side. “I’ll be back momentarily,” Jasper told him vanishing from the exam room. Ramone could hear the creak of the basement door then the heavy metal one at the bottom being pulled open.

  Using the alone time to look around Ramone watched the grey clouds roll past the top of the frosted window into Jaspers back garden. It appeared yesterday’s heatwave now languished in memory. The heavy clouds looked like they were now struggling to hold back the rain. Too bad for anyone who had planned a beach party or a…. Shit! The realisation hit Ramone like a wrecking ball, causing him to jerk and drop the icepack. As he struggled to remain sitting on the table he could hear Maria’s shrill voice in his head “And another thing. If you don’t show at Olivia’s birthday barbeque Wednesday afternoon we are finished. D’you hear me, Ramone? Finished!”

  Olivia’s birthday barbeque was this afternoon and he could not be much further away and still be within the city limits. He looked at his watch, 15:20. Bastard; they would probably have started around one o’clock. He was well over two hours late and without transport probably another hour on top of that.

  He got down from the table and fumbling inside his jacket pulled out his phone. Not a single text or missed call from Maria. That surely couldn’t be good he thought as his mind tried to think of the quickest way to get from here to there short of jacking a car. Furiously he cycled through his list of contacts until he found the one marked Roseland; he dialled. Pick up you useless…

  “Sup?”

  Bastard Ramone cursed under his breath, instantly recognising the dimwitted gravely tone of the responder. “Roca, is that you?” he asked, not needing the man to reply. In fact, before the man referred to as, ‘El Roca’, by the other members of Los sin techo could respond, he continued. “I need you to pick me up now. Not in an hour, not in half an hour, Now!”

  “What’s all the ruckus, Rae?” He gritted his teeth upon hearing the shortened version of his name.

  “I’m at Jasper’s and I need to get back home. Get a car out to me now.”

  “Geeze relax. I’m the only one here. Tony’s just nipped out for a…”

  “I don’t give a fuck if Tony is screwing su hermano. Get off your lazy ass and come pick me up! Or Sergio will hear of this.” It was a rare occurrence for him to threaten someone with Sergio these days, not that he had really needed to in the old, but with El Roca, it might just get the job done. Looking up he saw Jasper had returned, carrying a tray with him. He put it down on the desk and ignored Ramone for now.

  “Alright, I’m coming.” Ramone could almost hear the man on the other end of the phone line sigh at the thought of having to do something akin to work. Los sin techo had largely abandoned their old turf in Roseland after the pier five incident had laid waste to their reputation and thus cost them a lot of work. Hence why people like El Roca had been left to man the old fort. Flicking back through his contacts list he tried to phone Maria. No answer.

  Shoving the device back in his pocket he sat down on the exam table again and stared at the wooden doors into the living room. This was a disaster… things couldn’t get any worse.

  A cold feeling alerted him too late to the fact Jasper had scuttled back over and wiped the top of his arm with something that smelled of antiseptic. The realisation hit him the second he felt the jab of a syringe. “Ahh you fucker!” he bellowed snatching back his arm from the doctor. “The hell you do that for!?”

  “Well if I had warned you you’d have probably cried and I haven’t got any lollypops to appease you with,” Jasper said, disposing of a rather sizeable hypodermic. “Now if you’re finished you’d better let me strap your ribs.” He picked up some bandage and advanced again.

  Some ten minutes later Ramone, fully dressed, found himself outside Jasper’s house, a quarter bottle of painkillers in his pocket and a short feeling of euphoria from the shot running through him. Part of him knew it wouldn’t last.

  All he had to do was wait.

  The cost of friendship

  Behind the closed doors of one of Woodlake Academy’s many IT classrooms, a group of students from across the year groups had gathered for the second of their biweekly afterschool meetings. Like always the school computers lay abandoned around the edge of the room. Instead, the assembled congregation were clustered around the regular desks, used during class time for bookwork, arranged into groups of four.

  From the high-backed chair behind the teacher’s desk, with his laptop open in front of him, Dylan Rodgers surveyed his charges with a sly smirk. Upon arriving at Woodlake as a freshman the computer club had been run by one of the seniors and overseen by the disinterested Mr Jones. Containing only a handful of students the group spent their time hopelessly trying to write basic programs and make CGI videos. In fact, Dylan had theorised at the time that the only reason it hadn’t been canned by the school board was that it cost them nothing to run, bar a small amount of electricity.

  A year later after the student head had graduated Dylan had wasted no time in brokering a deal with Mr Jones. In exchange for practically any piece of digital media or software the man might desire and a promise not to use the school computers, Dylan had secured the presidency of the club and access to the man’s classroom for two nights each week.

  His hostile takeover complete Dylan set about ensuring that the computer club appeared to do exactly what the old one always had, just with an inflated membership. In reality, it was now an underground league of deathmatch and debauchery. Its members a cabal of bloodthirsty and violent outcasts who were viciously loyal only to their own sub-factions... Or at least their virtual personas were. In the outside world, they were simply just a bunch of people who loved to play video games; though some of them were still outcasts on the social ladder.

  Dylan glanced around at the three members of his own team; the shadow warriors. One of whom was Matt’s younger brother, Donny. While the rest of the club had laughed when he had recruited the ‘unknown’ freshman, they had all quickly cried unfairness upon witnessing the boy’s prowess. Granted the need to recruit had been forced upon him two years ago by the shock departure of Josh, his fourth member. Ultimately though, it had all worked out. The squirt really was a natural.

  “Yo, Dylan. Outsider approaching,” his young apprentice suddenly declared, causing Dylan to swivel around in his chair to face the door.

  Well, you took your time, Dylan thought on peering through the door’s glass panel and recognised the boy who headed towards the gateway to his domain. “Hold the fort, Kelly,” he said offhandedly as he rose from the teacher’s chair. “I might be a while.”

  “Roger, Rodgers,” the girl replied before laughing at her own joke. The others at the table followed suit.

  Dylan ignored her and slid out of the room, closing the door behind him. He slouched back against the wall as he waited for the weasel-faced boy to traverse the final stretch of the hallway. “I’d half expected you to come looking for me on Monday. Or at least yesterday, given a certain someone’s sudden rise to stardom,�
�� he said by way of a greeting.

  “There was no pressing need for you on Monday and by the time I knew the full story yesterday, I couldn’t find you. I would have spoken to you at lunch today but the catfight at your table drew far too much attention. I thought Morgan was going to rip Natalie in two. How is she anyway?”

  “Probably still licking her wounds. Granted half of them were self-inflicted. How about you? Have you recovered from the proverbial ass kicking she gave you on Monday?”

  Dylan looked Raymond up and down. He knew exactly why the other boy had come but had no interest in cutting straight to the chase. Not when feigning reluctance could net him a much higher price for his services.

  “I eventually sweet talked the girls around and they kindly agreed to keep it below deck. No one else of importance heard so there wasn’t much else to do.”

  The sleazy nature of Raymond’s tone made Dylan want to take a step or two away from him. It contained more oil than his blackhead ridden nose. Still, it would be worth putting up with him in the end. Why do something off your own back if someone else is willing to pay you for it. “So your guest list hasn’t taken a beaten then?”

  “No. Everyone’s coming who needs to be. Except...”

  “Except?” Dylan encouraged in a tone of mock surprise.

  “Except your friend Matt.”

  Raymond’s tone had soured somewhat and Dylan could tell no work needed to be done in order to drive up the price. Still, there was no harm in poking him a little. “Is that a problem?” he asked innocently.

  “You know fine well it’s a fucking problem.”

  Wow, he thought. The boy had become more worked up about this than he could possibly have imagined. He obviously must have taken Anna’s bullshit to heart. He wasn’t going to complain though, it made his job much easier. “Is it really?”