Shackled

by Ray Garton

  Zanetta's eyes remained closed, but now, a single tear wended its way from the inside comer of her right eye and down along the side of her nose toward her full lips.

  That tear made Lacey feel cold suddenly, as if she were standing in a meat locker.

  "So," Rex said, "I think I need to make a point, and make it strongly."

  He took a half step forward and turned toward Zanetta, pressing his left hand to the back of her head. His right arm shot up and the heel of his hand slammed into the bottom of Zanetta's nose, driving upward with rapid force.

  There was a soggy crunch and Zanetta's teary eyes snapped open wide and bulged and her jaw dropped.

  Rex pulled his hand away to reveal a burst of red around what used to be her nose. Now it was flat. A sliver of cartilage jutted through the once-smooth skin where the bridge of her nose used to be.

  Zanetta's eyes were frozen wide, gazing at nothing. Her mouth hung open loosely as a sudden gush of gurgling breath came from her throat.

  Rex pulled his left arm away from her and she fell to the floor like a soaked rag, dead. He reached over to the vanity and pulled a couple of tissues from a box. As he used them to wipe his right palm, he mumbled, "Now do you know what I am going to do, Crystal?"

  She said nothing, only stared at Zanetta's body, feeling sick, feeling a scream trying to get out of her body; it was trapped, confined, held down.

  "I am going to replace her. Because she is replaceable. Every woman in this house is replaceable. That includes you. I would rather not do it, but I will if I have to. So ... you should think about that. Next time you want to have a conversation like the one you had with Zanetta tonight, think about whether or not you want to be replaced."

  Lacey felt her arms and legs shaking, felt her knees weakening, but forced herself to resist, to calm down, to keep her strength. She continued to stare at Zanetta, at her beautiful face, now hideously disfigured and bloody ... and dead ... shards of bone driven into her brain like nails.

  Rex walked into the bathroom, washed his hand, dried it, then came back and stood before her. "Now, we're due out at the party in fifteen minutes."

  It took her a moment to find her voice, but Lacey finally said, "C-can I ... have a minute to g-go to the buh-bathroom?"

  "Of course. I'm sure you're a little upset. Just don't mess yourself up and be quick about it."

  Trying to walk steadily, Lacey went into the bathroom, closed the door, and locked it ...

  5

  Ethan kept coughing and coughing as they walked slowly through the game room again, having gone from end to end a number of times.

  "Not a smoker?" Ed asked.

  "I'll be lucky to get out of here with nothing more than emphysema."

  "Don't worry. We won't be in here much longer. We'll head out back pretty quick. We been in here long enough, I think. Just let me have another try at one of these things." Ed handed his drink to Ethan and hit the start button on one of the pinball machines, none of which required coin deposits.

  Bells went off, buzzers sounded, and a mechanical voice said, "You are now on the Planet of the Robots. You are on your own, human!"

  Ed let out a deep laugh of delight as he began to knock the ball around beneath the sheet of glass that covered the bumpers and traps and chutes. "Gimme your best, you metal mothers!" he blurted. Lights flashed and mechanical sounds whirred and squealed.

  No one had approached them. No one had tried to strike up a conversation. In fact, as far as Ethan could tell, none of the partiers had even noticed they were there. But they had been there for a while now, and nothing was happening. It almost seemed as if they were there simply to attend the party. That bothered Ethan. It felt as if they were wasting precious time doing nothing but drinking colas, eating pretzels, and playing pinball machines.

  Ethan leaned close to Ed's ear and said, "You don't seem to be looking for anything. Is it just me, or are we, uh, wasting our time?"

  "Don't you worry. Our friend here's got eyes'd put an eagle to shame. Everything's fine."

  Ethan looked at Doc. He stood behind Ed looking as stiff and expressionless as the sinister robots depicted on the backboard of the pinball machine. But as Ethan watched him, he began, slowly, to realize something.

  Doc's eyes were everywhere. He moved very little, but his eyes were never still. He seemed able to turn his body this way or that without appearing to move at all. He would sip his drink, hiding the surreptitious turn of his body with the movement of his arm as his eyes scanned the others on this side of him, on that side, behind him occasionally as he shifted the position of his body. He watched the people at the bar, at the game tables, on the dance floor, and all those mingling in between. And his eyes looked like human telescopes, closing in on each and every one of them, studying them, sizing them up, one after another. His eyes even scanned and studied the walls and the ceiling and the floor, but in a way that was almost invisible. He looked like a nobody who wasn't there. And he did it flawlessly.

  The tension in Ethan's stomach, which was still burning in spite of the snacks he'd been eating, relaxed somewhat. He suddenly realized that Doc had a very special talent, and that he had no doubt been using it from the moment they walked into the mansion, probably even before that.

  As Ed played his game, several of the people in the game room began to head for the door in clusters.

  Doc reached out and touched Ed's arm and jerked his head toward the others so slightly that the movement almost never happened.

  Ed looked over his shoulder and saw the people leaving in staggered groups. He immediately turned away from the pinball machine, which continued to make its sounds and talk to him: "You are inferior, human! Emotions are a defect! Feelings are a handicap! You are inferior, human!"

  Ed watched as people left the room in small groups. He put his lips to Ethan's ear and said, "Looks like there's a schedule we don't know about, since we're not on the guest list. Somethin's about to happen. Whattaya say we go take a look, huh?"

  Ethan set the drinks he held on the pinball machine and the three of them followed the others out of the game room.

  Ethan, Ed, and Doc followed the others into the foyer, through a short hall, then through another doorway and into an enormous living room with plush furniture, an empty fireplace, and large, elaborate paintings on the wall. Above the fireplace hung a huge painting of Rex sitting in a chair that looked like a throne of mahogany and thick red velvet padding.

  The front wall of the room was a vast window looking out over the city below them and in the distance, its lights shining like stars in a black sky.

  At the opposite end of the room, a spiral staircase spun down from a large opening in the ceiling. It had plushly carpeted steps and a black wrought-iron railing that twisted down with the stair's.

  In front of the fireplace, Rex Calisto sat at a rather small, rectangular table covered by a clean white tablecloth that reached to the floor, covering the table's legs. Beside him, to his left, was an empty chair.

  The press people had already set up their cameras and boom mikes and positioned themselves in front of the table so they could snap their photographs.

  The partygoers were gathering behind the press people, with room to spare, holding their drinks and chattering with one another, their voices stirring together into a blurry mix of sound.

  Ethan suddenly realized that all the music had stopped. The only sound in the mansion was coming from this room.

  A beautiful Asian woman stood beside Rex, talking with him. He was smiling, nodding, replying quietly.

  A woman with a microphone in her hand stepped forward and said something to Rex.

  He smiled at her and replied, loud enough to be heard by the others, "Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time for all that. Just a few more minutes. Be patient, okay?"

  The woman backed off, looking a bit annoyed.

  The cameras sported the same logos as the vans in the parking lot outside. Local TV stations, entertainment and tab
loid shows.

  "Somethin's about to happen," Ed whispered to Ethan. "Why don't we just keep waitin' and see what it is, okay?"

  They waited. More people came in. Within ten minutes, the cavernous room was packed with people holding drinks, cigarettes and cigars, their backs turned to the window and its sparkling view, facing the small table at which Rex Calisto was sitting.

  They waited and waited. Ethan became restless, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't even know what he was waiting for, and he was beginning to believe that in spite of Doc's eagle-eye talents, this entire venture was an enormous waste of time ... even though he might be closer to his son than he' d been in months.

  That last thought made him want to cry out ... but he couldn't. Not here.

  Suddenly Calisto raised both hands, grinning at the cameras and the guests.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," he said. His voice was not very loud, but all the other voices stopped instantly. The room — it seemed the entire mansion — was suddenly thick with a churchlike silence. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said again, the words rolling slowly over his wet lips, "the reason you are all here is to celebrate the arrival of a young woman whom I feel has all the qualities of a star. As you know, I do not throw a party for every centerfold in my magazine. That would be a party a month, and frankly, I'm just not up to that, because I'm not getting any younger."

  There were a few laughs and chuckles in the crowd.

  "But the young woman about whom I am speaking," he went on, "is a standout. She is my magazine's centerfold of the coming month, and she may very well be the Vision of the Year. But there is something very different about this young woman, something that says she is special, that says she is worthy of much more than the attention of my magazine's devoted readers. She is more than just another pretty face, another lovely body." He stopped, sniffed, and cleared his throat. The tip of his tongue flicked over his glistening lips before he continued.

  "Once every few years, a woman like this comes along, and she makes me realize that she cannot be held by the mere pages of my magazine. She is something special and belongs not only in my magazine, but on the screen, on the stage. This is a woman who should be before the eyes of the public in any medium she feels comfortable, because this is an exceptional woman. Like the works of Mozart ... like the works of Da Vinci ... like the works of all great artists, this young woman is, quite simply, a work of art. And I'm not saying all this just because I am managing her. This woman's appeal is out of my hands, has nothing to do with me or with any other person. As I like to say, god was in a very good mood on the day he created her."

  More laughter and chuckling.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Miss Crystal Daniere." He stood and lifted his right arm and gestured toward the spiral staircase ...

  6

  Every head in the room turned to follow the direction of Rex's gesture, and Lacey saw their eyes following her as she walked down the stairs.

  She was smiling. Her thick hair fell over her shoulders, feathered back at the top to give a better view of her face. She knew that the gown she wore not only showed off her curves, but the sheer material gave everyone a pretty good view of what made up those curves. And as she walked down those stairs smiling, she despised every single one of them. Her throat burned with acidic hatred for every person in the room ... especially Rex, who began to applaud as he stood behind his table.

  Everyone in the room followed his lead and started applauding as well, some of the men whistling and crying out, "Ho!" and "Yeah!"

  When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she went to the table and she and Rex embraced in a friendly hug.

  She hated that hug so much that it made her want to throw up, but it was part of the program, just like all the answers she was supposed to give to the press. Rex had told her he knew exactly what they would ask, and he knew exactly how she should answer.

  The applause grew louder and was mixed with some pleasant laughter.

  When the embrace was over, Rex pulled her chair out for her. Once she'd seated herself, Rex did the same.

  Rex said, "We're open to any questions you may have."

  The reporters moved forward and their questions blended together into a babble of voices.

  One rose above the others: "Miss Daniere, do you see your appearance in Visions as a stepping-stone to stardom?"

  "Well," Lacey said, smiling as she uttered the well-rehearsed words, "I wasn't really thinking of stardom when I did this. I was discovered by one of the magazine's scouts in Chicago. I just wanted to be a model at the time, that's all. But I have to say that this has opened a lot of doors for me."

  Rex smiled.

  Another asked, "What does your family think of this?"

  "They have been very supportive," Crystal replied. "They are happy that I've been able to reach this pinnacle of success, and they want me to take it as far as I can."

  Still another called out, "But they weren't upset about you appearing nude in a magazine?"

  Her smile shifted to a smirk and she lowered her head slightly to look at him demurely through her thick lashes. Just as Rex had taught her.

  "Well, see ... the human body is a beautiful thing, no matter what shape it takes. That's how I feel about it and how my family feels about it. The idea of being ashamed of it is something you'll only find in our country. Other countries, throughout the world, have no problem at all with nudity. In those countries, the naked human body is just as normal as a taxicab or a city bus is in our country. If I can help to change that, then I feel I am doing something good."

  There were more questions. The reporters rushed forward like vultures over a carcass. The questions and answers went on and on and on, and Lacey answered them happily. She felt confident in spite of her tension, perhaps more confident than she would have felt had she found some Valium or Xanax.

  Because she knew the right time was coming very soon ...

  7

  Ethan saw Doc lean toward Ed and say something into his ear.

  Ed leaned over and breathed words into Ethan's ear: "Doc thinks there's somethin' wrong with the girl. He thinks she's got somethin' goin'. Says she's too nervous."

  "What do you mean?" Ethan whispered.

  "I mean somethin's not right here."

  "You think maybe ... it's us? Have they caught on? Are they suspicious of us, or — "

  "No, it's not us. It's that girl. I agree with Doc, there's somethin' wrong with that girl. She's ... I don't know, she's ... on edge about something."

  "She's probably just nervous about the reporters, all the attention."

  "No. There's somethin' else there. Somethin's up."

  Ethan decided there was nothing more to say and backed away from Ed.

  The three of them watched and listened ...

  8

  When the questions finally stopped, the photographers stepped forward.

  "Miss Daniere, would you mind leaning toward Mr. Calisto, please?" one asked.

  Lacey did as she was asked. They both smiled, and the picture was shot.

  "Could you stand beside him, please?" another asked. "You know, put your hand on his shoulder, and, um ... oh, yeah, that's perfect."

  More cameras clicked and whirred.

  Lacey was more than willing to do anything they asked, because she knew that, sooner or later, one of them would say the right thing, suggest the right pose.

  A woman's voice called out, "Stand on his right with your arm around him, please?"

  She did it, giving them her best smile.

  Then one of them said something that sent chills up and down Lacey's back, gave her goose bumps all over.

  "Hey, tell ya what, stand right where you are, turn toward him, wrap your arms around him, and give him a big kiss on the cheek, okay? Zat all right with you?"

  "Oh, sure," Lacey said with a laugh, because that was perfectly all right with her.

  She turned toward Rex, leaned forward, and wrapped her
arms around him until her wrists met over his left shoulder. She pressed her lips to his cheek as her right hand pulled the razor out of her left sleeve.

  The cameras clattered, clicked, and snapped like machinery.

  Lacey opened the razor carefully, keeping it concealed between both hands, as her lips remained on Rex's cheek so all the photographers could get their pictures. When the racket of cameras slowed to an occasional click, she began to rise slowly, moving her left hand over the top of his back and up to the back of his head. Suddenly time slowed down and everything moved in nightmarish, gelatinous slow motion.

  Lacey buried her fingers in the stiff curls of his toupee and ripped it from his head. Rex gasped loudly as he jerked his head backward, looking up at his hair in her hand. She slapped the toupee onto his forehead, holding his head in that position, then buried the razor's edge into the far left side of his throat, just beneath his ear.

  Rex's eyes locked with hers, wide with stunned realization, his mouth open, as if in the middle of a yawn. The cameras stopped then. The voices fell silent.

  She dragged the blade across the left side of his throat, pressing it into his flesh with all her might, and blood began to shoot immediately. The blade came to a sudden halt as it caught in the thick cartilaginous rings of his trachea. Lacey panicked, jerking the blade toward her as hard as she could, pressing it into Rex's throat as hard as she was pulling it across. It sliced the rest of the way through. She lifted her hand from his forehead, let the toupee drop to the floor. His head remained where it was, leaning far back, his open throat squirting blood.

  Rex made a vomiting sound, then coughed twice, hard. Blood sprayed from his O-shaped mouth and spattered over Lacey's breasts. His eyes stared at her, shocked, horrified. A moment later he shot up from his chair and stood before her. He turned clumsily, his left hand leaning against the table to steady himself, until he was facing her.

  As the color drained out of his face like the mercury from a thermometer in a freezer, he pulled his right hand back, palm out, four fingers curled like claws. Then he shot the hand toward Lacey's nose. His movement was so weak that she simply leaned back to avoid contact.