Shackled

by Ray Garton

  Bent tried to raise his head, but failed. He made a sound, then made it again.

  After a moment, Ethan realized that Bent was trying to say Ethan's name, he was calling to him. Ethan rushed to his bedside, holding Samuel in his arms.

  "We've found Samuel, Bent!" Ethan hissed through his tears. "We found him because of you! And we're going to get you out of here, right now. Can you walk at all? With help?"

  Bent made another sound, a positive sound, as if he were responding enthusiastically. Then, his movements weak but determined, he pushed the sheet away from his naked, sweaty body and tried to put his legs over the edge of the bed.

  That was when Ethan saw his hands.

  "Ed," Ethan croaked, "bring that flashlight over here, now."

  Ed came to Ethan's side and shined the light down on Bent.

  His hands fumbled with the sheet. Except for the thumb and forefinger on his left hand, they were nothing more than swollen mitts of flesh with charred lumps where there once had been fingers. The crusty, scabby lumps oozed glistening puss, and the puffy flesh of the hands was bright red.

  Ethan pressed Samuel's face to his shoulder so the boy wouldn't see Bent's hands.

  "We can't take him," Ed said quietly and coolly. "He's too weak, he'll pull us down. He might not even be able to walk. We can't take him."

  Ethan turned to him slowly, pressing Samuel's head to his shoulder even harder and covering his ear. When Ethan spoke, his voice was quiet, but filled with all the power it held behind the pulpit.

  "You listen to me good, boy. Either we take him with us, or you leave me and my son right here. The only reason I'm holding this boy in my arms right now is because of this man's work and determination. In fact ... if you're really set on leaving him here, I'll put my son down ... you put your gun down ... and we'll settle this with fists right here and now, you conscienceless son of a bitch!" He pulled his lips back in a nasty grin, baring teeth that glowed with the red light. "And I gotta pretty good idea I'll kick your macho, gun-totin' ass from here to the Second Coming!"

  For a moment a look of shock appeared on Ed's face, but it was gone quickly.

  "Okay," he said. "We'll take him. But if we all die because of it, Padre ... just remember I was against it."

  "If we die," Ethan growled, "I won't remember squat. But if we get through this, mister, I will definitely remember that you wanted to leave him here. So you remember that."

  Ed lowered his head and stared hotly at Ethan for a long time. "Okay, Padre. Your call. We take him. Now ... let's help him up and get him the hell outta here ...”

  PART SIXTEEN

  Doom, Damnation,

  and Golf Carts

  1

  No one was able to find out exactly what it was that started the gunfire in the mansion and on the surrounding grounds. In the endless news broadcasts and newspaper articles that rehashed those incidents over and over again, there were nearly as many questions asked about all that shooting as there were about everything else that happened there that night.

  Some gunfire might well be expected under the bizarre and confusing circumstances, but what happened was closer to a small war.

  Even more unusual than the outburst of violence was something uncovered in the meticulous, exhaustive investigation that followed. It seemed that the police officers had been shooting at one another just as much as — or perhaps even more than — they had shot at Rex Calisto's security men ...

  But on that night, there was no investigation, no careful search for answers.

  The tall, green hill upon which the Calisto mansion sprawled was alive with the sound of gunshots ... the cries of wounded and dying men.

  No one knew what was going on in the ground beneath them, not even those who were aware of the complex's existence. And none of them cared ...

  2

  Shortly after giving the order for the red, Dr. Corbus had dumped the contents of his briefcase, spilling papers and folders, notebooks and pens, pencils and a calculator onto the floor carelessly. He'd spent the last several minutes filling the briefcase with files, bound documents, and stacks of papers. When he closed it, he had to press down hard to contain it all. After pressing the locks, he stood straight, holding the briefcase in his left hand. He reached down with his right hand and, once again, moved his fingers around the edges of the pager.

  "All right," he mumbled, "we can go."

  "Go where?" Deanna asked, standing before him and puffing furiously on a cigarette, nervous and just a little afraid.

  "Follow me." Dr. Corbus walked across his office to a large bookcase and flipped a light switch on the wall beside it. The bookcase slid aside with a whisper.

  Behind the bookcase was a large elevator car with gray walls, plush gray carpet, and padded, black, velvet-upholstered bench seats along each wall.

  She turned to him, shocked. "Where does this go?"

  "To our destination, my dear. Come." He was smiling, and his eyes were widened slightly, as if he were very excited about something.

  Deanna did not understand his behavior, because she was terrified. She couldn't afford to be discovered here in this place. But she held her fear inside and followed him into the elevator.

  Dr. Corbus hit a button with a long, pale finger ...

  3

  Bent fought to remain conscious and upright — at least, as upright as he could get — as he hobbled naked down the corridor between Lacey and Doc. He was completely unaware of his nakedness, and completely unashamed ... because he was too confused and in far too much pain.

  Except for Ethan, he knew none of these people, but he did not care. All that mattered now was that they were getting out of there ... he hoped.

  "Okay, what about the other guy?" Ed asked over his shoulder.

  Ethan turned to Bent as they kept walking, Bent stumbling along between Doc and Lacey. It hurt Ethan to look at him; he looked like a walking corpse ... and those hands, those horribly mutilated hands. Bent didn't even seem to notice them.

  "Where's Coll, Bent?" Ethan asked, holding Samuel close.

  Bent's eyes were half-closed, his lips cracked and swollen, and his words were thick, slurred, and came slowly. But he made an effort to answer the question.

  "They ... tuh-told mmme he ... dead ... that heee's duh ... dead."

  Ethan stopped and turned fully toward Bent. An instant later everyone else came to a halt and Ed grumbled, "We're ducks out here, y'know. We gotta find a way out."

  Ethan ignored him. "Do you believe that, Bent? Do you believe he's dead?"

  Bent leaned heavily against the big man beside him as they stood there in the corridor. He was too weak and dizzy to notice that the right side of the man's suitcoat was slick with blood.

  "I think s-ssso," Bent croaked, his breath short, his mouth dry. "Thuh-they laughed ... sssaid he to-told 'em ev'thing, all the nuh-names ... Garner ... R-Rob .. . a-and your wuh-wife ... he told 'em about yuh-your wife, Ethan. Thuh-they knew her n-name and ev'thuh-thing. Y'gotta get to her."

  Ethan's jaw became slack as he stared at Bent, his eyes wet again, this time with horror. "My wife? Loraina? And ... Anice?"

  Ed asked impatiently, "We gonna find your other friend or what?"

  Ethan didn't move.

  "Thuh-they sssaid they t-tortured 'im with a snuh-snake," Bent grunted with effort. "Puh-poisonous. They kuh-kept torturin' me af-after that ... b-but they al-already knew e-everything I had t-to sssay. Thuh-they stopped cuh-cuttin' my f-fingers off ... ssssaid they were g-gonna use me as ... as sssome kinda ... suh-sacrifice. And ... thuh-they laughed then, t-too."

  None of them spoke. Even Ed stared at Bent, frowning, his mouth open.

  "Cuh-Coll's d-dead," Bent rasped. "Fuh-forget about him. We g-gotta get outta here. Nnnow."

  Bent's knees buckled and he started to collapse.

  Doc and Lacey turned to him quickly, wrapped their arms around him, and tried to hold him up. With a trembling voice, Ethan spoke to him, tried to encourage him to hang
on until they got out of there ... but he failed to sound very encouraging. He was too preoccupied with Loraina and Anice.

  "Okay, then," Ed said, quiet now, his voice a bit more respectful, "let's go. I don't know where to, but wherever it is, we should be getting there soon, otherwise we're gonna be — "

  There was a sound, deep and rumbling, somewhere nearby, and it made Ed swallow his words as he cocked his head toward it.

  "That's an elevator," Ethan whispered. "Sounds like it's coming down."

  Ed's face took on a mean look fast. "From where?"

  No one said a thing. They just looked at one another, confused and afraid ...

  4

  The elevator doors slid open to reveal a wall and a closed metal door with no knob. On the wall beside the door was a small, rectangular keypad with a tiny red light in the upper right corner.

  Deanna gasped quietly with surprise.

  "Don't worry," Dr. Corbus said, still smiling. "I can count on one hand the number of people who know about this particular elevator, and still have fingers left over." He reached out and quickly, smoothly punched eight of the white numbered buttons. The red light blinked with the press of each key. Then the door popped open with a metallic clunk. "And that is exactly the way I like it. Come."

  He took her elbow, led her out of the elevator, and closed the door behind them. It slammed heavily as they crossed the corridor before them and went through a dark doorway into a narrow, cold hallway that ended in a closed door.

  "The dungeon?" Deanna asked. "We can get out through the dungeon?"

  Dr. Corbus opened the door and ushered her into the dark, purple-and-red-lit room. "No one can get out through this dungeon" — he chuckled — "unless they know what I know. Remember, I designed this place. And I did so with myself in mind ...”

  5

  "Son of a bitch! Ed hissed angrily. "There's another fuckin' elevator in here someplace!" He turned to Lacey. "Where is it?"

  "I don't know!" she snapped.

  "Who would come down here?" he asked. "I mean, somebody in charge, somebody who might have an escape plan?"

  "Dr. Corbus?" she muttered. "Yeah, probably him."

  "What's down here? Besides all these rooms, I mean?"

  Lacey sucked her lips between her teeth and hesitated, as if she were about to say something she was afraid to say. "The, um, the ... well, everybody calls it the, um ... dungeon. That's where they ... took us. To, y'know ... do things to us." Although she fought it, she found herself trembling.

  "Can you get us there?"

  "I think it's somewhere at the other end of this corridor. I remember the way ... very well." Her voice was weak and afraid.

  Ethan turned to her and said breathlessly, "Don't worry, honey. Nobody's gonna do those things to you this time."

  She looked at Ethan, tried to show him her gratitude, but couldn't muster so much as a smile. She turned to Doc, jerked her head to the side telling him silently to turn Bent around, then she started walking as she said, "It's this way ...”

  6

  Dr. Corbus smiled as he flipped the switch that filled the dungeon with its sickly reddish-purple light. He had smiled that way the first time he had led Deanna into the dungeon while showing her around. He had told her then that he was happiest in that room, because it was the heart of the complex, the most important cog in the machinery. It was in this room that they were best able to plant the seeds of fear and dread that were necessary to condition the children who came into the complex, to break them down into the submissive, unquestioning creatures everyone at the complex referred to as "merchandise."

  But now it was empty, and with only the two of them there, it seemed cavernous.

  The naked man on the upside-down cross loomed over them ominously, silently, his detailed eyes staring blankly down at the altar beneath him.

  A casket was stretched out some distance from the altar, along with other props positioned here and there: a hangman's noose hanging from the high ceiling, a mock electric chair, a half-open iron maiden. The room almost looked like a wax museum chamber of horrors ... but the admission was free, and Deanna knew that the patrons were truly horrified, changed forever, not just scared for a few moments as they walked past the exhibits; they became a part of the exhibits and were frightened to the marrow of their bones, until they learned to obey every command, to avoid thinking, questioning, or reacting to anything in any way that was not demanded of them.

  Most of the huge room was buried in darkness, where other props, other tools of torture, were stored. Other lights were turned on when groups of children were brought in for conditioning and more room was needed. Directly behind the man on the upside-down crucifix was another exactly like it, hanging at the same angle, facing the opposite direction.

  And, of course, there was the huge sculpture against the center of the far wall: the muscular, golden goat-man with the thick, curled horns, the inverted cross in one hand, the smothering figure of Christ in the other, and the hooved goat legs crossed before it as it sat up straight and stiff, a long, fat erection jutting up from the lap.

  The silence of the room was like that of a church, a sanctuary ... there was a certain reverence about it, a reverence that was accompanied, somehow appropriately, by the room's biting chill.

  Deanna followed Dr. Corbus over to that imposing, horned figure, their footsteps sounding on the hard, cold floor.

  Dr. Corbus turned to her. "Please stand back, my dear."

  She took a few steps backward and watched as he approached the statue.

  "As I said," Dr. Corbus said quietly as he stood before the enormous figure, "I supervised the design of this underground structure, and I was thinking of my own safety at the time. But I always kept my sense of humor."

  He reached out, wrapped his fingers around the statue's erection, and turned it counterclockwise with some effort. Then he pushed it inward, hard.

  Half the penis disappeared between the creature's legs and Dr. Corbus took several quick steps backward as the statue began to move away from the wall, opening like a massive door. It made a thick, heavy, rolling sound as it swung outward.

  Behind the statue was a doorway, and beyond that a narrow passageway that was swallowed by darkness.

  Chuckling, Dr. Corbus stepped forward once the statue had stopped moving. He walked to the back of the huge door and flipped a small switch.

  The passageway filled with light and Deanna could see that, several yards in, it curved to the left.

  "You see how prepared I am?" he asked.

  Then he slapped the back of the door with a palm and a small cupboard opened. He reached into the cupboard with his right hand.

  When he pulled the hand back out, it was holding a Glock 19 9mm automatic pistol.

  Still smiling, he aimed it casually at Deanna.

  "As we have observed in so many of our conversations," he said, "you are very famous and therefore need to wear that wig you have on, whereas I am known by no one except a scant few who fear me far too much to mention my name to anyone. Surely you don't think I am going to escort you out of here, considering the risk that you would most definitely present on the outside. You are, after all, a celebrity. People have seen you on Phil and Oprah, Geraldo and Sally. So very many people know who Dr. Deanna Brooks is ... even that wig wouldn't help out there. That frail disguise only works in here, with all these frightened and confused children. Admittedly, I have done some foolish things in my life, but — " He laughed. " — never anything so foolish as taking you out of here with me."

  Shocked, Deanna stumbled backward one step, trying to speak; all she could do was open and close her mouth repeatedly, silently, as if gasping for air. Finally, she blurted, "But my car! It's parked in front of the mansion, people will know that I was — "

  "Not your car," he said quietly. "The car we gave you. It's not registered to you. There is nothing that could possibly connect that car with you. You will simply disappear."

  Her shoulders
sagged as her breath quickened.

  Dr. Corbus's smile broadened; he was enjoying her terror.

  "Whuh-what if ... they find the cuh-complex?" she asked, her voice convulsing. "Whuh-what then? Someone here will tuh-talk and then they'll c-come after you. You can kill me and all the children, but what then, Dr. Corbus? What then?" she shouted.

  He laughed behind closed lips as gleefully as a child at Christmas. As he laughed, he reached down with his left hand and removed the pager from his belt.

  "Have you ever heard this little pager make a sound?" he asked. "Have you ever once known it to beckon me to the telephone? No, you have not. Neither have you ever seen me without it. Because it is a detonator. Once I have put enough distance between myself and this place, I hit the right button. It all goes up. The complex ... everyone in it ... and the back half of the hill beneath Calisto's mansion. By the time anyone is able to figure out what happened, I will be long gone. And so, my dear, will you."

  "Then ... then why kill ... the children?"

  "To give the illusion that everyone else in the complex would escape safely. Call it ... mutiny insurance."

  He fired the gun twice.

  The first shot hit Deanna in the abdomen, just above and to the left of the navel. She bent forward and turned, and the second shot hit her in the left shoulder, at the very top of her arm.

  She screamed as she fell backward and slid over the floor in a narrow slick of her own blood. Her wig fell off and twirled a few feet away from her head, like some huge, furry spider scurrying away in fear ...

  7

  They were a few feet from the entrance to the dungeon when they heard the two gunshots and the scream, and each of them froze, exchanging quick glances ... except for Bent, who was too busy trying to remain conscious to care about any sound or to glance at anyone.