by Michael Bray
She tore open the envelope and looked inside. There were photographs in the envelope. She looked at them and was unable to fight it any longer. She stared at them then at Reeves.
The first picture was of Shawn. He was bloody and shirtless and tied to a chair in a dark, dirty room. His severed hand was bandaged, his good hand shackled to his legs which in turn were tied to the chair.
The second photograph was taken in the same room. There was a woman shackled to a chair, and even though her head was down, Chrissy recognized her sister's multi-coloured hair. She glared at Reeves. "You have Lisa too?" she mumbled, staring at the photograph of her sister.
"All clients need a different level of motivation. Some more than others. We looked into your history, Mrs. Sandoval based on the email questionnaire you filled in. We watched you, investigated you and your life."
She was barely paying attention. There was a third photograph behind the one of her sister, but she was too afraid to look at it. Reeves saw the uncertainty and smiled.
"Go ahead; it's important that you see the final photograph."
She wiped the tears away with the palm of her hand and turned to the next photograph. This time, the scene was different. It was taken outside in natural light. Keisha was handcuffed to a chair by the hands and feet, her mouth gagged, face bloody. Chrissy stared at it, unsure how much more she could take, then at Reeves who was still cool and calm as he watched her reactions.
"Why are you doing this to me? This has nothing to do with why I came to you."
"Oh but it does. This is your motivation, and, just to clarify, I'm doing nothing you didn't ask for. You signed a contract asking for my help. Everything that has happened, everything that will happen, is at your request, Mrs. Sandoval."
"No, don't you put this on me. This is insane. This is crazy and sick."
"It works," Reeves said. He held out his hand for the photographs. Chrissy passed them to him. The images were burned into her brain now either way. The photos were unnecessary. Reeves put them back in the envelope and handed them back to the muscular man. He then turned back to Chrissy.
"Now, allow me to explain how this will work. As you have seen, we have three key people in your life captive. In order to retrieve them, you will complete an exercise designed to rid you of your fear of heights once and for all."
"I don't want this, please just stop. I don't want to do this."
"I'm afraid the time for that is passed, Mrs. Sandoval. We signed a contract, and what kind of honourable man would I be if I didn't adhere to it."
"Please, just let them go. Don't kill them."
"Kill them?" Reeves repeated, flashing a bemused grin. "I have no intention whatsoever of doing that, Mrs. Sandoval. I'm a businessman, not some vile thug or killer."
"Then why are you doing this?"
"It's quite simple," Reeves said, then turned and pointed behind him. "That chimney tower was once part of this industrial facility. It would churn black smoke out into the atmosphere day and night. Of course, when the industry was outsourced to foreign countries, there was no need for facilities like this to stay open, and so they were closed. This particular one was purchased by my company in the nineties for a small sum of money."
"I don't understand."
"The tower is two hundred and ninety-eight feet tall. Access is gained to the top by a ladder that runs up the side of the tower, although, age has taken its toll and it isn't in the best condition sadly."
Chrissy stared at it. It didn't look too tall from where she was but knew that was an illusion created by distance. The old red brick cooling tower was huge, and she thought she knew where Reeves was going at last.
"Here, take a closer look," he said.
He had produced a small set of binoculars, which he handed to her. She took them from him and looked at the tower. Long weeds and grass grew at its base, the crumbling brickwork covered in graffiti around the bottom, the top untouched.
"Look to the top, Mrs. Sandoval," Reeves said.
She scanned towards the summit, the zoomed in view of the tower filing her view until it exploded with light. The top of the tower was black with soot, but she barely noticed. She now knew where the photograph of Keisha had been taken. The chair she was chained to was on the very edge of the tower, her feet hanging over the dizzying drop below. The wind whipped her hair and clothes against her skin as she sat there, perfectly still, her head down. Chrissy dropped the binoculars to the ground and stared at Reeves.
"The edge of the tower circumference at the top is around two feet wide I believe, just over the exact width of the chair legs. Your friend has done remarkably well so far. One shuffle, one panicked movement in either direction, will result in one of the legs tipping over the edge and a fall to her death either to the ground at the front of the tower, or backward into it, which would result in a longer drop as the tower is quite deep underground. I believe if she falls backward, it will add another twenty-seven feet to the total fall depth."
She could no longer speak; she looked at Reeves, then at the tower over his shoulder. Without the binoculars, her friend was just a speck, a blemish against the overcast sky at the top of the tower. Reeves was enjoying himself now and went on.
"The process is quite simple. You will ascend the tower using the ladder at the side of it, walk the circumference to your friend, free her and then ensure you both reach the ground to safety. I shall watch from the ground. When you are both safely back to ground level, I assure you, Mrs. Sandoval, heights will no longer hold any fear for you. To complete this task, a rapid reprogramming of the brain must take place. Trust me, when you reach the ground, you will have conquered such simple things as bridges, ladders, and cliff tops. At this time, when you are on the ground and able to verbally confirm that you are no longer afraid, your husband and sister will be freed from the location they are being held and you can go on with your lives."
She looked at Reeves then at the tower, her stomach vaulting and churning with fear. "I can’t do that. I can’t climb it. Please, let them go. This doesn't concern them; they have nothing to do with this."
"They are all free to go just as soon as you complete this task."
"Don't you understand? I can’t do it. I physically can’t. I can’t go up there. I just can’t."
"You can and you will. Come, get in the van. I'll have Jimmy here drive us to the tower. It really is quite spectacular up close. Come. This way."
"No. I won’t do it. I won’t play along with this game."
"Game?" Reeves said, his smile faltering. "This is funny to you? Do you understand the level of commitment to pull this off? The manpower it took to locate and find your family, to look into your past? To put you on twenty-four-hour surveillance to learn your patterns and find a suitable time to take Shawn? Have you any idea how much work this has been, all in the interests of helping you?"
"Please, you can’t do this. Let them go." She was begging, no longer caring if Reeves saw how weak she was. She just wanted things back to normal.
"They are free to go, just as soon as you do what is required of you. How long do you think Shawn will last without professional medical attention to his hand? How long do you think Keisha can stay up there perfectly balanced and still with every gust of wind trying to send her to her death? Do you not think they will be begging you to be their saviour? Do you think they would approve of this selfish attitude?"
"It's too much, it's too high. Please don't make me do this."
Reeves tapped his temple with a stubby finger. "It's in the brain, Mrs. Sandoval. If your friend was on the same ledge only two feet off the ground, you would walk across it without issue, free her and be on your way. The principal here is the same, only the height is different. You are in control here. The only thing holding you back is your brain. Now personally, I don't care how long it takes for you to come to a decision. Be aware, though, that the elements are against Keisha. As for your sister and husband, be aware that failure to take part, failure
to succeed will leave us no option but to terminate their existence."
"No, don't do that, please don't do that," she said, hating how desperate she sounded.
"Then you make sure we don't. Get in the van. Every second wasted is one in which your best friend flirts with death."
She looked at Reeves, then at the tower in the distance and knew she had no choice. She walked to the van and climbed in. Jimmy climbed into the driver’s side, and Reeves followed in his own car. Chrissy stared out of the window, preparing herself for the grief to come. She was going to be responsible for the deaths of three people. She knew that because she was absolutely certain there was no possible way she could climb the tower.
SEVEN
She was standing at the base of the tower, trembling at the idea of climbing up the steel ladder attached to the side. The rungs and frame were brown with rust. She glanced at Reeves, who was watching her, a thin smile on his lips. The wind rustled her hair, and she adjusted the head mounted camera.
"Why do I have to wear this?"
"The climb will be recorded in real time. You get to keep a copy if ever you start to doubt you can do it. If there is an incident of some kind, and someone falls, we have an overseas distribution centre who like the death videos. There is a surprisingly large market for this kind of thing."
"You people are sick."
"I understand your frustration, but you will thank me for it in the end. Here."
Reeves walked towards her and handed her a small Bluetooth ear piece and a key. He smelled of cheap aftershave and soap.
"What are these for?" she asked as the wind howled around the tower.
"The headset is so you and I can communicate during the climb."
"I don't want to talk to you. You're an animal."
"This is part of your treatment, Mrs. Sandoval, and, as a result, non-negotiable. Put it on please."
"What about the key?" she asked as she clipped the headset behind her ear.
"The key is for your friend's shackles. When you get to the top, you will need to remove them and help her. That will be critical. She is on a very, very narrow area with little room for error. A good head for heights and a steady hand will be essential."
"I hate you. You won’t get away with this," she hissed.
Reeves, as always, smiled. "I have done only what you asked for and as agreed in our contract. Remember, Mrs. Sandoval. One hundred percent success rate for those who complete the program."
"And how many don't? How many fall and die? How many don't survive?"
"I don't think those statistics are ones you wish to have in your head right now. In fact, I think a clear head is vital. Time is ticking, Mrs. Sandoval. Your friend is waiting. Your husband needs you, as does your sister. You control all of their fates. The question is; can you overcome that fear in your gut that tells you that you can’t do it?"
She looked at the ladder, then at Reeves. The photographs she had seen were still etched into her brain. There was no choice, no option. Even though every instinct screamed at her not to, she grabbed on the rungs of the ladder. It rocked against the framework holding it to the wall. "Is this even safe?" she asked.
Reeves shrugged. "That’s the original ladder installed when the tower was constructed in the seventies. It has been subjected to the elements, the wind and the rain for those intervening years. I'd tread very carefully if I were you, Mrs. Sandoval. Very carefully indeed."
"You love this don't you?" she said, turning to face him. "You love watching people suffer, the mental torture."
"My pleasure comes only from seeing another success. I have no other emotional attachment to any aspect of this."
"But you..."
"Tick tock, Mrs. Sandoval," Reeves said, tapping his watch. "The longer you wait, the higher the risk."
She turned to the ladder and craned her neck to look at the top. It was impossible, the sheer height making her feel dizzy before she even took the first rung of the ladder. She closed her eyes, trying to psyche herself up for it, but when she did she saw the photographs of Shawn, Keisha and Lisa.
"Alright, I'm ready."
"Very good. Oh, one more thing, Mrs. Sandoval."
Chrissy turned to look at Reeves, knowing she had never felt such total and utter hatred for another human being in her life. "What?"
"You have twenty minutes to reach the top."
"What? I can’t do that. I need to take my time."
"You can take longer of course. However, for every additional minute, either your husband or sister will lose a finger. When the fingers are done, we move on to the toes. After toes, the hands themselves."
She screamed and ran towards him, wanting to claw at him or, at least, get one good hit in, but his hulk of a security guard stepped between them, grabbing Chrissy around the waist and shoving her to the floor. She lay there in the yellow grass and weeds, crying and frustrated. Reeves hadn't moved. He straightened his tie and looked at her. "Tick tock. He checked his watch. "Your time starts...Now."
Instinct took over. She scrambled to her feet and to the ladder, then without thinking about the terror which was eating away at her from the inside, she began to climb.
EIGHT
"Can you hear me, Mrs. Sandoval?"
She almost lost her grip as Reeves' voice came through the headset. She winced, it was too loud, but she didn't have the courage to let go of the ladder and turn it down. She gripped the handholds, put her head against the rusty rungs and closed her eyes.
"I hear you," she said, the open microphone crackling with every gust of the wind. She had ascended only twenty feet before the panic had set in. The ladder felt loose as she climbed, rocking against the frame that held it to the chimney. It was definitely unsafe for people to climb on, and she knew what she was doing was almost suicidal. The voice of reason told her that it must be stable enough to climb, as someone had already put Keisha up there on top of it.
"What do you want?" she asked, her hands already going numb from gripping the cold steel. Her palms were already brown with rust.
"Just giving you an update on the time passed. You have ascended thirty-nine feet in a total of approximately four minutes so far. At this rate, you will not reach the summit with enough time to spare. You might want to consider picking up the pace a little."
She didn't answer. She had no desire to talk to him. She was already far beyond her definition of fear. She was somewhere else entirely. She couldn't look down, wouldn't look down because she knew that if she did, she would freeze and either her husband or sister would pay the price. The wind roared around her, rocking the old steel and whipping her hair into her face. She could feel a few spots of rain, and the idea of climbing the ladder when it was wet was one she didn't think she could do. She looked up, the tower seeming to stretch forever into the heavens.
One foot after the other, one hand hold at a time.
She said it over and over, trying to force herself to overcome the deep terror inside. She moved higher, now clear of the tops of the surrounding buildings. There was just air between her and the top. She was also aware that she was at the point where she would die if she fell. A broken rung, too much stress on the ladder and she was done for.
One foot after the other, one rung at a time.
She moved on.
"How are we doing, Mrs. Sandoval?" Reeves said in her ear. She almost lost her footing and for a moment thought she was going to fall.
"Stop talking to me," she said as she rested her head on one of the rungs of the ladder. She had until that point settled into a terrifying rhythm of ascension. One foot after another, each step taking her higher and turning up the fear another notch. Her stomach was light and filled with butterflies and nausea, but fear, she had discovered, worked both ways and was, for the time being driving her on.
"I didn't mean to startle you, I just wanted to give you a progress update. You are now approaching halfway, Mrs. Sandoval. Ninety-eight feet in eleven minutes. You are still behind sche
dule, however. Tick tock."
She continued to climb, unable to quite believe how far she had come. Almost a hundred feet. She was already mentally and physically exhausted. The wind slammed into her again, stronger the higher she climbed and threatening to tear her away from the ladder and send her crashing to the ground below. She wondered what it would feel like, those few seconds of free fall before she would land and explode in a cloud of blood and shattered bone. The wind wasn't the only problem. With it, the rain was getting stronger, blasting into her face and making the rungs slippery.
One foot after the other, one rung at a time.
She climbed on, pushing through the exhaustion, existing on the narrow edge between sanity and madness, crippling terror and the need to go on.
Fear.
She could feel it, taste it. It was a living thing crushing against her to the point of rendering her useless. She reached up to grab another rung and ascend another few inches when her foot slipped. Her stomach lurched as she grabbed at the frame of the ladder, which rocked and groaned in protest, her feet scrambling for purchase. She looked down for the first time and the brief illusion of being fine was shattered. She could see the van at the bottom of the tower, Reeves tiny face looking up at her. The world started to swim in and out of focus. She was too high, too afraid. Everything around her was moving and pulsing, the ladder, the ground. Her heart thundered, sweat coated her skin, making a paste of the rust that coated her palms. She clung to the ladder and froze, knowing that was it. She could go no further. She was still only just over half way and was sure she couldn't take another step. For the first time, she spoke first to Reeves.
"I can’t do it. I almost fell. It's too high, I can’t move. Send someone for me. Come and get me, please."
"We can’t do that, Mrs. Sandoval. That would be a disservice to both of us. Remember our discussion about the brain? About how fear is just a trick. This is when you need to push through, this is where you need to make that figurative leap of faith. You have eight minutes to ascend eighty feet. You have no time to wait."