Pay Up and Die

by Chuck Buda

  Michael had his work cut out for him. Things had moved quickly from two days ago to now. It was only going to move faster once his plan was in action. The struggle was one of life and death. Some people had already died tonight and Michael was counting on at least another. But he hoped that one more body would not be his own.

  The man in the driver seat tapped his fingers on the steering wheel a few times and then exhaled a loud breath. Michael guessed his impatience was beginning to make him fidgety. While the man was busy tapping the wheel, Michael slowed his own breathing to reserve his energy for an escape. He remained still, lying in wait.

  Chapter 41

  Derrick climbed up into the truck and closed the door. He sighed out loud and looked at the Debt Collector.

  “Take us somewhere quiet. I don’t want anyone to hear him scream.”

  Martin smiled at Derrick. He started the engine and shifted the truck into drive, checking the side view mirrors before pulling away.

  “Nobody will hear him scream. I taped his mouth shut. Besides, I know how to rid problems quietly.”

  “Oh, no. This one is all mine. I’m going to make sure Michael suffers extensively before I allow him to die.”

  Michael opened his eyes in fear. He knew his situation was more grave than he had originally figured.

  “Well, the master is going to get his own hands dirty for once, eh?”

  “My hands have always been dirty, Martin. Just because I haven’t touched any blood doesn’t mean that I don’t accept responsibility for what I have done.”

  The Debt Collector smiled at Derrick and then returned his attention to the road.

  “I know a nice little spot where we could have some fun. I believe you know where it is.” He glanced again at Derrick. “My favorite little thinking spot.”

  “The Duck Pond, huh? That’ll work. It is definitely remote. I can’t wait to make him squeal.”

  Michael sucked in air through his nose at the thought of being tortured. It was loud enough that Derrick turned around to look at him. They made eye contact and Derrick seemed pleased that Michael overheard his plan. Derrick reached over the seat and tore the duct tape off Michael’s face with a harsh rip.

  “OW!” Michael winced at the pain. “You’re not going to get away with this, Derrick.”

  “You’re all wrong, Michael. I’ve already gotten away with it. I have you under control. I’m going to hurt you badly and enjoy every delicious minute of it. And then I’m going to kill your son.”

  Michael was terrified that Derrick just confirmed he was behind Andrew’s abduction.

  “I knew it. I knew you took him. Where is he? Where is my boy? God forbid one hair on his head is harmed, I swear, I’ll kill you myself.”

  Derrick laughed out loud and Martin joined in. Both men found humor in Michael’s outrage and they enjoyed a rare moment together at his expense.

  “Don’t worry. Andrew is safe. For now. That will all change after I finish with you. You see, Michael, I hold all the cards here. Not you.”

  Michael seethed and bubbles of saliva popped from his lip as he breathed. His eyes burned holes in Derrick’s head. His blood surged through his veins, hot and loaded with adrenaline. He strained against the tape around his wrists.

  “You are really a stupid man, Michael. Just think about all your mistakes. Deadly mistakes. You have a family you can’t afford, with a house you definitely can’t afford. Then you run up the bills even more, putting yourself and your family at risk. Your daughter is dying and I’m sure Stephanie is only staying with a loser like you for the sake of the children. You beg and beg and beg for more money to prop up your house of cards. I mean, what kind of person who works for a financial institution, of all places, would live beyond their means like you?” Derrick didn’t wait for a response. “Nobody. Then you go and tell on me to upper management like a little girl who just had her hair pulled. You betrayed me, Michael. All I have done for you through the years and you go and stab me in the back like that. So I ask you nicely to please forgive me and let it go. But you refuse. REFUSE. What else could I do, Michael? You forced my hand. You didn’t expect to ruin my reputation and take money out of my children’s future so that you could sleep at night, did you? You brought this on yourself, Michael.”

  Derrick wiped a hand across his face and looked out the passenger window. He appeared to be composing himself. The large man glanced over at Derrick intermittently while driving. Michael slammed his pounding head backward into the cab a few times as the rage took control of his body. The pain of his head shadowed by the thoughts that raced through his mind.

  “I’m sorry, Michael. You made me do it. You wouldn’t play ball so I upped the ante with Andrew. I figured that would finally get through your thick skull that enough is enough. I just wanted to send a message. I wasn’t going to hurt your son. You would have gotten him back, safe and sound. But then you barge into my home in the middle of the night and kill my wife and scare my daughters. Well I can’t have that. You must pay for what you did to them. How could you? Rachel was my life. The only reason I had for working hard and becoming successful. She was my whole world, Michael.” Derrick was crying again. His sobs became stronger cries as he rambled on. “And now she is gone. I have nothing to fear anymore. Nothing matters. It was always about her...and without her I am dead. And now you will die too. You will know what I feel.”

  Derrick gained control over himself. His sniffed a few remaining tears and got back to business.

  “You’re not the first person to get in my way. Others have tried but failed. Of course, they lost too. But I am a winner, Michael, and winners always come out on top. I know how to get my way and I always...get my way. I’m too smart to lose to my enemies.” Derrick smiled. “I am going to carve you up like a turkey on Thanksgiving. Then I am going to kill Andrew. Probably slowly too. And then I will do Stephanie. I mean do her. A little rape. A little torture. She’s beautiful. Since Rachel can no longer enjoy my sex, your wife will. Finally, I will kill Allison. Poor, sickly little Allison. And the whole time that I cut her to pieces, I am going to tell her the story about her father and how he sentenced his own family to death because he didn’t know how to handle his finances or keep his mouth shut. She’s dead anyway, whether she knows it yet or not. My way will be more...merciful.”

  Michael thrashed in the back of the cab. His body contorting and writhing in defiance. The tears blurred his vision.

  “Save your energy, Michael. You’re going to need it. Ah, here we are.”

  The Debt Collector pulled the truck into a darkened section of the street several hundred yards before the duck pond. He killed the engine and looked at Derrick. Derrick turned in his seat to face Michael. Their eyes met.

  “Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

  Chapter 42

  Michael’s head bounced off a rock as the large man dragged him by his feet. His shirt had ridden high up his back and he felt every stone and branch beneath him. He struggled continuously to free his hands but without any luck. The fear of his pending death made his stomach queasy and every fiber in his soul fought against the moment.

  The Debt Collector dragged Michael partially into the dark gazebo. He dropped his legs to the ground with a thud. Michael felt the pain reverberate outward from his heels. He searched the area for escape possibilities but it was too dark to make out any logistics. The spot was definitely secluded and Michael recognized it as the duck pond which was one town over from his home. He recalled bringing the kids here when they were toddlers to feed the ducks and have picnics. During a nice spring or summer afternoon, there would be lots of families enjoying the wooded setting. But Michael knew this time of year and this hour of night didn’t bode well for someone coming to his rescue. He knew it was far enough from civilization too so screaming for help would be a waste of time.

  Derrick had carried a large steel toolbox from the truck. He placed it down on one of the rails of the gazebo. Michael thought Der
rick’s face lit up when he flipped the latch and swung the lid open. It was so dark in this area that Michael struggled to see what Derrick was doing just feet from where he lie. Derrick admired each horrific implement that he selected out of the toolbox of death. He would inspect the tool and then show it to Michael in a sadistic display of what he could expect. When he got to the pliers, he made sure to jab some more.

  “These will come in handy when I work on your son. It’s a shame that each tooth will have to be removed after you spent so much money on braces.”

  The Debt Collector chuckled at the comment as he sat on the wooden bench inside the gazebo. He took out a knife and began cleaning under his fingernails with the point of the blade.

  Derrick continued to root through the box until he found a small hacksaw. He waved it around in circles before his eyes, admiring its feel. Closing the lid, Derrick hunched down over Michael and brought the blade within an inch of Michael’s eyes. He started to lose balance and dropped his left hand to the gazebo floor to support himself. His hand squished in a puddle that surrounded Michael and continued across the gazebo. It felt thicker than water so he paused to inspect his hand. While the night was dark, he could tell that the sticky liquid was blood and not water.

  “Oh, shit. Did I make you bleed that much already? I don’t want blood loss to end your life before I’ve had a chance to have some fun.”

  The Debt Collector chuckled again. This time his laugh got louder and sounded deeper inside like a child’s belly laugh. Derrick looked over with a mystified expression. “It wasn’t that funny, Martin.”

  Martin’s laugh ebbed enough for him to respond that it was very funny. Then he told Derrick in between laughs that it wasn’t Michael’s blood.

  “Well if it isn’t his blood, then whose is it?” Derrick’s tone showed his frustration with Martin’s antics.

  Martin just pointed up to the ceiling of the gazebo and continued his laughter. Derrick’s eyes followed Martin’s finger and he was stunned at what he saw. There was a person strung up to the gazebo ceiling. It was a small person, not adult size. Derrick’s stomach sank at the thought of who the victim might be. He stood up to get a closer look when the Debt Collector shined a mini-flashlight at the ceiling. Derrick screamed in horror and surprise.

  “What did you do? What the fuck did you do?”

  Michael stared up at the ceiling. This night had become his biggest nightmare. The saliva in his mouth dried up immediately and he was so overcome with horror and grief that he couldn’t move or say a word. Attached to the ceiling was Andrew. His little boy, his oldest child, was secured to the ceiling by a nail gun. Not just a few times. But thousands of times. Each arm and leg was shot through hundreds of times in order to defy gravity. The nails penetrated his shoulders and stomach. Even his chest. The right hand was gone, severed at the wrist, leaving a bloody stump that was already congealing. A few nails stuck out of his neck, where it bore enough of his head’s weight to let it loll toward the floor. Andrew’s eyes were closed but his mouth hung open where the last few drops of saliva and blood gathered at the corners for several seconds before splashing to the floor below. The expression on his poor boy’s face was stoic with pain and terror. Michael gasped as he took in the deadly image which would now remain with him for the rest of his days. His times with Andrew as a baby and a little boy flashed through his mind, a bittersweet movie of their time together. Michael finally closed his eyes as the tears burned and he realized everything really was his fault. His son would still be alive if he had gone along with Derrick. If only he had done right by his family over the years with money, then maybe they would not have been in this situation. He wanted to die now. He no longer felt a reason to live on. He had killed his son because of his pride.

  Michael began to cry out loud, wailing that he was sorry. He admitted that it was all his fault and that Andrew didn’t deserve this. His cries rising in the thick, dark air. His will to fight on deflated. He felt beaten and submitted to his sorrow. Michael knew he was going to die tonight. Here. At the duck pond. In total darkness. Alone. At the hands of an egotistical maniac and a psychopath. The anguish was insurmountable. Michael had now accepted his fate and the fate of his family. His son’s lifeless body hung above him in condemnation.

  Derrick kicked the side of Michael’s head, knocking him out cold. The second his foot connected the noise ended. Derrick looked down at Michael with pity. For the first time, Derrick felt bad for Michael. He looked over at Martin who was still chuckling. His laughter had subsided but he seemed to be enjoying things all the same. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Oh well.” Then he went back to cleaning the dirt from under his fingernails with the blade of the knife.

  Chapter 43

  Derrick was fuming. He stepped over Michael’s unconscious form and faced Martin. His nostrils flared with anger and his hands were balled into fists.

  “When I asked you to take care of the boy, I meant take care of him until we need him. Not “take care of him” as in kill him. Are you that fucking stupid?”

  Martin stood up and took a step toward Derrick. He stopped chuckling the moment Graves called him stupid. “What?”

  “I said you’re fucking stupid, you over-sized gorilla. Maybe if you spent more time listening to the words I use instead of mouthing off at me, you would have heard me right.” Derrick looked back down at Michael and then returned his glare to Martin. He took a few steps across the gazebo.

  “I don’t like the way you’re talking to me.”

  “Tough shit. I don’t give a fuck what you like or don’t like. You fucked up. And now everything I have worked for is upside down. And I’m not going to pay you for fucking things up, you big retard.”

  Martin moved in closer until he was hovering over Graves. His eyes were wide and his breath warmed Derrick’s face.

  “You know what I did to someone else who talked to me like that?” Derrick rolled his eyes and looked to the side. “This person also called me names and made me feel bad. I kept my mouth shut for years and took it. I took it all. Whatever he dished out, I asked for seconds.”

  “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much. I’m actually shocked that you can bunch sentences together into a full story.” Derrick laid the sarcasm on thickly. Martin ignored him and continued.

  “I worked hard to build up my courage, my plan, my body. Then one day, a day much like today, I decided that I wasn’t going to be the whipping boy anymore. So I cut him open while he was still alive. I strung his guts around the room as he watched me reach inside and pull everything out. I made sure I took my time with him so he could experience every minute, just like I did. And the whole time I worked him over, not once, not once, did he say he was sorry. You wanna know who that person was, Graves? My old man.”

  “Oh spare me your mommy issues and sob stories. You think you had it tough. Well everyone has it tough growing up, pal. You. Me. Everybody. But the real difference between us all, Martin, is brains. Some people have brains. Like me. And others? Well, let’s just say you won’t be on Jeopardy any time soon.”

  Martin shoved Derrick. Derrick stumbled backwards almost sprawling over Michael before he caught himself. He came back in open defiance of Martin.

  “I have done all your dirty work for years. I’ve taken your shit and you have disrespected me for the last time, Graves. I ain’t taking orders from you anymore.”

  “No, you’re not taking orders from me anymore. Because I’m going to find a real man who knows where his bread is buttered. But you WILL help me clean up this mess you created.” Derrick’s voice began to quiver. “My wife is dead. The kid is dead. There is a shit load of fallout from this and it is all your fault. You have a chance to redeem yourself and help me clean it all up so I can still get that fucking job. The job that I have worked my whole life for so I can take care of my wife.” He started to cry as he thought about Rachel.

  “Funny you brought up your wife, Graves.”

&nb
sp; Derrick’s sobs slowed and he looked at Martin.

  “Wright’s backup didn’t kill your wife.” He paused as those words hung in the air like a model plane. “I killed her. That one was on the house.” As Martin said it he hooked his thumbs back to take all the credit. Derrick hyperventilated at the terrible news. “So what are you going to do about it?”

  Derrick sprung into Martin with a lowered shoulder. The lunge hardly moved the larger man from his position. Martin wrapped his arms around Derrick’s waist and hurled him through the air like a rag doll. Derrick crashed into one of the gazebo posts and flopped to the floor in pain. The wind completely knocked out of him. Martin picked Derrick up by the throat with both hands and lifted him to the ceiling. Derrick felt Andrew’s cold body against his back. He also felt a few nails scratch through his clothing. Each prick brought trickles of blood.

  With the lack of oxygen getting to his brain, Derrick grew desperate to free himself of the big man’s clutches. He swung a knee into Martin’s chest with ample force. But Martin only had to shift one foot back to maintain balance. So Derrick adjusted his aim and brought another knee forward with as much force as he could manage. The well-aimed knee caught Martin in the throat. He instantly dropped Derrick and fell to his own knees, gasping for air.

  Derrick landed hard on his back. The pain rocketed from his tail bone up to his skull and back down. He grabbed his lower back and rolled onto his stomach. He, too, was gasping for air after Martin nearly choked him out. Derrick lowered his head to the gritty cement floor, attempting to fill up with air while burying the shooting pain in his back. He looked left and saw Martin choking on his knees. The sight of the large man struggling gave Derrick a second wind. He hunched onto all fours before standing up. The pain spiraled up and down his spine. Derrick managed to stand, wobbly at first, and then more steady. He walked gingerly over to Martin and kicked him as hard as he could in the stomach. The big man dropped from all fours down to the cement, rolling over in a ball while clutching his mid-section.