The land of dead flowers: (A serial killer thriller)

by Natasha A. Salnikova

  “Are you … Against your will?”

  “They beat us and threaten to kill if we don’t have sex. They killed some. They killed one girl yesterday. Kitty.”

  “It’s …” The guy fell quiet for a few seconds. “I’ve heard about stuff like that but didn’t think it really existed. Not with American girls anyway. So, they kidnapped you. How?”

  “Easy. Like most young girls, it seems we tend to be stupid and naïve.” I met this guy in a mall coffee shop. He said I was beautiful and he could help me get a modeling job in L.A. I didn’t really believe him but I wanted to. The things he told me sounded so good.”

  Inga stopped. She remembered everything that had happened like it was yesterday. She was never going to forget about it, no matter how much she wanted to. This was the first time she was able to tell someone her story. They weren’t allowed to talk in the house of terror and now she couldn’t stop. She wanted to let this guy know that she had been in the hands of some very, very bad people. To those people, somebody else’s life meant nothing. She wanted him to understand what he did for her.

  “He said he had a business card he wanted to give me,” she said, “in his car. It was daytime; there were people in the mall. What was there to worry about, right? He asked me about my family and things like that while we were walking to the parking lot. There was an SUV with dark windows. He smiled, opened the door, and …” Inga swallowed. “The parking lot was empty, and I didn’t even understand what was happening when I was pulled inside the car. Someone gagged my mouth and slammed the door. The car drove away. It was like in those movies. I couldn’t believe it was real. They shot something in my arm. Some drug. I woke up in the house. That’s it. They told me that now I worked for them. They told me that if I was bad with the clients or tried to run away, they’d kill me.”

  “Did you try?”

  “The room where I was held was always locked. We went out only to eat and it was always under supervision. The windows in the room were boarded. They hit us for any wrong word. I tried to talk to the clients. I told them I had been kidnapped and I wanted to go home. But they just laughed at me and mocked me. One of them set Eagle on me when I asked for help. The clients could do anything to us, anything they wanted. That’s probably why this house is so popular and I think it’s expensive too. It was horrible. I don’t know how I kept from going crazy. I thought it was impossible to escape.”

  “Did somebody help you today?”

  “Yes. Gosh, I hope nothing happens to that guy. They could kill him for helping me. I still can’t believe it. I thought I was going to die there.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Inga.”

  “Beautiful. I’m Alman. Like my grandpa.”

  Inga nodded. Her savior was a young man named Alman, who just happened to drive down this road and have a weapon with him. A hunting rifle as far as Inga knew. It had a wooden handle, it looked heavy, and now it was lying on the backseat. Soda bottles knocked again and Inga was startled.

  “Can you take me to the police?” she asked.

  “Police?” The guy looked surprised, as though this obvious thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Ah … Sure. But there’s nothing around that I can think of. I don’t even know where to go right now. It’s pouring, see? Also, I’m in a hurry. I need to be home as soon as possible. Groceries and other stuff. I can take you there tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow we’ll go to the police. Tonight you can stay at our house, take a shower, and … stuff. I live with my parents and my little sister. You’ll be safe there and can get some rest.”

  “I don’t want to bother you.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it! We love to help people. And you … you’ve been through a lot. I don’t even know what to say. Do you have a family?”

  “Only my mom, my sister, and her husband and son. My sister is older than me. She moved to Florida to be with her husband. My dad died three years ago and my mom is all alone now.”

  Inga wiped her tears again. Every time she thought about her mother she felt incredible pain in her heart, imagining how that poor woman was suffering now. She felt guilty for everything that had happened. If she had thought with her head, naïve idiot, and listened to her mother, none of this would have happened.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Huh?”

  “Do you want to eat?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Inga couldn’t think about food. She was trying to get used to the thought that she was free. She felt like an animal that had gotten out of a cage. She hoped she could remember where the house of terror was located so the police could go there and free all the girls. She wanted to see Eagle when they put handcuffs on him. She wanted to spit in his self-assured, cruel face. She wanted him to know what it felt like.

  “I never thought,” Alman mumbled. His eyes were on the road, his hands beating against the wheel. “I’d have never thought ... How many girls are in that place?”

  “Last time I counted—nine. Yesterday. They said they have a high turnover.” Inga smirked then sighed. “Many girls killed themselves. Many were killed for disobedience. They bring new ones almost every day. There are plenty of naïve idiots in the world.”

  “Who’s the head of this business? That Eagle on the road?”

  “You got that right. Eagle is actually his nickname. He’s a maniac. He’s really cruel and I think he likes to torture. They called me Serena and never asked my real name. They said, ‘You’re so beautiful, dark hair, dark eyes. You’ll be Serena.’”

  Inga relaxed from the heat and from the rain dancing on the window; she leaned into the seat and closed her eyes. She felt safe.

  “I can’t believe I escaped,” she mumbled. “I thought I was dreaming. A bad, bad dream. I pretended that entire nightmare was not real.”

  “Did they … beat you?”

  “Many times, yes.”

  Inga was surprised at how easily she could talk about it now, answer questions. As easy as if chatting about the latest movie. And she wanted to sleep. Her head became heavy, her eyelids refused to stay open, her body relaxed. She hadn’t once slept through the night during the last few weeks.

  “What date is it today?” she asked.

  “November twenty-third.”

  “I went to the mall on the first.”

  “You can take a nap. We have another twenty minutes to go,” Alman said. “Everything will be fine. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

  Inga heard the last words from somewhere far away; they were muffled. She thanked him, but there were blue and yellow spirals in front of her eyes. She fell into sleep like she was falling into a deep well. For the first time in three weeks, she fell into a calm sleep. She knew that now, when she woke up, no one would fall on top of her before she was completely awake.

  Chapter 3

  “Inga? Inga! Wake up.”

  She was startled and opened her eyes. She expected to see Eagle, or Drake, or some fat dude unzipping his pants, but instead she saw the face of the stranger who had saved her. What was his name? Alan? No, Alman. His name was Alman. Strange name for a guy with dark-blond hair and hazel eyes. He said it was the name of his grandfather even though she didn’t ask, and it was strange to mention considering the circumstances.

  The rain had stopped. Alman still sat in the car, looking at her. The door on his side was open. Inga looked outside and saw a wall of trees. On the left there was a shed-like structure. A door with loose wooden boards dropped on one side. There was a pitchfork and a spade by the wall of the shed.

  A house stood on the right. It was a pretty big, old, brick house; the windows covered with white curtains. A house like any other house, nothing special. Probably stood apart from a small town. Who knew? Not her for sure.

  “You can get out,” said the young man with the simple face and not-so-simple name.

  Holding her shirt with one hand, Inga opened the car door with the other and stepped out onto the ground. Pain from her injured feet sho
t through her body like an arrow. Cold wind grasped her wet hair and seeped under her shirt. Inga’s teeth chattered from the cold. She felt like crying out with pain as she walked to the house. She tried not to step on her whole foot, just on the sides, but it didn’t help much.

  There was the aroma of fresh baking in the house. There were striped rugs on the floor, and the walls were covered with flowery wallpaper. Almost like my house, Inga thought. She cried again, couldn’t help herself. She was going to be home soon.

  “Can I call my mom?” she asked, swallowing her tears.

  “Oh,” Alman said. He shook his head and looked ashamed. “We don’t have a phone. Too far for a connection. But tomorrow we’ll drive into the town that’s half an hour from here. It’s called Quiet River. It’s a small town but it has a sheriff and phones. We can’t go now. It’s dark, far, and I’m too tired.”

  “I understand.”

  Inga heard footsteps approaching behind her. Alman’s facial expression changed, but Inga couldn’t tell what it meant. She turned away from the guy and saw a middle-aged woman. She was dressed in a pink terry cloth robe and white slippers with bunny ears were on her feet. Her red hair was cut short. She wore glasses and held a rolling pin covered with flour in her hand. The woman’s face seemed kind even though she didn’t smile.

  “This is Inga, Mom. She’ll be spending the night here.”

  The woman observed Inga from head to toe and then smiled.

  “Sure,” she said.

  Not a question was asked about the girl’s strange appearance, her almost naked body, or her bare feet smeared in blood, about her scratched face, or the fact it was the girl’s first time in the house, but still she was going to spend the night. It was as if there was nothing surprising in this situation, as if it happened every day. Inga didn’t question it. She was deeply grateful and too exhausted to think. This family enjoyed helping people; that was what Alman had said.

  “Mom, Inga is going to sleep in our empty room.”

  Inga noticed that Alman’s voice changed slightly. It introduced hardness, like his mother was arguing with him even though she didn’t show any sign of opposition.

  He emphasized the word empty and Inga wondered why. She also wondered why his mother’s smile twitched, practically disappearing before coming back again. Her eyes narrowed for a second.

  “Inga will go to that room now, Momma. And I think she’d appreciate a hot dinner.”

  “Oh, no, no, no! I’m not hungry,” Inga said and turned to Alman.

  He just nodded.

  “I’m sure my mom has dinner ready. There’s no trouble.”

  “Yes, sure,” his mother said.

  Inga didn’t know this woman, but though she clearly wasn’t happy, she kept smiling and the expression in her eyes didn’t change.

  “I have groceries in the car,” Alman told her and turned to Inga. “Let’s go,” he said.

  He walked into the depths of a dark hallway, gesturing for her to follow him. She did so, going past the kitchen, where she noticed an elderly man sitting at the table. He paid no attention to her and continued reading a magazine. Next was the living room, where Inga saw the nape of a redheaded person sitting in an armchair in front of the TV. The door to the next room was closed and Alman stopped in front of it. He pulled a key out of his pocket and stuck it in the lock.

  Inga, feeling as though she had been struck by lightning, clenched her fists and took a step back.

  The door into her room/cell was always locked.

  Alman couldn’t know what was going on in her head and didn’t notice her apprehension. He pushed the door open, took the key out of the lock, and gave it to her. Inga stretched out her hand and observed with amusement how the little piece of metal touched her palm. She was free. She could go in and out whenever she wanted.

  Alman entered the room and snapped the switch. A bright light blinded Inga for a moment.

  “Come in,” the guy called.

  She unwillingly moved her eyes from the key, squeezed it in her hand, and took a step into the room. It wasn’t empty as she had imagined. There was a twin bed with a neatly spread blue cover and the same striped rug as in the hallway. A picture of a little girl and a dog hung on the wall above the bed. A table stood by the window that was covered with thick blue curtains, along with a couple of simple wooden chairs. Even though the room didn’t have any other furniture, it still looked cozy, homey. Inga considered the bed. She could sleep there as long as she wanted. Tomorrow she was going to wake up—alone—and call her mom.

  “I think my sister has some clothes in your size. I’ll get something of hers for you.”

  Inga turned to Alman.

  “I’m also going to bring you some antiseptic and bandages,” he said and pointed to her feet. “You can take a hot shower if you want.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  Alman smiled for the first time since they’d been together.

  “I’ll see what my mom made for dinner. I think it’s soup with dumplings. Do you like soup with dumplings?”

  “Love it,” Inga said, remembering the hard, cold macaroni and burned burgers that she had eaten in the house of terror. She had vomited the first time but then she got used to it.

  Alman nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Inga walked to the bed, sat down, put her hands at her sides, and looked around until Alman came back with a bowl of steaming soup. Inga jumped up when he knocked. He put the bowl, the spoon, and two pieces of bread on the table. He told her to enjoy her meal and left again. He promised to come back soon.

  Inga heard a high-pitched girly voice but couldn’t make out the words and she didn’t try to. She attacked the soup and had almost finished eating by the time Alman returned for the last time that night. He had a pile of clean clothes in his hands. On top of it she saw bandages, a small bottle of antiseptic, and cotton balls inside a plastic bag.

  “Here’s everything you need,” he said. “Bathroom is in the hallway on the left, the white door. I’ll leave it open.”

  “Thank you very much,” Inga said, swallowing soup.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Alman shifted from one foot to the other by the door like he wanted to say something else. Inga waited impatiently, holding her breath. She expected him to say that now she had to pay for everything. And the best way to do it was with her body.

  “Good night,” he said and left the room.

  Inga exhaled and closed her eyes. He was just a kind, caring young man, and she was unusually lucky today. He helped her with no conditions and she … Could she trust someone after everything that had happened to her? Could she trust men again?

  Soup warmed her inside, but her stomach was awake and angry. It was asking for more. Inga convinced herself not to think about anything bad, opened her eyes, and helped herself to the rest of the soup, wiping the bottom of the plate with a piece of bread. Then she checked the clothes and discovered sweatpants, a T-shirt, new underwear, socks, and a white towel at the bottom.

  Inga hung the towel over her shoulder, grabbed the clothes, bandages and antiseptic, and opened the door.

  The hallway was empty. The sound of a TV came from the living room. It looked as though the whole family was there, because the lights were off in the other rooms as far as she could see. Inga walked to the bathroom on her tiptoes to not draw attention to herself. She sat on the edge of the ceramic bathtub and investigated her feet. They were cut and scratched. Inga imagined how painful it would be to wash them, but could this pain compare to what she had been through? Never. This pain was even going to be pleasant, because it was for her own good.

  Inga examined the bathroom. It looked like any other despite the isolation of the house. White tile, a white sink, a bathtub, a plush rug on the floor. Inga stepped in the shower and turned the water to hot, so her skin would barely tolerate it. She closed her eyes, enjoying the heat spreading through her body. Her muscles relaxed, as
peace and tranquility entered her heart.

  When Inga left the shower, she wiped herself with the towel and poured antiseptic all over her feet, clenching her teeth to stop herself from crying. She thought the hair on her head was standing on end from the pain. She applied bandages to her cuts (thankfully they were not too deep) and put the socks on. The clothes fit as if they were bought for her. Before leaving the bathroom, Inga looked in the mirror. The swelling was almost gone from her left eye but it was red from broken capillaries. A faded bruise was on one of her cheeks, scratches all over her face, and a scar on her forehead from Eagle’s chain. It would probably stay forever.

  Inga sighed and returned to the room. The dirty bowl was gone.

  She took the cover off the bed, folded it neatly, and put it on the chair. She didn’t have pajamas so she went to bed in the clothes she had on. She wanted to lock the room but thought her hosts might get upset; they might think she didn’t trust them, so she decided against it. She opened the door a little bit to see if they had gone to bed and heard muffled conversation.

  “She needs help, Momma,” the guy said. There was metal in his voice even though he talked quietly, maybe fearing that his guest would overhear.

  “It’s a very strange situation,” his mother said.

  “I want her to stay.”

  “Okay, she stays. How do you see all of this working?”

  “My brother’s insane,” a young voice said. It was Alman’s sister, who was possibly younger than Inga.

  “Stop it,” her brother said. “Talk quietly.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Momma, she’s asking for it.”

  “Stop, both of you. I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  “Momma, when have I asked you for anything?”

  “All the time,” the woman said.