by James Bee
“Could be. This place is fuckin’ weird. I don’t know, man. Still wouldn’t explain all the murders. It’s just all too much, too much for a coincidence,” Hank said. A sudden bang at the door made both of them jump.
“You might be right about that. Don’t think it’ll matter much, though, once they bust through that door. Can’t think they’ll be too interested in your theories, not after the mess we left downstairs,” Jason said, putting the bottle to his mouth and taking another drink. If he was going to face the next couple of hours, he was going to need all the courage he could get, liquid or otherwise.
28
Chapter 28
“Jase. I want to tell you how I did it. That way you’ll know if it happens to me,” Hank said suddenly, pulling Jason out of his stupor. They’d just been sitting down, staring at the door, waiting for the end.
“Tell me what?”
“How it happened. The night, when I … you know … did it,” Hank said.
“Oh. Okay,” Jason said. He’d never asked Hank about his murder, nor had Hank asked him. It just wasn’t something that was done. You spent years trying not to remember, trying to fool yourself that you would be able to forget one day. Talking about it just reopened the wounds, ripped off the scab.
“His name was Bill. Met him in prison. Was a bit older than me, knew the ropes. Took me under his wing, you know how it goes. Older guy looking for someone to do the shit jobs, take the risks. Well, I fell for it. The money was good, and me and him got along well. Ran together for years. He pretty much became like family to me. Shit, he even dated my sister, that’s how close we got. She never forgave me for what happened. Can’t blame her much for that. Anyways, things started to change, as they always do. We were running drugs, me, him, and a few others. Good people, people we could trust. Well, then we started to fight. Wanted to do things different. The money was real good then, real good. It drove us apart, made us resent each other. The arguments turned into fights, and it just all went to shit. After a while I was just waiting for a reason. Carried my gun around with me, took lessons, practiced every day. I just got blinded, you know? I was too young, couldn’t see the situation for what it was.” Hank shook his head and climbed to his feet.
“Anyways, one day he gave me my reason. I went over to his place to grab something, drugs or cash, I don’t really remember. He wasn’t alone. Had a girl with him in bed. Wasn’t my sister. I convinced myself that it was enough of a reason. That I had to do it. For my sister. Was a piss-poor excuse. I did it for me, for my own stupid reasons. I put three bullets in him. First caught him in the arm. All my training, and I hit him in the fuckin’ arm. Second one got him as he turned, right in the spine, in the lower back. Bullet never made it out, got stuck. He collapsed then, paralyzed. I could have left it at that. Would have still been blood later, but I could have run, got my sister and moved away. I didn’t, though. I couldn’t. My blood was up. I stood over him like this.” Hank pointed his stolen gun downward at his feet. “I didn’t see my friend anymore. My buddy was gone. In his place was a stranger, so I shot him. Right through the heart. He bled out in front of me. The girl rolled over on me, of course. Cops picked me up the next day. Took me in, charged me with second-degree murder. I barely tried to defend myself. What was the point? Spent the better part of my life serving the sentence, watched myself get older as I wasted away behind bars. Just waiting for them to let me out so I could live out what’s left of my life. Do it differently. Don’t much think that’s going to happen now, though. That one mistake cost me my life, just took me thirty years to realize it. I died alongside Will. May as well have shot myself that day.” Hank slowly collapsed back down, pulling his pill bottle out of his pants. Jason could see that it was nearly empty.
“Thanks for telling me,” Jason said. “We are not our mistakes, Hank. Mia told us that, and she was right. And we’re not dead yet either.”
Hank waved that away. “I just wanted you to know. In case I go next. Look for the bullet holes. If you find them, you’ll know I was innocent. So long as one person knows, that’ll be okay,” he said.
Jason didn’t reply. What could he say? Do I still think that Hank is the murderer? It was the easiest explanation, maybe the only one that made sense. He was the only person without an alibi. But what was the motive? There wasn’t one. Why would he kill Billy or Stu? Both were good people, friends. He’s killed friends before. He found a reason. The thought rose in Jason’s mind, unbidden. He’ll kill you too. All he needs is a reason.
No! Hank is different now. The competing thoughts shouted at each other in his head.
“Do you want this?” Hank asked, holding up the gun. “I understand if you would feel safer if you had it.” Jason hesitated. He had to make a decision. Do I trust Hank or not? His hand went out slowly, reaching for the weapon. All he had to do was take it and the danger was over. Hank wouldn’t be able to shoot him, like he’d shot his other best friend.
“No,” Jason said, pulling his hand back. “You had better hold on to it. I was never much for guns. Would be pretty much useless in my hands.” Hank nodded, looking down. Something passed between them, an understanding of sorts. “I do think we should split up, though, get away from this door and hide. It’ll be just like downstairs but worse. They’ll come in prepared, blow us away in a second. We need to hide or find a way out of the building, if there even is one.”
“Split up? Why would you want to do that? We’re friends, Jason, the last ones left. We should stick together until the end. Do you really think we’re going to make it out of here alive? No one else did.”
“We should split up so we can cover more ground. We don’t have a lot of time, Hank. How long until they bring something that can knock that door down? Not long, I bet. We have to get out of here, or we will die. I don’t want to go yet. Not for something that I didn’t do. It’s not fair, and I’m not going to stop trying until they kill me,” Jason said, getting heavily to his feet, his wound screaming in protest. The third floor was a maze of connected rooms. None of the inmates had explored all of them; no one had spent any more time up here than they had to. There might be a way out, a secret door or something. It wasn’t likely, but it was possible.
“I don’t like it, Jase. They break in and we’re separated and it’s over. We’re stronger if we’re together.”
“If it comes down to us fighting our way through them, we’re already doomed. We have to hide or get out.”
“There’s no way out of here, Jason! You don’t build a door that thick and then just put a secret passageway out of it or something. That doesn’t make any sense!”
“None of this makes any goddamn sense, Hank. A week ago we were picking fruit and now we’re under siege. What do you want to do? Stand here and fight them? Is that how you want to be remembered?”
“I don’t want to spend my last few moments wandering around up here. I want to stay here and wait. Maybe they won’t be able to break the door down. Maybe they’ll have to negotiate. Goddamnit, Jason, they’re still cops. They have rules. Down there maybe they weren’t going to shoot us. Maybe they were going to just arrest us until you hit them,” Hank said.
“Don’t you put his on me, Hank. How many times have you been arrested? That wasn’t what was happening, and we both know it,” Jason said, though he was trying to convince himself as much as Hank. What if he had just jumped the gun? Attacked the cop and started all the violence. If that was true, then Robbie was dead because of him, and the other two police officers. The thought was too much, too overwhelming, and Jason pushed it away. He couldn’t afford to drown in guilt right now, not here. Already the voices were growing louder, more distinct. How long until they started asking him to do things? Screaming at him like they’d done Stu? Would they bring him to his death?
“You’re probably right, Jase. I’m sorry. You saved my life. I shouldn’t try to make you feel guilty about it.”
Jason waved the apology away. “No point wondering about it
now. I still think we should split up. I’ll take the east side, you take the west. Who knows? We might find something to help, a way to hide or escape. You never know.”
“I don’t know, man. You’re shot. You shouldn’t be moving, let alone walking around on your own. It’s not safe,” Hank said, frowning.
Jason sputtered a laugh. “A lot about what’s going on isn’t safe, Hank. I’ll be okay. I don’t think the bullet hit anything vital.” He stood up, holding his side. He could feel the wetness through the improvised rag. He was losing blood. How long before he started to get weak, dizzy? He had to act now, or he’d be too weak to move.
“All right then. Scream if you find anything. If the cops break in, head to the north corner. We’ll meet there. And … look. Just be careful, Jase. I’ve lost too many friends today. I don’t wanna lose my best one,” Hank said, holding out his hand. Jason grasped it and nodded. He said nothing. There was nothing more to say.
29
Chapter 29
Jason pushed open a door and walked through. It was mostly empty, with only a few boxes skulking in a corner. Walking over to them, he ripped one open at random. Office supplies spilled out, pens, staplers, notepads. Useless, Jason thought, moving on to the next box. It held much the same as the first one, as did the next one and the next one. The last box, however, contained something that Jason grabbed eagerly. Duct tape. Wincing, he wound the tape around his side, as tightly as he could. Around and around until he felt like he was wearing a girdle. That should stop the bleeding, at least a bit. He moved on to the next room.
Where the last had been empty, this one was full, packed wall to wall with boxes. There was far too many for him to search through. The next room was the same, and the room after that. Stopping, Jason opened a few boxes, finding nothing useful. What am I doing right now? Spending possibly my last few moments alive wandering around in this junkpile? Why? Jason knew the answer. He’d just wanted to get away from Hank. To separate himself so that he wouldn’t have to face the likely truth. Ghosts weren’t real. There was no such thing as a vengeful spirit. If there was a specter from his past coming to get him, why did it wait so long? All those years in jail, he’d had nothing but time. In his darkest nights he might have even welcomed death. The release. Something to break the monotony. No. It has to be Hank. It’s the only thing that makes sense. He has the ability. I’ve seen it. Maybe he and Mac were working together, picking us off one by one. Hank could have killed him to keep him quiet.
It felt as though puzzle pieces were fitting together behind his eyes. It hurt him to think it, but it made sense. Why hadn’t they thought of it before? Because they didn’t seem to get along? Mac and Hank had been cellmates. They had a history, a rapport. They could easily have planned all of it. Shit. Jason looked to the other side of the building, where Hank would be searching. Unless he isn’t. Unless he’s sneaking up on me, waiting until I’m distracted, unaware. He has the gun. I could have taken it, but I left him with it. Why did I do that?
Hurriedly, Jason turned and closed the door behind him. As long as he kept himself enclosed, Hank wouldn’t be able to catch him unawares. Though there was always the possibility of Hank just bursting into the room and shooting him. I really need to find a way out or somewhere to hide. As quietly as he could, Jason opened the other door. He was standing in a small hallway, in which there were three other rooms. All the doors were closed. The room that he had come through was the only entrance, and Jason closed the door behind him. He considered blocking it, but there was nothing around that would work. This hallway had a different look than the other rooms. Under the caked dust, the floor was white and polished, like a hospital. Jason’s footsteps squeaked as he strode toward the first door. He grasped the knob and pushed the door open easily. I wonder why they didn’t bother locking any of these? Maybe Kenneth lost the keys. Wouldn’t put it past him. The light came on automatically as he stepped into the room, uncomfortably bright. Inside it was as packed as many of the rooms before, only this time nothing was in boxes.
Four large tables dominated the space, each one covered with all manner of expensive-looking equipment. Beakers, jars, packages of what looked alarmingly like needles, mixed with various ominous-looking implements that reminded Jason of hellish hours spent as a child in dentists’ chairs. It was a laboratory of some sort, which Jason supposed wasn’t too surprising. Maybe all that talk about this place being used as a research facility wasn’t too far off. Don’t know why they wouldn’t take all of this with them, though. Or at least box it up. It didn’t make much sense. In fact, the longer Jason looked, the more the feeling of wrongness grew. No way they would have left all of it here, just lying around. Needles? Looks like a half dozen scalpels! Anyone could have wandered up here and done crazy amounts of damage. It’s way too dangerous. Unless this is all new. Jason bent down and ran his finger long the table. Unlike the hallway and the rest of the floor, there was no dust. Someone had been here recently. But who?
I shouldn’t be up here. Me and Hank should never have come. We should have stayed downstairs, no matter what would have happened, Jason thought, the hair starting to stand up on the back of his neck. Hurriedly, he searched the room for something that he could use. Undoubtedly someone smarter than him could have made a chemical bomb or something, but he found nothing. Maybe I should take this. Jason’s hand hovered over the scalpels. All were still in packaging and would be razor sharp. Who would he use it on? The police? Not likely that they would be coming in with anything less than full riot gear. Hank, then. That was the only reason he would take one. Jason pulled his hand away and instead reached into his pocket to retrieve the knuckle duster. Wrapping it around his fingers, he felt a little safer, though he knew it was foolish. It wouldn’t likely be much use against a gun, not again. He’d been lucky before. Now the police would be ready, wary. Hell, they might even call in the army.
Jason left the room, closing the door behind him. The hallway was still deserted and the building was eerily quiet. There should have been noise from below or the sound of Hank searching. Instead there was nothing, just a muffled silence that was more oppressive than any cacophony. Trying to step lightly, Jason walked over to the second door. Like the others, it was also unlocked. A thrill of fear shot down Jason’s spine. The room was much more sparse than the previous one. There were only two pieces of furniture, a desk, empty, with no drawers. However, it wasn’t the table that had seized his attention.
What the hell is this for? he thought, walking up to it. It was some kind of a chair, padded heavily with a plastic covering. Only it wasn’t like any chair Jason had ever seen. It protruded on both sides, like a cross. All along the whole structure were bonds, leather straps whose purpose was not hard to figure out. It’s for restraining people. Though to what end, Jason could only guess. Like the rest, there was no dust on the chair, although he couldn’t see any other sign that it had been used recently. What the hell? Maybe Kenneth was using it for kinky sex parties or something. Why wouldn’t they have taken it away? Jason shook his head. There was no point in wondering about it now, no matter how odd all of this seemed. He had to find something, anything to help him and Hank. Their time was running out, might already have run out. The door to the third floor was sturdy, but it was far from impregnable. Maybe the last door will be more helpful than these two.
Jason went out the way he came. The last door was a ways down the hallway, separated from the others. As he walked toward it, the noises in his head that had faded to a background level seemed to grow louder — louder and more familiar. With it, a new smell tingled into his nostrils, also maddeningly familiar. There was a memory associated with the scent, he just couldn’t remember what it was. Standing in front of the door, a terrible trepidation rose suddenly in Jason’s mind. Every instinct was screaming to turn and run, not to open the door, no matter how great his curiosity. Battling with this terror was the alcohol, which had slowly strangled his inhibitions. Slowly, with great effort, Jason’s h
and rose to grip the knob. Yet he didn’t twist. He didn’t dare. If I go into this room, I won’t come back out again. The thought boomed in his mind, unshakably certain. Jason released the knob and stepped backward. The need to escape, to get away was strong, too strong for him. He had to get out, but how could he? He was locked inside, trapped with death. Have to find Hank. I don’t want to be alone anymore. Jason turned and hurried away from the room. He went back the way he had come, closing the door behind him, though the narrow wooden panel gave him scarce comfort. He knew the room would be there waiting for him. Waiting and trying to draw him toward it. A pull that Jason didn’t think he’d be able to resist for long.
30
Chapter 30
Okay, so if I went left, Hank must have gone this way, Jason thought, stepping through an open door. He wanted to yell out to Hank, but he didn’t. Caution and fear stopped him. He still didn’t know for sure that Hank hadn’t killed any of the other inmates. In fact, everything seemed to point to him having done so. It wouldn’t be smart to advertise his presence, no matter how much he wanted to trust his friend. The room that he walked into was a mess. Boxes had been torn open and their contents dumped out onto the floor. Nearly the whole room was covered with various kinds of office supplies, pens, reams of paper, boxes of paperclips. Did Hank do this? Or someone else? Trying to make as little noise as possible, Jason waded through the mess. He listened for any sounds but heard nothing. The voices in his head had quieted after he’d left the strange room far behind him. Quieter, but still not gone.
The next room was in a similar state; someone had come through, quickly searching through all the boxes. Looking around, Jason didn’t expect that anything useful had been found. Pointless. Have we been wasting our time? What little time is left? He walked through another open door. It seemed that Hank wasn’t as paranoid as he’d been. Less worried about someone coming upon him unawares. Could the reason be that Hank knew he’d been killing people? Or was he simply preoccupied? With the terror of the strange room gone, Jason’s suspicions had returned in full force.