The Hands

by Andrea Speed, A. B. Gayle, Jessie Blackwood, J. J Levesque, Katisha Moreish

  Eventually, he did feel something. Although the surface was a uniform gray, he felt a shift in texture. There was something metal hidden beneath the paint. He felt around, trying to get an idea of where the edges were, but there weren’t any. Still, it was in a rough door shape. Huh. How did you open a door you couldn’t see, one without a lock? Metal on top of that.

  Maybe it wasn’t metal all the way through. That gave him an idea. He raced back up the stairs, and went out into the area behind the home. There was an equipment shed for whoever tended the graveyards. It was locked, but it was a fucking padlock! Jesus, he busted those in high school, and this was no different. Once inside, he had a whole host of lawn and graveyard equipment to choose from.

  He settled on a very heavy maul, a solid bodied axe (which made him wonder why a gravekeeper would ever need an axe this good), and a crowbar. He then headed back into the funeral home, no longer caring about being quiet, and went straight to the basement. There was no way to visually tell where the gray painted concrete became gray painted metal, so he felt with his hand until the texture shifted, and pinpointed where to use the maul. He raised it high and slammed it into the metal. It didn’t give, and it sent a shockwave of pain up his arms, but it felt like it could give, if he hit it hard enough and frequently enough.

  Flynn stood back, took a deep breath, and wondered if this was how John Henry felt as he started using the maul on the nearly invisible metal panel.

  ****

  Aiden willed himself to sleep to pass more time, and he did eventually drift off. But when he woke up, he once again couldn’t tell how much time had passed. It could have been minutes or hours. Did it really matter, though?

  Stretching as much as he could on the table, he debated sitting up, but changed his mind. His head throbbed, and he felt what must be a migraine coming over him. His ears felt like they were ringing. It was faint, but definitely there, so he shut his eyes and tried to drift back to sleep.

  The sound only grew more intense, more insistent, and Aiden realized there was no growing pain behind it. The ringing was not in his ears, but beyond the wall. “What the hell is he up to now?” Aiden asked the air. He wasn’t surprised when it failed to respond.

  ****

  When Flynn got the metal plate to buckle and show its edges, he used the crowbar, but the fucking thing warped out of true, twisting under the strength of the metal door(?) or whatever it was. Useless, he was forced to throw it aside, and used the edge of the axe blade to pry it up even further. After a few minutes the axe snapped, the handle busting in his hands as the head fell to the floor and nearly sliced his foot, but by now he had found the location of something that looked an awful lot like a locking mechanism. It wasn’t simple, nor what he was used to, but he knelt down and got to work trying to figure it out. It was hard because his hands were sweaty and shaking, but he wasn’t going to let something as stupid as that stop him. He’d come too far to puss out now.

  The ringing noise stopped and Aiden waited. Any second now Vale would make his prescence known. His body tensed as he waited for him to talk, or maybe strike at him. He wouldn’t be surprised after the stunt he pulled last time. He moved his foot on the table and it knocked against one of the pipes at the end. If he could knock it off... well, it would be off, but being cuffed to the table wouldn’t allow him to reach it. So that was out. What was Vale waiting for, anyway?

  Finally, Flynn cracked the lock. He heard the clunk of the mechanism releasing, and said, “I don’t suppose you’re in here, Aiden?” He opened the door, grabbing the edges and forcing it open in fits and spurts, as using the maul to reveal the door had warped the bastard.

  Aiden’s head jerked towards the door and his eyes widened in the darkness. “F-Flynn?” he managed to get out. The sound of his voice was so surprising he could hardly believe it. This had to be a trick. A recording Vale made to get him hopeful only to tear him down.

  The sound of Aiden’s voice was actually shocking, as he hadn’t expected it. He expected to open this door and find a water heater or a boiler, something stupid and unrelated to everything, because that’s how his life was running right now. But upon hearing it, he redoubled his efforts on pushing open the warped door. “Holy shit! Aid! Are you okay?”

  “God, Flynn, is that really you?” A sob welled out of Aiden’s chest and he was unable to hold it back. He wanted to get out. Before Vale came back. “Hurry, Vale could be back any time... I don’t remember the last time he was here.”

  “I’m trying.” He threw all his weight against the door, and the metal screamed as it scraped across the concrete floor, but finally he had it open enough to squeeze through. The door opened on a small room with a deep, body sized freezer and an autopsy table, where Aiden was waiting, prone and handcuffed. The room was almost blindingly white, or would have been if the light had been decent in here, and was made up of those waffle tiles they used in acoustic soundproofing. Holy shit, Vale had his own little torture chamber in here. Was he that stupid fucker from Saw?

  Flynn made a beeline to Aiden, mainly because he wanted to make sure he was real and okay. He was real, but not okay - he had a couple of bloody cuts on his face. “What did that motherfucker do to you?”

  Seeing Flynn was better than hearing him, and Aiden’s tense body relaxed as relief washed over him. Flynn really was here and everything was going to be okay. “I threw a jar at him. He didn’t like it.” Aiden reached up and touched his shoulder. Solid and warm.

  Flynn carefully touched what looked to be the newest cut. It was so thin, like a papercut, but to bleed as much as it had it must have been deep. “Don’t fight that guy. He’s a fucking psycho.” Flynn wondered if he was talking to himself, because he’d already decided he was going to kill him for this. He checked Aiden’s wrist, and was so glad Vale used older model handcuffs, because those things were such a cinch to pick he had no idea how cops ever kept a single perp in them. “Hold still a sec, I’ll get you out of these.”

  “What day is it?” Aiden asked as Flynn worked on the cuffs. He didn’t question how he knew what he was doing. He didn’t want to know. Whatever had led him to have that knowledge was in the past and he didn’t care. “Hard to tell time with no sound or lights.”

  “To be brutally honest, I don’t know.” He knew he’d get tired at some point and didn’t want to be, so while he was in the bad side of Haven Falls, he bought some uppers from a dealer. Not many, a few, but enough to keep him awake and alert. Right now he was jittery with artificial energy, and wondered if the dealer’s claim - that these were the amphetamines the Army handed out to soldiers - was even remotely true. “I’ve been trying to find this fucker for so long it could be March. I have no sense of time right now.” It didn’t take long at all; it was as easy as the padlock. Two little clicks, and the cuffs fell open and hit the floor.

  The first thing Aiden did with the cuffs off was to rub his wrist. As soon as he was sitting, though, he threw his arms around Flynn’s neck and held him tightly, managing to keep any tears at bay. He could deal with that later. No time for it now, but he needed to feel Flynn in his arms. His weight was a comfort. “Let’s get out of here. Is your offer to run away still valid? Because I’ll take that offer.”

  “Sounds awesome.” He gave Aiden a quick kiss and a brief, tight hug, wanting to do more, but not here and not now. He had to get him out of here and find him somewhere safe. How did Aiden feel about crack houses? Yeah, he wasn’t going to ask, he already knew the answer.

  “Oh good, look what the cat dragged in,” Vale said, his voice full of arrogant satisfaction.

  Oh shit.

  Haven Falls #199: Happy Endings, Part Two

  Aiden Parker, Flynn Archer, and Henry Vale

  Warning: Graphic Violence

  _____________________________________________

  Flynn just stared at Vale a moment, as if he couldn’t believe he was there. But he was, all dead eyes and razor blade smile, and Flynn felt his rage boil over. The
speed coursing through his veins like poison just made things worse.

  He let go of Aiden and lunged for the fucker, catching him in a rugby tackle around the waist and sending them flying out into the basement. He felt the edge of the warped door tear at his shoulder as they flew past, but he was too full of adrenaline and speed to give a shit.

  As they hit the floor, he punched Vale in his evil face, but he was too enraged to care about technique or leaving himself open to attack, which is probably how Vale ended up kneeing him in the balls, hard enough that Flynn saw dark spots flash and collapse in front of his eyes, and then Vale threw him off of him. “Stupid little boy,” Vale spat, getting to his feet and planting a solid kick in Flynn’s ribs. “You’ve just never figured out you were always going to lose. You lost before you even started to play.”

  Vale meant to kick him in the face, but Flynn had recovered enough from his crushed balls to see it coming and managed to catch Vale’s foot, yanking him forward and sending him falling to the floor. He quickly crawled up him, deciding to punch him in the balls for good measure. “I’m gonna kill you, motherfucker.” The ball punch hurt him, like he thought it would (he’d had some doubts he even had balls), and as he crawled up Flynn reached into his pocket and pulled out his butterfly knife. The beauty of them was you could open them with just one hand; a flick of the wrist, and it was ready to go.

  Flynn raised it, but as it was coming down, Vale grabbed his wrist, and while Flynn put his other hand around Vale’s wrinkly throat, Vale punched him in the face, punching him right where his jaw met his skull, just under his ear.

  Flynn felt his consciousness briefly go sideways, and suddenly Vale was on top of him, twisting his wrist until there was an audible snap, the butterfly knife falling from his useless hand. Oddly enough he didn’t really feel the pain of it, maybe because he was still in shock, or maybe because the speed was finally doing him a favor. Vale was leering down at him, giving him a grin that was all teeth and no warmth, like he was a fairy tale wolfman about to bite his face off. “Remember, you chose this,” Vale said, his voice a gravelly growl. “This is all your fault.”

  Aiden watched everything happen as if in a movie theater. The whole moment felt so surreal until he heard the snap of Flynn’s wrist. That sound seemed as if it echoed - at least in his mind it did - and it startled him back to reality. Vale was preoccupied with Flynn, and the knife lay just behind him to the side. If he could get to it without being seen... it was dim enough that he could manage it.

  Without allowing himself time to rethink his plan, he slipped quickly through the broken door and dove for the knife. It felt strange in his hand, and he spun, putting himself in position behind Vale. “Let him go,” he demanded as he reached out to grab his hair and jerk it back. His hand tightened around the blade in his hand, determined not to lose it.

  Vale saw the teacher grab the knife, too fast for him to do anything about it, but he wasn’t concerned. The last time that pretty boy picked up a knife, he was probably making a vegetarian casserole. He allowed the teacher to pull him up off of Flynn, but then he deliberately stepped back into Parker and threw his head back hard, smashing the back of his skull into his face.

  Though the pain was intense and he could feel warm liquid seeping from his nose, Aiden refused to drop the knife. He was disoriented for a few moments as his vision blurred. Reaching out to grab Vale again, he found it wasn’t the man himself but a double from his vision. He swore and reached out again, this time grabbing onto a sleeve.

  Annoyed with this pissant wasting his time, Vale punched Parker square in the throat. “We’re not ten year olds on the playground,” he snapped. “Stay out of it.”

  “You fucking bitch!” Flynn roared, tackling Vale and sending them both falling into the side of the stairs. They hit it hard enough that something cracked - possibly the stairs, possibly not - and Flynn felt a sliver slide into the open wound of his shoulder as they hit the floor, Vale squirming like a cat to escape. He was vaguely aware some pens fell out of his pocket.

  Aiden went down when the punch landed square on his throat. All air rushed from him and he struggled to breathe. Flynn needed his help, but he could hardly move. Turning his head to the side, he watched helplessly as the two men struggled.

  Vale elbowed Flynn ruthlessly in the solar plexuses, until it felt like he couldn’t get a breath, and kneed him in the face, making his nose crack on impact. He felt the blood gush over his lips, but the pain was remarkably distant, like it was happening to someone else. Those were damn good amphetamines. “All you had to do was give us the file, Flynn,” Vale told him, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him to his feet. Flynn had grabbed something with his good hand, but it was just a pen. “So many people wouldn’t have had to die if your snitch of a father didn’t give you the file and you didn’t hold out on us.”

  It was hard to talk when someone was trying to choke you, but Flynn was distantly aware he wasn’t trying to choke him at all. He was trying to crush his windpipe or maybe block his carotid artery long enough to make him pass out. Vale knew his stuff. Was it a consequence of cutting up corpses for a living, or had he been a hit man in his younger years? No old guy should be as tough as this. “I don’t have your fucking file. I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  Vale sneered at him, his upper lip curling over the perfect tombstones of his bright white teeth. "We’ll find out, won’t we?” Vale’s vice like grip increased, and those black roses started blooming in front of Flynn’s eyes again.

  Okay, Flynn wasn’t a killer, and he wasn’t a professional fighter, but he knew enough about weak points. Groin, neck, eyes. There wasn’t much you could do to protect yourself in those areas beyond avoiding their exposure. In eyes, that was impossible. Flynn felt the pen he’d grabbed, intending to pop the cap off, but he found it was already off. It was one of those weird pens, a fountain pen, the kind nobody used anymore except when writing out fancy wedding invitations. The sharp point pricked his thumb, but being unable to breath at the moment, he didn’t give a damn.

  There was no finesse in this, no art, nothing flashy. Flynn simply stabbed the pen into Vale’s pale blue eyeball, sinking the shaft into the gelatinous meat of the eye until he couldn’t see the pupil anymore. Vale gasped and reeled back, letting go of Flynn’s throat, but as he reached for the pen to pull it out, Flynn delivered a flat palmed strike to the pen that sunk it deep into the eye socket, burrowing straight into the rotted matter he called a brain. Vale must have seen it coming with his one good eye, because he punched Flynn hard in the sternum, but his reflexes still weren’t as good as Flynn’s and he didn’t land it in time.

  Vale stiffened, as if struck by lightning, and his mouth worked like a fish in an aquarium, but nothing was coming out besides a faint, squeaky creak. Even as Flynn hit the back of the stairs hard, his skull cracking on the edge of a stair, he saw Vale fall back and crack his head on the poured concrete wall behind him.

  Flynn’s last thought before all the lights went out was ‘Mortician, bury thyself’.

  Haven Falls #200: Help Wanted

  Aiden Parker

  with mention of Flynn Archer and Henry Vale

  ___________________________________________________________

  Aiden watched the entire event from barely three feet away, but it could have been miles for all the good he did. Vale was down and so was Flynn, however, he was pretty sure Vale was out for good.

  After getting a good look at Vale, he had to lean over as the little that was in his stomach emptied onto the floor. The pen was solidly in his eye and had likely struck the brain. That would explain why he wasn’t moving.

  Once his stomach settled, he crept on his hands and knees towards Vale and checked for a pulse. There was none. With that done, he moved at a faster pace towards Flynn. He was out, too, but his chest rose in shallow breaths. Relief washed over him and he slipped an arm under him, pulling him into a sitting position. “Flynn? Wake up, Flynn. It’s o
ver,” he managed to wheeze out. His lungs hurt, and it was hard to breathe.

  When Flynn failed to respond, he debated shaking him. He knew that couldn’t be the best option, so he settled him carefully on the floor, taking one hand and holding on to it. “Hang in there, Flynn.” He was not going to lose him after everything they had just been through.

  The stairs above him seemed daunting, but he pushed himself up anyway and tried the first few. It was no good. By the fourth step he was gasping again, struggling to take a breath.

  I need to get help, he thought, holding on to his chest as he glanced back down at Flynn’s prone body. But how could he do it if he couldn’t climb the damn stairs? He didn’t like this feeling of being helpless, and he vowed that after this ordeal was over, finally over and they were back at his home, he would make sure he had some way of fighting back and preventing this feeling from ever overcoming him again.

  “Can anyone hear me? Is anyone there?” he called out, praying this part of the building wasn’t soundproofed too, and that someone, and assistant, was around. But if they had been around, wouldn’t they have heard the struggle? He tried again. “We need help! Someone! Down here!”

  After a few minutes, Aiden started to cough and had to lean against the wall for support. He would wait until his breathing was even and then start calling again. He could climb the stairs and try that way, but what if Flynn woke and needed him? He didn’t want to leave him alone. He was stuck.

  Once again, he called out, hoping someone was around. With no way to know the time, he wasn’t sure if anyone even would be there, but he had to try. He couldn’t sit around and wait quietly in the dark.

  “Someone, help, please!”

  Haven Falls #201 - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword