by Jon Athan
In a soft tone, even softer than her husband's voice, Daisy said, “Nice to meet you.”
“Get to work,” Micah demanded.
Like an obedient animal, trained for years, Daisy nodded and daintily walked into the kitchen. She knelt down in front of Kiara. She held the jar under Kiara's chin, then she nodded at the young woman, as if to say: go on, I don't bite.
Baffled, Kiara stuttered, “Wha–What? Are you... Are you serious? You really want my... my saliva?”
Daisy pushed the jar closer to her chin and nodded. She didn't have much to say about the situation. Kiara sobbed as she reluctantly drooled. Her saliva slowly filled the sixteen-ounce jar, milliliter-by-milliliter. The process was slow, but the couple was determined to siphon the saliva. Time wasn't an obstacle for the Wakefield family.
As he slowly strolled around the workbench, Micah said, “I think it's pretty obvious now, but... I guess I should explain. The man I told you about in the car... That was my father. I didn't tell you about myself, so you may believe that I 'deceived' you, but I didn't lie about him. My father was a war hero, a provider of food, and a genuine benefactor of the city. He asked for nothing in return. He had big plans for the expansion of our little town. If you saw this house from the road, then you probably saw the abandoned housing development out there, too. That was my father's project. Unfortunately, he passed away from a heart attack before they could finish it. I couldn't continue it for him. Nope, not me. I'm not as good as him. Never was, as a matter of fact...” He stopped at the foot of the table and glanced up at the ceiling. He said, “Anyway, I inherited this house when he passed away. I haven't done well by it. I'm not worthy of it. Not yet, at least...”
Lucas stared at Micah with wide eyes and asked, “What the hell does that have to do with us, you psycho?”
Micah leaned over the workbench, his knuckles planted on the steel tabletop. He said, “My father is very important to me. None of this would be happening if it wasn't for him. You see, my father came to me in a dream. It was a... a one-of-a-kind, once-in-a-lifetime type of dream. He delivered a message from the great beyond, so to speak. He said, if I drink the saliva of forty women, I will become immortal. Therefore, I shall not die from a heart attack. I shall break free from our family history of heart disease. Immortality... Yes, it would make me immortal.”
The sheriff glanced over at Kiara and Daisy. He couldn't help but smile as he stared at the jar. The saliva, slimy and bubbly, made his taste buds tingle. He imagined himself chugging an entire jar of saliva. The taste of power could captivate the most humble man.
Micah licked his lips, then he said, “Beyond immortality, I may even receive superhuman abilities... Yes, that's what my father said.”
Lucas asked, “And you believed him? You believed a... a man from your dreams?”
“Of course.”
“You're insane, man. You need help. Believing in him would be like... like... like listening to a hallucination. The heat must be getting to you 'cause this is crazy. It's batshit crazy!”
Micah approached his male captive. He stared down at Lucas with a steady expression. He wasn't insulted or ashamed, he simply wasn't very expressive. He gently slapped Lucas' cheek. Lucas scowled and shook his head, but he couldn't avoid the slaps. The handcuffs restrained his movements. He felt powerless.
The sheriff said, “I don't need the saliva of men. My father was very clear about that. That doesn't mean you have to die. If everything goes as planned, I might let you live.”
From the cupboard, Nina could see the workbench. She had the perfect view of the maniacal sheriff, but she could only see her boyfriend's hands.
Nina cried, “Please, don't hurt him. Don't hurt us. We're good people, mister. Don't do this, I'm begging you.”
Micah turned towards the counters behind him. His head slowly turned from left to right, as if he were scanning the countertops. Hmm—the sound slipped past his sealed lips.
As he turned around, Nina spotted the wooden rolling pin in his hand. There was no dough in sight, though.
Without saying another word, Micah struck Lucas' head with the rolling pin. Lucas bounced an inch into the air, shocked by the attack. Micah gritted his teeth as he hit him again. The second blow landed on his left temple, instantly knocking him unconscious. It wasn't over, though.
Micah repeatedly struck him with the rolling pin—thud, thud, thud. The sound of those dreadful thuds echoed through the house. A gash materialized on the left side of Lucas' forehead, squirting blood like a garden sprinkler. A large bump already formed on his brow, too.
Lucas grunted and snorted, twitched and flinched, but he didn't awaken.
Nina shouted, “Stop it! You're killing him!”
Micah stopped himself before he could hit him again. The tip of the bloodied rolling pin hovered a foot over Lucas' head. Blood dripped from the rolling pin, plopping on Lucas' cheek. He sighed, then he threw the rolling pin into the sink.
Grimacing in fear, Nina said, “Lucas, wake up. Please, don't leave me like this. You... You promised you'd never leave me. Please, baby, wake up. This... This can't be happening...”
She tried to pull her arms away from the pipe, but to no avail—the handcuffs were unbreakable, the pipe was sturdy.
She screamed, “Help! Somebody help! We're trapped! He's going to kill us!”
Micah shook his head and said, “Now, I just told you I wouldn't kill you if I didn't have to. Why would you lie like that, ma'am?”
“Help! Oh, God, he's going to kill us! Please! Somebody! Anybody! Help!” Nina shouted, disregarding the sheriff's words.
Micah sneered in annoyance. He wasn't worried about Nina's screaming, though. Her shouts for help couldn't reach the main road.
Kiara kicked Daisy's thigh, pushing the housewife away from her. She hysterically cried, joining the symphony of obnoxious noise.
Kiara shouted, “Where's Chris?! What did you do to my boyfriend?”
Daisy frowned and said, “I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Where is he?!”
As he approached the sink, Micah said, “Don't speak to her, Daisy. Store the saliva before you spill it.”
He knelt down in front of the sink. He dodged Nina's wild legs and reached into the cupboard. He grabbed the sides of her head, then he smashed the back of her dome on the bottom of the cupboard. The wood creaked and groaned while the rat squealed and scampered away. He lifted her up, then he smashed her head on the cupboard again. He repeated the process once more.
Nina was knocked unconscious by the third blow.
Micah wiped his hands and muttered to himself as he approached the door. He stared down at Kiara, bored and emotionless. She cried and begged for mercy, but it didn't matter to him. The sheriff, a man who swore to serve and protect the public, was apathetic. The cold, hollow look in his eyes revealed his heartless personality.
Teary-eyed, Kiara said, “Please, tell me he's okay. My boyfriend, Christopher Hayes, came to this house. You didn't... You didn't kill him, did you? Is he okay?” The sheriff didn't respond. Kiara cried, “I just need to know if he's alive. Please, sir, I'm begging you. Say something.”
“He's alive,” Micah responded. “And he'll be arrested soon. He's going to be our scapegoat.”
“You–You can't do that. You have to–”
Mid-sentence, Micah kicked Kiara—a boot to the face. She fell limp, her arms dangling from the door knob.
Micah said, “Daisy, we're going to have to separate them. We're doing this the hard way.”
Chapter Ten
The Siphoning of Nina Nakamura
“What... What happened? Where am I?” Nina mumbled as she awoke, her head slumped down.
She loudly swallowed the lump in her throat, struggling to choke down her fear. She glanced over to her left, then to her right. Her arms were stretched away from her body. Her wrists were tightly tied to a horizontal piece of wood with a durable roll of rope. She stared down at he
r bare feet, baffled. Her legs pressed together, her ankles were tied to an upright piece of wood. Her toes floated an inch above the grimy concrete floor.
Eyes wide with fear, she whispered, “Oh, no...”
She realized she was tied to a human-sized crucifix. The mere sight of the dried blood on the wood caused her to shudder in fear. She tried to move her arms and separate her legs, but the rope was too tight. She could barely move her hands and feet. She glanced around and searched for an object that could set her free.
She spotted a flight of stairs to her left. The stairs led to a floor above her, so she assumed the sheriff moved her to the basement of the house. She searched the room in front of her. She didn't recognize the dimly-lit dungeon, though. She didn't realize her close friend—Andrea Stone—died just beyond the curtains at the center of the room.
She jerked every which way and shouted, “Help! I'm down here! I'm in the... the basement! Please, don't leave me like this! I don't...” She stopped and whimpered, horrified by the possibilities creeping into her mind. Defeated, she lowered her head and whispered, “I don't want to die out here. Lucas, where are you?”
The curtains at the center of the room swung open with a loud whoosh sound. The dungeon wasn't vacant after all.
Nina lifted her head and stared at her unexpected guest. The woman with the mutilated face stood in front of the curtains, quiet and ominous. She still wore her blue house dress. White latex gloves veiled her hands, though. The gloves were smeared with blood. A few droplets of blood even stained her forearms.
Despite the blood, Nina could only focus on the woman's mutilated face. She was appalled by her crudely-sewn stitches and abscesses. She couldn't even stare her in the eyes since her left eye appeared to be permanently sealed. The woman emerged from Nina's worst nightmare—a living embodiment of the boogeyman.
Nina closed her eyes and lowered her head. She whispered, “This can't be happening. No, it's not real. Monsters aren't real.”
She heard a thudding sound in the room. She recognized the noise, too—bare feet on concrete. The woman slowly walked towards her, each footstep louder than the last. She also heard the sound of a door opening, causing her to wince. The sound of creaky footsteps followed. Someone's coming down the stairs, Nina thought, and she's coming right to me.
Saliva fell to the floor as her lips fluttered. She wheezed and groaned, unable to tame her fear. She felt death breathing down the nape of her neck. She held her breath as she felt a grip on her cheeks. Her head was lifted up.
“Open your eyes,” a man with a soft voice said.
Reluctant, Nina opened her eyes to a squint. Through her blurred vision, she could see the sheriff standing in front of her. The sheriff kidnapped her, but she preferred him to the woman with the disfigured face. To her dismay, she also spotted the mutilated woman standing behind Micah. She couldn't help but cry.
Micah said, “Stop it. You're wasting your saliva. You don't want to do that.” Nina slurped her saliva and sucked her lips inward, trying her best to stop herself from sobbing. The sheriff said, “I believe an introduction is in order. This is Esther Wakefield, my other wife. She doesn't speak very much, but she's a good girl. She knows her place and she knows what we must do to complete this journey.”
Esther stepped forward and bowed before the crucifix, then she stepped back. She stared at the prisoner as she patiently waited for her instructions.
Nina was astonished and baffled. The entire situation was surreal. Saliva beverages, superhuman abilities, other wives—nothing made sense to her.
Micah said, “You seem like an intelligent woman, ma'am. College-educated, right? So, I think you understand what's happening. I want to make this clear, though: one way or another, we are going to siphon your saliva. If you refuse to cooperate, we'll do it the hard way.”
Nina took a deep breath through her nose, then she stuttered, “I–I'll do... whatever you say as long as you let me see my boyfriend. I want to see Lucas.”
“Your boyfriend has a big mouth. He has a big bump on his head, too. He's not dead, though. He's alive and well. We sedated him and restrained him to a bed in a bedroom upstairs. He's doing fine.”
Nina gazed into Micah's soft eyes, trying to read him. The sheriff was enigmatic, surrounded by a cloud of mystery, but she couldn't sense a shred of deceit. He seemed genuine. Lucas is alive, she thought, he'll rescue all of us.
Micah shoved a small square piece of paper into her mouth. He placed pressure on her jaw, forcing her to close her mouth.
He sternly said, “Swallow.”
Nina didn't have the opportunity to analyze the situation. She moved the tab of paper around her mouth with the tip of her tongue. She couldn't taste anything, though. It didn't hurt her mouth, it didn't make her gag, so she swallowed it with a loud gulp sound.
Micah released his grip on her jaw and said, “Thank you. Since you're not giving me a hard time, I'll be honest with you. You just swallowed a tab of LSD.”
Nina's eyes widened as she stuttered, “L–LS... LSD?”
Her bottom lip quivered and tears streamed down her rosy cheeks. Aside from some marijuana, she rarely used drugs. She wasn't afraid of illegal drugs—she wasn't a narc or a prune—but she feared the consequences of consuming a hallucinogenic drug during such a horrifying time of uncertainty. She gagged and retched, attempting to vomit.
The sheriff said, “Don't do it, ma'am. If you vomit, I'll force you to eat it. I don't want to do that, but I won't allow you to make a mess in my father's house. Understood?”
Nina glanced at Micah, then at Esther, then back at Micah. She was tied to a crucifix and surrounded by a maniacal couple. She had to cooperate. She nodded—understood.
Micah said, “Good. Besides, you're going to want that LSD in your system. It will help you cope with the pain. You won't feel the side effects for another twenty, maybe thirty minutes, though. It'll make you salivate later, too. It's good stuff.”
Pain—the word echoed through her mind. She nervously laughed as she stared down at her bare feet. I'm tied to a fucking crucifix, she thought, he was always going to hurt me.
Nina stuttered, “Wha–What are... What are you going to do to me?”
Micah glanced over at Esther and said, “Get the tray. It's time to begin.” As his wife strolled to the other side of the room, the sheriff turned his attention to Nina and said, “I'm going to hurt you, ma'am. I'm not going to kill you, I'm just going to hurt you. You see, I've been testing a theory for the past few years and I seem to be correct. Of course, I require, um... extensive testing before I can truly say my theory is correct. I believe pain—emotional and physical—causes the excessive secretion of saliva. That's my theory. So, I'm going to torture the saliva out of you.”
Nina shook her head and cried, “No, no, no. Pl–Please, I'll give you my saliva. You... You don't have to hurt me. I'm–”
“Stop begging and accept it. It'll be easier that way,” Micah interrupted.
***
The curtains whooshed open again. Esther approached the crucifix, a metal tray in her hands. Thin sticks and an empty glass jar sat on the tray. The sticks emitted a putrid stench, like rotten eggs mixed in a drum of raw sewage and human remains. Esther held the jar under Nina's chin while balancing the tray in her other hand.
As he grabbed one of the sticks, Micah explained, “These are bamboo skewers dipped in sulfur. They're thin but sturdy. This is going to sting.”
The sheriff grabbed Nina's left hand. He tightly gripped her index finger, stopping her from wiggling her finger. Before she could say another word, he shoved the tip of the skewer under her fingernail, causing a squishing crackling sound to occur. Her fingernail was painted red with blood, cracked down the middle.
Nina shrieked in pain as she stared at her hand. The sulfur-dipped skewer aggravated the gummy flesh under her fingernail. The stinging sensation surged across her entire arm. Tears gushed from her eyes, but she didn't drool. She didn't even think abou
t drooling.
Micah grabbed her middle finger, then he shoved another skewer under her fingernail. The thin skewer was thrust past the base of her fingernail. The tip of the skewer stopped under the skin of her finger, nearly reaching her distal interphalangeal joint. Blood painted her cracked fingernail, but the nail didn't snap off.
Again, Nina shrieked and trembled. She twirled her wrist and waved her hand, hopelessly trying to stop the sheriff from mutilating her other fingers. The effort was fruitless, though.
As Micah shoved another skewer under her ring finger nail, Nina shouted, “Stop! Please!” She wheezed and groaned, shocked by the attack. She stammered, “It–It–It hurts... Pl–Please, it... it hurts!”
As he shoved another skewer under her pinky's fingernail, Micah barked, “Drool!”
Nina sobbed hysterically. Her eyes closed, she lowered her head and drooled into the jar. The gooey saliva slowly filled the jar. The sheriff's theory appeared to be accurate.
Micah grabbed her thumb, then he shoved another skewer under her fingernail. A hoarse gasp escaped Nina's lips. She coughed and grunted, as if she were choking. The sharp pain from her fingers reverberated across her entire body. She felt a tingling sensation across her entire left arm. The pain was insufferable, as if a million splinters were shoved under her fingernails.
As he watched her twitching fingers, Micah said, “I didn't create this method of torture, so I don't want credit for it. My father told me about it when I was younger. He claimed he witnessed it during his travels across several Asian countries. That's right: several. Police would shove bamboo under a suspect's fingernails in order to coerce a confession. Imagine if police did the same here. It would be incredible, wouldn't it?”
He grabbed the skewer protruding from her index finger, then he placed pressure on the end of the stick. The skewer bent a bit, then her fingernail snapped off with the pressure.
As Nina bellowed in pain, Micah said, “And it worked. They always got the confessions they wanted. I'm going to get what I want, too. Keep drooling. You're doing well.”