“What in the world …” Beverly started to exclaim when she saw who they were carrying. Despite the layers of caked-on mud and a full beard, she immediately recognized the man who had nearly choked the life out of her a day earlier.
Gaby and Ken dumped Wade beside the firepit, tossing him on the ground like a sack of potatoes.
“Where did you find him?” she exclaimed, her voice strained and hoarse. “And why did you bring him here?”
Without a word of explanation, Ken exited the teepee just as fast as he’d entered.
“It’s a long story,” Gaby said as she rubbed her biceps, which ached after carrying him all the way from the floodplain. Even though he clearly hadn’t eaten in days, Wade was still heavy.
They heard an awful clatter outside, like someone banging pots and pans together.
Beverly rolled Wade over to take a closer look at him. His clothes were long gone, replaced by animal skins that looked like they’d been through a war. His deerskin kilt was torn and shredded in places, as was a rudimentary vest that looked to be made from a boar’s hide. His fox-fur cap looked like it had been gnawed by wild animals, and the tail that used to dangle down the back had been lopped off. Everything was coated in mud and grime.
Wade’s sunburned skin had all peeled away, leaving pink and raw flesh behind. His infamous knife was nowhere to be seen. And my God, did he stink.
Something about their prisoner’s appearance was bothering Beverly. She zeroed in on his bare chest. He was so thin that his ribs were visible. But she was more focused on what wasn’t there.
“Where are the scars?” Beverly asked, holding her nose as she leaned in for a closer examination. Shivering, she wiped away the gunk on his chest with a towel to reveal that it was unblemished. The scars he’d ritualistically carved into it to mark each kill were gone. Not healed, but wholly absent, without a welt or scar tissue to show that they had ever been there.
A thought occurred to Gaby, and she examined his right leg.
“Nothing here, either,” she said, puzzled. “The bear trap got him right here, and there’s no marks.”
The two exchanged uneasy glances, afraid to vocalize what they were both thinking. Even the best plastic surgeons leave telltale signs, not that Wade was likely to run into one in the middle of nowhere. His miraculous recovery simply defied explanation.
The clatter of metal clashing against metal outside grew louder, and suddenly Ken was back, carrying a set of cans all tied to a long strip of plastic: the alarm system they’d set up three days earlier to warn them if Wade tried to infiltrate the camp. They no longer needed it now that they had him. Ken unhooked the cans from the string and tossed the length of plastic to Gaby.
“Tie him up,” Ken commanded. “Tight as you can.”
Gaby cocked an eyebrow; his imperiousness was getting out of control, but she recognized that he was also right: leaving Wade untied was dangerous. She took the length of plastic and rolled Wade over on his side so she could access both of his hands. She put them behind his back and started looping the plastic around his wrists. After two loops, she tied a bow, which she knotted with the remaining ends of the string.
“I said make it tight,” Ken barked. “I don’t want this lunatic getting free.”
“It’s already as tight as I can get it.”
Ken rolled his eyes and walked around behind Wade, grabbed both ends of the knot and undid it. He pulled the bow as hard as he could, smirking as the bindings dug cruelly into Wade’s flesh, and then double-knotted it, pulling both ends so hard that Gaby thought he might break the bindings.
“You’ll cut off his circulation,” Gaby protested.
“I don’t care.”
Ken sat the unconscious Wade up, and the group stared at him for a long while, still struggling to believe he was back.
“How did he do it?” Gaby asked in an awed whisper. “Three nights out there with the iku, and he’s still alive.”
“That’s precisely what I intend to find out,” Ken said tersely. “If he’s found some hidey-hole that the iku can’t reach, then he needs to show us where. We won’t survive the night without it,” he added, his eyes lingering over their pitifully inadequate wood supply for the long night ahead.
He walked up to Wade and smacked him hard in the face.
“Time to wake up, creepo!” he said. “Tell us what you know!”
Wade stirred but didn’t open his eyes, so Ken smacked him again, harder.
Wade’s eyes shot open.
“They’re here!” he shouted after studying his surroundings for a few moments. “The visitors are coming again tonight! They’re coming for you all!”
Far from the sullen, monosyllabic loner they all remembered, Wade was now remarkably animated. Only he didn’t sound scared. If anything, he seemed excited, like a child on Christmas Eve dreaming of the presents to come. His eyes danced wildly with anticipation. He struggled against his bonds and tried to stand up, but Ken held him down, pressing against Wade’s shoulders as he squirmed.
“Easy there, Wade,” Gaby said, unexpectedly intervening. “Just take a deep breath and relax. We already know about these … what did you call them?”
“Visitors!” Wade practically shouted. “They’re the visitors and they’re here for you! They’re coming for you tonight, and they won’t stop until every one of you is … gwald wolkth bwe!”
Wade nearly choked as Beverly stuffed her makeshift eyeshade in his mouth to gag him. Ken gave a sadistic smile of approval.
“Wade, we need you to slow down,” Gaby coaxed as he tried to talk through the gag, bouncing up and down like a hyperactive four-year-old. “We’ve met the visitors. We know what they do.” She paused to cast a glance at Beverly’s useless left arm. “And we’re not going to let them get you. But we need to know how you escaped. Can you tell us that?”
Wade nodded his head impatiently, his eyes positively manic in their boundless energy.
Gaby reached for the gag, but a sharp word from Ken stopped her.
“No,” he ordered. “Not until he calms down. We won’t get anything useful from him like this.”
“So, I’m the psycho whisperer now, am I?” Gaby grumbled. “Fine.”
She lowered herself until she was at eye level with Wade and tried to hold his attention. It wasn’t easy, as his eyes darted to and fro. She had to lean in until their noses were inches apart before he got the message.
“I need you to calm down,” she said deliberately and slowly. “I want to take this gag out, but I can’t until you relax. Are you willing to do that?”
Whether it was from the eye contact, the soothing tenor of her voice, or a combination of the two, Wade’s excited fidgeting gradually subsided.
“That’s it, breathe,” Gaby said, inhaling and exhaling in an exaggerated fashion so that he could follow along. “Think peaceful thoughts. Relax.”
Wade followed her breathing, and little by little he calmed.
“Now, I’m going to take out the gag, okay?” Gaby said, still speaking slowly. “When I do, I need you to answer some questions. And I want you to answer calmly. Can you do that?”
Wade nodded slowly.
Gaby released the gag.
For a wonder, Wade remained silent, waiting for their questions.
“Now, can you tell me …” Gaby started to speak when Beverly interjected.
“Do you know what they are?” she asked, her voice rising in anxiety. “Is their touch lethal?”
“Hold on!” Ken insisted, shouting down Beverly. “First things first. Where’s your hidey-hole?”
“What about me?” Beverly shot back. “I deserve to know …”
Beverly suddenly doubled over as a coughing fit consumed her. She covered her mouth with her good hand, and when the fit passed, saw it was splattered with black blood. Trembling, she held up her blood-splattered hand so the others could see, her eyes wide with terror. Ken made a face and took a step back in revulsion.
�
�Am I going to die?” Beverly asked Wade, trembling.
“Sick or not, you can wait your turn, Granny Badwill!” guttural Ken barked, irritated at her trying to monopolize the interrogation. “Because I have no intention of going out like that.”
Wade began to reflect the others’ anxiety, starting to bounce on his legs once again. Gaby saw it and moved to quash it.
“Enough, both of you!” she shouted. “You’re agitating him. Wade, I need you to remain calm. Can you tell us how you managed to escape these visitors?”
Wade waited for a nod of encouragement from Gaby before speaking, like an obedient pet seeking permission from its owner.
“Yes,” Wade said simply. As Gaby tried to prod him for more, he finally added: “Their touch is lethal.”
Everyone turned to face Beverly, realizing he was answering her question rather than Gaby’s. Wade gazed at the blood oozing from between Beverly’s clenched fingers. “And you will die tonight.”
Beverly inhaled sharply at the news. Tears started welling up in the corner of her eyes.
“I just … can’t,” she told the others with a heart-wrenching sob before stumbling toward the door.
“Probably just as well,” Ken muttered under his breath. “She’s as useless as a three-dollar bill.”
Gaby recoiled at Ken’s callousness, and considered going after Beverly, but Ken motioned for her to continue the interrogation.
“But …”
“If you don’t, then I will.”
“Fine,” Gaby said with a sigh of resignation. She turned to face Wade once more. “If their touch is so deadly, then how did you escape?”
“I didn’t,” Wade drawled, his first calm words since they’d found him. “They found me and they freed me. And now they’re coming to free you, and when they do …”
Wade was growing louder and more excitable with each syllable, and had already started bouncing up and down when Ken held up the gag again. The sight of it convinced Wade to settle down.
“Fine,” Gaby said, starting over, the frustration evident in her tone. “If you didn’t escape them, then tell us how you survived. Did you find some place the iku couldn’t follow you?”
“I didn’t hide,” Wade insisted. “They came to me two nights ago. I tried to run, but they were so fast, so very fast. And always whispering. They whisper through their chirps, you know,” Wade added matter-of-factly.
“That’s super-fascinating,” Ken deadpanned, rubbing his temples in frustration. “But we need to know how you keep them at bay.”
“You can’t,” Wade answered plainly. “The visitors won’t stop until they cleanse these woods, and they told me that you all are next.”
“I’ve had enough of this!” guttural Ken roared, grabbing Wade by the sleeves of his crude boar skin vest and shaking him violently. “No more riddles! How are you still alive?”
“You’re not listening to me,” Wade said, growing anxious once more. “They’re here to save you. When I first saw them, I was afraid, like you. The visitors cured me of that. They washed away my sins. Before they came, I was little more than an animal. I was a murderer. I even tried to kill you all. The visitors opened my mind and redeemed me, and they’ll redeem you, too, and we’ll all be … bwerry jere do hewp woo!”
Guttural Ken stuffed the gag back in Wade’s mouth, jamming it in as far as it could go.
“This isn’t working,” Gaby said. “He’s like a tent revivalist on acid. We should use our remaining time looking for food or dry wood.”
“We need that intel,” guttural Ken insisted, struggling and failing to revert to his normal persona. “And since reasoning with him didn’t work, I say it’s time we try other means of persuading him.”
His emphasis on “persuading,” unnerved Gaby. She had a terrible suspicion he was about to do something morally bankrupt again.
Guttural Ken walked behind Wade, lifted him by his bound arms and started dragging him toward the entrance.
“Bwgrh swub kwaprm!” Wade babbled through the gag as Ken manhandled him.
“What are you doing?” Gaby asked, growing increasingly alarmed.
“What needs to be done,” guttural Ken insisted before brushing past her, which was as close as he came to reasoned discourse.
Wade was dragged out the door and around the fence, his heels leaving trails in the dirt behind him. Gaby followed closely, determined to stop Ken from going too far.
By the shower they found Beverly, weeping as she leaned against the cabana wall. She looked up with a sob at the commotion.
“Out of the way, Norma Demented!” guttural Ken barked as he dragged Wade, who was now kicking and flailing wildly, over to the showers. “You want to live? Then stop feeling sorry for yourself and help me.”
Beverly dabbed her eyes and nodded obediently.
“We need to know what’s in this fruitcake’s head, and we don’t have time for diplomacy,” guttural Ken said as he dumped Wade in front of the shower stall and nodded skyward. The sun, whose dim outline could be seen behind the thick layer of low-lying clouds, was already dipping westward.
“Grab the water bucket and fill it,” guttural Ken ordered. Beverly grabbed it from its perch by the central firepit and carried it one-armed over to the spigot behind the shower.
“Ken, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you don’t need to do this,” Gaby said, watching with rising panic as Beverly worked the old-fashioned pump, filling the bucket with creek water.
“We tried it your way,” guttural Ken hissed. “Now we’ll do it mine.”
He righted Wade and set him on his knees, with his hands still tied behind his back. Wade watched anxiously as guttural Ken walked around him.
“Bring the bucket over,” he ordered Beverly. With the water, it was too heavy for her to carry one-handed, so she dragged it behind her, sloshing water over the sides and wheezing as she complied.
Beverly set the water bucket down in front of Wade and hurriedly backed away, not entirely sure what Ken was about to do with it.
“We’re going to play a little game, Wade,” he grinned sadistically as he removed Wade’s gag. “It’s called: ‘How long can you hold your breath?’” He walked around behind Wade and put his boot in the small of Wade’s back, just above his tied hands. “If you don’t want to play, then tell me everything I want to know, starting with how you escaped.”
“I didn’t,” Wade protested in earnest, looking shockingly pitiable for someone who had threatened to kill them all only days ago. “Like I told you before, I … bhwwgghh!”
Guttural Ken pushed his foot down, forcing Wade face-first into the water. Wade struggled as Ken held him under.
“This is wrong,” Gaby protested as she watched pensively some 15 feet away, wondering whether she should intervene.
“Hey, I warned him,” guttural Ken said with a vicious laugh.
After holding him down for about 30 seconds, Ken removed his foot from Wade’s back. The Texan shot up out of the water, sputtering and inhaling deeply.
“Feel like answering me now?” guttural Ken challenged.
“If you’d just listen to me … ghhwwrrggh!”
“I guess not,” guttural Ken snickered as he pushed Wade’s head back into the bucket.
“Ken, stop!” Gaby pleaded. “You’re torturing him!”
Guttural Ken simply ignored her and pushed extra hard against Wade, who was thrashing desperately in the water. After several more seconds, Gaby decided she couldn’t take any more of this. She strode toward Ken, determined to stop him, but Beverly suddenly moved between them. She tried to walk around the older woman, but Beverly had anticipated this and blocked her again, holding her good arm out to keep Gaby at bay.
“Out of my way,” Gaby demanded.
“I know you can’t see it, but this is for the best,” Beverly said quietly and with unexpected gravity.
“You’re better than this,” Gaby scolded. “Don’t let fear turn you into Ken.”
> “He tried to kill you,” Beverly reminded her before being overcome by another coughing fit.
Guttural Ken removed the pressure on Wade’s lower back after about 40 seconds.
Wade struggled to lift his head from the water, guttural Ken’s abuse having taken its toll on him. He gasped for air, taking huge lungfuls in a desperate bid to hold on.
“No more,” Wade croaked between gasping breaths.
Guttural Ken walked around to face Wade, looming menacingly over him.
“Last chance, freakshow,” he growled. “Tell us what we want to know.”
“Please, no more,” Wade pleaded.
Ken wheeled around behind Wade and dunked him again, pressing down hard on Wade’s back.
“Wrong answer,” guttural Ken said, biting his lip and shaking with violent glee. The sight disturbed Gaby, who finally recognized that Ken could no longer be reasoned with.
After 10 seconds underwater, Wade started flailing again.
“Dammit, Ken, let him up!” Gaby screamed. “Let him up!”
“He’ll break this time,” guttural Ken insisted. “And if he doesn’t, who’s gonna miss him?”
After 30 more seconds, Wade’s flailing grew wilder, more spastic.
“He’s drowning! Let him up!”
“He’s faking it!” guttural Ken insisted, the glee in his voice evident.
“You’re killing him! Haya paz!” Gaby shrieked.
Guttural Ken ignored her and kept pressing down on Wade. Gaby noticed to her horror that Ken’s visceral thrill at torture had actually turned to arousal, as he was sporting a massive erection.
Wade’s flailing started to flag. After another 10 seconds underwater, his whole body shuddered and went limp.
Gaby shot past Beverly and charged guttural Ken. He looked up from his handiwork just in time to see her lower her shoulder and slam into his left side. He was already off balance because one foot was planted on Wade’s back instead of the ground, so Gaby’s tackle sent him reeling, spinning end over end before landing several feet away in a crumpled heap, clutching his ribs in pain.
Gaby yanked Wade’s head from the water and laid him on his side.
“Wade? Wade?” she called out.
The Truth Circle Page 41