by Jeff Strand
"Why are you here?" he asked.
"I've got a better question," said Vivian. "Why are you here?"
"Did you follow me?"
"No. I put Jared's phone under your seat. Tracked it with the computer. And that's the only question I'll be answering until you explain whose house this is."
Ken wanted to be outraged at the invasion of privacy, the lack of trust...but her lack of trust had been justified, so what could he say?
She probably thought he was having an affair. And Ken honestly wasn't sure if she'd react worse to that, or to the caged women in the basement.
"It's nobody's house," he said. It was the stupidest thing he could have possibly said, but his mind was a Tilt-a-Whirl right now.
"Nobody's house," Vivian repeated.
Ken shrugged.
"Is she inside?"
"Who?"
"Don't you dare pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about! Is she inside? I'm not going to hurt her. I'm just going to tell her to stay the hell away from you."
"She's not inside."
"Bullshit." Vivian stormed into the garage. Ken hurriedly followed her.
She tried to open the door to the inside. When the knob wouldn't turn, she began to pound on the door.
"Nobody's inside," Ken said.
"Fucking liar!" Vivian pounded on the door even harder. "Open up! Open the fuck up!"
"Quiet!" Ken said. "The neighbors will hear."
"You think I care?" She continued to pound on the door.
"I said, nobody's inside."
"Then unlock the door."
"I don't have a key."
"Do you want me to search you?"
Defeated, Ken took out the key and unlocked the door. Before he'd even pulled the key out of the lock, Vivian opened the door and walked inside. Ken considered the possibility of jumping in his car, speeding off, and leaving his entire life behind, but he followed her instead.
If she went into Darrell's room, she'd see all of the sex toys, and there'd be no way to convince her that they didn't belong to him. He didn't think Darrell would show up to serve as a character witness.
But she didn't. She stopped at the door to the staircase. She tapped the passcode display.
"What's down there?" she asked.
"I don't know."
"Why does it have a high-tech lock like this?"
"I don't know."
"Ken, I'm going to find out what's behind this door. You can show me yourself, or I can go down there with a locksmith. Which do you want?"
"Can't we talk about this?"
Vivian shook her head so violently that he thought she might hurt her neck. "No, because you keep lying. Unlock the door. Unlock it now."
Ken punched in the four-digit code. Vivian opened the door and walked down the stairs.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" she asked as she reached the second door and the second passcode lock.
"Let me explain first," said Ken.
"I don't want you to explain. I want you to open the door."
"It's going to be upsetting."
"Yeah, I figured that out when we got to the second goddamn locked door."
There would be no dissuading her from this. He could, in theory, use the stun gun on her, but she was his wife and he'd never physically harm her. Not ever. He'd never laid a hand on her, and he never would.
He tried to think of some explanation he could offer, something to cushion the blow of what she was about to see, but he came up blank. What could he possibly say that would make these next few moments less horrifying?
Ken punched in the code. The door unlocked.
"It's going to smell bad," he said. "Brace yourself."
He opened the door.
The putrid scent hit Vivian so hard that she immediately doubled over and vomited. She stood back up, coughing and spitting and wiping tears out of her eyes.
Then she stepped inside the room.
She clasped her hand over her mouth as she gazed around at the cages.
Dropped to her knees.
"Please!" Gertie shouted. "You have to help me!"
Ken walked over and slammed the bottom of her cage with his fist. "You shut up! Say another word and I'll skin you alive! I'll take bites out of your fucking stomach! You understand me?"
Without waiting for her to respond, he returned to Vivian. He took her by the hand and tried to help her up.
"C'mon, Viv. You've seen it now. Let's leave, okay?"
Vivian pulled her hand away, then slapped at his hand when he tried again. She got up on her own, then staggered out of the room. Ken went after her, closing and locking the door behind them.
She sat down on the stairs, breathing like she'd just finished running a marathon. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand then wiped it on the stair. Finally she looked up at Ken.
"You said you strangled them."
"I know."
"You lied to me."
Ken nodded. He was suddenly very self-conscious of his hands. He put them behind his back and just stood there. Vivian was silent for an excruciatingly long time.
"I need to understand this," she said. "Tell me what you get out of this."
"I'm not sure I can explain it."
"Try."
Ken looked at the floor. "I don't know."
"You don't know? What are you, seven years old?"
"It's not something I can articulate! What, you think I can just give you a quick summary of why I did this?"
"It doesn't need to be a quick summary. Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."
"I...I can't. It won't make sense." Ken's cheeks were burning and sweat trickled down his sides. He'd taken great precautions to avoid ever having to have this conversation with Vivian. He felt sick to his stomach and ashamed. Once again he considered running away. Pushing past her, running up the stairs, and getting as far away as he possibly could.
Would she let him go? Would she call the cops?
One thing was for sure: he'd never see Jared again. And he'd rather go down in a hail of police gunfire than lose his son. He wouldn't take his own life like that dumbass who'd turned Charlene and Gertie into heroes, but he wouldn't go easily.
"We're not leaving this house until we've finished this conversation," said Vivian. "I don't care how long it takes. So you can either use your grown-up words and explain to me why you keep women in cages, or we can sit here until we get caught."
Ken assumed she was bluffing. If she wasn't, the worst-case scenario is that Darrell would show up, and Ken could get rid of him pretty easily. Still, this wasn't going to get any easier, so he might as well try to get it over with.
He tried to think of a credible lie, but couldn't come up with one that made him sound any less deranged than the truth.
"I'm sorry that I told you I strangled them," he said, figuring that starting off with an apology was a good first step. "I shouldn't have lied. The truth is that I do this because it's...because it's worse for them. It's longer. I just like to watch them while they slowly fade away. I like coming back each time and seeing how much more their bodies have wasted away. I like how awful it must be for them." Now that he was finally articulating it, this was easier than he'd expected.
Vivian just stared at him, expressionless.
"A strangling is over in a minute. It can take weeks to starve to death."
"You don't give them any food at all?"
Ken shook his head. "Water but no food."
"And you don't do anything to them? You just leave them in the cages?"
"Right."
"Okay." Vivian was silent for a moment. "You understand why I have a problem with this, right?"
"Yeah."
"I had no idea you were this sadistic. This is seriously disturbed behavior, Ken. How do you even pay for this place? For the cages?"
Ken decided that he might as well continue telling the truth. "That time I came home furious because I wasn't getting a raise? That was a
lie. It was a good raise."
Vivian let out a long sigh. "What other lies have you told? Let's just get it all out there."
"That's it. I lied about my raise and I lied about what I did to the women, but that's it."
Vivian didn't respond. She sat there for a while. Ken wasn't sure if she was waiting for him to speak, or trying to think of what she wanted to say. He just stood there, perspiring.
She wiped a tear from her eye and stood up. "Don't you ever lie to me again," she said.
"I won't. I swear."
"If you do, I will leave you."
"I know. I'm done with the lies. They're over."
"All right."
"So what are we going to do about this?" Ken asked. "I'll do whatever you want."
"How many women are still alive?"
"Two."
"I want you to kill them. Right now."
"Oh."
"You just said you'd do whatever I want. Are you now saying that you don't want to kill them?"
Ken shook his head. "No, no."
"Do you agree that it's the right thing to do?"
"I guess."
"You told me that you were killing them quickly and burying them in a shallow grave. Instead I find that you're keeping them locked in cages in a basement for weeks. That's a hell of a lot more risk for you, which means it's a hell of a lot more risk for me. Finish them off. We'll take it from there."
"How?"
"I don't care how. Strangle them like you said you did. Stick a fucking knife in their head. It doesn't matter. Just do it."
Ken really didn't want to do this, especially not with Olivia so close to passing away on her own, but he knew better than to argue. "I'll get a knife from upstairs," he said.
He walked past Vivian and opened the top door. The way things were going tonight, it wouldn't have surprised him to see Darrell waiting up there, but the upstairs was still empty. He went into the kitchen, unsure if there were any utensils actually available. He'd never prepared a meal in this house, though he assumed Darrell had shared a snack with at least one of his mistresses.
He opened a couple of drawers and found one with forks, spoons, and knives. He selected a pretty good steak knife. Ken wouldn't use it for one-on-one combat, but it should do the trick against a helpless girl locked in a cage.
He shut the drawer and leaned against the counter. He couldn't believe how badly he'd messed things up. He should've realized how suspicious Vivian was getting and been more careful. Hell, as much of an idiot as he'd been, he deserved to starve to death in one of those cages himself.
He walked back downstairs, shutting the door behind him.
"Pretty small knife," she said.
"House didn't come with butcher knives."
Vivian cupped her hands over her nose and mouth as Ken punched in the code. He opened the door just a bit, waiting for the smell to waft over them.
"Do you want to watch or...?"
"I'll wait here."
"Okay." Ken walked into the room with the cages, and closed the door.
* * *
Warren looked shaken and grim as he entered the room, holding a knife.
"Listen to me," said Gertie. "I know how we can work this out."
He ignored her and walked past her cage.
"I've got money," she called out after him. "I'd signed a non-disclosure agreement so I couldn't tell you before, but I got a ton of money for the movie rights to my story. It's enough for me to disappear. I can buy a new identity. I'll leave the country and you'll never hear from me again."
Warren returned with a stepladder. He set it next to the cage of the other woman who seemed to still be alive, if only barely.
"I know a guy," Gertie insisted. "He can make it happen right away."
Warren glared at her. "Is that the best you could come up with? I don't even go to movies, and I know that you wouldn't have a check already."
"It's coming. Direct deposit. I'll have the money any minute now."
"Just shut up, all right? Don't talk to me. You're being put out of your misery, so if anything you should be grateful."
He climbed to the top of the ladder.
* * *
It took a moment for Olivia to feel scared.
Her eyes wouldn't quite focus, though she realized that he had a knife, and though she wanted nothing more than to be free of this prison she wasn't ready to die. She wanted to be rescued. Somebody should have rescued her by now. Somebody should have kicked down the door.
Olivia wanted to move her head away from the blade, but she couldn't make her neck work. Nor could she speak to beg him to stop.
She couldn't feel anything.
Had he started killing her yet?
Then she felt a sharp sting in her left ear. He'd shoved the knife in, deep enough to hurt, deep enough to make her bleed, but not deep enough to kill her. She didn't know if he was purposely drawing it out to scare her, or if he was hesitating because he didn't want to go through with it.
She hoped he didn't kill her.
Even if she died in this cage, she didn't want to die now.
A sudden intense pain. And then nothing.
* * *
Gertie screamed.
Some blood dribbled onto the cement floor—not much—and then Warren climbed down the ladder. He moved it over to Gertie's cage.
There was no way she could fight him off. But she was damn well going to try. Getting slashed up by him would be a much worse way to go than simply letting him shove a blade into her brain, but she didn't care. She was going to resist this asshole until she was free or until she was dead.
Warren climbed up the ladder.
"Get the hell away from me," Gertie told him.
"Don't resist. It'll be a lot worse for you if you resist."
"Then it'll have to be a lot worse for me."
She kicked at the ladder. He slammed the knife into her upper thigh, plunging in deep. Gertie cried out in pain, then cried out again as he wrenched the knife free. He held up the bloody blade.
"Do not make this difficult," he said, spittle flying from his mouth.
Gertie kicked at the ladder with her other leg. He plunged the blade into that leg, yanked it out, then stabbed her again in the same spot.
"What the fuck is the matter with you?" he asked. "You lucked out by having her show up! Do you really want to go through the hell on earth that the other women suffered? Are you that stupid?"
She heard a patter as drops of her blood hit the floor.
"You're not going to kill me," she informed him.
He slammed the knife through the bars. It missed her ear and tore across her cheek. She grabbed the blade but couldn't get a solid grip on it as he pulled it away, slashing open her palm. More blood dripped onto the floor.
The door opened.
"Ken! Wait!" said the woman. What had he called her? Viv?
This should have been the moment where Warren—Ken—looked over at her, and Gertie took advantage of his split-second of distraction to kick him off the ladder, where he'd splatter his head onto the cement. But he didn't look away from her. He simply climbed down the ladder.
Gertie was too frightened to be relieved.
Viv looked at the tiny pool of blood underneath the newly dead woman's cage. Then she looked over at Gertie.
"Did he rape you?" she asked.
Gertie wasn't sure what the correct answer was, so she went with the truth. "No."
"Did you fuck him?"
Gertie shook her head.
Viv turned her attention to Ken. "You can keep her," she said.
"Seriously?"
"Yes. But I'm not going to let you sit here surrounded by shit and piss and puke. That's mentally ill. You're going to clean up the floor, and I mean clean it good, with bleach, and then you're going to start moving the corpses out. Not all at once, but I want them gone within a week. She can stay until she's dead. Does that work for you?"
Ken vigorously nodded. "Yes. Yes,
it absolutely works for me."
"Are there cleaning supplies upstairs?"
"Yes, in the garage, I think."
"Then do it now. I'll wait upstairs. I can't take the smell any more."
Viv left the room. Ken moved the stepladder several feet away from Gertie's cage. He wasn't smiling, but he looked intensely relieved.
With the threat of imminent death gone, Gertie could focus on her wounds. The pain in her legs was excruciating and the blood was still flowing. Same with her palm. She could feel several trickles of blood running down her cheek. If this had happened at home, she wouldn't be worried about bleeding to death before she could receive medical attention, but up here in a cage...
"Are you going to patch me up?" she asked.
"Hell no."
"I can't starve to death if I bleed to death first."
Ken flipped her the bird as he walked out of the room.
Surely he wouldn't just leave her like this. Gertie had no idea how long it would take her to bleed out, but if he didn't at least give her something to wrap up her legs she wouldn't last the night.
He returned a few minutes later with a mop, a bucket of water, and a large plastic jar of bleach. He dumped the mop into the bucket and began to clean up the floor.
Ken had to change the mop water several times before he was done with the floor. During the process he didn't say a word to Gertie. Then he mopped the floor with bleach. He looked around, apparently satisfied with a job well done.
He left the room again. A moment later, he returned with Viv.
She put her hand over her nose. "I can still smell the rot."
Ken nodded. "Yeah, bleach isn't going to cover it completely. But it'll fade after I get the bodies out of here."
Viv pointed to the floor underneath Gertie's cage. "She's already getting more blood on the floor. Do you have any bandages or gauze or anything?"
"Small bandages. Nothing big enough for stab wounds."
"If you want to keep her alive longer, you can go get some. Or not. It's up to you."
"I'll patch her up."
"You should probably do it soon."