“I’m good,” Travis said.
But it was too late. Darla bolted from the den again, returning shortly after with her catch. She held a fist of twine before Travis, the shriveled tongue dangling on its hook, twirling in place. Travis thought it looked, ironically, like a decent hunk of deer jerky Harlon was known to make years back.
Such a thought made Travis helpless to a bark of laughter.
Harlon moaned.
“Hell, there ain’t gonna be much left of you pretty soon, is there, Uncle Harlon?” Travis said.
Harlon moaned again. No frown, no anger, just a helpless, defeated moan. If Travis had given a shit, he might have considered putting him out of his misery.
Travis turned to Cooper. “Who’s gonna keep score now?” He turned back to Harlon. Raised one of his useless arms—the one with the missing finger Cooper had snipped off, no less—and let it flop back into his lap. “Can’t write nothing down.” He gripped Harlon’s face and dug his fingers in, causing Harlon to open his mouth and moan yet again. “Can’t talk for shit.”
Cooper turned to Wayne. “Boy’s gotta point.”
An idea came to Travis. A lovely idea.
“Hold up,” he said, disappearing for a moment, and then returning with his makeshift tattoo needle. “Still plenty of ink in her.” With one hand, he pulled Harlon’s dirty tee over his head. He then handed the needle off to Trudy and used both hands to take Harlon by the shoulders and drape his torso over the arm of his chair, slapping his bare back. “Make a damn fine scoreboard, if you ask me.”
Cooper returned a sly grin. “I do believe you’re right, son.”
Harlon wept, head and arms dangling over the side of his chair.
“Oh, knock it off, Harlon,” Travis said, slapping his back again. “It’s not like you can feel anything on there. You rather we use your face?”
Harlon continued to weep.
Travis looked at everyone. “My goodness, how he used to carry on like such a tough guy. Look at him now.” He gripped Harlon by the scalp and jerked him upright in his chair, Harlon’s bare chest now on display. Travis flicked one of his flabby breasts. “Christ’s sake, it’s called a pushup, Harlon. Ain’t no excuse for a man to have boobies like that.”
Trudy let out a bray of laughter, mule like.
Darla sang: “Boobies!” over and over.
Wayne grabbed Cooper’s bald head and kissed it.
“Hot damn if this night ain’t off to a fun start,” Cooper said. “A damn fine addition to this family, you are, Travis Roy. Damn fine.”
“The pleasure’s all yours,” Travis said with a wink.
Trudy brayed more laughter.
Wayne rubbed his hand back and forth over Cooper’s head, both of them wearing foolish grins.
Darla continued her “Boobies!” song while sidling up to Harlon’s chair and flicking his bare breasts as Travis had.
A waking groan rose from the circle of captives. Everyone fell stone silent.
One of the captives, a male, slowly lifted his head. He winced and groaned some more as though waking from a cataclysmic hangover. And why not? Travis thought. He was.
The rest started to stir, slowly lifting their heads, all of them groaning and wincing alike.
“All right!” Cooper brought his thick hands together for one thunderous clap. All the captives flinched. “We can finally begin!”
Chapter 31
Cooper Roy took his spot within the circle of chairs, Darla on his shoulders grinning and fidgeting, hands going all over his sweaty scalp. “Evening, friends. I’d like to welcome all of you to our…seventh?”—he looked at Wayne; Wayne held up eight fingers—“eighth official Roy Night. Now, before we get started; Travis, which one was shooting the film?”
Travis walked over to Stacey and stood behind her chair. He tapped the top of her head. “This one here.”
“Don’t fucking touch her,” Bryan said.
Travis looked at him with no more concern than he’d give a spot on his shirt. “Or what?”
“Just don’t touch her.”
Travis tapped Stacey’s head again. Then again. And again after that. And then once more. Each time harder than the last, Stacey flinching and wincing after each one.
“You son of a bitch; I’ll kill you,” Bryan said.
Travis, casually as ever: “Will you then.”
“What the fuck do you people want?” Mick said.
“If you let us go, we won’t tell anyone,” Morgan said. “We swear.”
Tommy and Leigh nodded and murmured in agreement.
“Fuck if they ain’t a chatty bunch,” Trudy said by the kitchen. All heads in the circle turned towards her. Her missing eye drew a gasp from Morgan.
“They’re always chatty at first,” Wayne said.
“Is it money?” Stacey asked. “Is it money you want?”
“You have any money?” Wayne asked.
“I have a little.”
“Why would we want a little? That all you think we’re worth?”
“No. No, no, no—I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant we don’t have much on us. But we could get you some.”
“That’s right,” Bryan chimed in. “We could. We absolutely could.”
“If we let you go,” Wayne said.
“Well, yeah…” Bryan said.
Wayne looked at Cooper. Then up at his daughter atop Cooper’s shoulders. “Darla, honey, I’m gonna let you decide. Would you rather have these people give us some money and let them go…or would you rather have us a Roy Night?”
Darla’s instantaneous answer was shocking only to those seated, save for Harlon.
Wayne splayed his hands. “Sorry, folks. I tried.”
“What the hell do you want, then?” Bryan asked.
“Always chatty at first, and always asking the same old shit,” Trudy said. “I swear, we need to start gagging from the start.”
Wayne shook his head. “Nah—we give them a warning first.” He looked at the circle of faces. “Consider yourselves warned.”
“All right then,” Cooper continued. “About this film the girl’s shootin’. Trudy, why don’t you go and—”
“What the fuck is this, man?” Mick said. He fought his binds, kicked his feet. “Seriously, you people need to let us go now.”
“Mick…” Morgan said.
“What?!” he fired back. “They can’t just do this!”
Wayne sighed. “Someone wheel Harlon’s dumb ass over here.”
Trudy wheeled Harlon over so that he was in plain sight. He was still bare chested.
“Say hello, Harlon,” she said.
Harlon, beaten and defeated, obeyed without incident. He opened his mouth and tried “hello.” He sounded like something on a farm.
“Tongue’s gone,” Wayne said. He pointed to Trudy and then to Darla. “My lovely wife and baby girl did it earlier today. Did it because he wouldn’t shut the hell up when they told him to.” He patted the top of Harlon’s head. “And Harlon here’s family. Catching my point?”
Mick’s rage did not immunize him from idiocy. He kept his mouth shut. They all did.
“Finally,” Trudy said. “Go on, Daddy.”
“Thank you, baby,” Cooper said. “As I was saying: Why don’t you go and get the camera, see if you can’t get it started?” He looked at Stacey. “Is there film in the camera?”
Stacey nodded.
“What does it do? Does it run on batteries or something?”
Stacey nodded again.
He turned back to Trudy. “Okay then; go and fetch it, darling.”
Trudy left and returned with the camera.
“Give it here,” Wayne said. He started fiddling with it. “How do you get the fucker to record?”
Stacey looked at Tommy. Tommy frowned back. Stacey mouthed the words: “Tell him.” Tommy mouthed back: “Why?”
Stacey: “Just do it.”
Tommy: “Why?”
Bryan, after catching Tommy’s
eye: “Do it.”
Tommy shook his head.
Bryan: “DO IT.”
Tommy: “WHY?”
Bryan: “They’re fucking CRAZY. That’s why.”
Cooper gave a demonstrative “Ahem” cough. All six heads turned towards him.
“Y’all know we’re not blind, right?” Cooper said.
“Of course we do,” Stacey said softly. “We were just trying to get our friend to show you how to work the camera. We were trying to help.”
“And calling us crazy? How does that help?”
“I didn’t mean it,” Bryan said. “I was just trying to persuade Tommy to help.”
“So you don’t think we’re crazy?”
“No.”
“We just showed you one of ours with his tongue cut out for talking too much. That’s not crazy to you?”
Bryan swallowed hard. “I don’t…I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Or you don’t want to say?”
“I’m very scared, sir.”
Cooper lifted Darla off his shoulders and set her down outside the circle of chairs. He approached Bryan, bent, and stared him in the eye. He whispered: “Tell me I’m crazy.”
Bryan shook his head.
“Tell me we’re all crazy.”
Bryan shook his head again, eyes filling with tears. He blinked, and one of the tears broke free, running down his cheek.
Cooper took hold of Bryan’s face, leaned in, and licked away the errant tear, slowly and with relish, as though the act were sensual. “I’ll respect you more if you tell me the truth,” he said, still in a whisper.
More tears fell. Bryan began to shake like a man fighting the cold. “I don’t—I don’t think you’re crazy…I think you’re psychopaths, and…and psychopaths aren’t crazy. They know right from wrong. They just…”
Cooper tilted his head. “They just what?”
“They just don’t care.”
Cooper stood bolt upright, raised his arms in the air, and screamed: “HALLELUJAH!”
Everybody flinched, Bryan as though he had been struck.
Cooper spun and exchanged foolish grins with his brood. “We just don’t care!” he declared triumphantly.
Cooper left Bryan and approached Wayne.
Bryan exhaled a lifetime of fear and sagged in his chair, head dropping, shoulders rising and falling with each labored breath that followed.
“Get it working?” Cooper asked Wayne.
Wayne was still fiddling with the camera. “I think so.”
“See that?” Cooper said, casting a proud glance towards the group. “Didn’t need your help after all.” He walked back towards the circle of chairs and took his spot in the middle once again. “Reckon we’ll take turns filming,” he said, glancing back at Wayne. “You take opening ceremonies?”
Wayne nodded and placed the camera on his shoulder, eye in the lens. “We’re live,” he said.
“There, you see?” Travis said, still looming over Stacey. “Told you you’d get your film.” He tapped her head again.
Bryan didn’t seem to notice this time.
Chapter 32
“Opening ceremonies, then,” Cooper said. “There’s a lot of drinking involved in our games, but we always start with the good stuff. Kinda like how we don’t always save the best events for last.” He stared at everyone as though they might understand. “You see, if you start with the cheap stuff, you might get too drunk before you can enjoy the good stuff. And if you start with the lesser events, there’s a chance too many die before we get to the big ones.”
Everyone’s eyes grew. Morgan gasped.
“So,” Cooper said, “we start out with a shot of Wayne’s special batch. Y’all will be joining us too. It’s tradition.”
Trudy emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of shot glasses filled with a clear liquid.
“Saw you at Jumbo’s,” Cooper said. “Seemed to like yourselves some shots. So don’t be stupid and go resisting now, you hear?”
“How the hell do you expect us to drink?” Mick asked, making a show of futilely tugging at the binds that bound his hands behind the back of his chair. “With our feet?”
“We’ll feed them to you,” Trudy said.
“What if we say no?” Mick said.
Cooper stuck out his lip. “I’d say it’d be like telling a surgeon you didn’t want no dope before he cut you up.”
They all drank.
***
“Okay, now round one is gonna be a little different than usual,” Cooper said. “You see, we seen what this fella here”—he pointed to Mick—“is capable of. Right handy with his dukes, he is. And we’ll be drinking too damn much to keep such a watchful eye on him the whole time. Therefore it’s in our best interest for him to start with a solo event. One with—how should we say—low odds?”
Wayne and Trudy snorted. Travis looked on with optimism.
Darla ran over to Mick and climbed onto his lap. “Gator Fight! Gator Fight! Gator Fight!”
***
“This event here’s nice, ’cause we can do it right here in the den,” Cooper said. “Trudy, darling, you wanna help me push these folks back against the wall?”
With Wayne and Travis curiously absent for the moment, Cooper and Trudy dragged and pushed all six in their chairs back against the farthest wall of the den (camera strategically propped on a shelf to capture all). Every now and then during the effort, one of them would start to plead, but needed only to glance Harlon’s way before thinking better of it.
Grunts and sounds of commotion now coming from beyond the den and towards the west end of the house. Wayne then appearing first, clearly dragging something heavy and out of view from a thick length of rope.
The wall of six looked on with horrified anticipation, Wayne’s body in the doorway obscuring their view.
Then they wished their view had remained obscured.
Wayne’s catch appeared, snout first. The long green jaws of the alligator were wrapped shut in both Wayne’s rope and in yards of duct tape. Travis brought up the rear, bent over and straining as he assisted Wayne by lifting and shoving the big reptile by the base of its thick tail. Ironically, yet by no means amusingly so, the alligator too was bound in rope, all four legs behind its back as it was dragged into the den.
Morgan was the first to scream. Then Leigh. Then Tommy. Mick and Bryan shouted every obscenity they knew. Stacey remained quiet, somehow finding a way to detach herself from it all, to observe it with the numbing filter of—
(What? An addict?)
No.
(Yes. The addict always needs a reason to use, girl; you know that. Good news or bad, there’s always a reason to use. Does this not qualify as one of the biggest fucking reasons EVER?)
I don’t need smack to detach and function. Not then; not now. I can handle this without. Me, me, fucking ME.
The alligator was in the den completely now, still bound at the legs and snout. It did not struggle. Did, in fact, look somewhat comfortable, as though perhaps getting a chance to relax in the den was a rare treat. Its reptilian eyes were even closed. If not for the rhythmic movement of its powerful torso as it breathed, one might have assumed the thing dead, all of this a giant bluff meant only to scare and nothing else.
(Except it’s not nothing else. You know that.)
Travis, breathing heavy from the effort, took a rest and squatted on the base of the alligator’s tail. Wayne did something similar, taking a seat behind the gator’s head. The alligator did not seem to mind.
(They’re like kids on a fucked-up pony ride.)
Darla and Stacey were clearly of like mind. Darla rushed towards the alligator, eager to ride the pony as well. Only her charge was too abrupt. The gator came to life with the suddenness of a bullet, whipping its giant head to one side, its snout catching Darla full and sending her flying.
Despite their hatred for their captors, the six were still helpless to innate stabs of empathy, especially concerning the well-being of
a child. They all collectively gasped as Darla flew through the air and landed hard on the den’s wood floor.
When the girl bounced up almost instantaneously, wobbly, nose bleeding, elbows and knees torn, Stacey expected her to cry or run to her mother. She did neither. She instead began screeching and laughing uproariously, like a child plunging down the highest peak of their first roller-coaster. She charged towards the alligator again, eager for its massive snout to catapult her once more, send her screaming down that highest peak again,
(she’s chasing the dragon. Fitting. Thing looks like a damn dragon)
Using humor—sick humor—to detach?
yet Cooper stopped her charge, snatching Darla around the waist with one arm and then cradling her into his arms, smooching her loudly all over, she squirming and giggling, her dirty tee periodically rising up, exposing her little belly, allowing Cooper to blow raspberries into it, this delighting his granddaughter that much further.
Trudy and Wayne looked on with great love. Like the two boys enjoying a fucked-up pony ride, this too—in that same alternate universe where fucked up was not just normal, but sugary sweet—might have been a heartwarming moment between grandfather and granddaughter. And why the hell not? Stacey shrugged to herself. It is.
Cooper hoisted Darla back onto his shoulders and clapped his hands together once more. “Okay, here’s what’s what. The tough fella there”—he pointed to Mick—“Mick, is it?”
Mick said nothing.
Cooper nodded. “Mick. Mick is gonna try and get that big son of a bitch onto his back. Good old-fashioned wrestling, you can call it.”
Morgan started to cry.
“Now, now…” Cooper said. “No tears, young lady; he’s got a hell of a chance. You see, gators get a bad reputation. They really don’t bother folks unless…well…okay, never mind. Was gonna say they don’t bother folks much unless they’re provoked. But seeing as how he’s gonna be trying to flip the big bastard onto his back, I reckon that counts as provoked.”
Trudy laughed.
“You’ll be fine, man,” Bryan blurted. “It knocked the little girl over, but you’re quicker and stronger. Get behind the thing like they were when they brought it in. After that, you’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”
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