by Wade Ebeling
Daniel chanced a look over the hood, seeing Bob dash inside of the dark house. He reached for the rifle, but quickly withdrew his hand when reports cracked near the garage and screaming bullets tore into the car all around him. Pinned down by the advancing guards, Daniel pushed himself backwards until he was squatted behind the trunk. He pulled the pistol out, immediately questioning how many rounds there were left. He knew that he had emptied the main magazine and most of the spare over at the R.V. camp, but how many remained was a mystery.
Making sure that Bob was not still in the doorway, Daniel moved to the other side of the car and fired once at the men by the garage. Surprisingly, because he was so heavily outgunned, the two guards stopped firing. A moment of silence fell, and Daniel heard why they had stopped shooting. The sound of another vehicle could be heard coming up from the south, which had most likely emerged from the Warehouse.
Daniel immediately came to the conclusion that it was reinforcements coming to help Bob Donner. Headlights flashed across the tops of trees when the vehicle, a large one by the engine noise, turned into the strip mall parking lot.
Knowing he should run away as fast as possible, Daniel let the moment slip by. The lull in fighting was sure to end, and he did the only thing that made sense; he shoved himself away from the car and ran up onto the porch. His chance to kill Bob Donner was here, and he was going to take it. Fear no longer affected him. Death almost seemed like the easy way out, not the hard way.
Calmly, Daniel walked into the gloom inside, pausing to listen. The engine outside turned off. The stairs reaching up were strewn with garbage, so Bob had not gone that way. The dining room was cluttered, but it obviously did not hold his quarry. Only one choice left, a narrow hall, which most likely ended at the kitchen.
Cautiously moving forward, straining his eyes against the pervasive darkness, Daniel could only hear angry shouts coming from behind the house. Turning into the tiny kitchen, distressingly light pistol in front of him, the smallest glimmer of light came from the basement stairwell. Creeping slowly on the balls of his feet, he had almost made it to the top of the stairs when the world outside erupted with gunfire. Daniel flinched, reflexively dropping his head.
This saved his life.
Bob Donner had hidden his small frame behind the mustard-yellow refrigerator. When Daniel went to look down the stairs, Bob’s arm straightened, his hand holding a military-issue 9mm Beretta, the end of the warm barrel only inches from Daniel’s head. The sudden gunfire had caught both men by surprise, and Bob had somehow missed.
Daniel pushed Bob’s arm up with his free hand, charging forward at the same time, pinning the smaller man against the wall. Bob grabbed Daniel’s right wrist and pushed in downward, away from his own body. Within the restrictive confines of the room’s corner, the men struggled to break the stalemate. Spinning around and around, Daniel found some leverage by leaning against the kitchen table, managing to turn his right hand the other way. He fired once and the gun was empty; a neat hole in Bob’s thigh started to ooze blood.
Bob roared in pain, the sound nearly blocked out by the war taking place outside, and his leg buckled. Twisted as the two men were, arms above heads, Bob managed to pull Daniel over him. Keeping the momentum going, so he didn’t end up on the bottom of the pile, Daniel spun hard.
The fourth stair tread met the back of Daniel’ head, and the rest of the tumble down the stairwell was a blur of scratching and heavy blows from all angles. Landing sprawled at the bottom, Bob had braced an arm, rolling him over onto Daniel’s chest. Neither man had managed to keep ahold of their pistol, so Bob clawed at Daniel’s eyes instead. A flash of pain and blood from Daniel’s reopened wound splashed across his face, getting the sticky fluid into both of his eyes, and temporarily blinding him.
Panic coursed adrenaline through Daniel’s veins. He rolled into Bob, trapping his scratching arm. Daniel then bit Bob’s right thumb off at the second knuckle. The greasy man howled in pain for the second time. After bringing his knees up, Daniel then pushed out as hard as he could, sending Bob’s weight sailing through the air. Time seemed to slow as Bob spun weightlessly for a moment, and it seemed to speed up when he came crashing down to the cement floor, bouncing and sliding into the shadows on the far side of the small basement.
Daniel got himself to his knees, where he started to wipe the blood from face. Daniel could not see anything as he tried to blink the darkness away. He could just make out a slightly brighter area where a candle must be burning, but that was it. Daniel heard Bob stirring, and the sound of chains. He realized that this was only possible because the gunfight outside had stopped just as abruptly as it had started.
Bringing his hands up defensively above his head, Daniel cringed at how vulnerable he was.
More sounds of movement and chain rattles.
Daniel winced in anticipation of the blow. He hoped he died quickly.
But the blow never came.
Something was shaking on the ground where Bob should have landed, and Daniel thought that he might still have a chance. Standing up, but keeping his legs wide and balanced, Daniel felt around blindly. Wiping at his face with his shirt, he could definitely make out movement, something kicking and thrashing. He waited, unsure about what to do next. The movements slowed, and then all he could hear was panting, like there was now a dog in the room. With no attack forthcoming, Daniel decided that escape might not be that bad of an idea, so he started feeling for the stairwell opening along the wall.
The fear was trying to find its way back in.
Over his shoulder, Daniel could now make out the bulk of the basement, though very blurrily. A heavy wooden table stood in the middle under low, pipe-laced ceilings. The large candle burning only dimly lit the top half of the room. Someone, or something, continued to breathe heavily behind him, the sound coming from somewhere in the truncated shadows. As he made for the stairs, Bob’s death no longer seemed all that important to Daniel; at least, no more important than his own life.
Daniel needed to get out of here, before the guards came charging in. He needed to get back to Leslie. He needed to tell her was sorry for ever leaving her. He needed to…
“Get off of me…” a weak voice said. The high pitch said that the voice belonged to a woman.
Daniel spun to face her, but the woman, along with Bob, was lost in the harsh shadows of the basement.
“Who’s there?” Daniel called, still backing toward the stairs.
“Are you with him?” she croaked.
“No! Who are you? Wait, is he still…?”
“No. I think he is dead,” the woman said, a hint of glee in her voice.
Daniel asked the disembodied voice, it sounding like a sigh of relief, “So I killed him, then?”
“What? You? No, I did….” A chain rattled.
Daniel walked a few steps forward, questioning why he was still here.
“He’s dead? Are you sure?”
The woman ignored his question, posing one of her own instead, “Will you help me, please?”
The desperation in her voice was very pronounced. Daniel got the feeling that this woman was very strong-willed, and had only asked for assistance because she was truly unable to free herself. Daniel slid the candle closer to the edge of the table, the light passing blackened blood stains, grungy tools, and bits of dried flesh; fine hairs still visible on some of them.
As if seeing these things had roused him back awake, Daniel’s head reeled at the stench surrounding him. The dank room smelled of old death, feces, and fear sweat. He could now make out why the woman had sounded so desperate. She was on her back, pressed against the wall by the dead weight of Bob Donner’s body. Chains led from the wall, down around Bob’s neck, and to her wrists. She had chocked the life out of Daniel’s nemesis for him, probably saving his life in the process, and was now pinned under the psychotic man, unable to physically lift him off.
Shouts from outside.
There was no time. He would have to lea
ve her.
“Please…,” the woman managed, correctly reading Daniel’s decision by the look on his face. “Keys…in…pockets…” She was having trouble filling her lungs now.
More shouts. More concern for Leslie.
There was no way Daniel could leave her now. He had caught a glimpse of her battered face, and of her pleading blue eyes, which looked so similar to Corrine’s, and she had mentioned keys. Daniel needed the truck keys, and Bob Donner would be the one who would have them.
Daniel rushed forward, making his way around the table, and began struggling to pull slack into the chains around Bob’s throat. Pushing Bob’s head backwards, swollen tongue lolling from side to side, freed it from the loop of thick metal chain, and the body was easily rolled away after.
The woman took several large breaths, struggling to tell Daniel where the keys to her chains were. By slapping at Bob’s pants, the naked woman’s point was made quickly, and Daniel soon had his father’s key ring in his hand once again. All the old keys were gone, with the exceptions of those for the truck and cap. The only one other key occupying space on the ring now was one that would fit the padlocks cinching the chains around the woman’s wrists.
After freeing her, Daniel tried to help stand the woman up, but she was weakened and depleted, and her left leg had given out sickly; deep cuts around the ankle, torture wounds, no doubt, had hobbled it permanently. When the candle light showed her naked, mutilated body, Daniel gave an audible gasp.
“What’s your name?” Daniel asked roughly, looking only at her eyes, trying to will strength into her. He pocketed the keys, which had started to bring up a memory.
“T-Terry…Spanelli…” she said.
“I’m Daniel, Terry. Full name is Daniel Moore. It’s nice to meet you,” he said conversationally, getting a derisive chuckle in reply.
“How did you find me?” Terry asked, hissing in pain.
A high-pitched squeal came from outside.
“Never mind that, right now. Time to go…” He grabbed Terry around the hip with his right arm, and she looped her left arm over his neck. Daniel could now see that she was covered in wounds, mainly welts from a whip and small burns, from what he didn’t care to guess, and her face was bloodied and swollen from freshly landed punches; a good-bye present from Bob Donner. But it was the sickly-sweet smell that came from her infected wounds that churned his stomach most of all.
Leaning heavily on Daniel for support, and completely unconcerned about her nakedness, Terry Spanelli managed to hop up the stairs on one foot and out of the house. Taking a second to make sure the coast was clear, they started moving down the porch steps. Daniel looked over at the rusted sedan, seeing that his rifle was no longer on its hood.
The fear was back.
Stumbling over the heavy canvas pouch, Terry, knowing that her wedding ring had been tossed somewhere inside it, whispered urgently, “Pick it up! Pick it up! I need to get…” Knowing that his compliance would be quicker than his arguing, something Daniel that had learned from his wife, he stooped to pick up the surprisingly heavy little baggie, shoving it down the front of his pants after a moment of not knowing what else to do with it. She nodded in thanks, breathless, and took a hop forward with his help.
Almost tasting the freedom that the wreckage of the world would afford, Daniel led Terry through the yard and into the driveway, where a blood-curdling scream shattered the stillness of the night. It was the pain-filled scream of a young girl.
Rebecca was the first thing that came to Daniel’s mind, and he stopped abruptly, nearly letting go of Terry to turn and look up the drive.
There were men in grey jumpsuits everywhere. Some were emptying the garage of its cache, while others stood guard all around. Half a dozen rifle barrels and flashlights leveled off at Daniel and Terry, who had become very aware of her expose bits again. She grabbed painfully onto Daniel’s ribs to get behind him, pressing her breasts against his back to cover herself. They were caught dead to rights, and a few of the men started laughing as they approached.
Out of sight, the little girl howled in anguish again.
“Leslie!” Daniel roared, overwhelming odds the only thing keeping him standing where he was.
“Uncle Danny! Help me…Ouch! Stop it! Stop it!” Leslie howled, from somewhere near the truck on the far side of the divider wall.
“If you hurt her…!” Daniel screamed, his vow going unfinished. He tried to take a step forward, but was hampered by Terry.
The men all laughed; one asking his fellows, “How’d Mack know that’d work?”
Terry whimpered as the men surrounded them, snatching gropes at her bare white skin and slapping at her ass. Daniel could not do anything about those behind them, and he took a brutal sucker punch to the ear. Terry, as Daniel was her only form of protection, somehow managed to keep him up on his feet.
The men then pushed Terry and Daniel, still pressed together, toward the hole in the wall. The jostling, wobbly procession passed though the strangely roiled and pitted back yard and by the two bodies of the shredded policemen.
Daniel could actually feel his hope trying to abandon his body.
Ushered through the hole in the wall and around the back of his truck, which had been emptied of the crates, they walked into a nightmare. The orange Maintenance Department dump truck was there at a skewed angle, and ten or more jumpsuits were on this side of the wall spread all around it. One of them, a giant black man, who Daniel immediately pegged as their leader, held Leslie by the neck. Daniel had no doubt, given the man’s massive proportions, that he could snap it her thin spine like a twig.
Terry clawed at Daniel’s back, trying to shield herself from further abuse. Daniel felt as if he were stranding before a king and his court, awaiting judgment, jesters all around taking cheap shots at him. Leslie started crying freely when she saw Daniel, but the monster held her squirming body easily, and she was forced to calm down or risk being strangled unconscious.
An eternity passed in a moment. The fear shook Daniel down to his bones.
Try as he might, Daniel could not match the withering gaze of the giant. The man’s eye were like dark holes, devoid of all feeling and compassion. Several hands then pulled Terry painfully from his back and held him fast, dragging her forward to stand in front of Mack, where she promptly collapsed into a heap. Flashlights and leers followed her the whole time, highlighting just how abused she had been under Bob’s care.
“You do ‘dat to her?” Mack growled at Daniel. Without waiting for Daniel to attempt forming an answer, he then asked Terry, “’Dis skinny fucker hurt ya like ‘dat?”
Terry, to Daniel’s great admiration and appreciation, managed to shake her head ‘no’ and say coldly, “Bastard in the basement did…”
Mack nodded his head at some of the surrounding jumpsuits, and they trotted off to check out the house. Mack nodded again, and Daniel was released. The workers stepped back, far enough so that Daniel could not turn and surprise them. This left an awkward silence.
Daniel broke it when he whispered, “Don’t hurt her, please.” finding that he could now look the giant in the eye.
Mack followed Daniel’s eyes down to the little blue-faced girl clenched in his hand, almost looking surprised to see her there. He let the child go; his rouse had already worked.
Leslie fell to her knees, sucking for breath and gingerly touching at the sides of her neck, where a large bruise was already forming. With breath back in her lungs, she began sobbing again, and trying to crawl closer to Daniel. The sight was breaking Daniel’s heart, so he took two steps toward Leslie, intent on picking her up lovingly. But a rifle butt smashed into Daniel’s lower back, causing him to join the girls on the parking lot’s cracked surface.
Daniel was forced to watch as Leslie slowly crawled her way over to him. Terry reached out reflexively to comfort the girl, but Leslie stayed well out of her arm’s length. Several of the men laughed, but some of the others seemed to get bored and started wal
king away, continuing to stack supplies into the back of the dump truck. Slowly, painfully scuffing her knees, Leslie finally made it to Daniel, where he pulled her up to his chest, holding her close.
They both cried.
“You her uncle, fo’ real?” Mack drawled.
“Yes,” Daniel said, wiping a tear away. He stood back up with defiance in his eyes and Leslie cradled in his arms. He could care less whether or not this monster called him on the bluff, Daniel would go to the grave saying that the girl was his family now. The scratchy canvas pouch pressed into his hip as he straightened, putting Leslie’s weight on it, and Daniel was soon starting to thinking of different ways he could use it as a weapon. He would give his life to try and save the girl.
“You bet’sa be right, bitch,” Mack warned Terry; the jumpsuits had returned from the house. One of the men walked up to Mack, speaking in a low tone. Daniel was quite sure that he heard ‘…some sick shit…’ and ‘…no keys…’ in the man’s explanation of what had been found down in the basement.
Terry had found the will to get away from the giant man now that his attention was diverted. Everyone was silent for a moment as she crawled on all fours, useless foot dragging behind her. Someone whistled out a cat call, but the laughs ended swiftly when Mack raised his hand for silence. Looking curiously at the terrified woman crawling away from him, he then shot a glance at Daniel holding Leslie, then back to Terry, before saying, “She your wife, or sumfin’?”
Daniel’s voice quivered, but he managed to quickly say, “Yes…That…that monster had her,” paying no attention to the goon behind him saying, “Oh, boo-fuckin’-hoo!”, or the laughs he got.
Mack turned to talk to a man standing next to him, still guarding against people overhearing. Daniel didn’t care what was being said, his attention was still on Terry, who he had just helped to stand up beside him. He held the two girls tightly. Leslie had stopped crying, and her head was bobbing with exhaustion; Daniel felt safe and warm to her. The workers started dispersing as Mack told them to head back to ‘that big building’ for a while.
