by Mark Stewart
TEGAN KENDAL slowly opened her heavy eyelids. She was lying prone on a single bed wearing the same pink pajamas she wore to bed. Sunlight streamed onto her face through a small window. She struggled to a sitting position and called out in a croaky voice.
“Mum, you didn’t wake me for breakfast. Why?”
She yawned, stretched and rubbed her eyes using knuckled fists. Through Brown slits, she gazed about the small barren room. Her thin eyebrows slowly angled to a point.
“This isn’t my room. Where are my books? My Music CDs? Where am I? How did I get here?” Her eyes widened. She lifted her hands to massage her temples. “I think I remember last night someone entered my room and shoved a cloth under my nose. I remember waking up in the back of a van and managed to throw a CD out of the window before falling asleep again. Now I’m here.”
Tears formed in her eyes. She mouthed the word mum. The only noise she heard sounded worse than a dry whisper.
Heavy footsteps trudged up the stairs. They stopped outside the closed door. Tegan heard a click, and the door swung open. Tegan screamed and slid back towards the bedhead dragging the heavy chain padlocked to her ankle with her. She screamed again and tugged on the chain which appeared to be securely attached to the bed.
“Hey kid, you hungry?” snarled a black hooded figure. His dark gloves were gripping the edge of a plate.
His voice sounded cold and sinister.
Tegan gave a slight nod.
The hooded person entered the room and placed the plate of steaming bacon and eggs on the bed.
“Eat.”
Tegan pushed her shoulder blades harder against the cast iron bedhead. The unforgiving eyes behind the hood stared directly at her. They seemed to be amused at her fear.
“Who are you? What do you want? Why am I here?”
The tall figure stepped closer, towering over the girl. Sobbing, she tried to cower away.
“You’re here because you are a little mouse and your last name is Kendal. I hate everyone who’s last name is Kendal. I especially loathe your father for what he did. Be advised I’m no killer. However, the fire’s hungry. It’s hungry for human flesh, and I’m using you for bait.”
“My dad’s a cop. He’ll find me, and he’ll hunt you down.”
“Precisely why I won’t tell you my real identity, it’s the rules. Now eat.”
“How do I know you haven’t poisoned the food?”
“You’re brighter than a solid silver button aren’t you?”
“I’m not scared of you, Hoody. Be warned I’m not about to do anything you tell me to do.”
The hooded figure paced the floor chanting. “I’m not scared of you. I’m not scared of you.” He abruptly stopped. “You’re my hostage, and you’ll do exactly as I tell you.”
The hooded figure recommenced his chanting and pacing the floor.
“Stop walking. You’re making me dizzy.”
The figure stopped at the doorway, folded his arms and let out a belly laugh.
“The dizziness you’re experiencing is the after effects of the Ether.”
“What’s Ether?”
“I’m not going to say. You have to guess.”
Tegan stood and copied the hooded figure’s stance.
“I don’t want to guess; I want to go home.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Tell me your name,” ordered Tegan.
“No. Do you want to play a game?”
“No.”
“Don’t you like games?”
“I like games only when I know the name of my opponent.”
“Hey, you’re almost as good as your father.” The hooded figure grinned. “I like games. Guess what kind.”
“I don’t want to guess.”
“Guess,” yelled Hoody. Glaring, he folded his arms tighter.
“I’ll guess if you tell me your name.” sobbed Tegan.
“No. Frustrating isn’t it?”
Hoody marched across the room. He stood staring at Tegan nose to nose.
“Scared yet?”
“No,” Tegan whispered between sobs.
“You should be.”
“Hide and seek. Do you like playing hide and seek?”
“Bad guess. I don’t like that game.”
“Why?”
Hoody answered by changing the subject.
“This is the Doc’s place. She doesn’t like it when I’m here, and she’s not at home. I’ll let you in on a secret. I don’t care what she thinks. I told her I’m the stronger. Naturally, she disagrees. If you stay quiet and play by my rules, she won’t find out.”
“If you don’t want to play hide and seek, I won’t play anything.”
“You’re a typical girl.”
Tegan stared into the eyes of her captor. “When I grow up, I’m going to be a cop just like my dad. I’ll track you down, and I’ll arrest you.”
“If you want to celebrate your thirteenth birthday, change your attitude. You and your father have the same stinking attitude.”
Hoody marched towards the door. He turned on his toes and glared at Tegan.
“Do you want to know what game I love most?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I think you do. I call it Fire Games.”
“I’ve never heard of fire games.”
“It’s a game I win, and you lose and so does your father, Detective Alan James Kendal.”
Hoody grinned. Back stepping into the open doorway, he extracted a match from a matchbox and lit it.
Tegan stared at the small lit flame. She scrambled backwards in an attempt to escape. The chain clamped around her ankle slid towards her a short half metre before it was piano wire tight. The Cast iron brace welded across the width of the bed did a great job in making sure the chain would only go so far.
Hoody chuckled at her feeble attempts to get away.
“Hey, girlie, call me Patrick.”
He flicked the lit match-high into the air and slammed the door shut. Laughing, he descended the stairs three at a time.
Tegan yelled a blood-curdling scream, gripped the chain using white knuckles and dived off the bed. She completed a tumble roll over the floor, screamed again and lunged for the window. The metal tether tightened restricting her escape. She fell to the floor. Her left shoulder hit first. Her torso came next followed by her legs. She winced at the pain, rolled over onto her back and looked up at the window.
“I don’t want to die,” she screamed. “Dad, Mum, what can I do?” Her tears flowed faster. “I don’t want to be burnt alive.”
CHAPTER SIX
