Single White Psycopath Seeks Same

by Jeff Strand

  “Whatever you say.” He wasn’t lowering the gun.

  “Could you maybe put that down?” I asked. “I’m in enough pain without having you point that thing at me.”

  “I could, but you know what, I don’t feel like it. I kind of like holding you at gunpoint. Makes me feel nice and powerful inside.”

  “Whatever makes you happy.”

  “It does, thanks. And it would also make me happy if you put back that machete. It’s private property.”

  I set the machete back on the cart.

  “Much appreciated. You know, I’m the one who has to clean up the mess you made in here. I should shoot you just for that.”

  “I’m sure Daniel would have something to say about that.”

  “You’re absolutely right. He pays me well, and he lets me kill people. Wouldn’t want to lose that gig. That’s the only reason you’re still alive, though I don’t think that will last very long.”

  “And what exactly does that mean?” I asked.

  “It’s a surprise. I think you mentioned that you like surprises. Come on, let’s go. Your ass is leaking all over the floor.”

  He stepped back as I walked out of the room, not letting me get close. He kept the gun pointed at me as I walked down a short hallway.

  “In there,” he said. I entered a small room containing nothing but a wooden bench and an overhead light. He tossed me the plastic bag. “There’s gauze and tape in there. Enjoy.”

  He slammed the door shut.

  So, was my situation better or worse? Obviously I’d lost some of their respect, but had I erased any of their doubts about me?

  At least Charlotte was still alive.

  And I had a plan.

  When they brought out the next victim, I’d be sitting up there with the other spectators, and this time there wouldn’t be a giant plastic cube separating us. I’d arrange to sit next to Josie. When the others were distracted by the show below, I’d put the knife to her neck, before any of them got a chance to pull those damn guns on me. Daniel wouldn’t risk his wife for the sake of some prisoners. At least I didn’t think so.

  If I couldn’t sit next to Josie, I’d go for Daniel.

  If I had to, I’d use one of the others. I wasn’t sure Daniel would surrender to save somebody like Stan, but I had to try. Regardless, no matter what, I was going to act.

  I taped myself up, padding my pants with the gauze. It was too painful to sit, so I paced around the room, waiting for them to come get me.

  Half an hour passed. They were probably still having convulsions of laughter. Bastards.

  Another full hour passed before the door opened. Foster again, still holding his gun. “Let’s go,” he said. “We’re about to have an emergency meeting.”

  I WAS TAKEN back inside the mansion, to a large, nicely furnished den. Daniel shut off the wide-screen TV with the remote control as Foster and I entered. He was sitting next to Josie on a loveseat, while Mortimer reclined in an easy chair, sipping a bottle of beer. Stan sat on the floor, leaning his back against a small couch as he chewed on a pencil.

  “Welcome back, Andrew,” said Daniel. “How’s the ass doing?”

  “It’s fine,” I said. I glanced around the room approvingly. “Very nice.”

  “Thanks. Why don’t you have a seat? We’ve got something to discuss.”

  “I’d rather stand, for obvious reasons.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I’d rather you sit.”

  Foster pushed a metal folding chair behind me. I sat down with a wince.

  “Care for a beer?” Daniel asked.

  “Nah, that’s all right.”

  “Pop?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry, I guess that’s soda to you southern folk.”

  “I knew what you meant. No, no soda, thanks.”

  “Bottled water? Anything?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sure? Okay.” Daniel leaned forward. “All right, Andrew, I’m going to be straight with you. I don’t think this is working out. You’re not enjoying yourself, and you’re not fitting in.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “I thought I was going to be giving you the vacation of a lifetime. I’ve put so much hard work and energy into this place, and I can’t share it! It’s frustrating. And so I leapt at the chance to bring in a new person, but I didn’t think it through, and I’ve treated you horribly, and for that I apologize.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” I said.

  “We’ve all discussed this, and we feel it’s best if we take you home. I’ll let you decide what you want to do with Roger. I’d prefer that you leave him here for us, but that’s up to you. Do you think we can end this without hard feelings?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Would you mind filling out one of our customer satisfaction surveys before you leave?” Daniel asked. “No, I’m kidding, but I do have one question. Did you honestly think we weren’t going to find out that you’ve been lying to us all this time?”

  Chapter 16

  THERE WERE many possible responses to that query, but I went with the most generic. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Now, see, that’s the kind of thing that really bugs me,” said Daniel. “I’m not stupid, and I’d like you to respect my intelligence. You’re not the Headhunter, you never were. You’re Andrew Mayhem, happily married with two kids and a best friend you’d give your life for. I’m assuming you managed to get the real Headhunter to blab his whole story, and you thought that you’d pass yourself off as him to be a great big hero and rescue all these poor innocent victims. Now tell me, is that a reasonable assessment of the situation?”

  I remained silent.

  “I’m not playing around anymore. The games are on hold. I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

  “No, it’s not a reasonable assessment.”

  “Is that a fact? Okay, then, Mortimer, would you like to show Exhibit A?”

  Mortimer held up the piece of notebook paper I’d tried to fax. The writing was smeared, but still legible, even with my lousy handwriting.

  “Exhibit A, found in the pants pocket of a Mr. Andrew Mayhem, one hour ago by Mortimer, who was so kind as to say yes when I asked him to throw some clothes in the wash. Not a very promising sign of your loyalty to our little group, now is it?”

  “I can explain,” I said. I desperately wanted myself to just shut up, but the lame comments kept spewing out of my mouth.

  “I’m not interested in your explanation quite yet. Ready for Exhibit B?”

  “I’m ready for Exhibit B,” said Foster.

  “Alas, there is no real Exhibit B. Exhibit B is simply the agreement by all of us that your story is complete bullshit. To be totally honest, you were pretty questionable from the beginning, to some of us more than others, but I think even without Exhibit A we’d still be in this same spot, having this same conversation. Without the references to Exhibit A, naturally.”

  “Or Exhibit B,” Josie added.

  “Right, though the gist of Exhibit B would remain, it simply wouldn’t have been referred to as Exhibit B, since there would have been no Exhibit A to follow. Do you understand what I’m driving at, Andrew?”

  “Just that you people are totally sick in the head.”

  Daniel frowned. “Now, that’s another one of those things that really bugs me. I’m not asking you to throw yourself at my feet in tears or anything, but it wouldn’t hurt you to be polite.”

  “You expect me to be polite while you’re accusing me of this nonsense?” I’d developed such an unbearably bad headache that I now had an escape plan. I’d simply wait to my head to explode, and then use the distraction to flee.

  “Okay, now we’ve gone past the point of things that bug me into the realm of things that piss me off. We’ve caught you, Andrew. You’re dead. You’re history. In fact, when you find out what we’ve got planned for you, you’re going to wish you’d been one of those poor souls we tore
apart with the darts.”

  “I wholeheartedly agree with that statement,” said Foster. “Your death is not going to be a nice one.”

  “No, it’s not,” Josie added. “I’ve never considered myself a squeamish woman, but just thinking about what’s going to happen to you makes me want to squeam.”

  Daniel chuckled. “So shall we get to it?”

  “Whoa, hold on,” I said, barely able to hear my own words. “Don’t I get to tell my side of it?”

  Daniel shook his head. “No. You do not.”

  “You can’t do this. You can’t drag me all the way to Alaska for your little party and then treat me like this.”

  Daniel slammed his fist against the armrest, making Josie jump. “ You are not the Headhunter! ” he screamed. “Stop insulting my intelligence! You are dead! D-E-A-D! And there’s not a single thing that can save you! Do you understand?”

  The doorbell rang.

  “What the hell?” asked Daniel.

  “People know where I am,” I said. “Cops, FBI, the whole works. I’ve got a tracer in my shoe. They’ve known where I was from the beginning. So I strongly recommend that you behave yourself.”

  “Foster, check it out,” said Daniel. Foster nodded and hurried out of the room.

  “You’d all better just give up now,” I told everyone. “Things are going to get ugly.”

  “Things are already ugly,” Daniel informed me. “And you don’t have to worry, no matter what happens I will make sure you die. And get your hand away from your pocket before I shoot it off.”

  I didn’t have anything in my pocket, but he didn’t have to know that. “I’ve seen your shooting at darts. I wasn’t impressed.”

  Daniel’s face darkened. “You can not possibly imagine how much I am going to enjoy what we’ve got planned for you.”

  There was a gunshot.

  “Mortimer, Stan...see what the deal is,” said Daniel. They quickly left the room.

  “Gee, I hope Foster’s all right,” I said. “He was always my favorite. He gets those cute little dimples when he smiles. Doesn’t he just light up the room when he enters?”

  Another gunshot.

  “Doesn’t sound good, does it?” I asked.

  “Foster!” Daniel shouted. “Hey, Foster! What the hell is going on out there?”

  No answer.

  “Mortimer?” he called out.

  “I hope Morty’s not dead yet,” I said. “He was a good teammate.”

  Then I heard laughter. Multiple voices.

  My heart sank.

  Mortimer entered the room. “It’s taken care of.”

  Foster and Stan followed, dragging Thomas. He was severely frostbitten, barely conscious, and had a bullet hole in his leg.

  “Well, well, what have we here?” asked Daniel.

  “I have no idea how he managed to get through the fence,” Foster said. “He tried to pretend like his car broke down. Dumb fuck could barely hold the gun.”

  “Was he alone?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “Take him to the operating room. Use whatever it takes to get the whole story. Don’t be gentle.”

  “No problem.”

  This was the moment where I had to go for broke.

  “Stan? Put Andrew to bed.”

  Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my neck. I plucked out a tiny dart, and then immediately became dizzy.

  I lunged at Mortimer with my bare hands, but missed by a good three feet. I stumbled forward, hit the carpet without feeling a thing, and was overtaken by darkness.

  WHEN I woke up, I was in a large, chilly room with a dirt floor. The plaster ceiling was about ten feet high and held several fluorescent light bulbs.

  I was seated in a wheelchair, wearing only my boxer shorts, strapped in so thoroughly that the only thing I could move was my neck and head. Roger was seated in a wheelchair next to me, fully clothed but also strapped in.

  “Roger! I’m so sorry!” I said.

  Roger nodded. “At least we get to see each other again. Makes it all worthwhile, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, yeah, kissy kissy,” said Daniel. He was in front of us, seated on an oversized pine coffin, next to which were a series of freshly dug graves. Josie, Foster, Mortimer, and Stan were standing around, while Thomas kneeled on the ground in front of them, duct tape over his mouth and his arms tied behind his back.

  “This is the burial room,” Daniel explained. “We don’t use headstones, for obvious reasons, but this is where we keep the corpses when we’re done with them. As you can see, our good friends Susan and Trevor are awaiting their last rites.”

  He gestured to a cart next to the door, where a pair of bloody, unrecognizable bodies lay. “I’m pleased to announce that we’ll be adding to today’s body count. Roger, we listened to your tape. Very entertaining, as we knew it would be. Nice attempt to cover for your buddy. I admire that kind of loyalty. Therefore, you get to watch your friends die, then we’re putting you back in your cell. You’ll die later, of course, but at least you can enjoy this plane of existence for a short while longer.”

  Roger didn’t respond.

  “Andrew, you’re not going to get off quite as easily. But that’s for later. First, I’d like to address the problem of our little intruder.” He tapped Thomas on the back with the toe of his shoe. “Foster was so kind as to be our official gatherer of information. I personally would have been more vicious with my technique; after all, I’d think that a blowtorch on frostbitten fingers would be rather soothing, but Mr. Thomas Seer did speak freely when properly coerced. As you already know, Andrew, there are no reinforcements. Nobody knows you’re here. Sucks to be you, huh?”

  He took his revolver out of his jacket pocket. “As I admire Roger, I also admire Thomas. He put a lot of effort to get to where he is today, and therefore I have decided that his death will be quick and painless.” He held the revolver against the back of Thomas’ head.

  “You don’t have to do this!” I insisted.

  Daniel lowered the gun. “I have no admiration for you, and I especially have no admiration for your asinine comments, so please do us all a favor and shut up.”

  “There are reinforcements. Didn’t you see his tracer?”

  “I know all about his tracer. I even know that it’s stolen property. I know everything there is to know about the situation, even more than you do.” He returned the gun to Thomas’ head. “Ready to die, Tommy?”

  Thomas’ body shook, as if he were sobbing without tears.

  “I’ve never been shot myself, but I expect that it won’t be too painful. Should be over fairly quickly. But the whole suspense thing has gotta be pretty agonizing, huh? I mean, your life is going to be over any second now, but you don’t know which second it’ll be. Could be now. Could be...now. Man, oh man, that’s gotta be rough.”

  “Please—” I began.

  “Enough! One more word out of you and we’re putting on a gag, okay? You’re only making things worse for Tommy by stretching this out. Ooooh, I almost pulled the trigger that time. When, oh when, will it happen? Now? No. Now? Maybe. Could be now. Wait for it...wait for it...”

  Then he lowered the gun again. “You know what? I’d like to hear what Tommy has to say about his approaching death. What do the rest of you think?”

  The others murmured their approval. Mortimer had a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

  Daniel ripped off the duct tape. “So, Tommy, how are you feeling at this unpleasant moment?”

  “I’m gonna kill you!”

  “No, actually, you’re mistaken. I am the one who will be killing you. And I lied. Nobody in my house gets away with a gunshot to the head.” He tossed the revolver away, then reached behind the coffin. “Mr. Seer, meet Mr. Hatchet!”

  He held up a small hatchet in his right hand, and then walked around in front of Thomas so he could see it, too. “Mr. Hatchet is nice and sharp, but he’s kind of small. It will take a lot of work to get the job done. Good
thing I’m not afraid of an honest day’s labor.”

  Daniel walked behind Thomas again. “Now, now, where to chop first? Right here?” He touched the blade to Thomas’ ear. “Here?” He touched Thomas’ nose. “So many places. Decisions, decisions.”

  He lifted the hatchet high above his head. “I think I’ll start...here.”

  Daniel swung the hatchet down, slamming it into Thomas’ shoulder. Thomas let out a wail that echoed throughout the room. Daniel wrenched the hatchet free, and then slammed it down into the same spot.

  I looked over at Roger. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

  Thomas continued screaming.

  The others were laughing.

  “Whooooo-weee!” exclaimed Daniel. “I’m gonna work up a good ol’ sweat!” He brought the hatchet down again.

  I closed my eyes.

  Thomas’ screams were deafening, but I could still hear every impact of the hatchet. And the laughter and cheering.

  The hits and the screams continued. The hits came faster and faster, and the screams grew louder.

  I can’t even begin to guess how many times the hatchet fell before the screams faded.

  Finally, they faded away completely. The hatchet hits continued.

  When they finally stopped, I opened my eyes. Thomas was no longer recognizable as...anything. Daniel was completely drenched.

  “That was fuckin’ exhilarating! ” he proclaimed, tossing aside the hatchet and whipping his head back and forth like a dog shaking itself off after an unwanted bath. “Don’t ever say I don’t know how to party!”

  Chapter 17

  “YOU DA man!” Mortimer proclaimed.

  “Come on, it’s Andrew’s turn, let’s do it,” said Daniel, waving the others over to him.

  “Don’t you want to clean up first?” asked Josie.

  “Not at all.” He grabbed a handful of his shirt and wrung it out. “This is great. This is so great. I keep forgetting how much I love this.”