by Jonas Saul
The mattress was darker on the underside, moist from the water it had lain in. He folded it in half and then placed it beside the toilet like a beanbag-futon chair thing, sat down and set his arm on the toilet.
He flushed the toilet.
Then he flushed it again.
“Imagine, my life has been reduced to flushing a toilet in the hopes that something will come of it to gain my freedom. Fucking pathetic.”
He flushed.
And thought about Rosina. He needed to get more aggressive. He needed to think outside the box. A glass box.
He continued flushing as the water seeped across the floor in rivers and out the cracks at the bottom of the door.
“You’re in for one hell of a water bill, Mr. Gangster.”
What if I take the water to the door?
He cupped water in his hands and rushed to the door and checked the seams. He couldn’t detect where the electrical part of the door was fast enough as the water slipped through his fingers.
There was a silver rectangular block touching the door on the other side near the corner. That must be the magnet that bolts the glass door closed. It would prove impossible for him to get water to that area.
Dejected, he walked back to the mattress and sat down to put his face in his hands.
“There has to be a way.”
Something banged outside the walls of his prison. It came to him with its metal tinny sound.
Someone was home.
He waited, hiding behind the toilet bowl in his underwear.
After a minute, he heard another bang.
Then the basement door opened. Light spilled down the stairs.
Adrenaline surged through him. The moment had come. He was ready. This was his gladiator moment, his UFC time in the spotlight. If he succeeded, he would win his freedom and get the girl.
“I love you, baby,” he whispered to his wife as the first pair of legs started down the steps.
Only one other person followed the giant Russian down this time. They stopped at the bottom and flicked on the lights.
“What the hell is this?” the giant asked in a gruff voice. “What have you done?”
He followed the water trail until it led him to the side of the glass prison staring down at the toilet.
“It got plugged,” Darwin said, shrugging. “I didn’t have a mop.”
“It didn’t get plugged. You’re naked because you jammed your clothes down there.”
“That’s good. Are all of you that smart?”
He didn’t know how far he could push this large Russian without just getting shot for his trouble.
He suddenly realized who the Russian was—The Scythe. Yuri had talked about him at the restaurant. He called him Scy for short.
Scy walked around the glass walls until he reached the wooden cellar door in the far wall. He opened it and stepped inside. The man who had followed Scy down the stairs leaned against the wall and picked at his teeth.
“I bet you like to bugger little boys,” Darwin said to the man.
“Fuck you. Talk all you want. You’re the one who’s dead when this is over. I’ll still be drinking vodka, fucking the whores and killing idiots like you for years to come.”
Darwin knew he had to push them hard. He needed them blinded with rage so when they opened the door they wouldn’t be thinking straight.
“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Darwin whispered.
“What was that?” the man asked as he pushed off the wall and stepped closer to the glass.
“I said, not if I have anything to do with it. If I had it my way, I would put you on the ground right here in front of me and step on your face. How would you like that? Can I step on your fucking face?”
“Oh, you little …”
“Don’t talk to him,” Scy yelled from the back room.
The man pulled out his gun and clicked the safety off.
“If I get the chance,” he said, his voice low, “I will use this.” He shook the gun for emphasis. “I will put holes in your body for hours, keeping you alive long enough to go for a record. Would you like a new hole in your ass? Maybe you want a new hole in your balls?”
“What, so you can fuck me like the women you never get? No thanks. A bullet in the forehead will do me just fine.”
The man slapped the glass. “I will kill you for that.”
“You know, they say homophobia is produced in men who have gay tendencies. You must be attracted to cock and want one in your ass. But you think it’s wrong and fight that side of you. I say go for it. Let yourself be free. Fuck all the men you want. You look like the type.”
The man smiled on the other side of the glass. “All you got is your mouth.”
“I took my clothes off for you,” Darwin said. “Come and get it. I’ll let you take my underwear off. Come on.”
“When Scythe opens this door in a minute, I’m coming in and I’m going to put a bullet in your face.”
“I said no talking,” Scy yelled. He stepped back into view, exiting the little room. “And you will not shoot him. Those aren’t our orders.”
“You should hear the shit he’s talking.”
“I don’t fucking care what he says. Don’t worry, he’ll get his. Now shut the fuck up.”
Scy disappeared in the little room again.
“See, I proved my point,” Darwin said.
The man stepped away from the glass, clearly agitated.
“You’re the woman here, taking orders from your husband. What, you can’t stand up to him?” Darwin waited, then added. “Fucking pussy.”
Scy stepped out, this time pulling a cart of some kind. Wires and netting stood at least six feet tall and had a small square table attached to its side. It looked like the inside of a mattress with all the cloth material missing. As Scy dragged it closer, Darwin saw the control box on the table with the large single dial.
An electrocution grid of some kind.
Two rings for the wrists were bolted into the top two corners. The base of the wire wall had a bowl that Scythe had added water to.
They’re going to electrocute me.
Darwin flushed the toilet. Water seeped over the edge. He flushed again.
“Stop doing that,” Scythe yelled through the glass. “We’ll all fry if there’s fucking water everywhere.”
Darwin flushed again.
“You little punk.”
Scythe pulled a small plastic fob out of his pocket and pushed a button. The glass door began moving on its rollers, opening slowly. He set the fob on the little table by the wire grid.
Darwin still sat on the mattress by the toilet. He flushed one more time. He took a deep breath and tried to remain as calm as he could, even though he shook all over.
“When I’m dead, what will Yuri say?”
“We’re not going to kill you.” Scythe stepped into the cell, followed by his accomplice, who still held the gun. “Just hurt you real bad.”
Darwin pointed past Scythe. “He said he was going to shoot me. You heard him. Something about someone I killed being in his family.”
Scythe stopped halfway across the cell and turned around.
“That true?” Scythe asked.
“No, he’s just fucking with you.”
“You heard him yourself,” Darwin pleaded.
Scythe stepped closer to Darwin. “Stand up.”
He flushed the toilet. “Fuck you. I stand up, this guy is going to shoot me.”
“No, he won’t,” Scythe said as he grabbed Darwin’s wrist and yanked him to his feet. Then he slapped Darwin across the face so fast he didn’t see it coming. His face stung and he saw stars for a moment.
This was trouble. He couldn’t get tied to that electrical unit and fried for fun.
He opened his eyes wide and looked past Scythe’s shoulder. Then he ducked back and yelled, “No! Don’t shoot.”
The man had stayed in the center of the cell, giving Scythe room to pull Darwin to his feet.
Before he saw no threat and turned back, Darwin raised his knee hard into the Scythe’s stomach where Yuri had told him the Scythe had been shot. As Scy bent over, Darwin threw fist after fist at Scy’s face, but only connected once.
Scythe came back up with a fast uppercut that rocked Darwin’s mouth, slamming his teeth together hard. If his tongue had been in the way it would’ve been sliced off. He wondered in that brief second if his jaw had broken.
His knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor. If it wasn’t for the cold water that his face hit, he might have passed out.
“You fucking prick,” Scy yelled.
Rough hands grabbed his biceps and lifted him up fast. Darwin kicked and punched, but nothing connected. Scythe tossed him backwards into the glass wall and Darwin slipped down until he hit the floor, his kidneys on fire. He was losing this fight fast.
When Scythe came in again, Darwin neared exhaustion. All he had left was his mouth and a full set of strong teeth.
Scythe grabbed his shoulders, and Darwin turned into the Scythe’s hand and bit down so hard he felt something crack. His mouth filled with blood instantly as if he bit into a juicy orange.
He dug deeper with his teeth and pulled like a wild dog would on a carcass in the wild.
Scythe screamed and dropped to his knees. Darwin bit again, this time deeper, energized by the win. A moan escaped his throat as he dug in the second time and locked his jaw in place.
Blows rained down on his head, but he knew unless they knocked him out, he wouldn’t let go of Scythe’s flesh. He couldn’t or it was over.
Scythe got his other hand on top of Darwin’s head and brought his fingers down to the top of Darwin’s eyes. Then he pushed inward. Darwin wanted to scream at the pain, but his mouth would open if he did. Instead, he moaned louder, a roar coming out of his throat.
Scythe’s fingers dug deeper. The pain grew in intensity. It was enough that Darwin had to let his mouth go and back away from the pressure on his eyes.
When he did, he wrapped a hand around the Scythe’s neck and pulled down as hard as he could, ramming Scythe’s forehead onto the edge of the toilet bowl.
Scythe’s skin split and blood shot out in a small torrent. He tried to pull away, but Darwin yanked again, driving Scythe’s forehead into the bowl over and over until Scythe crumpled to the floor on the other side of the bowl.
The whole time, the other man jumped from foot to foot, watching the fight over Scythe’s shoulder, no doubt wondering how to help in the confined space.
Darwin reached inside the toilet and yanked his sopping wet jeans out of the hole.
“You’re next, asshole,” he said as he got to his feet, his eyes having trouble focusing after all the pressure on them.
The man leveled the gun at Darwin’s face. “Stay where you are.”
“What, you’re going to shoot me? When Yuri gets home he will cut you up for killing his bait. No, I don’t think you’re going to shoot me. We fight.”
The man turned and ran out of the prison. He got to the wire grid and grabbed the fob to push the button for the glass door to close it. Darwin bolted after him as the door began to shut, his wet jeans clung tightly in his hand. He slipped out in time and dove at the man, knocking into him like he was tackling the quarterback.
They hit the floor and rolled. The gun was lost under the cart.
Darwin screamed like a warrior fighting ten men as he pummeled the man as hard and as fast as he could, pain shooting through his back like it was on fire. The man fought back, landing a few punches and two solid kicks that knocked the wind out of Darwin.
One solid knee connected with Darwin’s solar plexus. His lungs emptied and he rolled into a ball, trying to catch his breath. The man stood up, and a moment later the room hissed with a buzzing sound.
He turned the wire grid on.
“You are going to fry for what you’ve done.” The man sounded like he had a lisp as he spoke through broken teeth.
He stepped up to Darwin and kicked him in the back. Darwin yelped, hoping he wouldn’t pass out. If he did, he was dead. The room spun, his eyelids fluttered.
Blood seeped from sections of skin pulled back over his knuckles where they had made contact with the man’s teeth.
Darwin brought his fist up to his mouth, closed his eyes, and bit down on the open wound. It hurt so bad he immediately yanked his fist out but he was fully awake again.
The wet jeans were beside him. He grabbed them and rubbed his face in the cooled water that seeped out.
He rolled to his hands and knees, holding the wet jeans. The room buzzed with electricity.
“Good, get up,” the man yelled. “We need to finish this.”
Darwin brought his feet under him. The man stood between him and the wire grid. Once Darwin was fully standing, the man reached out to grab him. Darwin tossed the soaked jeans at the man’s face. The pant legs wrapped around the man’s shoulders before he could stop them.
The second Darwin tossed the jeans, ignoring the searing pain in his back, he ran at the man. He used both hands to shove the man toward the grid and then jumped out of the way, rolling to a dry part of the floor.
The man fell backwards, the wet jeans still wrapped around his neck, and landed on the lower half of the live-wire grid.
It sizzled and crackled upon contact, the lights above Darwin in the basement dimming.
The man screamed and vibrated violently as he fried. Smoke oozed off his skin. A nasty odor hit Darwin’s nostrils.
Sparks flew from the small box on the table. Then it was over as fast as it had started. The grid shut off and the lights in the basement normalized.
The man slipped off the grid and dropped to the floor, smoke coming off him.
“Holy shit!” Darwin shouted. “How high did you have that thing? Are you fucking crazy?”
He crawled away backwards until he could see inside the room where Scythe had pulled the grid from. Two tables were littered with boxes and tools. The back wall had shelves covered in canning jars. He couldn’t tell what food was in the jars from where he was but it looked like peaches and jams. There was an array of colors—oranges, tans, reds and blacks.
This must be where Yuri’s wife stores her foodstuffs and where Yuri stores his tools of torture. How nice.
He lay on the cement floor, too sore to stand just yet. There could be more men upstairs, and he was in no mood to fight anyone else just yet.
He closed his eyes to rest a moment and catch his breath.
Then something hit him so hard he felt as if his face broke. Before he could open his eyes, he was hit again.
He brought his hands up to protect his face and tried to roll into a ball, but it was no use. He got hit three more times before he saw who was hitting him.
Scythe stood over him, blood covering his face from the wound the toilet bowl gave him. His eyes were wide, his mouth a smile.
“Hello, Darwin.”
“Hey.”
“You are no longer live bait.”
“No?”
Scythe shook his head, blood falling from his chin. “You are dead. Yuri will understand. He underestimated your will to live.”
“Everyone seems to do that. Even you.”
The pain in his cheeks made him talk as if his mouth was paralyzed.
“You’re right. Even me.” Scythe brought a gun up. “Goodbye, Darwin.”
“Wait,” Darwin raised both hands. “Aren’t you The Scythe?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Then why the gun? Where’s your scythe? If this was a movie, wouldn’t you have to kill me with your scythe?”
“This isn’t a movie and I will not leave you alone long enough to go and get my scythe.” He clicked something on the gun. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
Darwin lifted his foot hard and fast, connecting with Scythe’s crotch. As Scythe bent over, Darwin rolled into the cold roo
m as fast as he could.
The gun went off, the bullet chipping the cement beside his head. It went off again. A searing pain ran through his calf muscle. He rolled a few more times in case another bullet was headed his way, and he bumped into the wall under the canned food shelves.
