by Jeff Olah
Releasing the tension along his left side and more importantly from his imprisoned left hand, the anguish slipped away as fast as it had come. Mason figured that whatever they used to drug him must also be responsible for cutting down the pain he felt over ninety percent of his body earlier that night.
Righting himself, Mason could sense that the van was pulling out into the street. Picking up speed as the rain began to fall more intensely, he sensed that Randy had joined them, although he had yet to speak to anyone other than himself.
“Eleven… twelve…” Randy counted to himself under his breath. “Fifteen… sixteen—”
“Randy,” Mason said. “What are you—”
“Not now, Mason.”
“Twenty… Twenty-one…” He continued counting and at some point also managed to break Sean from his dismal trance.
Leaning forward, out away from Randy, Sean whispered, “Mason, what’s he doing?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but I’m assuming he’ll tell us at some point. Or he’s still not fully awake, in which case, we’re just listening to him count.”
“Enough,” Randy said, this time at a volume that even caught the attention of the men in the front cabin.
“Won’t be long now boys, I promise,” Blake said.
Mason breathed in through his nose and settled back into his seat as Randy carried on. “Thirty-eight… thirty-nine… forty…”
Mason continued to prod Sean as Randy counted. Still whispering, he said, “You okay?”
“I don’t know, Mason. Blake is going to kill them, all of them. He’s got Jack locked inside some glass maze with a bunch of Feeders and it’s nothing but a game to him. The guy is seriously sick.”
Mason knew that given their current circumstances, escaping from the van as it continued to pick up speed and then somehow gaining control from whoever these people were was not going to be an option. Running through an alternate plan that included waiting for the van to come to a stop, the doors to open, and then ripping the remaining flesh off his injured hand, Mason came to the same conclusion. Not going to happen.
Just as the realization of what they were facing settled in, Sean asked him the last question he wanted to answer. “Mason, what are we going to do?”
Oblivious to their presence, Randy continued to count, although more under his breath now. Mason used the darkness to cover the frustration written in bright bold colors across his face. “Whatever we have to do.”
The van slowed and his words came out at nearly the same speed. “What does that mean? How will I know what I’m supposed to do?”
The van now parked, Randy stopped counting. Light once again poured in through the crack between the rear doors, although this was different. It was coming from behind and not overhead. The moonlight from minutes ago was now replaced by something closer, something much brighter. Whatever the source, it lit the rear cabin just enough so that the three friends could make eye contact with one another.
“So?” Mason said.
Randy turned his neck from left to right, working through the stiffness. “So what?”
“What’s with the counting?”
A voice from outside the van. It was coming toward them. It was familiar. Gravelly and quick to begin and end. “It’s about time and you’d better have brought what I asked for.”
Mason recognized the man outside the van, although the reason still evaded him. Were they working together? Part of the same group, a larger group? In the end, it didn’t really matter and although this complicated the situation, he wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.
233
“It’s Tobias,” Mason said.
The men from the cab exited. Moving away, they followed Blake at his request to “Find someplace less wet.” They must have moved far enough away, as the only sound that penetrated the interior of the van was the white noise put off by the driving rain.
“Randy, what do you know? What did Blake tell you?”
“Not much.” But how much to tell Mason? Did his friend really need to hear that this may have all been caused by Marcus Goodwin’s obsession with him? Would it do any good to lay it all out as Blake had? Or was it better for Mason to simply understand that these guys were probably going to torture them and when they were finished, kill them?
If it were only that simple. The truth would do one of two things. Either Mason would draw on what he knew and use it as fuel for what they needed to get through or he’d respond out of anger and do something stupid. Randy knew his friend well enough to understand which scenario was likely to play out. He and the rest of his group owed their lives, many times over, to the man seated less than two feet away. “Mason, he wants you. Goodwin had Blake bring you here.”
“That sounds about right, but why you guys?”
Sean finally added what he knew. “Tobias wanted all of us, everyone. Although Blake seems to run this town and has what looks like twice the crew as Goodwin, he made the call to give them the three of us and told Goodwin and Tobias they needed to be out of the city by morning. A trade off, Tobias and Goodwin get their revenge and Blake gets the city and all its resources without a fight. A win-win for both groups.”
Mason didn’t respond. Testing the limits of his restraints, this time with only half the strength as the first, he shook his head.
Mirroring Mason’s attempt, Randy said, “Man, I don’t think it’s gonna happen. They got these things on pretty good.”
“Yeah, mine too,” Sean said. “I’ve lost the feeling in my right leg.”
“These guys have done this before,” Mason said. “So, I’m hoping they got lazy and missed something. I can’t see anything yet, but when I find it—”
Randy shook his head. “I’ve seen these restraints before and they’re always the same. Nothing short of pulling your own hand off is going to get you out.”
“Well, I’m already halfway there.”
Although the rain had yet to let up, their voices could be heard approaching the rear of the van. Tobias spoke first. “Delivered to the front door, that was the deal. I’ll take Mason and you two follow me with the others. I’ll leave the chairs in the lobby of the first floor once we’re finished. You can come back for them tomorrow.”
No one responded and although the rain continued to dull the sound coming from beyond their muted cabin, the tension growing between Blake and Tobias was evident. Waiting for the next something to happen, Mason quickly said his piece. “Sean, you are going to stay calm. Don’t say a word to anyone. If they ask a question; just wait for Randy or me to answer. We are getting out of here. I promise.”
Sean tapped his left foot against the floor and shifted from side to side in his seat. “Okay.”
Turning toward the rear doors and then back to Mason, Randy said, “What’s the plan?”
“I got nothing. I’m sure they’re gonna take us to Goodwin and from there who knows what else. I guess we wait and see how this plays out; we really have no other option, right?” Mason hoped he wasn’t right and that Randy had something up his sleeve and he was just waiting for the right moment to reveal some simple yet effective maneuver to find their way out of this mess.
There was nothing Randy could say to change their current situation. Nothing he could do to change the events that would surely play out over the next few hours. And as Sean’s nervous energy continued to show that he was still just a scared boy, Randy shifted gears. “Where’d you say you father’s antique shop was? That place where he wanted you to take everyone.”
“What?” Mason asked. “What are you talking about?”
“The place he wanted Sean to lead us to. He owned an antiquate shop that had a lab in the basement. Maybe it’s a place we could get to and set up a—”
“You’re trying to distract me,” Sean said. “So I won’t think about what those men are going to do. You don’t need to worry about me. I can handle myself.”
“I know you can,” Randy said. “But just humor me. I never
knew this about your dad and it would be good to talk about something else, you know other than the inevitable.”
Sean’s annoyance bled through as he exhaled loudly and shook his head. “Really?” he said. “That’s what you want to talk about right now?”
Although Sean was right, Mason was curious. “The place he wanted us to go to had another lab?”
“Yes, but I don’t really know much about it. I’d only been there a few times, and from what I remember, it wasn’t all that great. But it really doesn’t matter; we’ll never see it.”
Still prodding, Randy asked, “Where was it? I don’t remember him ever mentioning another location.”
“No, I don’t think he ever talked about it,” Sean said. “You guys remember the old Harbor Crest Mall?”
“The one that closed a few years back?” Mason said.
“Yeah,” Randy said. “That place has been fenced off for at least the last two or three years. He didn’t close it up then too?”
“Not really, the company that he worked for bought the mall at a foreclosure sale and all of the land around it. When they raised the rents, all the tenants left. They closed it three years ago and were in the process of getting it re-zoned when the infection broke out.”
“And his lab? What happened?”
“The lab wasn’t really built until after the mall was closed. And it wasn’t as much of a basement as it was an old storage unit below ground. He stopped talking about it after a few months, but still went there once a week until he moved. I think he liked it there and could just be alone with his work without all the distractions.”
“So,” Mason said, “the antique shop was kind of a second job for him at one point?”
“Not only that, it was also a place my mother loved. She was there every day until she finally left us. She took the mall closing harder than anyone. It wasn’t the reason she left us, but it definitely had a huge impact. After that she was never the same.”
“Off Highway One,” Mason said “Correct?”
“Yes, it runs right past the—”
Mason was right. The light spilling in through the narrow void between the rear doors was in fact artificial. Running off a portable generator, the twin spotlights were near blinding as the doors were pulled open and locked back into positon.
“Let’s go fellas; you’ve got a long night ahead of you.” Tobias stepped into the rear cabin and began unlocking Mason’s chair.
234
He shared the room with eight bodies. In various states of decomposition when they entered through the remotely controlled door, they now lay in a pile stacked on purpose as an obstacle for those who may come after.
Jack sat with his back to the wall and away from the women who could no longer watch. He stared into the control room and waited for the next round of mayhem to ensue. He hadn’t seen Blake or any of his other men in over an hour and as the handheld device sat alone on the chair nearest the door, he collected himself.
The gauntlet, as it was called, forced Feeders in from the rear yard into the building through a small opening. From what he could gather, it was also controlled by the same remote control. Back to the room to his left, he counted another twelve deteriorating corpses milling about. He was spent, but could probably go a few more rounds before completely exhausting himself.
In a moment of levity, his mind drifted to the blood-soaked walls and floor. He wondered for a brief moment if he’d broken some sort of record by eliminating the eight beasts that lay stacked opposite him, and if not, how many more it would take. Should he call for one of Blake’s men and ask, or just keep quiet?
He figured quiet was probably the smartest option.
To the room at his back, he avoided eye contact with the women. As much as it pained him, he focused only on the outlay of the translucent rooms. Each area was comprised of four walls and two doors, one on either end. The craftsmanship was impeccable, as no detail was left to the imagination.
Doors without handles made any form of escape absolutely impossible and the slick texture of the walls and flooring gave an immediate advantage to his horrific opponents that lay in wait. He scanned the area where the walls met the ceiling and noticed a few small voids. Areas where Blake must have either underestimated the supplies needed or left the rectangular shaped cut outs for future improvements. Either way, there appeared to be at least one weakness he could possibly exploit. If only it weren’t ten feet off the ground.
Jack removed his shirt and tossed it to the ground. He began sliding the motionless bodies, one at a time to just under the opening. As the stack piled at the door started to dwindle, the small squadron of Feeders clawing at the door grew by the same amount. “What if they open the door now? This is stupid. This can’t work. I have to hurry.”
“I’ll drive back,” Blake said as he ran the thirty or so yards to the now empty van.
The rain appeared to focus all its energy in the small space between the van and the front doors to the animal shelter. He would return here in the morning with every one of his men, each was instructed to bring at least twice the amount of weaponry that they’d most likely need. Mitchell Blake’s exact words were “If they are still here when we arrive, I don’t want there to be any question as to our intent.”
Once in the van, Blake slipped behind the wheel and waited for his men to settle in before starting up the engine. “You know how much I hate this side of town? It always reminds me that I failed. I failed to recognize Marcus Goodwin for who he was and what he represented. I let him and his little band of idiots live here for close to a year when I should have just killed them.”
“Why didn’t you—”
“I actually flipped a coin to make the decision. Heads, they get to stay in the animal shelter, where they belong. Or tails, I make an example of them… I really wish it had come up tails.”
His men sat quietly and stared over at him, only partially listening. They’d learned the hard way that Blake liked to be the center of attention, whether or not what he was saying made any sense. He expected his men to love the sound of his voice as much as he did. Or at least that they pretend to.
Out of habit, Blake checked his mirrors before pulling out onto Sixth to make a U-turn. As the wiper blades gave him brief moments of clarity, he could see the streets starting to fill with wayward Feeders. “They must have heard us as we came through earlier. They’ll follow us back to headquarters, so when we get there make sure to lead them to the yard and get them locked in. We may need them if I decide to go back and grab Cedric and his family.”
“I thought we were letting them stay. You told them—”
“I lied.”
“Mitch, that family has done nothing wrong. They’ve stayed in their building and haven’t given us any trouble. Now you want Cedric—”
“So, you’ve taken to calling me by our boyhood names? I guess that’s supposed to mean you want my attention, that you’re serious. I’ll tell you what, tomorrow when we head out, you can make the decision as to which side you want to stand on. And I won’t hold it against you either way. But being my brother gives you no more sympathy than I’d give to a complete stranger.”
“Yeah, Mitchell, I get it. We all get it. You’re the big bad boss who everyone fears. You’ve killed unarmed people, you’ve tortured a family we found running from Feeders. Hell, you even forced two of your own into the gauntlet and made the rest of us watch. We all get it, you’re psychotic; you just don’t need to continue proving it every single day.”
“Then why are you questioning me? You’d think that you’d know better.”
“It’s because I also know you, the real you. The kid who used to wet the bed and cry himself to sleep at night. The teen that got turned down for the prom by three different girls. And the man who lost both of his parents to this god-forsaken infection. You can fool the rest of these men, but you don’t fool me.”
Blake pulled to the curb as a small horde started toward the van. “Get out.�
�
“What?”
“Get out of the van. You are walking the rest of the way.”
“You’re kidding?”
“I thought you knew me, Gerry? You said that you did. Whatta ya think, is this something I’d do? You know, since you know me so well.”
“Shut up and drive, they’re getting closer.”
“Get out.” Blake reached into his lap and retrieved a handgun, which he leveled at his brother’s temple. “Right now, this is the last time I ask.”
Staring around the barrel of the nine millimeter, Garry sensed his brother was having another moment. He shook his head, opened the door and turned one last time to his brother.
“Go,” Blake said. “I’ll see you back at the station. No hard feelings.”
Gerry stepped out into the rain and looked around at his planned route before slamming the door and watching his brother drive away. “That could have gone better.”
Back in the van, Blake smiled as he looked in his rearview and turned to the man seated next to him who had yet to speak. “He’ll be fine. But he better get a move on, the streets are getting crowded.”
235
Was this a lobby, or some sort of waiting room? Mason wasn’t sure. The floor to ceiling paneling and commercial grade carpet indicated that this area of town may have been home to some of the less fortunate businesses. Where, before the infection, rent could be had for a third of what Cedric’s more lavish suites garnered. This place was a dump and perfect for Goodwin, no matter what his current condition.
Anxious yet restrained, Tobias hadn’t said a word since taunting Mason as he was being wheeled through the downpour and into the lower levels of the one-time animal shelter. Pacing from the door to the window, the giant of a man peered out into the hall every few minutes.
Their prison chairs were placed in a straight line and positioned three feet from the folding table that was used as a makeshift desk. They were instructed not to speak to one another, although as the minutes ticked away, Tobias became less concerned with exactly what they were doing or saying. He became like a dog waiting for his next meal, only able to focus on what was to come.
