Dead Man's Hand

by Steven Meehan

  With another breath, I started groping for any body heat that I could grab. I figured that it would be best to start with the ropes, it would be easier than trying to alter the metal. I soon found myself merely cursing Dempsey’s ingenuity. Despite the cold, I should have been able to alter something. Whatever was flowing into me through the IVs had to be what was keeping me from using my gift. I had nothing. Rather, all I had was the information that Dempsey had experience dealing with people like me. I found this anything but comforting.

  Gritting my teeth, I opened my eyes. I was going to make something positive happen no matter what I needed to do. Happily, I was blessed with mostly normal sight. Wasting no time I put my sight to its limited use. It seemed that the thugs assigned to keep watch over me were more interested in their conversation than they were in me. And I was hoping to keep it that way. So, I kept my head down and, with as little movement as possible, began to scan everything within sight. The task was more aggravating than rewarding. Though I was able to confirm how I was bound and that I was in a freezer.

  Stymied again, I closed my eyes and focused on the conversation that was hovering just on the edge of my hearing. Though, I was quickly distracted by my desire to escape. I truly hoped I would be able to attain my freedom. But the fact that I was freezing, both from the IVs and the freezer, hazy from the drugs, and not to mention, immobilized, painted quite the picture. Dempsey’s familiarity with people like me was really getting annoying. So far, he and his thugs were doing a first rate job of keeping me contained.

  Focusing upon how bleak my prospects were growing, I picked up a single word from the middle of a sentence. “…fool…” And for the first time I noticed why I was having so much difficulty making out the words, they were being muffled, as if the door leading into his improvised cell might be only slightly ajar. Unfortunately, it wasn’t all that difficult to figure out who they were talking about. After all, had I been in their place I would be calling me a fool too.

  It was getting easier to hear the conversation so I gave it my full attention. I needed to hear something that would give me some hope and this conversation was all I had. But as I tried to listen I only grew more convinced that the door was mostly sealed. After all, I should’ve been able to make out more of their words; as it was, I could only pick out a few here and there. “…don’t know why…boss…with him…” Perhaps wanted was one of those missing words. That couldn’t be right, Dempsey wouldn’t want anything from me, would he? If I kept having this kind of trouble following them I would probably go insane long before they got around to killing me.

  A moment later I heard the second voice scream. “Shut up…” The terse command was swiftly obeyed by the other goon, indicating who the superior of the two was.

  A brief period of silence ensued before the first guard cautiously spoke a few more words, “…guy…palmed…” Did they really not know what I had done? If Dempsey knew enough to imprison me like this why would he leave his men in the dark?

  Either way it sounded like goon number one thought I just somehow managed to palm the ace into my last hand. And with goon number one’s little slip I now had some information. First, I knew I was being guarded by at least one if not two of thugs who hadn’t been at the tournament—if they had been there they would have known about the fresh deck. The second piece of information was merely an assumption based upon the first, I didn’t think that I was still in the warehouse.

  That meant they probably didn’t understand why I was being secured in this fashion. I now had a slight hope of being able to talk my way into a source of heat, especially if they were supposed to be in the freezer with me. That was good, well, not the whole being secured and freezing thing, but the fact that I might have a way out was good. But despite the rising sense of hope, a small part of my mind kept nagging me that it was not going to help and that I was going to end up a dead man. But every time that nasty little thought crept into my mind I expunged it very quickly by reminding myself that someone wanted to meet with me. And if someone wanted to meet with me why they go to all of this trouble just to kill me? And every time I refocused myself to search for my escape, slight as it was.

  As I returned my focus to the conversation I caught a few more words. “…you need to…you…watch…” If I couldn’t start catching more of what they were saying I was going to kill someone. About the only thing the piecemeal words told me was that I had been correct with my assessment of goon number two. He was definitely the more traditional, “do as you are told without question,” type of henchman. He would be more difficult to sway. This left goon number one as my best chance of escape, he was a “curious” henchman.

  Speaking of the devil, the curious goon spoke again. “…know why… we… toss… end… to the other.” This was getting ridiculous. Did he want to toss me around? Could he toss me around the room? He would have to be built from solid muscle to do that. My mind conjured a large and muscular man beating me to a bloody pulp. With a deep breath I forced the rising lump back down my throat, chastised myself, and added “learning how to fight” to the list of things I had to do after I managed to escape. After all, what good would it do for me to learn how to shield myself from projectiles, but not be able to defend myself in a fist fight? None, it would do me no good whatsoever.

  I pulled my attention away from the conversation and focused on a more immediate problem. Now, while I had never studied to become a doctor, I had learned a few things about the human body and the cold, specifically my body. Using my gift I knew a thing or two about freezing to death, or rather cooling to death. I’ve had to make enough trips to various emergency rooms to know when I was in dire need of something warm. And in that moment, I knew I was teetering on the point of no return. I needed something warm and I needed it soon. Maybe the part of my mind that was so sure that I was going to die had been right. I was going to die right here. Maybe I had heard the one goon wrong, and no one wanted to meet with me. Should I risk calling out to them? What will they do to me? Well there was only one way to find out and that just wasn’t going to happen with me remaining silent.

  Just as I decided to get their attention I heard number two say, “…witch… him…” With my head still a little hazy and the fact that I wasn’t in the best position to hear the pair of goons I started a debate with myself over what I thought I had heard. I very much doubted that I had really heard “witch,” as in flying broomstick and all. I must have heard wrong, they had said something else.

  “…the other witch…” There is was again, but this time I had no idea who said it as I was losing track of their different voices. The surety that I had embraced a moment ago was vanishing like ice thrown into a furnace. And as my assurance ebbed, a cold sense of dread began to grow. I must have heard right, those two goons were talking about a witch. Without the objections I would have expected to hear from men in their profession I was left assuming that they really did believe in witches, or at least one of them did. If they truly believed in witchcraft, I was left to assume that they had, at some point or another, witnessed real magic, or at least seen someone like me. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place as I realized that Dempsey currently had someone like me on his payroll.

  Unfortunately, what I could do was often mistaken for magic, and in a way, I suppose that made sense. If I didn’t know about what I could do, I would consider it to be magic. If I had a dollar for every time that Matt called me a wizard, I would be set for life. Never having ever met anyone like me, I had always assumed that I was the only one with my special talents. I mean, I had read stories about them, once you read between the lines a little you can see people like me in the stories. Now the question was, how did Dempsey manage to have one on his payroll? I began to wonder if this so called “witch” was the one responsible for my confinement; after all, it made a certain amount of sense.

  But why would this witch be interested in me? Had she thought that she was unique in this world like I had? If she did was she je
alous of her lost uniqueness? Would they hand me over to her? Would I become a living experiment for her or Dempsey? My mind started running through some pretty awful scenarios. I was glad that I was thinking about these things before meeting my captors. It allowed me to work out my fear before I actually saw anyone—to ready my poker face—at least that was what I told myself.

  Sitting there in the dank, cold room I continued trying to connect the dots from everything I had heard or experienced. Dempsey either employed or had a solid relationship with a female who shared my gift. My guess was they had a pretty solid relationship. My bonds and the IV spoke to just how entwined they were, there was no other explanation as to why I was so well locked down. And of course that brought up a question about Dempsey. Was he a real believer in witchcraft or did he simply refer to her as a witch to keep his men in line? Not that either was really important to me at this juncture. All that currently mattered was, because of this woman—and I was just assuming it was a woman, I suppose it could be a man—Dempsey, and by extension all of his goons, knew how to detain me.

  I had to get out of here. Preferably in one piece. So I decided now was as good a time as any to call out to my captors. “Hey, anyone there?” I didn’t yell that loudly, but based on the cessation of their conversation, the goons must have heard me. Maybe there was a microphone in here so they could stay nice and warm outside of the freezer

  I was beginning to wish that I had remained silent when I heard the freezer’s door open, I had been right and it had been closed after all. I heard someone’s footfall as they made their way toward me, make that two someones. Once they were probably within striking distance, they stopped. They just stood there behind me, waiting, which of course prompted my fear to bubble up. Despite being ready for someone to make a move, I wasn’t ready for this particular one. So, when my head was grabbed from behind I just about had a heart attack. Amazingly my heart didn’t actually quit pumping blood throughout my body, which was helpful since a massive dose of adrenaline went along for the ride. As that little gift was sent coursing through my veins I was forced to look up into the fairly bright light in the ceiling.

  I guess the goon was waiting for the adrenaline to do its job because he simply held me there for a moment or two. He started speaking only when he saw that my eyes had become truly alert. “It looks like our guest of honor is finally awake.”

  I could safely say that I really didn’t like the fact that number two was as smart in person as he had seemed through the snatches of conversation I had been able to catch. I could now clearly hear the thickly layered accent on the man. He was definitely from overseas, at least, I could tell French was his first language. Okay, I was only guessing, but it seemed like a good one given my circumstances.

  A chuckle issued from the other guard’s mouth. “The boss will be happy to hear that.” He replied.

  Now that I was being given a bit more of their attention I was beginning to have second thoughts about calling out for it. But since their focus was now on me, I figured that blacking out, or at least pretending to black out, would only make matters worse. I decided to risk asking for a source of warmth, forcing my teeth to chatter just a little I tried to ask my question. “I’m freezing…”

  But I guess Dempsey had been very specific with the orders because the man who was holding my head pulled just a little bit harder as he interrupted my attempted request. “You so much as utter the rest of that question…” To help emphasis his words he pushed something cold and mostly round into the right side of my head. Great, a gun, this thug was shoving a gun into the side of my head. “…and I pull the trigger.” He finished as he attempted to bore the gun into my skull. Call me crazy, but I got a feeling that my earlier assumption about number one was going to end up being about as wrong as possible.

  As soon as the gun was shoved into me, its pressure vanished as number two broke in, “I’m sorry for my associate’s behavior,” he must have pulled the man’s gun arm away from my head. “But I’m afraid we have the strictest instructions in how to deal with you.” After a moment’s hesitation he added. “And unfortunately for you one of those instructions is to keep your body temperature as low as we can without killing you.”

  I had started the chattering as a show, but I quickly found that once I had started, I was simply unable to stop. So through chattering teeth I offered a flat comment. “In other words, you’re freezing me to death.”

  Guard number two dismissed my worry, or at least I thought that was what he was doing, as he answered me. “Nonsense you’re in no danger of freezing to death.” He must have motioned for number one to release my head because the tension vanished before he went on. “If that was our intention you would have been thoroughly soaked before we brought you in here. Besides, if we were freezing you, do you honestly think either of us would have been in a position to hear you call out?”

  “You’re getting a similar effect of soaking me by pumping my body full of ice cold fluid.”

  “How did…” Guard number two began to ask, a look of honest shock on his face.

  I was in no particular mood to be nice so I simply spoke over him. “The twinge in my arms are very unique to IVs. And when you pump people full of IV fluid they typically get cold. So I’ll ask you the question again. Why are you freezing me?”

  With an exasperated sigh number two attempted an explanation. “Since you can’t see everything we have you hooked up to I can see why you think we’re trying to freeze you.” One of the pair, more than likely number two, took a couple of steps towards me. Presumably it was so he could whisper his facts into my ear. “I know you don’t know what we know, so let me correct that deficiency. One of the things we have you connected to is a fancy thermometer, and currently it says your body temp is 89.7.”

  I could sense him turning his head to face number one, “We need to raise the room’s temperature just a tad. Would you be so kind and see to it?” I could hear number one leave, albeit hesitantly, before number two went on. “We were told to keep your body as close to ninety degrees as possible, so that’s what we’re going to do.”

  Needing more answers I decided to fish a little bit, the worst thing that could happen was they would kill me a little sooner than planned. “These IVs have got to be doing more than helping you regulate my body temperature.” I waited several moments for number two to reply before I realized that I hadn’t actually asked him a question. “What are you putting in my body with those IVs?”

  “You don’t get to…” Began an irate number one, I was ready to upgrade my feeling to an absolute certainty.

  If it wasn’t for number two I think number one would have cheated Dempsey of his retribution. “Marcus,” number two began. I should have expected them to know my name but I would be lying if I said that sudden knowledge didn’t scare me even more than my confinement. “I know what you’re capable of even when you’re cold, without certain restraints in place. Now if you please, our boss would prefer you alive. He told us you are potentially valuable to him but he is perfectly willing to accept our word that making a corpse of you was our only real option. Besides, he will answer all of your questions when he arrives.”

  I could hear the retreating guards but, before the door was closed completely, it was swung open once again and the footsteps were coming towards me. As I began to pull in a long breath to try and ease my nerves a blindfold fell across my eyes, once again plunging me into a world of darkness. Not to mention another skipped heartbeat, but my heart quickly made up for lost time.

  “I almost forgot to give you this newest accessory; it’s a very stylish. I do hope you enjoy the… privacy this piece provides.” Guard number two said without emotion.

  Sick to my stomach from the isolation, an over-beating heart, and information overload, I just sat in my chair and thought about the goons’ words. There had to be something useful there, I just had to filter out the gems from the muck. As I searched in my mind I grew depressed with the uselessness of
my information. I didn’t think I was asking for too much, I only needed something to prevent myself from drowning. Unfortunately for me guard number two was one of the most tight-lipped and careful men I had ever come across. That man could teach politicians how to give useless answers. And to make it even worse he managed to do a fantastic job controlling his partner as well. I sat there lost and alone, with only my thoughts to mark the passage of time or keep me company. This was going to be a long wait.

  Chapter 14

  There wasn’t much for me to do sitting here in this freezer, tied to a chair, and blindfolded. I only had the words of the two goons to occupy me, so I kept running through them in my head. It didn’t matter that I had gone over the words enough to know that nothing was there, I still had to search for the nugget of information that might be useful. As the minutes started dragging out, in my mind they began to turn into hours, then days, and finally years.

  With no way to measure its passing, time did wonders in wearing me down for these goons, not to mention their boss. With each pass through the conversation, I always kept stumbling over what the one goon had said about restraints, and every time it just confused me even more. “We know what you’re capable of even without certain restraints in place.” Could he possibly know about my gift or was he just repeating words that Dempsey had given him?

  After a moment’s contemplation I told myself that it didn’t matter, so I moved on to the next logical train of thought. I figured that he wasn’t referencing my confinement as a whole; his tone had been too… specific for that. Not to mention if it weren’t for the seriousness of the predicament this prison would be all too funny. His words had to have been focusing on a particular piece, but what was it? I was fairly sure the drugs, whatever they were, coursing through my veins had been what he was referencing. But he had said “certain restraints.” Restraints, plural, more than one. Aside from the cold what else could he have been referencing? If the drugs were fool proof, what was the reference to restraints? There had to be more to it, there just had to be.