The Field

by Ian Dawson

  “Want me to take a break?” Daniel asked. His hands were getting slick from his own sweat and the boy’s tears. He was proud of himself for not shaking and for staying in control so as not to cause the kid to panic. The duct tape was almost halfway off. He could see Colby’s mouth.

  “Are you thirsty?”

  The boy’s green eyes lit up as he nodded.

  “There’s another room down here. There’s water.”Colby moved his mouth. Was he trying to speak? “Don’t...go,” he said with some effort.

  Daniel felt tears well in his eyes. He didn’t want to leave him, but he would be coming back. The odds of Austin and James coming down here within the next few minutes seemed like a long shot. He had to take the chance and get the water.

  “I know you’re scared. So am I. But you need water.” He took the Colby’s zip-tied hands in his. “Friends?” The boy nodded. Daniel released his grip from the kid’s bony hands and scurried out of the room.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Austin was getting impatient. James had been gone too long and should have caught the stupid kid that bit into his arm. Blood flowed from the wound, but Austin did nothing to stop the bleeding. It would make a nice battle scar once all this was over.

  Knowing that the kid wasn’t going anywhere, Austin headed out the back door and into the yard. It was quiet. The shed was still locked. There was no sign of the biter or James.

  That’s when he saw the figure hung upside down on the far side of the yard. “What the hell?” he said under his breath as he ran over to other side of the fence.

  “Austin,” James said as he came into view. “Get me down.”

  Austin was at a loss for words. His friend was an idiot. Stuck upside down on a fence dangling by a shoelace? Idiot!

  Austin slugged him hard in the stomach. “You let him get away!” He watched his friend struggle for air. He grabbed him by the hair and yanked him up so they were eye-to-eye. “You’re worthless!”

  Austin pulled a pocketknife from his pants pocket and cut the shoelace, allowing James to drop to the ground. “Now, get up and get back inside. We have work to do.” He spit on James and was tempted to kick him. Instead he stomped down on James’s sunglasses, crushing them under his foot. He kicked the remains away and headed back toward the house.

  James was doubled-over on the dirt in agony. He had been hit plenty of times before by Austin, but not as hard as this time. He knew for certain Austin had cracked or broken something. He got to his feet and looked down to see his sunglasses destroyed.

  He wanted to go home. Wanted to be anywhere but here. But he knew wherever he went that Austin would find him. And as horrible as it made him sound, he’d rather have their victims be the ones in danger instead of him. It was just better that way.

  He walked back around to the front of the house and looked out at their isolated existence. Whatever Austin did tonight, no matter how horrific, no one would know about it until it was too late.

  Or was it? Uncle Brock’s truck! If he could find the keys and drive to get help than he could be seen as a hero. It was worth a try. All he had to do was –

  “What are you doing?” Austin was right behind him. It made him jump. He felt as if he would piss himself. Austin’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Get back inside the house. Now!”

  Kyle watched the two older boys enter the house. He eyed the shed at the far end of the yard where he knew Daniel was being held. If he could break inside he could get his best friend to safety. It was worth a shot.

  At the same time Kyle was still trying to process the scene he had just witnessed between James and Austin. It was clear that Austin was the monster in charge, but would he really kill James? Had Kyle seen the older boy in black spit on his friend who was in pain? Who the hell was this guy? Whoever he was, Kyle knew his goal was set: he had to rescue Daniel.

  Kyle turned and accidentally slammed his bad wrist into the trunk of a tree. The sudden jolt of pain sent a shockwave through his body. He did his best to ignore the pain.

  He moved back into the woods trying to figure out a new way inside. As he walked, he tripped over what felt like a piece of fishing line.

  Out of nowhere, Kyle was slammed in the chest and thrown backwards onto the ground. He smacked the back of his head on the hard earth. He felt as if he were falling. His vision blurred. Then darkness.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Daniel was almost to the other room when he felt a mix of anger, hatred, and fear consume him. He placed his arms against the sides of the tunnel to steady himself, bent over, and threw up in the center of the tunnel. The stomach acid burned his nose and throat. His vision blurred. He spit a few times. Tendrils of saliva clung to his lips. He used his arm to wipe away what was left, climbed over the mess he had made, then proceeded onward.

  Daniel arrived at the room filled with animal skins and reached under the workbench for a couple waters. He felt what appeared to be a beach towel and pulled it out. It wasn’t much but would at least keep Colby warm.

  He paused for a moment to survey his own body in the light. Scratches, growing bruises, and what felt like a broken elbow paled in comparison to the throbbing pain he felt in his foot. He tried his best to examine it in the light and saw the duct tape bandage had left a trail of bloody footprints all around the room on the dirty carpet.

  He knew at that moment that if he didn’t get this kid to safety soon, he would be no help to the boy at all. And neither one would survive this nightmare.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Daniel made it back to Colby, water bottles in hand. It looked as if the young kid had tried to remove the tape a little more and had had some success. “Hey,” Daniel said. “I brought some water and a beach towel for you.” Daniel awkwardly put the beach towel over Colby’s shoulders.

  “Let’s try and get the rest of that tape off.” Daniel worked diligently at the tape and removed it from Colby’s face.

  Colby moved his mouth around, his mouth free for the first time in who knew how long. Daniel picked up the hatchet. “Okay, Colby,” Daniel began. “I need you to hold as still as you can. I’m going to use this hatchet and cut through these zip-ties.”

  “Be careful,” Colby replied.

  “I will.”

  Colby turned his head. Daniel gripped the hatchet with both hands. The blade was sharp enough, so he was hoping that it wouldn’t take too many whacks to cut through the plastic.

  He raised the hatchet and was about to swing downward.

  “Wait,” Colby said. Daniel stopped, looked at him. “Put the block on the table. It’ll be easier.”

  Daniel nodded in agreement. Not only would he have a better view of his target, it would be easier to keep Colby out of the way of the hatchet.

  With all his strength, Daniel lifted the cinderblock onto the table, and lined up the zip-ties where he wanted them. He then picked up the hatchet once more, took a deep breath, and swung downward. The blade hit the plastic and cut right through. Colby fell back against the wall.

  “You okay?” Daniel asked, concerned.

  “Yeah.”

  Daniel twisted the cap off one of the waters and handed it to Colby. He watched as Colby chugged the water with great enthusiasm.

  “We need to go,” Daniel said.

  “Thank you,” Colby said out of breath. He had consumed the whole bottle of water. Daniel could see his stomach was a little bloated from the life-giving liquid.

  “Don’t thank me, yet,” Daniel said. “You think you can walk out of here?”

  Colby nodded, his eyes and jaw fixed with determination. “Yes.”

  “Follow me,” Daniel said as they made their way back toward the backyard shed.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  James was disgusted and frightened. The smell of blood, the sound of water boiling in the kettle, and Austin sharpening his f
avorite knife with a whetstone as he whistled a happy tune were all too much for him to deal with. He knew what it all meant. He knew that one of their captives was on their way to being skinned alive and killed.

  Suddenly, overwhelmed by nausea, James ran down the hall to the bathroom and vomited. His eyes filled with tears as he continued to dry heave into the sink. His arms shook violently as he gripped the green tile counter.

  He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face. He stood and looked at himself in the cracked mirror above the sink: a dripping, sickly mess.

  He heard Austin scream from the kitchen. “James! Where the hell are you?” He closed and locked the bathroom door, then sat down on the edge of the bathtub. He put his head in his hands and started to shake uncontrollably once more.

  Austin pounded on the bathroom door.

  “I’m done! Leave me alone!” James called through the door.

  “No. You’re not done,” Austin said through the door. There was a brief pause. Suddenly, the bathroom door was ripped open. The wood beside the lock splintered as the door swung wide and slammed into the wall. James jumped back as an enraged Austin lunged toward him like a feral beast.

  Austin grabbed James by the back of the neck and shoved him out of the bathroom and down the hall toward the kitchen. James nearly lost his footing on the blood-slicked carpet and floor. “Sit!” Austin commanded. James didn’t move an inch. He stood trying his best not to shake in front of Austin.

  “Almost time,” Austin said as he looked into the giant pot on the stove, the contents bubbling and churning. “Go get Colby.”

  James had had enough. “You do it, you psycho.”

  Austin turned toward him. “I’m psycho? Really? Then I guess that means when it comes to me,” he said as he approached James with his newly sharpened knife. “All bets are off.” With that he slashed right into James’s upper arm. It was a deep cut.

  James grabbed his upper arm as blood seeped through his fingers.

  “Wanna insult me again?” Austin asked as he wiped the knife on his black jeans. “Next time you cross me it’s going in your heart. Got it? Now go get Colby. Go!”

  James held his arm while blood continued to ooze from the wound, over his fingers, and onto the kitchen tile, mingling with the blood from Austin’s uncle.

  James walked over to the trapdoor and looked down. That damn combination lock. He took a moment to find a shop rag to tie around his arm, then called out to Austin. “What’s the combination?” Probably 6-6-6.

  Austin appeared in the doorway. “24-18-10,” he said before disappearing again. James knelt down and worked the combination lock, which became smeared with his blood. The combination worked and the lock popped opened.

  James tossed the lock aside, undid the latch, and pulled open the trapdoor.

  Something wasn’t right. He could tell immediately. There was light coming from inside the tunnel. “Austin,” he said. “I think we have a little problem.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  As they made their way toward the ladder, Daniel realized he had forgotten something. He turned to Colby. “Keep going until you get to the end of the tunnel. There’s a small ladder up to a shed. Use the hatchet to chop a hole in the back of the shed and wait for me outside behind it.” He handed Colby the hatchet. Colby looked terrified.

  “What if you don’t come back?”

  Daniel placed his hand on Colby’s shoulder. “I will,” Daniel reassured him.

  “You’re very brave,” Colby said.

  “I’m not brave. I just want to go home. Hurry.” Daniel made a beeline in the opposite direction toward the first room. He picked up his piece of wood with the nails sticking out along with some extra bottles of water. Two weapons were better than one.

  That’s when he heard it. He poked his head out from the room and saw the trapdoor inside the garage was open. Light poured in. They were coming.

  He couldn’t let Colby down. He had to stay and fight them off in order to give the young boy some chance to get out of this nightmare. He took a deep breath and stepped into the center of the tunnel, weapon at the ready.

  “Come and get me, assholes,” he said under his breath.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  Austin stared down into the dimly lit hole. He looked over at the adjacent wall and pointed to three large, red metal barrels. The word “GAS” stenciled on the side in large, white letters.

  “What are you going to do?” James asked.

  Austin looked at him. “What’s it look like we’re doing, stupid?”

  With some effort, Austin and James moved one of the heavy barrels toward the edge of the trapdoor. Liquid sloshed inside, the smell of gasoline rose from the vent on the barrel’s lid.

  Austin unscrewed the large cap atop the lid. He then stepped behind the barrel. “That kid you let get away is gonna call the cops. If he brings them here and they find what I have down there, I’m screwed. So, I’m getting rid of the evidence.”

  As hard as he could, Austin pushed the barrel over with his foot, making a loud grunt as he did. The barrel tipped forward and landed on the edge of square opening. Gasoline spilled into the tunnel.

  He inhaled deeply, taking in the distinctive scent of the fuel his uncle had stockpiled when gas prices began to rise. What better way to honor his uncle’s memory than to use the fuel he squirreled away for months? He motioned to James. “Grab another one.”

  James watched as gallon upon gallon of fuel glugged out of the first barrel. He had helped Austin collect gas from cars at the high school during homecoming. They had siphoned off over fifty gallons before someone caught them. They had escaped; their efforts dumped in one of ten drums Uncle Brock had stored. Each drum had to weigh over 300-pounds due to its contents.

  As Austin watched the gas flow into the tunnel, James looked around the garage for anything he could use to stop Austin. Would he have enough time? Could he hit Austin hard enough to knock him out? Where was that hammer?

  He heard Austin order him to get another barrel. Was he crazy? Did he even realize what gas plus fire would do, especially the insane amount that he was pouring into the tunnel? They would both be lucky if they didn’t get blown up, too, at the end of all of this.

  “Hey,” Austin said. “Hurry up.” James stood by a second barrel, gripped the top, and attempted to move it on his own. It would barely budge.

  “Help me,” he said as he struggled with the giant red drum. Austin came over and wordlessly helped him. Austin ripped off the cap and kicked barrel number two over, spilling its contents into the hole.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  Daniel heard a grunt, a thud, then clear liquid gushed down into the tunnel. Water? If they were trying to flood the tunnel this wasn’t the best way to do it. Then he smelled it.

  Gasoline.

  He ran away from the coming stream. The tunnel sloped down, which meant the gas was coming faster.

  He felt it encircle his feet. The new slickness from the gas and the mud it made as it mixed with the dirt caused him to slip and fall hard on his butt, the back of his boxers now soaked in gas.

  His injured foot now felt as if it were on fire as the gasoline seeped into the open wound.

  The fumes burned his eyes and the inside of his nostrils. He could feel a sting deep in his lungs with each breath. He had to keep moving.

  Daniel rushed as fast as he could back to the shed. He climbed out of the tunnel, peeled off his gas-soaked boxers and dropped them in the hole. He was now naked, his skin covered in mud and gasoline.

  Colby was gone. The kid had done as he was told. A hole was hacked into the backside of the shed. Colby had escaped, now it was his turn. He tossed his piece of wood with the two nails at the end out the small hole. He hoped he’d be able to fit.

  He looked down at the trapdoor one last time. What he once though
t would be his way to freedom was now a gateway to hell.

  And whatever was coming would not be pleasant.

  Austin stepped backwards toward James. He pulled out his lighter. Gasoline fumes filled the air. James was afraid the whole house would go up in a massive fireball with one flick of Austin’s lighter. “We should open the garage door,” he said out loud. He could feel Austin’s gaze on him. It made the hairs on his neck stand at attention.

  “Good thinking. Don’t want to blow ourselves up, do we?” Austin walked over and pressed the garage door remote. The wooden garage door shook as the old garage door opener’s dried-out chain fought to lift the large piece of wood.

  James breathed the fresher air deep into his lungs. The sounds of crickets and frogs emanated from outside. Austin pushed the lighter at him. “You owe me for letting that kid get away.”

  James pushed Austin’s hand and the lighter away. “No. I won’t do it.”

  Austin’s eyes lit up. “What?”

  James had a clear shot out of the garage. He wanted to make Austin mad enough to chase him. If he could make it to Rancho Road, which was only a quarter-mile away, he could end this. But he had to make Austin mad enough to chase him.

  “It’s your fault that other kid got away, Austin!” he said, his voice gaining strength. “Go to hell!”

  Austin made his move and James made his. James made a beeline for the street, charging as hard and as fast as he could down the driveway. That’s when it hit him: the searing pain from inside his chest from when Austin punched him. He had hoped his adrenaline would keep the pain away, but he wasn’t that lucky. Instead the pain intensified.