Autonomy: a novel

by A. R. Braun

  “Sure.” She moved the tray to Scout’s belly and unlocked the handcuffs. Lelila retrieved the tray and set it on her lap.

  Scout’s arms thumped down uselessly beside her. This is pathetic. She forced herself to shake them, trying to get feeling back into her limbs.

  Mack paused the stereo and rose, then danced. “Oh yeah! Do the prisoner boogie!”

  Lelila harrumphed. “Mack!”

  “At least it’s not the Thorazine shuffle.” He bellowed high-pitched laughter for a few minutes. He unpaused the stereo.

  A thousand pins and needles pricked Scout’s arms and hands. She gasped.

  “Do you want me to feed you?” Lelila asked.

  “Hang on a minute. Ouch!” Scout gained enough feeling in her hands to wring out her arms as Mack rose to play air guitar. Finally, she got some feeling back into her limbs and picked up the bread to see what kind of sandwich had been served with Doritos.

  Peanut butter and jelly.

  Oh well, like the old cliché said, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Scout dove into the meal. Lelila had also provided her with an apple and a few pickles in a bowl. She actually got a glass of milk this time. Scout ravenously put the food away in a couple minutes.

  “Cash or charge?” Mack satirized.

  Scout shook her head before draining the milk. She locked eyes with Lelila. “I need to brush my teeth. They really hurt. And use mouthwash. I need a shower, I stink. And the sheets need to be changed.”

  A couple dead roaches lay by the left side of her head, entombed in dried vomit.

  Lelila nodded and untied her ankles. Scout had to shake her legs to get feeling into them, too, plus wriggle her toes. She noticed a couple of dead critters down there, also. They looked like beetles.

  “And I need my insulin.”

  “Fuck!” Mack turned off the stereo. “One thing at a time! Looky here, Lel’s gonna take you up there, and I’ll follow a few paces back with the gun. Fuck up my girlfriend and try to get away and I will shoot you.”

  Scout thought he would, too. She didn’t think she cared if she died anymore, though.

  Lelila actually took her hand and led her up the stairs. Scout followed like an obedient lesbian sex slave … until she reached the top of the landing. She got into the karate stance the men on the UFC did—stepping backward to gain leverage—and pulled Lelila down the stairs so that she bashed into Mack. Lelila screamed. Mack cried, “What the fuck?” He grunted in pain.

  Freedom! Now run like a motherfucker!

  Scout had a choice between the front door and the back door in the kitchen of the small house. Since she’d run into the mailman last time, she sprinted toward the back door and leaped the small porch to come into a tiny yard enclosed in a brown, rotting-wood fence. She felt foolish running naked, her sweaty, itchy breasts flopping, but she did it anyway. The sun beat down on her mercilessly. What she assumed were gangster G’s shuffled through the alley, and on both sides of her, dogs barked so loudly she thought her ears would pop. There were kennels on both sides: Great Danes, Pit Bulls, Rottweilers and German Shepherds.

  The gangbangers pulled money out of their wallets and held it up. “Hey,” they called. “Baby girl, who pimpin’ you out?”

  Danger on all sides. She decided on the gangsters. They might just be rebellious teenagers. Screaming, she darted toward the young African-American men.

  “Help! A crazy couple kidnapped me! Call the police.” Scout leapt the fence.

  The two young men, one tall-and-thin and one round-and-short, laughed harder than Mack did.

  “Call the po-po?” the thin one asked between chuckles. “Hell nah! Wouldn’t do no good anyhow.”

  Why’s he saying that?

  “Shit, girl, you on crack?” the round boy asked. “I can get you a score.”

  She reached them and put an arm around each of them, steadying herself, because she thought she would faint.

  “Damn, girl, you fine,” the thin one uttered.

  The rotund one echoed that sentiment.

  “Do you have a gun?” she asked, winded.

  They didn’t respond.

  “Do you have a gun!” she recapitulated.

  “Shit,” the round one asked. “We in high school. We comin’ home from Bethel Baptist.”

  Great, more Baptists. Run! Don’t stay here and allow Mack and Lelila to catch you. These kids aren’t any help.

  “Sad thing is, the churches are full,” the rotund boy added.

  Weird, that.

  What’s he talking about?

  But she couldn’t bother with it now. She’d just pulled her arms away to flee when Mack rose up from behind the fence, holding his gun out in front of him. Scout hit the dirt. She watched in horror as he shot the two boys repeatedly in their chests. They clutched their hearts, stumbled, and landed in the alley, knocking over a set of garbage cans. Scout rolled onto her back, ready to jump up like a fighter in a martial-arts movie, the gravel scraping her flesh. But Mack leapt over the fence and pointed the gun at her face.

  “I oughta blow your brains out.”

  Lelila finished sprinting and reached the fence. Goggle-eyed, she looked over the brothers.

  “No matter,” Mack said to his gal pal. “Climb over the fence and help me with her.”

  Lelila stared at him.

  “Move!”

  This was Scout’s best chance. She no longer cared if he shot her. There had to be more people out here, though she didn’t see any.

  She screamed her guts out.

  The last thing she saw before she winked out was Mack rearing back to pistol-whip her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Scout opened her eyes. They’d tied her to a chair in the kitchen. She tried to blink away the haziness. Someone might as well have balanced a bureau chest on her head. Her noggin throbbed like a bass drum. Looking to the floor, she spied streaks of blood.

  It came back to her, what Mack had done. He’d killed a couple of young men in broad daylight. The sight of those dead teens was burned into her mind. That would surely end this captivity, this disaster. How could they go undetected?

  Yet when she turned her head, Lelila, holding a laundry basket, came through the basement door. She moved sluggishly, as if about to drop, and her eyes were terrified. “I changed your sheets. Mack will be in shortly to carry you downstairs. He’s getting rid of the bodies in a chlorosulfonated polyethylene tub with acid. Can’t just leave ‘em there to let ‘em stink.”

  You can say those big words, but you have trouble deciphering the Bible?

  Then it hit her.

  Seriously? Nobody caught you? No one heard the shots, looked out the window and called the police? Really?

  Scout was speechless. She gagged from the heat and dehydration. “C-can I have a glass of water?”

  Lelila dropped the laundry basket onto the floor on purpose. Arms akimbo, she furrowed her brow and scowled. “You can’t have nothin’. You tried to escape again.” She turned and her long, whipping hair followed her movement out as she stalked out of the room.

  Oh shit. Now I can’t have my insulin, a bath or brush my teeth!

  Tooth decay was starting to make her gums and chompers ache as if someone had stabbed her in the mouth. This would only get worse. Panic set in.

  Mack stormed up to her, blood stains covering his face, neck, arms and hands, as well as his clothes. He glowered at her. “You bitch! I’m gonna chop you up in little pieces!”

  Terror spiked through her, for she believed him.

  He pointed her out. “I’ve gotta wash up. Be right back.” He chuckled, but it seemed forced. “Don’t go anywhere now.”

  Mack clomped out of the room.

  Scout reveled in how amped-up the danger had become to them. Now the whole neighborhood knew. It only took someone with the guts to call the cops. But if they’d seen, why weren’t the police here? That would be her luck, that everyone had gone out at that peculiar hour and hadn’t seen the curio.

 
What will I do then? Without my medicine, I’ll die.

  Scout sweltered in the heat, dripping with sweat, for what she judged a half hour. Then Mack stormed in looking all cleany-clean. Shirtless, he’d changed jeans. Laughing hysterically—the cops not being here yet must have given him the illusion that he’d gotten away with murder—he went behind her and actually picked up the chair with a grunt. He heaved her down the stairs to the basement. She hoped he’d fall, drop the chair and break his neck. Then it would splinter to pieces and she’d only have to overcome Lelila.

  But, of course, he didn’t.

  Mack slammed the chair down near the bed and untied her. Apparently, he wasn’t taking any chances. As soon as she was free of the bonds—rubbing her wrists—he grabbed her arms and threw her onto the bed.

  The dead bugs were gone. It smelled lilac-fresh down here. He put her in the cuffs straightaway and tied her legs with the old sheets, which made her ankles itch. Mack grabbed …

  (what the hell is that? It looks like a pair of Lelila’s panties!)

  … the material for the gag and inched it toward her mouth.

  “Please, I need my insulin! My teeth hurt, and if I don’t take a bath, I’m gonna go crazy! I’m all scummy and itchy.”

  Mack stood up straight. His feral eyes became as wide as they could be, like a maniac, which he was. He’d just proved that. Two dead, would one call that a killing spree? Scout had ripped off her dad’s book about profiling. Yes, she believed it took three murders to give someone the serial-killer tag.

  “After what you did?” he screamed. “Shit and piss your bed and itch to fucking death for all I care.”

  Lelila traipsed down the stairs. Mack took Scout’s purse and tossed it to his girl. She caught it like a faithful running back.

  He gave Scout a roundhouse kick to the side of the head.

  Out went the lights.

  ***

  Scout woke, feeling as if she had a hangover. She turned her head to see through the window that the sun had gone down. Scout gagged on the gag and, from the detection of vaginal stink, knew her mouth was indeed stuffed with a dirty pair of Lelila’s panties. Her tongue even came up with a couple of pubic hairs. She retched vehemently.

  She hadn’t seen Lelila sitting in the dark, but Scout spotted her when her “bestie” flicked on the one light bulb. She wore nothing but a tee shirt and a faded pair of short-shorts. Lelila pattered over in bare feet.

  Frowning, Lelila smirked. “Hey, bitch.” Her voice had become deep for some reason.

  Scout keened behind the thong in her mouth.

  Lelila held Scout’s purse. “He’s gone.”

  OH, PLEASE, GOD, MAKE HIM FLEE IN A PANIC.

  “Said he had to get away and think for a while.”

  Scout made like a banshee behind the thong, gagging and puking a little bile down her throat, which in turn brought more.

  Lelila ripped the gag out of her mouth so forcefully Scout was surprised a couple of teeth didn’t come with it. Her chompers ached even more. Looking her over, Lelila sat in the chair Scout had been tied to.

  Scout felt ridiculous naked and wondered if she’d be raped again. Truth was, she didn’t know what to expect from these two.

  Lelila dropped the purse next to her nude body. “I brought you your medicine.”

  Oh, thank goodness! She’s going to take my side because Mack went too far.

  Lelila ran her hand up and down Scout’s arm, which made her skin crawl. She beseeched her with her lovely eyes. “Are you sorry you tried to escape?”

  Scout took some deep breaths. Her rash was back from the lack of medicine. It covered both arms. Now it was on her neck, also. She couldn’t hold her bladder anymore and … let go onto the good sheets.

  Scout wept. “I’m sorry, but I needed to go to the bathroom.”

  Lelila shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have to sleep in it.” She kept her voice low.

  Scout shook from panic as she watched herself stain the bed. Oh God, the urine went up her ass! Her gut really stuck out now. Her metabolism had a mind of its own. Soon she’d have a seizure and go into a coma.

  Time to cooperate with this crazy bitch.

  “I know you heard me. Are you sorry you tried to escape, or what?”

  “Yes.” Scout sighed. “Look, I really need my insulin … could you?” Her voice came across as whiny again, and she despised herself.

  Sighing, Lelila closed and rubbed her eyes. “He went too far.” When she opened them, her eyes were goggling. “That nutcase.”

  Scout bawled. “I just … need … my …”

  “I know.” Lelila pinned her with her eyes. “I’m not dense.” She pulled the handcuff key from her pocket, but not before grabbing the gun Mack had carried earlier from Scout’s own purse. Lelila undid the handcuffs, and blessed feeling came back into Scout’s arms, not without jabs of pain, however.

  Lelila held the gun on her. “Do it yourself. Try to escape and I’ll blow your head off.”

  Scout’s vision was blurry. She finished rubbing her arms and reached into the purse. When Lelila seemed preoccupied, looking over her shoulder at the stairs—probably expecting Mack—Scout undid the knots binding her feet.

  “Sorry he pistol-whipped you and kicked you in the head.” Lelila caressed the area around Scout’s eyes with her free hand. “You’ve got a couple of shiners.” She barely managed a giggle. “You look like Alice Cooper.”

  Scout removed the cap and got ready to stick the insulin pen into her knee. One had to pick new spots all the time so one wouldn’t have tire tracks.

  The pen seemed lighter than usual.

  Lelila watched, apparently rapt with an arched brow, slightly wide eyes and the corner of a smile on her lips.

  Scout counted to eight seconds, but didn’t feel relief. Panicking, she yanked the pen up to her eyes.

  It was empty.

  “There’s nothing in it,” Scout squealed. Trembling, her mind racing, FRANTIC, she dove into her kit for her backup reserves of insulin.

  They were gone.

  Insanely, Lelila let out a belly laugh, snorting and touching her stomach with her free hand.

  Scout felt a nervous breakdown threaten to carry away any reserves of calmness. Mentally, it was as if she’d just gotten off the Tilt-A-Whirl. She could take no more. Without her insulin, that would be the end of her, so it was kill or be killed.

  Scout lunged at Lelila’s eye with the insulin pen.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Scout stuck the insulin pen in Lelila’s eye. The latter shrieked, then moved her shaking hands near the pen but seemed afraid to pull it out.

  Now covered in sweat, Scout ran up the stairs. This may be my last chance. Mack’s gone and might stay gone. Yet when she tugged on the door, it wouldn’t open. Lelila had locked it behind her.

  “You fucking cunt,” Lelila cried while bawling. “You ruined my eye!”

  Scout sprinted down the stairs and charged her so she could get the key.

  Lelila wheeled on her and yanked the pen out of her eye while keening. Her hand came up to cover her blood-and-ichor-stained eyeball. Goddamn it! I didn’t stab her hard enough to go through to her brain! Scout pushed her onto the bed and rummaged through her pockets. Before she had a chance to get the key, Lelila bounded up, shoved her to the floor and wailed punches on her until Scout was ready to faint.

  “I’ll fucking kill you,” Lelila cried. She jumped up and looked for the pen. “I’m gonna stick that insulin pen in both of your eyes!”

  Scout wasn’t about to let that happen. She sneaked away as Cyclops searched for the pen. Scout crept over to the stereo and grabbed the metal folding chair Mack had sat in while mocking their pseudo-church service. Just as Lelila bent over to pick the insulin pen up from the concrete floor, Scout bashed her over the head, and she fell down, knocked out.

  Not wasting any time, Scout ran over to rummage through Lelila’s pockets. She found the key and held it before her face
with shaking hands. She couldn’t believe it. Scout booked for the stairs. Once at the top after leaping over four at a time, she put the key into the lock and swung the door open wide. She dropped the key in the process, for she’d foolishly pulled it out of the lock.

  Mack picked up the key, grabbed her and pushed her down the stairs.

  Scout screamed because of the agony of pain, bumping her head and elbows and knees, thankfully not knocked-out.

  He could’ve killed me!

  Mack said, “You two cunts stay down there and work your shit out. I have to bury what’s left of the bones.”

  He slammed the door and locked it.

  Think. Do something! I have to get away or die! They’ve gotten rid of my insulin.

  Groaning in pain, but glad nothing was broken, Scout rushed over to the stereo and grabbed a speaker, then walked over and snatched the chair she’d knocked Lelila out with. She ran over to the one window and bashed the chair into it. At first the panes didn’t want to break, they just cracked, but then they shattered, raining down blessed glass. She had to go through a couple of layers—with sharpened shards blocking the edges like sentries—but she managed. She reached up and pulled herself up gradually, getting her waist through, cutting her hands in the process.

  Careful! Don’t kill yourself getting out of here!

  But there was no time for caution. Scanning the backyard for Mack burying the tub, Scout didn’t see anything amiss. The best she could do was get out and run like the wind, not stopping to talk to a couple of useless people who wouldn’t protect her. There would be dangers on the south side, also, but she couldn’t worry about that now. Getting to a police station was priority number one.

  Scout grabbed the grass and pulled herself out, first her thighs, then her lower legs. She was just about to pull her feet out when someone grabbed her ankles, endeavoring to pull her back inside.

  Scout panicked. “No!”

  She tugged as hard as she could, but Mack tugged harder. Before she knew what hit her, she slid through the aperture, her right cheek ripping open from a glass shard. That would leave a scar. She fell to the concrete floor with a thump. She hit her head and got the wind knocked out of her.