by Jeff Strand
"There's a twenty-four hour Wal-Mart near here."
"All right. I have to get out of here."
Viv left the room. Ken followed her, closing the door behind him.
* * *
"Thank you," said Ken, as they walked up the stairs. "I'm so sorry for lying to you. I just didn't think you'd understand."
"I don't understand. I accept it but I don't understand it."
"That's fair. That's totally fair. I just want to say thank you."
"You're welcome."
They walked into the main part of the house. Ken wondered if Viv had been wandering around. If so, she would've seen Darrell's room. Based on the fact that she hadn't said, "What the hell is all of this stuff?" he assumed that she hadn't gone snooping.
"You do know what this means, right?" Viv asked.
"What?"
"I get to do one."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Charlene stood in the shower, massaging coconut-scented shampoo through her hair, reliving the moment when Lee pulled the trigger.
It was more violent in the mental replay. The real alley had been dark. She hadn't seen the bullet burst through the back of his skull. But in her mind, everything was brightly lit, like a fluorescent bulb during a power surge. She saw blood—more blood than medically possible—and chunks of brain matter and shards of skull, all flying through the air like a high-definition 3-D motion picture in super-slow motion. When Lee struck the ground, his head splattered apart like a Jack-o-Lantern left on the front porch for an extra week by somebody who wasn't willing to let Halloween go. The flow of blood was endless. And Lee was still alive. He lay on the ground, writhing in the pool of blood, staring at her with frightened eyes that bulged from their sockets.
Charlene wished this were a dream. She wished it were only her subconscious mind conjuring up these awful images. She didn't need this shit while she was awake, trying to enjoy a relaxing hot shower.
She rinsed her hair while Lee clawed at his own mangled head, moaning in agony.
She got out of the shower and toweled off. Things had gotten better since the incident, but she still had these nightmarish moments when she was alone.
The simple solution was to not be alone. Her parents would happily let her stay with them. But she worried that if she hid from her apartment for a few days, she might return and go straight back to where she'd left off. Better to just start facing the demons now.
She didn't really want any kind of long-term relationship with Megan, so using her as emotional cover seemed like a bad idea. Charlene most definitely did not regret the sex, but that was to blow off steam, not to keep herself out of her own head.
She'd love to call Gertie, just to talk for a little bit, since she had the closest understanding to what Charlene had been through. But of course Gertie was getting laid right now. Gertie hadn't really seemed like the kind of person who'd go home with somebody she'd just met, especially when she was at the restaurant as part of a business meeting. It felt a little out of character, but Charlene hadn't known Gertie for very long and had not asked for details about her heterosexual love life. For all she knew, it was ridiculously easy to get into Gertie's pants. Gertie was a young, healthy woman, and she could bang whomever she wanted. More power to her. It was none of Charlene's business.
She suddenly wondered if the sexual promiscuity was the only reason it felt a bit off.
Charlene picked up her phone and glanced at the text message conversation again.
No! He's way too old. But our cute waiter isn't. :)
Waiter.
She'd never heard Gertie use the words "waiter" or "waitress." They were servers.
That didn't necessarily mean Gertie wouldn't use the word "waiter" in a text message. Maybe she wanted to use a gender-specific term when conveying the message to her lesbian friend.
Charlene texted her back: Hey, feeling a little uneasy here. Check in, okay?
She waited. No response.
She took her phone with her as she went into the kitchen and popped a bag of microwave popcorn. Still no answer as she poured it into the bowl.
Okay, if there was an appropriate time for somebody to not check their text messages, it was when they were having sex. Even if he was pounding into her doggy-style and she could conveniently hold her phone without interrupting the flow too much, it would be rude.
Screw it. She was going to call, even if she was interrupting Gertie and the server in the throes of passionate lovemaking.
It went straight to voice mail.
Not suspicious. Charlene had put her own phone on Do Not Disturb mode when Megan's head was between her legs.
She called again, just in case Gertie had the setting where a second call from the same number would go through.
Straight to voice mail.
Even Sherlock Holmes might suggest that "waiter" versus "server" was a bit of a stretch. So, again, this wasn't suspicious.
But she couldn't deny that it was a bit troubling.
* * *
"Excuse me?" Ken asked.
"You know you heard me."
"Tell me again."
"I get to do one."
Ken felt a little sick to his stomach. Not the gut-churning sensation he'd felt when Vivian had forced him to show her the basement, but sick nevertheless.
"I thought you got that out of your system before we met."
"I did. And now I want to do it again."
"I don't think it's a good idea."
"Why?"
"You could get caught."
Vivian let out a snort of laughter. "You've got a basement full of girls in cages. I'm going to go out on a great big old limb and say that I'd be at less risk of getting caught than you."
Ken shook his head. "I don't want that."
"Then maybe you shouldn't have lied about what a deviant you are. You get your girls. I get my man. That's fair."
"I know, but..."
"But you're okay with a double standard?"
"It's different."
"How?"
Ken had no good answer for that. "I thought you said you weren't interested in that anymore."
"I wasn't. Now I am. People change. And sometimes they aren't what they pretend to be."
Damn it. This had been going so well for a while.
"Didn't you fuck them before you killed them?" Ken asked.
"Yes."
"Is that still part of the deal?"
"I haven't decided."
"Well, it's a pretty important part."
"Again, you've got eight or nine women in cages in a basement. Fucking a guy then stabbing him to death doesn't come anywhere close."
"I wasn't allowed to rape them."
"I wouldn't be raping him."
"I wasn't allowed to have consensual sex with them."
"I get that."
"So you're the one with the double standard."
"Maybe," said Vivian. "But your double standard is infinitely worse."
"I wouldn't say infinitely."
"I would."
"No. I'm not going to let you do that."
"I won't have sex with him, then. I'll lure him with the promise, but I won't go through with it."
"How far will you go?"
"I don't know."
"I need to know that."
"Let me be clear about something," said Vivian. "I didn't say that I want one of my own. I said that I get one of my own. You betrayed my trust in a big way. You put our whole family at risk. You made it so Jared could lose his father. So if it means that now I get to do something that makes you uncomfortable, well, you should have thought about that before you lived out your sickest fantasies without telling me."
"So...a random guy?"
"Maybe not. We need to talk to your prisoner and find out what loose ends might be out there. She might have told her friend where she was going tonight. And somebody who looks like her probably has a boyfriend. We'll get them out of the picture before she's been reported mis
sing."
"What if you killed the other girl instead?" Ken asked.
"Why? So you could watch?"
"No! I just think it's a better way to handle it."
"I don't want to kill her. That does nothing for me. You're lucky I didn't run screaming to the police, so I'm not sure why you're being a baby about this."
Ken's whole body tensed up. "Are you threatening to go to the cops?"
"Of course I'm not. I'd never do that to you or Jared. And I'd do some jail time, too, because I knew you were responsible for the disappearances. But that doesn't mean that, in an emotional state, I wouldn't have done something without thinking. You should be so goddamn relieved right now that you wouldn't care if I went out to a bar and started holding auditions for a gang-bang."
"Are you being serious right now?"
"I'm exaggerating. The basic point holds true. I don't get why you're upset about this idea even if I did fuck the guy."
"We should talk about this later."
"That's fine. You go get some antiseptic and bandages."
"She probably needs stitches," said Ken.
"Do you know how to do stitches?"
"No."
"Do you think she'll sit there and let you stitch her up without trying to escape?"
"I was going to chloroform her. Give me some credit."
"All right, I apologize," said Vivian. "Go get the things you need. I'm going to get some information out of her."
"How?"
"I'll be persuasive."
"Seriously, how?"
"Knife blade under the fingernails."
"Jesus."
"It's a time-tested method of getting people to share information they might not want to share. You think she can withstand torture like that?"
"You have to be careful on the ladder. Actually, no, I'll lower the cage. The door is padlocked shut. She won't get out."
"Perfect."
* * *
Gertie didn't say anything as Ken and Viv returned. She was starting to feel dizzy, but forced herself to stay alert, in case there was an opportunity to escape. Yeah. Escape from her locked steel cage dangling from the ceiling.
Ken walked past her. Viv stood by the doorway, holding the same knife that Ken had stabbed her with. She hadn't wiped off the blood.
The cage slowly began to lower.
Were they setting her free?
No, of course they weren't.
Gertie extended her legs so they wouldn't get crushed underneath the cage as it reached the floor.
Ken returned to the doorway. "Call me if you need anything," he said. "I won't be gone long." He gave Viv a kiss on the cheek then left.
Viv stood there for about a minute. Then she stepped forward and pulled the door closed.
"How can you stand the smell?" she asked. "I wish we could do this someplace else, but then you wouldn't be in a cage, would you?"
She walked over to the cage, though she didn't get close enough that Gertie could grab or kick her.
"I'm not going to start with a question," she said. "I'm going to start by showing you what happens if you don't answer a question. That way, when I do ask you a question, you'll know the penalty. Put your hand out."
"No."
"You're in a cage that barely gives you enough room to breathe. Do you really think that I can't get to you? When I say 'Put your hand out' what I mean is 'Put your hand out, because that's the easiest and least painful way for us to get through this.' The more difficult you make it for me, the more horrible I'll make it for you. And if I have to jab this knife into your ear like what happened to your friend over there, I'll do it. I have no emotional investment in keeping you alive."
Gertie could not see a way out of this. She couldn't extend her right arm, but she was able to get her hand outside of the cage.
Viv crouched down next to her. She grabbed Gertie by the wrist.
"Open your fist," Viv said.
"Please," said Gertie, amazed that she wasn't sobbing yet. "I'll answer whatever questions you have."
"Really? Even if it puts your friends in danger? You'd sell them out to spare yourself a little pain?"
"You don't have to do this."
"I know I don't. I am completely aware of my options right now. Like my option to slash your wrist if you don't open your hand. I'm pretty sure you'll bleed to death before my husband gets back with the Band-Aids."
Gertie opened her hand.
Viv let go of Gertie's wrist and grabbed her pinky. She pressed the tip of the knife underneath her fingernail, then jammed it in, just a bit. Gertie shrieked as the pain shot all the way up her arm, so much worse than she ever could have anticipated.
Viv pulled the knife right out, but the pain took a while to fade. Gertie pulled her hand back inside the cage.
"So now you've had a sneak preview of what's going to happen if you don't cooperate. I'm going to ask you some questions. Don't lie to me. I'll know if you lie."
"The way you knew your husband was lying?"
Viv's face went dark and furious. Gertie didn't care. The woman clearly had every intention of torturing her, so why not piss her off? She might make a mistake.
Then the anger faded and Viv smiled. "Good one. Perceptive. You got me. No way for me to deny it, you got me, fair and square. But I'd like to get to the questions, if that's all right with you."
Gertie said nothing.
"Who knows where you were tonight?"
Gertie's phone had been gone when she regained consciousness, so Ken had almost certainly looked at it and probably seen her text messages. It would be stupid to lie. "My friend Charlene."
"Ah, the other amazing hero. And was Ms. Charlene expecting to hear from you again tonight?"
Now she was going to lie. She looked Viv directly in the eye. "No."
"Hmmm."
"We thought your husband wanted to interview me for a web series. There are a lot of sleazy people out there pretending to be producers, so I checked in with her to let her know that he wasn't a scumbag. I had no reason to text her after that."
"All right. Do you have a boyfriend?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I broke up with my ex three months ago and haven't met anybody since then."
"Hmmm."
"It's true."
"I didn't say I didn't believe you. What about Charlene? Is there a man in her life?"
"No."
Viv looked unconvinced. "Both of you are single, huh?"
"Yes."
"Give me your hand."
"I'm telling the truth."
"Give me your hand."
"Charlene isn't into men. She'll never have a boyfriend."
"You should have clarified that when I asked the question. I'm going to consider that withholding information. Give me your hand."
"Fuck you."
Viv smiled. "Oh, well, if you use the F-word with me I have no choice but to back off, huh? I'm so intimidated by the little girl in the cage that I'll just let her decide if she takes a knife blade under the fingernail or not. You know, it doesn't have to be like the first time. I can stick that knife in all the way up to your knuckle. Is that how you'd like this to play out?"
"I didn't lie to you."
"And I'm being honest with you when I say this: I don't care. Give me your hand."
Now the tears were flowing. Gertie put her hand back outside of the cage.
Viv did not jam the knife in all the way up to the knuckle of her ring finger, but she didn't withdraw the blade as quickly as before. It took several moments for Gertie to stop shrieking.
"Tell me about the men in your life," said Viv. "Is your father still alive?"
"Yes."
"Does he live close?"
"No."
"Anybody at work? Attractive co-worker? Boss?"
"Fuck you. I'm not sending you after anyone."
"I like the defiance. If I were a lesbian like your friend it would be a real turn-on. You realize that I can
very easily find this information out with a quick online search, right? It'll take almost no effort to find out who'll be the first man to miss you when you don't come home. So why not make things easy for yourself and tell me?"
"Go to hell," said Gertie.
"I'm sure there are pliers in the garage. I can loosen up your fingernails with the knife and then tear them off."
"I said, go to hell."
"All right. If that's the way you want to play it, that's fine with me. So you figured it out, huh?"
"Figured what out?"
"Figured out that I don't really need any of your answers. Like I said, I can find all of this online. And then pay a little visit to your place of employment. Have some fun. And since you've figured out that I don't need your answers, you've figured out that the part of the interrogation that I like is the part where I ruin your hands. So let's skip the Q&A and get to the good stuff."
* * *
Vivian was sitting on the upstairs couch when Ken walked into the house.
"Did she give you what you needed?" he asked.
Vivian shrugged. "She gave me enough."
"I got some antiseptic, some bandages, some gauze, and a needle and thread. I'll sew her up as well as I can, unless you want to do it."
"I'll pass."
He went downstairs and into the basement room. Gertie was slumped forward in her cage, eyes vacant. If not for the rise and fall of her chest, he would've thought she was dead. When Ken went over to the cage, he saw that the tips of all ten of her fingers were bloody.
Wow. That bitch must've been seriously uncooperative.
Ken poured some chloroform onto a rag, then reached through the bars and shoved it against Gertie's face. It didn't seem to make a difference, but he sure wasn't going to let her escape by something like faking catatonia.
* * *
Sewing up her stab wounds had gone horribly. The gashes were a mess of thread, but they seemed to be holding together well enough to keep her from bleeding too much. Ken was under no illusion that she'd live long enough to starve to death, but as long as the wounds didn't get infected—and they might, because once he raised the cage he wasn't lowering it again—she'd probably be around for at least a couple more days.
