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“We’re at the gates of everlasting.”
He moved toward me with the stun gun. There was a flash of blinding light, and I crumpled to the floor. I felt him drag me across the kitchen into another room. I heard clanking and grunting. A door clicked closed and there was quiet. I struggled with the fog in my head, struggled to push through it. The room swam into focus. Small room. No furniture except for a mattress on the floor. My eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was a form on the mattress. It wasn’t moving. I took a moment to breathe. To get myself together. I had feeling back in my arms and legs. I managed to sit. He’d changed the cuffs so my hands were in front of me now. A thick chain tethered me to the wall. I could move around a little but a padlock attached to my cuffs was also attached to the chain. The chain was bolted into the wall.
The form on the mattress moved, and I realized it was a person.
“Becker?” I asked.
“Unh,” he said.
I moved closer and saw that his arms were full of needle punctures. Some in his upper arm and some over veins.
“Drugs,” he said. “Make me tired.”
His hands were cuffed in front like mine. He was also chained to the wall. His eyes were completely dilated. I wasn’t sure if it was from the dark or the drugs.
“Crazy,” Becker said, slurring the word. “Evil crazy.”
I could hear Pooka moving around the house, mumbling to himself. Drawers opened and closed. There was the smell of gas and then something burning.
“What’s that smell?” I whispered.
“Bunsen burner,” Becker whispered back. “Never works right. Probably because he’s got it hooked up to bottled propane. Not sure what he does with it. Defrosts the mice for the fleas, I think. He left the door open yesterday and I could watch him boiling stuff and measuring it out. And he injects himself with something. I always thought he was creepy, but it’s so much worse. He’s completely insane.” A tear slid down his cheek. “I think I’m dying.”
“No way,” I said, but honestly he didn’t look good.
“He needed a blood donor for the fleas,” Becker said. “He drugged me and chained me up in the garage and made me call my parents. And then there were always more drugs and I was so tired.”
Pooka opened the door and came at me with the stun gun. “This makes everything so much easier,” he said. “Say good night.”
TWENTY-FOUR
I AWOKE SLOWLY with a throbbing headache. It took a full minute to orient myself. Kidnapped. Chained. Stunned. I looked at my arm. Two puncture wounds. One in the vein in the crook of my left arm. One in my upper arm.
“He took blood,” Becker said. “And he drugged you. And he said he infected you. He said I should tell you so you’d know. I’m sorry.”
“Where is he now? The house is quiet.”
“He left. I heard him moving around out there and then
I heard the garage door open and close. And I think I heard the van leave.”
“How long ago?”
“I don’t know. I’m confused.”
I pushed myself up and fought back nausea that was as much from fear and horror as from the drug. I stood on shaky legs and managed to get to the wall. The bolt that the chain was attached to had been screwed into the wall and epoxy glue had been poured over it. I rapped on the wall. Sheetrock. I grabbed the chain with both hands and yanked. Little pieces chipped away around the bolt. I yanked again putting my weight into it, and the bolt broke loose.
I stood there holding the loose chain in my hand and I burst into tears. Loud hysterical sobs.
“S-s-sorry,” I said to Becker. “This is an emotional moment.”
I wiped my nose on my arm and went to Becker’s chain. I gave a tug, but the bolt held firm. I put one foot on the wall, leaned forward, and pushed off with every ounce of strength I could muster. The bolt broke free, and I fell over backward onto Becker. We both let out a woof of air on contact, and neither of us moved for a beat. I wrestled myself off him, and tried to get him up onto his feet but he was dead weight.
“Go,” he said. “Leave me here.”
“No way,” I said to Becker. “You’re coming with me if I have to drag you.”
I grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dragged him out of the room and into the kitchen. Difficult to do because my hands were still cuffed. I stopped long enough to look around. The place had been cleaned out. No more aquariums. No Bunsen burner. Pooka had moved on and left us behind to die. Fortunately for us he’s a lousy carpenter.
