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Evan nodded. “Will you tell me about your escape?”
“Yeah.” He scratched at his jaw, thinking. “We started getting things delivered with our meals—items and weird little riddles. We were told they were gifts, and they were, because they’re the things that helped us get free.”
Evan had broken out in a cold sweat, excitement and dread coursing through his blood. He felt sick and slightly feverish, and he now knew without a single doubt that the same people who were responsible for abducting him and Noelle had abducted this man and his “partner,” Hanh.
“It was like—”
A guard sitting at the front of the room at a desk suddenly announced, “Ten minutes, and visiting time is up.”
“It was like we were both sent things that only we would know how to use or that seemed meant for us in some specific way.” He was speaking more quickly now, obviously aware of the time constraint. His forehead wrinkles became deeper as he frowned. “It’s hard to explain.”
“It’s as if they knew your strengths and how you could use them.”
“Yeah, exactly.” He looked surprised to be understood.Believed.“Like, Hanh didn’t speak much English, but he knew numbers. We had to gesture quite a bit to get something across to each other. But I’m good at that. Do you know how much time you spend in the jungle communicating with the other guys without ever saying a word? Maybe it worked in our favor, because if people were watching us, they couldn’t figure out everything we were communicating. Hanh was—is, I guess—some kind of genius with numbers. He figured out the code being inputted into our cage locks somehow from the way the guy typed thenumbers in before opening the door. It took hearing it many times before he knew for sure he had both. But once we had the codes—or thought we did anyway—it was a matter of figuring out how to make it out of the room. But it was like, the things we were given were tools only we might know how to apply to our circumstance.” He scratched his head as though the idea still baffled him.
But it piqued Evan’s interest. It was familiar. Someone had left Noelle a piece of graphite that she’d used to start a fire. How had someone guessed she’d know how to do that? And not only that, but they’d known she’d take the risk of being burned alive to be free.
When he thought back on it, some of it almost seemedplanned. But not by them. Was that even possible? A chill snaked down his spine.
“We knew it would take both of us, and it did,” Lars said. “One of us escaping would have never worked.”
Yes. Again, the same with him and Noelle. Exactly the same.We leave here whole, and we leave here together.“Once you got free of your cages, did anyone try to stop you?” Evan asked.
“Yeah. I heard them coming after us, but it was weird because when we left the building, we weren’t pursued. We were in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere, so we had to make our way to the closest town.”
“Where in the middle of nowhere?”
“Here. In Texas, but way out in the desert. It took us six hours to walk to civilization. But as far as I could tell, they just let us go.”
That was similar to their situation too. He only saw that looking back, though. At the time, he’d been terrified and paranoid that they’d be found, that some sort of posse was hot on their heels and eager to put them back in cages. But in actuality, no one had come after them, even years and years later. And for a while, he’d been worried about that. So Evan had gotten a concealed carry. He worked out regularly and ran long distances whenever he had the time. He kept in fightingshape. Because maybe in the back of his mind, he thought there’d be a time when he’d be forced to fight again.
But maybe ... maybe no one was interested in him anymore. Or the man across the table. Maybe once they’d escaped, they were no longer of any importance to their once captors.
Because they’d won.
They’d won some sick, twistedgame.
Just like the gladiators of old, who won their freedom when they won the battle.
Another chill joined the others moving fast and furious down his neck and over his back, like cold, bony fingers trailing along his skin.
“I appreciate you listening to me. After I got out, my PTSD came back real bad. I had a few breakdowns, picked up a bottle. The police said I was crazy. There was no Hanh. He’d never existed except in my mind. Some holdover from Nam. The police humored me and went to the building I’d escaped from. It was empty. Not even a footprint could be seen in the dust. There was a pile of recent empty liquor bottles, though. I could see what they thought.” He ran a hand over his head. “I got to drinking real heavily one night and walked back to my apartment. Only, it wasn’t mine. It belonged to some old lady, and I scared her into having a heart attack right on her kitchen floor. Her husband called the police, and when they got there, we were both passed out, me from drink, her from cardiac arrest.” He shook his head, regret and clear pain passing over his rough features. He sighed. “I’ll be out in another year. It hasn’t been bad, though. Being in here helped me remember thatlifecan be war and I don’t need to wait to be shot at in a foreign jungle or caged by sickos to find that peace-filled space. I vowed never to forget. Forgetting helps for a while, but then it doesn’t.” He paused. “I don’t enjoy being caged again, but funny enough, I almost feel safer here than out in the world. I know what to expect within these bars.” He sat back in his chair. “They say this is where the monsters are housed, but Iknow that’s not true. The true monsters? They’re out there.” He jerked his head toward the window. “And they run in packs. They always run in packs.”
Evan stepped out of the gray brick building and walked to his car. When he got behind the wheel, he rolled down the windows, taking a deep breath. It was a hot day, but he’d found a space beneath a tree, and the shade helped with the heat. He didn’t care about the temperature, though. He wanted the air.
He thought about what Lars had told him, so many thoughts and questions streaming through his mind. The police hadn’t included nearly the level of detail Lars had been able to give him in their report.
Because they hadn’t believed him.
They’d thought he was a kooky, alcohol-drenched vet on some psychotic spree. There were some differences in particulars as far as what Lars had experienced, but if they both were involved in some sick game, wouldn’t that naturally be the case? If they were going for ultimate interest, not every “event” could be the same.
He ran his hand through his hair, the mild queasiness he’d felt while talking to Lars about his experience increasing. A game. An event.
Christ.
Was that really what it was? An ongoing game, still being played to this day? He’d thought about gladiators earlier, and the vision came to mind now of the once-grand Roman Colosseum, where those slaves fought bears and lions. And most notably each other.
His head swam. Was that what this was about? Not sex or money ... at least not at its core. Instead ... was the main point ... entertainment?
