Then Felix felt the Sheriff grab the chain linking his wrists. Escape was no longer an option.
“Straight ahead. Keep a’moving.”
He marched Felix through the trees. They walked for several minutes, not following any particular path Felix could make out. The Sheriff’s head lamp constantly scanned the foliage in all directions. Like he was afraid of something sneaking up on him. And maybe he was.
They eventually reached an open clearing. The Sheriff’s light focused on…
A cave. With a metal pole sticking into the ground in front of the entrance.
And scattered around the pole...
“Jesus Christ,” Felix said.
There were bones. Human bones. Dozens and dozens of them, littered about like the aftermath of a plane crash. Skulls and rib cages and pelvises. Femurs and spines. Some dark with age. Some still with strips of bloody flesh clinging to them.
“Shh,” the Sheriff whispered. “If Ronald is sleeping, you don’t wanna to wake him up.”
The Sheriff tapped Felix on the back of the head with his gun, trying to get him to move forward. Felix didn’t budge.
“Move it, boy.”
“No fucking way.”
Then Felix felt the Sheriff’s hand on his, grabbing three of his mangled fingers.
Oh, please no...
Felix heard the bones break before he felt them.
Snap snap snap.
Then the pain hit, making everything Felix had experienced that night pale by comparison.
He opened his mouth to scream, and just as it was leaving his throat the Sheriff forced something into his mouth.
A ball gag.
“That’s what you did to my brother, John,” the Sheriff said. “How’s it feel, boy? How’s it feel to break a man’s fingers when he can’t fight back?”
He grabbed Felix’s right hand and repeated the process.
Christ, no…
Snap snap snap.
Felix’s stomach was empty, but he dry-heaved anyway, bile coming up through his nose.
Using Felix’s fingers like a steering wheel, the Sheriff guided Felix to the metal pole. He quickly uncuffed his left hand, made Felix hug the pole, and cuffed him again.
“Have fun with Ronald, you sonofabitch.”
The Sheriff reared back and punched Felix in the gut. Felix dropped to his knees, sobbing, watching as the Sheriff scurried off, leaving him alone in the darkness.
Then Felix manuevered around to face the cave. Though the full moon was shining through the break in the canopy, Felix’s eyes hadn’t fully adjusted to the dark, and he couldn’t see anything. But he could smell it. A rank, foul odor. Spoiled meat and blood and feces and musk.
The smell of a predator.
The handcuff keys were still in Felix’s pocket. And with his hands now cuffed in front of him, they were within his reach.
Felix brought his right hand in front of his face. He didn’t want to look at it, but he had to assess the damage. Felix squinted in the darkness, saw his ring finger, middle finger, and index finger, all bent backwards at forty-five degree angles. The bloody bandages he’d put on earlier had begin to drip. Felix tried to move his hand, and a ripple of agony coursed through him, making him want to die to end the pain.
I’ll never be able to get those keys out of his pocket.
Then Felix looked up, and saw the dim silhouette of something coming out of the cave.
# # #
When Kelly opened her eyes, she was lying on dirt.
Am I outside? What’s going on?
It all rushed back to her in a flood of images. Going into the closet. Chasing JD. Talking to Alice.
No, not Alice. Alice was really a crazy, freaky man named Grover. He caught me because my finger was...
Then the pain hit. Kelly stared at her index finger, saw an ugly, serrated cut around the knuckle. She’d seen an injury like that once before. Back home, one of her classmate was helping his father set fox traps, and one snapped down on him. Kelly figured when she stuck her finger in the peep hole, Grover had put a fox trap on it to hold her there.
She bent the digit, wincing, feeling the tears well up but biting them back.
I’ll cry later. I need to figure out what’s going on.
She tore her eyes away from the injury and studied her surroundings.
Even though Kelly was on dirt, she wasn’t outside. She was in some kind of tiny, dark room. The walls were concrete. The door was metal. The only furnishings were a bucket and a water pump.
“Mom! Grandma!”
Her voice echoed around in the enclosed space. She got up and went to the door.
Locked.
“Mom!” Kelly yelled with all of her lung power.
“Who’s there?” someone said back. A man. Not far away.
“Help me! I’m locked in here!”
Kelly put her ear to the door.
“I’m locked in, too” the man answered. He didn’t sound like he was standing outside. More like he was from a room to the left. She walked over to the wall and cupped her hands together, putting them against her mouth as if she were about to shout. Then she pressed her hands to the wall and said, “Can you hear me?”
Kelly held her ear against the cold concrete and waited for a response.
“Yeah, I can hear you.” The man’s voice was quiet, but clear.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“We’re under the Rushmore Inn, being held in slave cells.”
“What do they want with us?”
“They’re sick. They want to use our blood for transfusions. And...”
Kelly didn’t like the way his voice trailed off, like he was about to tell her something and then changed his mind.
“And what?”
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Kelly. You?”
“Cam. I came here with my sister’s fiancée, Felix. We’ve been looking for her for a year. We think she’s here.”
A year? They’ve been looking for a year?
Kelly shook her head.
No way. I couldn’t last a year here.
“Have you seen my mom or grandmother?” she asked, her voice getting higher as panic set in. “Letti and Florence Pillsbury?”
“I haven’t seen anyone. Just the guy who brought me down here. Ugly bastard with a split in his face. They need our blood because theirs is bad, or something like that.”
Kelly was horrified. “Our blood?”
“I’m O negative. So is my sister. It’s pretty rare.”
Kelly closed her eyes. She was O negative, too. So were Mom and Grandma.
“What else do they want us for?” she asked.
Cam didn’t answer.
“Cam, please, if you know something, tell me. I can handle it.”
“They... they kidnap women to make babies.”
Kelly knew she had to be brave. Mom told her that the best way to overcome bad situations was to fight the fear and keep a clear head. Emotions weren’t useful.
But Kelly felt the tears coming on anyway.
“Kelly? You okay?”
“I’m only twelve years old!” Kelly wailed.
“Jesus. Look, it will all be okay. We’ll get out of this. I promise.”
“How? What if they’ve already got Mom and Grandma? No one knows we’re here.”
“I’ve been in bad situations before, Kelly. We’ll make it.”
Kelly lost herself to tears, crying so hard her nose began to run. All the while she heard Cam saying, “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” Over and over again.