They stared at Ian. He chewed his bottom lip. “I’m in. You know I’m in.”
Ernest slapped his hands together. “We have the house to ourselves. My folks gave everyone the night off since they’re going into the city for the weekend. So there’s no one left to, um, hear anything. Besides, Nolan’s tucked away in a safe place. Soundproof.”
“They gave everyone the night off, did they?” Caleb scoffed.
“Fuck you, assbag,” Ernest said. “Not everyone has staff who wipes their dick for them.” He led them across the room and reached behind the bookcase. “You see those old movies with the creepy old goth mansions that have these hidden passageways and shit?” He pushed a panel concealed behind a copy of The 120 Days of Sodom by the Marquis de Sade. A door disguised to look like part of the paneling creaked open. A light, musky air assaulted their nostrils.
“Oh gimme a fuckin’ break,” Caleb said.
“Shut up.” Ernest ushered them inside and closed the door. They each held a flashlight, and Ernest led them down a hallway where the only sounds were their footfalls and the steady plinking of a leaky pipe.
They passed through several doors. At the last door, Ernest reached up and punched in a series of numbers on a keypad, locking it behind them. “Can never be too careful. We don’t need company.”
“Did you install that? It looks modern.” Ian brushed cobweb remnants out of his eyes as they approached a small room. He smelled something burning.
Ernest told them, “I didn’t install it, but I doubt my parents know about that secret panel upstairs, or even about this place. I just discovered it myself a few months ago. I wonder what kind of sick shit the previous owner got himself into down here.”
Light overtook the blackness. In the center of the room was a large, thick butcher-block table. Tied naked and spread-eagle to the table was a young man with black hair. He was blindfolded, and his glasses had been placed on a tray beside his head. He was gagged, but that seemed unnecessary since he appeared to be unconscious. The slow rise and fall of his thin chest indicated he was still alive.
That burning smell …
Ian looked at the corner of the room. A large pot had been set up, and something inside was simmering on a platform above Sterno canisters. “What’s that?” he asked.
“Metal,” Ernest said. “A combination of metals, actually. Some old figurines, melted down. Lead and tin mostly. Silica. A bunch of stuff. Carefully mixed and tested.”
“Tested? On what?” Caleb asked.
Ernest looked up. “Strays. Mostly.”
“What, uh, what’s the metal for?” Ian asked.
Ernest snapped opened a container of smelling salts and ran it beneath Nolan’s nose. “You’ll see.”
Nolan’s head jerked from side to side. He strained against his bindings.
On a tray table beside the butcher block was an assortment of instruments. Ernest stood beside it and picked up a notebook and pen.
He tried to hand them to Ian, who refused and backed up a step.
“You have to keep notes, Ian.”
“Why me?”
“Because Caleb is stronger. I may need his help with … you know. Other stuff.”
“No way. I don’t want my handwriting in any journal.”
“You idiot,” Ernest said. “We’re all in this. Someone has to keep notes, and I can’t fucking do it. I’m going to be too goddamned busy to write, asshole. Besides”—he pointed at the camera mounted on a tripod in the corner—“I’m recording all of this. So fuck you and your handwriting. There’s a permanent record.”
Nolan screamed a series of desperate and incoherent sounds into his gag.
Ian snatched the notebook and pen out of Ernest’s hand.
Caleb moved across the room and studied the tray of instruments. “Ernest, you are one seriously disturbed fuck.”
Ernest handed him clamps. “Start with the nipples. Just don’t cut them off.”
“Me?” Caleb’s face contorted. “Hey, isn’t that kind of queer? I don’t want to …”
Ernest sighed, rubbing his eyes with his index fingers. “Look—this is an experiment. It’s medical, not sexual. If you get a hard-on while messing with his nipples, that’s your hang-up. Otherwise, just goddamn do it. It’s part of the experiment.”
Caleb moved to the other side of the table. Frowning, he ran his palms over Nolan’s breasts until the nipples stood erect. Using the clamps, he grabbed hold, Nolan writhing beneath him. “I still don’t see what nipple clamps have to do with anything,” Caleb muttered.
Ernest ignored him and turned to Ian. He said, “You ready? Before you write anything, I need you to help prep the subject. I want you to get a feel for this stuff.”
Ian stepped forward, and Ernest handed him the next instrument.
“What the hell do I do with—”
“We’re all pre-med,” Ernest said. “Figure it out.”
Ian knew what he was supposed to do with the tool, but—
“Can you handle it?” Caleb asked. “Need help?”
“You couldn’t deal with a nipple clamp, but this you’re okay with?” Ernest said.
“Fuck off.”
Ian swallowed back a mouthful of spit. “I … yeah, but, I don’t know how … I mean, I’m not sure.”
“Just stick it up his ass,” Ernest said.
“You got issues, man,” Caleb said.
“I know where it goes,” Ian said. “I just don’t see what this has to do with your experiment.”
“We start small, Ian. Clamps, a few tubes. Understand?” Ernest said. “Part of the experiment is a study in resilience, big and small. I have lots more planned.”
“How will we know what he’s feeling? Isn’t that part of the experiment? Isn’t that what you want me to write down?” Ian wasn’t sure he wanted to know, or if he was stalling. He stared at the instrument in his hands, and it seemed to have become very heavy.
“How the hell do you think he’s feeling?” Ernest smiled. “Never mind. We’ll ask him in a minute.”
“Oh.” Ian lubricated the end of the tube and tried to push it into Nolan’s anus. “I can’t do this,” he said. “It’s, you know. He won’t cooperate.”
Ernest said to Caleb, “Make him cooperate.”
Caleb nodded and took the length of metal tubing, which resembled a thin toilet paper roll, from Ian. He pressed it against Nolan, pushing and twisting until it found its way inside his writhing body, tearing the soft, delicate tissue at the opening of his anus. Blood tricked onto the table. Ernest tossed Caleb a roll of duct tape and instructed him to secure the tube as best as he could.
Nolan screamed into his gag and bucked his legs, but Caleb pushed the tubing in further. “It’s secure,” Caleb said. To Ian he said, “Just think of him as a cadaver. Easier that way.”
“Good job,” Ernest said. He leaned over Nolan’s face. “I’m going to remove your gag now. I want to ask you a few questions.”
Nolan’s head bobbed like a float on a lake. Ernest removed the gag and Nolan screamed and begged for help. “Please!” he cried, lifting his head off the table. “It hurts! Take it out!”
Ernest stared at Nolan, a wry smile plastered on his face.
“You fucking psycho!” Nolan screamed.
Ernest stuffed the gag back in his mouth and clicked his tongue. “No use. He’s just gonna be an asshole. How predictable. Anyway, the interesting part’s coming up. I’ll do it myself but may need some help.”
He took a long thin metal tube—so thin it resembled a wire, but it was hollow, like the world’s most narrow beaker—from the utensil tray.
Moving to the end of the table, he took hold of Nolan’s penis, which failed to respond. “Grab it,” he said to Caleb.
“No way! Nipples were bad enough. I’m not touching his dick.”