He ripped the riot gun from its rack, clicked off the safety, pumped a round into the chamber and fired as the beast’s head hit the glass for a second time, deafening him and shattering the glass outward, turning the black beast’s head into bloody mush.
He didn’t wait to see what it would do next. He jumped out on the driver’s side, pumped a second round into the chamber, dashed around the car, fired again into the bloody pulp that was the beast’s head. He emptied the remaining three rounds into its chest at point blank range.
And then he collapsed, fighting for breath. The Ghost Dog was dead.
Chapter Twenty-Three
J.P. woke sitting up. He tried to move, but it hurt his neck. He opened his eyes to a glaring light and studied his surroundings in a way that wouldn’t have occurred to him just forty-eight hours ago.
He was in Rick Gordon’s upstairs bathroom, in the bathtub and he was naked. His hands were again tied behind his back and his bruised feet were lashed together in the same manner as they were when he had been held captive in the trunk.
He was horribly thirsty and the tub was full of warm water, but he was unable to drink. He couldn’t move his head. His neck was in a noose and tied to the hot and cold water handles. The water to quench his thirst was so close and yet so far.
He tried to scream and discovered that again his mouth was taped. He inhaled through his nose, trying to calm himself, as he studied the bathroom in search of something that could aid in his escape. He found nothing. Then in the soap dish, his eyes locked on a small compact mirror sitting on top of a well used bar of soap. He wondered if it was Ann’s and he wondered if he could break it and use a piece of the sharp glass to cut his way through the ropes.
Maybe, if he pulled his knees into his stomach, he could straighten his legs, and maybe, just maybe, if he was lucky, he could knock the mirror off its perch, and it would fall into the tub.
He moved back, pressing his back up against the faucet, tucking in his knees. The faucet dug into his back, but he forced himself to ignore the pain. He straightened his legs and rocked on his behind, thrusting his foot toward the soap dish.
He missed, but not by much.
He was getting ready to try again, when he heard the heavy steps coming up the hardwood stairs. He didn’t have to play twenty questions to know who was coming. He lay his legs back down and braced himself for the worst. Then he realized that the Ragged Man was going to see him naked.
But of course he had already seen him without his clothes on, otherwise how did he get to be tied up naked in the tub. He didn’t like the idea at all. Why did he have to be naked? He didn’t like people to see him naked. He hated it when his mother came into the bathroom when he was in the tub. He always covered himself with a washcloth and pleaded with her to leave. It wasn’t funny, but she always laughed.
He hoped the Ragged Man wasn’t going to laugh. He hoped the Ragged Man wasn’t going to do anything at all.
He heard the footsteps as they left the stairs and made their way down the hall, coming toward the bathroom, coming toward him. He heard the doorknob turn and click, sending his heart through his throat. The door opened, a squeaky hinge screeching like chalk on a blackboard, sending shivers of fear along his spine. He wanted to shrink inside of himself, to make himself invisible, to vanish like a ghost in the woodwork, but he couldn’t. All he could do was wait in the tub, naked, and face his fear.
He stared up at the man as he entered the bathroom. He wanted to close his eyes, but the last time he did that, it made the man mad and that was the last thing he wanted to do.
“ So, you’re awake.” The man walked over to the washbasin and studied himself in the mirror. Then he turned to look at J.P. “You know how it is, children should be seen and not heard. And I can see an awful lot of you.”
J.P. turned red.
“ Ah, embarrassed, are we? What’s the matter? Don’t like showing off your little pecker?” He bent over, so that J.P. could smell his foul breath, and shoved his hand under the water, flicking his finger against J.P.’s limp penis.
J.P. jumped and squirmed against the noose.
“ Relax, I’m not a baby raper. I might slit your throat and peel off your skin, but I’ll leave your little peepee alone.” He laughed, a raspy, insincere sound that chalked his spine worse than the squeaky hinge.
“ I’ll bet you want to know what I have in store for you. Well, you’re about to find out.”
The man left the bathroom and J.P. heard him go down the stairs and fumble around down there. He felt nothing but dread when he heard the footsteps coming back again. J.P. had no idea what the man had in mind, but he knew it was bad.
“ What I have here,” the man said, “Is your basic digital timer. I’m setting it to go off at, oh what’s a good time, how about noon, that sound good to you? It sounds good to me.” He plugged the timer into the wall with the bright red read-out facing the tub.
“ Now, I’m going to plug the extension into the back of the timer.” J.P. watched him do it. “And now, I’m going to plug the radio into the extension cord.” J.P. watched him do it. “And now, the fun part, I turn the radio on.” J.P. watched him do it. “But oh, no,” the man said, feigning surprise, “the radio didn’t come on. Oh, yeah, it won’t come on till high noon, when the timer goes off. Can you guess what I’m going to do with the radio?”
J.P. opened his eyes wide, telling the man how frightened he was.
“ Smart boy, I’m gonna put the radio in the tub.”
J.P. watched him as he set the radio in the tub, two feet from his feet.
“ At twelve, when the timer clicks on, you can kiss your naked ass goodbye.” the Ragged Man laughed.
J.P. squirmed, but the noose held him firmly in place.
“ Who knows. You’re a clever lad. You got away last time, maybe you’ll get lucky.”
The big man clomped out of the bathroom, closing the door on his way out. J.P. heard him thud down the hallway and down the stairs. He heard the front door slam a few seconds later. He was alone with the radio.
He wondered what station it was tuned to. Would he be electrocuted by The Rolling Stones, Weezer, The Black Crowes or by Rush Limbaugh? No, probably during the news, then later he would be the news. “Naked boy electrocuted in bathtub, film at eleven.”
“ Naked,” would be the highlight. They would make it a big deal that he was naked. Policemen, reporters, his mother, strangers, maybe friends, maybe even girls, would all see him naked. He didn’t want to be found naked.
He didn’t want his friends at school to laugh after he was dead. And he especially didn’t want his teacher to know that he died naked. It was bad enough that he had to die, but it was so embarrassing to be tied up without his clothes on, and he was so humiliated, because that big ugly man had touched him down there, between his legs. Nobody should be able to do that. It was wrong, and he started to cry.
He was so tired. Nobody could blame him if he just gave up. He was thirsty again and the water in the tub only served to tell him how dry his throat could get. He was hungry and he felt like he was starting to get sick, like the time when he had the two day flu.
A quick note of terror struck his heart. He threw up when he had the flu. He threw up a lot. If he threw up with his mouth taped, he would die, drowned in his own vomit. Well, he didn’t throw up in the trunk and he’d try not to throw up now. But he wondered, if he was sick, if he had the two day flu, would he be able not to throw up? He was more scared than ever.
But everything wasn’t as bad as it could have been. The warm water felt good against his aching sides and his cut and bruised feet.
And the soothing warm water called to him to close his eyes and relax. Maybe Rick would come home in time. Maybe he’d fight and kill the Ragged Man and come upstairs and save him before noon, but maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe the timer wouldn’t work, but it probably would. Maybe he should lay back in the warm water and give up, but maybe he shouldn’t.