A Perfect Evil

Chapter 54

“Why don’t you eat some of your Big Mac?” the man in the dead president’s mask was saying.

Timmy curled into the corner. The bedsprings squeaked each time he moved. His eyes darted around the small room lit only by a lantern on an old crate. The light created its own creepy shadows on the walls with spiderweb cracks. He was shaking, and he couldn’t control it, just like last winter when he got so sick his mom had had to take him to the emergency room. And he did feel sick to his stomach, but it wasn’t the same. He was shaking because he was scared, because he didn’t know where he was or how he had gotten here.

The tall man in the mask had been nice so far. When he had stopped Timmy by the church to ask for directions, he had been wearing a black ski mask, the kind robbers wore in the movies. But it was cold out, and the man seemed lost and confused but not scary. Even when the man had gotten out of his car to show Timmy a map, Timmy hadn’t felt scared. There was something familiar about him. That was when the man had grabbed him and shoved a white cloth against his face. Timmy couldn’t remember anything else, except waking up here.

The wind howled through the rotted boards that covered the windows, but the room was warm. Timmy noticed a kerosene heater in the corner, the kind his dad had used when they had gone camping. Only that was ages ago, when his dad still cared about him.

“You really should eat. I know you haven’t had anything since lunch.”

Timmy stared at the man, who looked more ridiculous than scary dressed in a sweater, jeans and bright white Nikes that looked new except that one shoestring was knotted together. A pair of huge, black, dripping rubber boots sat by the door on a paper sack. It struck Timmy as odd that such new Nikes could already have a broken and knotted shoestring. If he had new Nikes, he’d take better care of them than that.

There was something about the muffled voice that Timmy recognized, but he wasn’t sure what it was. He tried to think of the president’s name-the one the mask resembled. It was the guy with the big nose who had to resign. Why couldn’t he think of his name? They had just memorized the presidents last year.

He wished he could stop shivering, but it hurt to try to stop, so he let his teeth chatter.

“Are you cold? Is there anything else I can get you?” the man asked, and Timmy shook his head. “Tomorrow I’ll bring you some baseball cards and comic books.” The man got up, took the lantern from the crate and started to leave.

“Can I keep the lantern?” Timmy’s voice surprised him. It was clear and calm, despite his body shaking beyond his control.

The man looked back at him, and Timmy could see the eyes through the mask’s eyeholes. In the light of the lantern, they were sparkling as if the man were smiling.

“Sure, Timmy. I’ll leave the lantern.”

Timmy didn’t remember telling the man his name. Did he know him?

The man set the lantern back down on the crate, pulled on his thick rubber boots and left, locking the door with several clicks and clacks from the outside. Timmy waited, listening over the thumping of his heart. He counted out two minutes, and when he was sure the man wouldn’t return, he looked around the room again. The rotted slats over the window were his best bet.

He crawled off the bed and tripped over his sled on the floor. He started for the window when something caught his leg. He looked down to find a silver handcuff around his ankle with a thick metal chain padlocked to the bedpost. He yanked at the chain, but even the metal-framed bed wouldn’t budge. He dropped to his knees and tore at the handcuff, pulling and tugging until his fingers were red and his ankle sore. Suddenly, he stopped struggling.

He looked around the room again, and then he knew. This was where Danny and Matthew had been taken. He crawled into his plastic sled and curled up into a tight ball.

“Oh, God,” he prayed out loud, the tremble in his voice scaring him even more. “Please don’t let me get dead like Danny and Matthew.”

Then he tried to think of something, anything else, and he began naming the presidents out loud, starting with, “Washington, Adams, Jefferson…”