End Game

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

As the water cooled, Graham stood in the tub and climbed out. Teddy and his posse had been gone for a while. Until a few minutes ago, Graham had been in a blind panic. They were going to kill him, one way or another. That’s what Teddy had said — not in so many words, but that was what the words he did say actually meant. The question he had to deal with was a Faustian deal of the highest order. (Yes, he’d read Faust.) He could declare defeat and give them what they wanted, and the reward would be to die immediately, or he could hold out longer and preserve his life.

That wasn’t really a choice at all, now that his heart had calmed a little and he could think clearly. More time on the planet was better than less time. Plus, deep in his heart, he didn’t believe the part about breaking bones and crushing his balls. If it came to that, then he would fight until he had nothing left to fight with.

When it was all done, if he’d lost the fight and the breaking and the crushing got to be too much, he could always break then.

Graham was shocked that his panic had subsided. He was still frightened and sad, but he felt as if those emotions had somehow made him stronger — not physically, but mentally. Thirty-six hours ago, more or less, his life had been normal — pretending to study for a math test he could have done with his eyes closed, hoping against hope that Avery Hessington and the rest of the high school royalty would let him walk the halls unmolested.

Thirty-six hours ago, it mattered what names people called him — freak, geek, gay, pussy, queer (he’d lived with them all for as long as he could remember). It mattered who would dare to sit with him in the cafeteria, and it mattered that he lived in fear of being called on because he always knew the right answer.

That all seemed so distant now, so irrelevant — though as the memories rejuvenated in his head, they triggered vivid resentment. Who the hell was Avery Hessington to put him through that kind of hell? And how could Graham have taken it so seriously? If he ever got out of this, he was going to tell Avery what an asshole he was.

The first step was to climb out of the tub. He stepped over the lip and onto the concrete floor.

Graham’s fingers and toes had turned pruny and white from the water. As he explored this massive room, the water draining from his matted clothes left a slick on the floor. He walked to the far wall, where windows lined its entire width. Through the thick layer of grime, he could see the wire reinforcement in the glass. He felt a flutter of hope in his belly. Could escape really be so easy? As he approached, he had to climb over all kinds of abandoned… stuff. Much of it was shiny, and while much of it was heavy, nothing he saw was either pointy or sharp. Nothing that would make a good weapon.

But maybe something would make a good glass breaker.

He lifted a heavy T-shaped object, maybe ten inches long, that looked like it might have been a mallet in a parallel universe. He tested the weight of it in his hand and then looked up at the window. Tall and narrow, the windows opened by rocking in, like the windows in his old school, but the lock and the handle were eight or nine feet off the ground, way too high for him to reach. The bottom sill of the window started at chest level and rose from there nearly all the way to the ceiling.

He needed to work quickly. Teddy said he’d be back soon. Graham lifted the hammer to crash it through the glass, but paused. Remembering that nothing had gone his way since this ordeal had started, he decided to check first to see what was on the other side. He squeezed his soaked T-shirt to wet his hand, and then used the hand to swirl a viewport through the filthy windowpane. He saw nothing. Literally, nothing — just his own reflection staring back at him.

Screw it. I’m out of here.

He took a step back, closed his eyes, and delivered a full overhead blow to the left side of the pane. When he looked to check his damage, he saw that he’d left a wide, circular spiderweb fracture in the glass. It wasn’t a hole yet, but it was an indentation. And Jesus, was it loud! But at this point, loud didn’t matter. Getting caught didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting out of this hell house.

He swung the hammer again, aiming for the same spot. And again and again. Again. Each hammer blow to the glass reverberated through his arms and his shoulders. Bam! Bam! Bam!

Liquid spattered the glass and the concrete walls, whether from his soaked clothes or from his own sweat he didn’t know and he didn’t care. Finally, the head of his makeshift hammer broke all the way through. He had a hole!

It wasn’t yet big enough to climb through, but it was a goddamn hole!

He picked a new spot on the window adjacent to the first and he started pounding there. After God only knew how many strokes, there was another hole, and by pounding the spot, the two holes joined into one big one, but together they were only twelve or thirteen inches in diameter.

Pausing to throw a glance over his shoulder to see if they were coming for him yet, he turned and hammered some more. His arms were growing heavier with every additional blow, but what difference did that make? He had to keep going. He had to. To stop now was to guarantee his death. Teddy was not going to be happy when he found out that Graham had beaten up his torture chamber.

The word torture brought back a stab of the panic as it passed through his head. It meant everything that was awful, everything that hurt. It meant the end of hope.

Now that he could see the faint outlines of hope on the horizon, he realized that that was all he had left. He’d get out on his own or he would die at the hands of others. If he could just make a hole big enough—

A third hole appeared, and with a final blow, that one joined with the other two to form a kind of three-circle Venn diagram where the intersection of the subsets formed a hole.

One more and he should be good to go. For this one, he swung lower than the others so that it would be easier for him to access the opening when he was done. How stupid would he be — how worthy of the Darwin Award — if he made his escape hatch too high off the ground to reach?

Graham had no idea how many times he smashed away at the glass. Fifty? A hundred?

I won’t stop. Not till I’m outside and free.

The fourth collection of spiderwebs became a fourth hole, and with five more swings — the heaviest thing he’d ever wielded, as his shoulder and his neck screamed for relief — the connecting web broke through, and the resulting hole was worth trying. It reached nearly down to the sill. He finished it off by pounding out the space at the very bottom, where he’d be dragging his body as he made his way outside.

Graham didn’t know he was bleeding until he placed his hammer on the floor. He’d already placed it gently on the concrete — his effort not to make noise — when he realized how ridiculous a notion that was. He just wasn’t thinking right. And while he wasn’t bleeding badly, he was bleeding from about a million places on his hands and arms, no doubt from the shattering glass that he’d never felt cutting his flesh.

While that, too, didn’t matter, the cuts reminded him that he was surrounded by shards of glass and bits of wire, and that he was barefoot and that his clothes were so wet that everything would stick to them.

Picking up his hammer again, he used it as a broom to sweep off the sill to remove the big pieces. After two passes, he decided that he’d spent enough time being neat and careful and now it was time to climb. Using his forearms as leverage against the sill, he hoisted himself up until he was high enough to support his weight with his knee.

Headfirst or feetfirst?

If only because of the height, he decided to back out of the space feetfirst. There were lots of things that could go wrong with that plan — not the least of which involved dropping out onto a lot of broken glass — but all of the scenarios he could think of were better applied to his feet than his head. He didn’t have time to second-guess.

He took care when maneuvering on the narrow ledge not to overbalance and fall back into the room he was trying to leave. The angles here were tough. He maneuvered himself to a position where he was squatting in front of and with his back turned to his exit portal. His weight was evenly distributed between his fingertips and the balls of his feet, which were all aligned in the same plane.

Balance was key. Keeping his back straight and as erect as possible, he shifted his weight to his palms as he moved first one foot and then the other through the vertical hole. When his legs were through up to his thighs and dangling on the other side, he rocked forward and let his lower body slide through the hole up to his waist. The last eight or nine inches were the worst as his doodads passed over the ledge. He rocked his hips to the side to protect them as best he could, but the wire-stab in his ass cheek kept him from rocking over too far.

When his lower body was through, he pressed his belly against the flat sill and eased himself out.

He took one final look at the door through which Teddy had exited — and no doubt the one through which he would reenter — praying that this would not be the moment of the torturer’s return. At this juncture, the only way to stop Graham from all the way across the room would be to shoot him in the face.

He didn’t want to be shot in the face.

So he needed to keep going. Inching backward along his belly, he reached the tipping point where the weight of his dangling legs overcame his ability to hang on, and he allowed himself to drop.

The point of his chin clipped the far side of the sill as he tumbled a few feet to the floor. He landed hard on his heels — he felt the piece of glass that punctured his left foot in the middle of the arch — and his momentum carried him all the way over onto his back. When he came to rest, his feet were up in the air, and the back of his head was on concrete.

Graham rolled to his side, cleared the shard of glass from his foot with a swipe of his hand, and stood. Something was wrong here. It didn’t feel like outside air. The floor was concrete. It took him two seconds to process the obvious — he wasn’t outside after all. He’d wasted all that time and all that effort crashing through an interior window.

“Who the hell builds a window to the inside?” he whispered to no one. “Shit.”

It didn’t matter. There had to be an outside somewhere. He just needed to find it.

Beyond the wash of light through the windows from the room he’d just exited, the rest of the building was dark. As in cave dark, the absence of light. Graham was sure that sooner or later his eyes would adjust, but—

In an instant, the darkness transformed to daylight, a blinding glare that dug at his eyes and made him feel unbalanced. By reflex, he covered his eyes with his bloody palms.

He heard a noise that sounded like people clapping and he dropped to a crouch, making himself as small as possible.

“That took you long enough,” said Teddy’s voice from somewhere beyond Graham’s covered eyes.

Graham peeled his hands away, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw the torturer approaching him. His head told him to run, but his instincts told him to wait.

“I wanted you to feel that adrenaline rush,” Teddy went on, “because for every rush there is a crash. I think the most important thing that someone in your position must remember is that hope is imaginary. By breaking through that window and coming out into this space, you did exactly what I expected you to. That’s why we’ve been waiting. Though I must tell you that we’ve been waiting for much longer than I thought we would. Sooner or later, you will give me what I want.”

Graham could see people gathered behind Teddy — many of the same faces he’d seen in the room with the tub — but they seemed to be hanging back. Graham stood and took a couple of steps back, maintaining his distance from Teddy.

“I gave you an assignment last time we spoke,” Teddy said. “Have you had a chance to think about the options I gave you?”

Graham knew that if he tried to bolt, they would hurt him, so he stayed put, unmoving.

“I expect an answer, Graham,” Teddy said.

This was the big moment. He could declare himself to be sniveling, or he could show some pride. Graham stood to his full five-foot, nine-inch height and faced Teddy head-on. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it,” he said. “I’ve decided you need to believe the truth — I don’t know anything you want to hear.”

Teddy planted his hands on his hips, the posture of a man who was sorely disappointed. “That’s very sad,” he said. “It’s a decision that makes your life many times more difficult. In my opinion, too many people value bravery and defiance over common sense. We will do it the more difficult way, then.”

His heart screaming for relief, Graham tensed and waited for the attack. He had no experience fighting, but he had plenty of experience running away from fights, and in this place, there was plenty of room to duck and dodge. That couldn’t go on forever — certainly not against people with guns — but every delay brought him a new opportunity for a miracle.

Only, they didn’t rush him. Instead, they sneaked up on him from behind. He sensed them before he saw them, and before he could react, a noose dropped over his head and pulled tight around his neck. He brought his hands to his throat to protect his windpipe, and when he did, the noose pulled tighter, lifted higher. He had to stand on tiptoes to keep his head from being pulled off.

“Hands to your side, Graham,” Teddy said. His voice kept a relaxed monotone that sounded so easygoing and businesslike. “Relax them. We’re not trying to kill you, we’re trying to control you.”

Graham did as he was told. He lowered his hands, and the man who controlled the noose loosened it.

“Good man,” Teddy said. “And a good lesson in cause and effect. Now cross your wrists behind your back.”

Graham hesitated. They were going to tie his hands, and once that was done, he’d be finished, his chance for survival over. The hesitation caused him to be lifted off his heels again and onto his toes. The rope — he couldn’t see it, but he was certain that it was a rope — chafed the flesh of his neck. He battled every instinct to claw at the noose, and instead did as he was told, and crossed his wrists behind his back.

The pressure eased. He stood still and tried not to give into the tears that pressed behind his eyes as someone slipped a loop over his hands and pulled it tight. The plastic ratchet sound told him that they’d used the zip ties he’d seen on cop shows.

“Your future is in your own hands now, young man,” Teddy said. “Failure to comply means pain. Doing the reasonable thing means less pain. It’s that simple.” Teddy started walking away, and Graham’s minder followed, lifting slightly on the noose to encourage his captive to follow.

There was no doubt in Graham’s mind as he danced through the broken glass on the floor to the amusement of his handler that they’d deliberately chosen the most painful path. To stumble at this point would be to hang himself.

When they were through the glass, Graham swiped the sole of each foot against the opposite calf to rub away any straggling shards, and then allowed himself to be led to wherever they were taking him. He knew he was in trouble the instant he saw the big freezer door. This was probably the very route they’d carried him into the building, but of course he hadn’t been able to see anything then. As soon as Teddy pulled on the door latch, his suspicions were confirmed.

The first thing he saw was the hooks hanging from the ceiling, and then he took in the table that he’d tried to turn into his shelter. The room looked smaller from this angle, and somehow even more frightening. The meat hooks dangled from overhead like so many gleaming, blood-ravenous bats. The table mocked him as the slab on which to perform his autopsy. The floor still glistened with ice. Graham felt sick, but he was determined not to give his captors the satisfaction of seeing him puke.

“Remember,” Teddy said, “this is all your choosing.”

The goon on the other end of the rope led/dragged Graham to the center of the room, and positioned him in a precise spot. Graham didn’t know what the spot meant, but apparently, it was important to whatever lay ahead. Only a few feet in, the frigid air enveloped him like a blanket of razor blades.

Equipment of some sort moved behind him, but his efforts to turn and see earned him a slap in the gut, so he resigned himself to being surprised.

Time and opportunity.

Graham felt a slight tug on his neck — nothing like the first ones — and then people moved away from him. When he looked up, he saw that the far end of his noose had been tied around the J of a meat hook.

“Be careful,” Teddy said as Graham’s minder pulled away. “That noose is a one-way knot. Once it tightens, you need hands to loosen it. And, well, you don’t have functioning hands anymore. Remember what happened last time you grew so cold?”

The asshole actually waited for an answer. Graham refused to give him one.

“Do you really want me to pre-tighten the knot?” Teddy asked. “When I’m in control, questions get answers. Now, again. Do you want me to pre-tighten the knot?”

Graham shook his head.

“Motion is not an answer,” Teddy said. His voice was getting reedy. Graham didn’t know what that meant for him, but he knew that it couldn’t be good.

“No,” Graham said. “I don’t want you to tighten the knot.”

“Very well, then. The question I asked is, do you remember what happened the last time you got very cold?”

Graham scowled. The God’s-honest truthful answer was no, he didn’t remember. He remembered being cold and frightened, and then he remembered being in the warm bath. Everything else was either nonexistent or a blur in his memory. But he sensed that Teddy wouldn’t want to hear that.

“You’re confused,” Teddy said. “That’s because you fell unconscious. And that, my young friend, is the point. If you fall unconscious now, I will not rescue you. What you know is important, but not so important that we cannot live without it.”

“What is it?” Graham asked. He stood taller than was necessary, keenly aware of the nonloosening knot and the lack of slack in the rope. “What do the numbers mean?”

Teddy smiled. “So, you do remember,” he said.

“I remember that there were numbers and letters,” Graham said, “but I don’t remember what they were.”

Teddy made a clicking sound with his tongue and shook his head. “Such a shameful way for a good-looking young man to perish. I’m told that at first you feel a great pressure in your head and your face as the blood gets trapped above the level of the rope. As your windpipe crushes, it obviously gets harder to breathe, and as the pressure builds more, your gag reflex is triggered. If you have enough strength — enough wind — to vomit, then you make a mess down the front of yourself. If you do not, then the vomit will drown you. Either way, when people discover your body, your face will be bloated to two or three times its normal size — as will your legs and your scrotum — and you will be a deep purple in color. More times than not, hanging victims who have been unattended for too long have their tongues sticking out of their bloated faces.”

It was a horrifying image, and Graham knew that it was 100 percent true. He knew it because he’d seen movies where that was nearly the exact image portrayed. The tongue was the most disgusting part. And the scrotum. Jesus, the thought of a swollen, purple ball sack was enough to ruin anyone’s stomach. Terror welled from his gut. Was that whole vomiting thing about to happen now?

“I’ll leave you to your shivering,” Teddy said. “But first, I have a surprise for you.”

On cue, the freezer door opened again, and Graham heard movement behind him.

“You may pivot,” Teddy said. “Just be careful not to trip and break your neck. I don’t want you to miss your surprise.”

Graham quick-stepped a tight circle to his left, toward the sound he’d heard.

When he saw his surprise, there was no way to contain his horror.