Single White Psychopath Seeks Same

Chapter 10

THIS SHOULD have been the time where I got over being Mr. Cautious and did something. Maybe I could’ve grabbed a steak knife or a lobster claw and tried to use Stan as a hostage. I knew it wouldn’t have worked, but I was still furious at myself for not trying.

Now, of course, I was in absolutely no position to try anything. Daniel and Foster had gone on ahead. Josie had blindfolded me, and she and the others led me to wherever we were going. They didn’t say anything as we walked, and I didn’t know whether to worry more about my upcoming initiation or the fact that they very well might have known all along that I wasn’t who I claimed to be. For all I knew, I was to be their first victim of the season.

We walked for about ten minutes, stopping at one point for a door to be opened. There was a huge rush of cold air and wind as we walked outside, and then another door opened and we walked back inside, no longer on a carpeted surface. Two minutes later I walked onto what felt like sand, and after a few steps Josie put her hands on my waist.

“We’re here, sweetie,” she said.

She pulled off my blindfold, and I found myself standing in a scaled-down version of a Roman gladiator arena, maybe thirty feet across. The walls were about eight feet high, so there was no chance of climbing out, at least not without a few minutes of privacy. Josie left, closing a metal gate behind her. I saw Mortimer and Stan take their seats above. Stan held a bag of popcorn.

Daniel was directly above the far wall of the arena. He sat on a throne, wearing a king’s robe and jeweled crown. Josie appeared above and sat down in the front row.

Daniel picked up a horn and blew into it, making spitting sounds but very little music. He set it aside, and then gestured grandly. “Welcome, filthy peasants, to the Initiation! This evening, Andrew ‘Headhunter’ Mayhem shalt prove that he is worthy to stand among us! He shalt battle a prisoner, a strong and mighty foe, until one of the two hath fallen dead!”

The gate on the far side of the arena opened, and a tall, muscular, but scared-looking black man was shoved forward. The gate slammed shut behind him.

“Come forth, Almost Initiated One, and choose thy weapon!” Daniel said, pointing to me. “Choose well, for it will be thy only source of defense!”

My legs trembled as I walked forward. Even if I were willing to fight an innocent man to carry off this ruse, I wasn’t even sure I could beat him! My mind raced through every possible escape method, but save for somehow managing to kill all of the bad guys from my spot down here in the arena, there didn’t seem to be one.

Daniel lifted a large brown box to the ledge. It displayed a sword, a mace, a short spear, some other bladed weapons I didn’t recognize, and a stapler. “Choose now!”

“I choose the sword,” I said.

“The Almost Initiated One chooseth the sword!” Daniel announced. He removed the sword from the display box, made as if he were about to throw it, and then grinned and put it down.

“Thy King rules that the Almost Initiated One isn’t going to get off that easy!” he said. “He hath far too much experience with his weapon of choice. Choose again!”

“Hey, he’s cheating!” I said, trying to sound amused. “What kind of crooked operation are you running here? Gimme the sword!”

“Thy King’s word is final! Thou must choose again!”

“What, are you just gonna make me run through the whole box of weapons until I pick the one you want?”

“Nay, Almost Initiated One! Thy next choice will be thy weapon! Thou hast my word as King!”

“Then I choose…” I said, as a sudden idea came to me. “I choose as my weapon…knowledge of the periodic table of the elements!”

There was a long silence.

“I beg thy pardon?” asked Daniel.

“Any man can fight with blades of steel, or maces of…steel. But true wisdom is the finest weapon of all!” I pointed accusingly at the prisoner. “I challenge thee to a duel of wisdom, a duel in thy knowledge of the periodic table of the elements!”

Daniel looked utterly confused. Then, after a moment, he shrugged and sat down. “Okay, sure, go for it.”

Now, of course, I had to hope that I still remembered. I’d wanted to be a chemist for about three weeks back in high school, but I’d had that stupid table hammered into my skull so deeply that it could never escape.

The prisoner looked even more baffled than Daniel. “Speak!” I shouted. “Prove thy worthiness at this battle of wisdom!”

“Uhhhh…” said the prisoner.

“Thy knowledge is miserable! Victory will be mine!” I flexed my muscles in glory.

“No, wait. It goes, H for hydrogen, He for helium, Li for lithium, Be for, uh, beryllium, B for boron…”

My mouth dropped open.

“…C for carbon, N for nitrogen, O for oxygen…”

I just stood there, flabbergasted, as the prisoner rattled off the entire list. As he progressed, his voice took on a singsong pattern, as if he’d memorized the elements using a song like the ABC’s.

“…and Lr for lawrencium,” he finished.

The spectators above exchanged questioning looks.

“Okay, well, I guess you have great wisdom,” I admitted.

“All right, enough of this intellectual crap!” said Daniel, standing up again. “Let’s see some blood! Andrew, pick your weapon!”

“But I won!” the prisoner insisted.

“You didn’t win squat. He was just messin’ with you. Andrew, weapon! C’mon, c’mon, let’s move, his royal majesty is getting impatient!”

That annoying little voice in my head began to speak again, forcing me to consider the option of fighting to the death. After all, if I killed the prisoner, I’d earn their trust, and then I’d have a better shot at rescuing Roger and the others. One would die so others could live. It was a worthy sacrifice, wasn’t it?

No. I couldn’t do it. There had to be another way.

“The stapler,” I said.

Daniel leaned over the side of the wall. “Okay, Andrew, I know I’m standing here dressed like some dipshit king and we’re making this into a fun little game, and we’re trying to be all silly by sticking a stapler in the weapon display case, but you do notice the element of danger here, right?”

“I notice it. I choose the stapler.”

“Okay, whatever, it’s your funeral. Stapler it is.”

He removed the stapler and tossed it onto the sand next to me. I picked it up and held it in a menacing manner. I was still hoping to find some way to get out of this mess without either of us getting hurt. If the prisoner didn’t feel he was in serious danger, maybe we could figure something out.

“Prisoner, choose thy weapon!” shouted Daniel.

“The sword!”

Damn. The annoying voice told me that now I was going to die so that the others could die, too.

Daniel picked up the sword and tossed it onto the ground next to the prisoner. I immediately rushed at him, arms outstretched. I had to keep weapons out of this as much as possible.

The prisoner moved out of the way, and then kicked me in the shin. I flew forward, landing on my stomach and ending up with a mouthful of sand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pick up the sword.

I quickly got up, spitting out the sand. I wiped my mouth off on my sleeve as we stood there, six feet apart, trying to stare each other down.

“Gooooooooo Andrew!” shouted Daniel. “Staple him to death!”

“You can do it, Andrew!” Josie pitched in. “The Wench Brigade has faith in you!”

The prisoner stepped forward and took a quick swing with the sword. I moved back out of the way, wishing I had my trusty tire iron. And that my car was between us. And that one of us was back in Chamber.

I unhinged the stapler, ready to fire staples at the slightest provocation. I hoped I looked ridiculous, but the prisoner’s expression remained serious and wary. Did he really think they’d let him go if he killed me? Had they even promised such a thing?

He dashed at me, and I let loose with a mighty storm of staples. I tried, anyway. The stapler jammed after the first one. I dodged his attack, and then fled to the other side of the arena.

Daniel cupped his hands over his mouth. “Boooooooo!!!”

“Release the lions!” shouted Josie.

It would not have surprised me one bit if real lions suddenly rushed into the arena, but fortunately none appeared. I lifted my foot in the air and made comical kung-fu noises while I contorted my body into ridiculous fighting positions. I had to get this prisoner to relax. And I didn’t want the others to know I was terrified.

“I’m rootin’ for the prisoner,” Stan declared, flicking popcorn into the ring at me. “Gooooooo prisoner!”

“Gooooooo prisoner!” Mortimer chimed in.

“Kiiiiiiiss my ass!” I replied.

The prisoner ran at me again. I stood there, arms casually folded, and then let myself drop just as he swung the sword. It smashed into the wall, and I quickly wrapped my arms around his legs. He fell to the sand.

I began pressing the stapler against his right leg. It wasn’t working, but they probably couldn’t tell that from above. “All fear the mighty stapler!” I shouted, trying to grab for the sword with my other hand. The prisoner rolled on his side and swung the sword, slashing my shoulder.

The sting was incredible. I cringed and reflexively pushed my hand to the wound. For a split second I felt nothing but pure fury. It faded instantly, but perhaps that was something I could use.

“I’ll kill you!” I screamed, diving upon him and pummeling him with my empty fist. But I pulled my punches at the last instant, hoping it looked convincing from above. I was really hitting him, but he had to notice the effort I was making not to hurt him. The prisoner tried to swing the sword again, but I bashed his arm with the stapler, hard, sending another jolt of agony through my injured shoulder.

“You’re dead! Dead! Dead! Dead!” I grabbed for his throat and screamed in his ear. “Dead!” Then I whispered “please stop fighting,” followed by another “Dead!”

He seemed to get it. He made another halfhearted swing with the sword, which I easily blocked. I pretended to struggle much more violently than was necessary, and then wrenched it out of his grip. Then I tossed the stapler aside and began bashing on his head with both fists. I continued to pull my punches, but a couple were harder than I’d intended. We hadn’t exactly rehearsed this.

Then the prisoner stopped moving. I assumed he was faking, but I couldn’t be sure. I got up off him, then went over and picked up the sword.

“Yeah! Cut his head off!” Daniel shouted.

I lifted the sword above my head, screamed in rage, and then slammed the blade down into the sand next to him.

I stood there, panting.

“You, uh, missed,” Daniel pointed out.

I looked down at the prisoner and kicked him in the side. “Forget it. He’s no fun to kill like this.”

Stan began to boo and fling popcorn again. “Whatta rip-off! G’wan, kill him!” Mortimer and Josie began to join in.

“No,” I said, clutching my injured shoulder. “I’m not killing some unconscious guy. That’s no challenge. You guys are here for fun, right? Well, let’s chop him up when it’s fun!”

“Booooooooo!!!”

“Quiet!” snapped Daniel. “If he wants to save him for later, that’s his choice.” He gestured dramatically. “Thou hast proven thyself worthy! Thou art Initiated! Welcome!”

He began to applaud. The others joined in, half-heartedly.

“Thank you, thank you,” I said. The gate opened and Foster entered, holding a metal prod. “Long have I dreamed of joining such a fine-”

“No speeches,” said Daniel, removing his robe. “I realize it’s only about four, but it’s bedtime. We all need to get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be one busy, exciting day.”

Foster jabbed the stick against the prisoner. His body jerked as if electrified. Foster jabbed him again. I didn’t think the prisoner was feigning unconsciousness this time.

I reached for the sword. “Leave it,” said Foster. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I can help out,” I said.

Foster took out his revolver. “Get the hell away from it. You’re lucky I don’t blow off your kneecaps anyway.”

The gate behind me opened. “Whoa, Foster! Put the piece away! Show some respect to our newest initiate!”

“Yeah, whatever,” said Foster, pocketing the gun.

Daniel patted me on the injured shoulder, none too gently. “Don’t worry, it may hurt but it’s not deep. I’ll send Foster to your room with a first-aid kit.”

As we left the arena, we stepped into a hallway that split off into three directions. “Take off your shirt,” said Daniel. “Don’t wanna drip blood all over the place.”

I took off the shirt, almost shrieking in pain. I pressed the cloth to my cut, and Daniel motioned for me to head down the hallway to the left. “Congratulations on your victory,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“Mind if I speak freely?”

“Not at all,” I told him.

“I didn’t want to make you look bad in front of everyone, but you really should have killed him. I know you may not think it’s sporting to waste an unconscious victim, but I think you cost yourself some respect from everyone else. And I think you cost me some, too, for bringing you here.”

“Sorry. That’s just not the way I work.”

We stopped at a door. Daniel swiped his card. The door opened and we stepped outside into the cold, behind the mansion. The next door was only a few feet away, and after Daniel opened it we were back in the red-carpeted hallway.

“I can understand that,” Daniel admitted. “And your act was entertaining and all, but you’ve got to realize that these people don’t know you. That karate stuff was kinda funny, a little, but there has to be a payoff. Beating the guy up doesn’t cut it. You should’ve chopped his head off. You’d be a hero. Now they all think you’re some fake.”

My stomach did a flip-flop, but I tried not to let my anxiety show. I stopped walking. “I don’t much appreciate being told who I have to kill.”

“Oh, don’t give me that, Andrew! These are games! That’s why I invited you here! I kept the details secret, but you knew what was involved! We’re supposed to be having fun! If you’re going to let some ridiculous moral code get in the way of everything, you might as well go home. I’ll have Foster fly you home tonight. How about that?”

The way he looked at me, I knew flying home was not an option, even if I’d been willing to leave Roger and the others behind. I put my hand to my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’m not thinking right. I’m tired and my shoulder hurts like hell. I just thought it would’ve been more fun to kill him when he was awake to see what was happening, like you said at dinner tonight, but you’re right. I should’ve killed him.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“I could run back there and finish him off, if you want.”

Daniel appeared to relax. “Nah. We’ll get him later. This was nothing, anyway, just a prelude. You’ll have plenty of time to redeem yourself tomorrow.”