The Summer I Died

CHAPTER 11

As I swam into existence, I smelled wet cement and mold, heard rain falling outside. My leg was throbbing and my head hurt like Nomar had used it for batting practice. I went to put my hand against it to feel for a lump, but my arm wouldn’t move. I flexed my fingers to make sure it hadn’t fallen asleep and it was working just fine. Slowly, my vision cleared and I took in my surroundings, which consisted mainly of shadows and cement walls. Something cold and hard ringed my neck and I shook my head to free myself from whatever it was.

Excruciating pain exploded inside my skull, so intense I didn’t dare scream. I stayed still until my eyes stopped watering, and the pain ebbed, and then I glanced down to see what the hell I’d tried to shake off and noticed the chains.

Chains?

Have you ever played dodgeball, and had someone hurl the ball at you at mach 5, knowing no matter how fast you move you’re still going to take it head on? That’s how I felt as the very recent past came back to me like a line drive to the nose. When it hit me, and I realized where I was, my body went into a frantic, yet restrained, dance-restrained because the chains that were binding me offered little in the way of movement.

I also noticed I was biting down on something soft that smelled and tasted like oil and ancient piss. I tried to push it out of my mouth with my tongue but it was tied tight around my head, probably the only thing holding my brains in.

“Roger, relax, it’s no use.”

I knew that voice. It was Tooth. Tooth was here with me somewhere. I turned to my left and saw him standing a few feet away. Looking at him, I suddenly knew what my own situation was like. Around his waist, a chain was wrapped tight and fastened to a metal plate in the wall behind him. His hands were handcuffed to the waist chain on either side. A metal collar, like something from an S and M whorehouse, was padlocked around his neck and connected by a chain to the metal plate as well. Two leg irons, again chained to the wall, kept his legs from moving. A brown stained rag was wrapped around his chin, as if he’d not been able to shake it all the way off.

“The chains are too tight and the cuffs are sharp,” he said. “Don’t bother fighting it or you’ll hurt yourself.”

His face looked like roadkill. Dried, crusted blood flaked around every orifice. A small rivulet of crimson meandered down his cheek and disappeared under his chin before it dripped onto his shoulder. What was happening to us? One thing was certain: I was no longer high.

My eyes were adjusting to the gloom and I could see the room somewhat clearly now. Four concrete walls, a dirty concrete floor, cross beams above us with a single light bulb in the middle. A basement. On the right wall, a rusty black boiler chugged quietly, its pipes extending into the ceiling like antennae. Directly across from us stood a door with a cheap gold knob. Pinned to it was a poster of something I couldn’t make out. Against the left wall, at the base, a pair of dog dishes sat surrounded by bits of food. Now that I saw it, I could smell the food as well. It smelled like rancid garbage, and I figured for a man who claimed to love his dogs, he sure didn’t care about them enough to buy some high quality Iams. Next to the dog dishes was an old wood burning stove, the kind used to heat up kettles in the 1800s, its pipe extending up through the ceiling. A tiny wooden table sat next to that with some tools-pliers, box cutters, nails, hammers, wrenches, screwdrivers, etcetera-hanging on the pegboard above it.

I looked at Tooth again and tried to speak through the rag but was so scared I couldn’t find any words to say.

“Listen to me,” he said, “this is no joke. We’re in real trouble here. This guy is fucking crazy and I think he killed that woman. I don’t know what to do, but I sure as fuck know if we don’t do it fast we’re going to die. Do you understand?”

I nodded, the surrealism of the moment numbing me. I was scared. Too scared to even care about the absurd number of mosquito bites that were itching like mad.

“I’m scared, too,” he said, as if reading my mind, “and if you need to cry, go for it, but I’m going to need you to be awake and aware when he comes back. I need to get him to release us somehow. As soon as he does I’m going to jump him. You run for that door and don’t stop until you get the cops. My cell phone is in my back pocket. I’ll try and flip it to you, but if I can’t get to it, grab it and run. You understand?”

I nodded again and felt my brain slosh about in my cracked skull. I didn’t remember being hit but I must have been cold-cocked with the gun.

“He left a few minutes ago, after he chained you up. I pretended I was asleep so I could think. I’m betting he went back for the woman’s body.”

Last time I had seen the woman she’d been alive, at least physically. I wondered if he would finish her off, but suddenly remembered him saying something about playing with her first. Oh no, I thought, oh shit. My breathing raced and my blood pumped rapidly. He wasn’t going to kill her; he was going to torture her.

Was he going to torture us? Or was she an ex-girlfriend or something, someone who in his twisted mind deserved to be tortured? I knew the answer to that one instantly. We were chained up, in a basement, in a madman’s house. I started sobbing. I didn’t want to die.

“Shh,” snapped Tooth. “I hear something. I think he’s coming back.”

Shuffling footsteps grew louder from behind the door, each one followed immediately by a thumping sound. When they got just outside the door they stopped. Keys jingled briefly, began working the lock, and the door flew open.

Covered in a mess of blood, the man-Skinny Man-stood in the doorway like an angry demon late for an appointment. Sweat glistened on his bare chest, which pumped with fury. He put the keys back in his pocket and picked up a bundle of something near his feet. As he dragged it into the room, I saw it was our mystery woman. Her eyes were glazed, her body limp, and I couldn’t tell if she was alive or not. The ax was still sticking out of her head.

He dragged her over to the dog dishes and slumped her on the ground. Clink went the ax as her head hit the ground. I started dry heaving at the sight of it.

After he was sure she wouldn’t move, he came over to me and stuck his face in mine, our noses touching. The collar kept my head from turning too far away, and every time I moved he moved with me, laughing like I was the funniest thing in the world. He grabbed my nose and squeezed it hard. My sinuses felt like they were being crushed and my eyes teared up. Struggling did nothing; he held fast and kept laughing. With the rag in my mouth I couldn’t breathe and I knew this was it, this was how I’d die. Spots jumped before my eyes.

“Let him go, you fucking faggot!” Tooth yelled.

No, let me die. Just let it end peacefully.

“You fucking coward! Unchain me so I can kick your faggot ass!”

The man pushed his forehead against mine, his breath hot on my lips. Then he slammed my head back into the wall and let go. My knees buckled and I sagged, but the chain caught my throat and started to choke me so I struggled upright again, my head searing with pain so intense my vision wobbled.

Still laughing, he went and stood in front of Tooth. “You killed my dog” he said, and slapped Tooth in the face. Tooth took the blow without a sound, but I could see he was on the verge of tears.

“Unchain us, and show us what you’re made of,” Tooth said. “Unchain us and fight us fair. You coward. You fucking mama’s boy. C’mon, we’ll let you use the gun even. What have you got to lose? C’mon!”

Skinny Man ignored him and went back to the woman on the ground. He lifted her body and sat her up against the stove. Then he disappeared into a door on the other side of Tooth. I hadn’t noticed it before because Tooth’s body was in the way, but it must have gone back under the rest of the house. He came back out a minute later carrying some more chains. He draped them around the woman and began chaining her to the stove. She didn’t move the whole time, as if she was a doll or something. When he was done he took a step back, folded his arms, and looked at her.

“What are you doing, you pussy?” Tooth was still trying to goad him into a fight.

The man continued to ignore Tooth. He was unhappy with something, his face scrunched with annoyance. “What’s wrong with this picture?” he asked.

“My foot’s not up your ass yet?” offered Tooth.

“Nope.” Then as if struck by inspiration he grabbed the ax handle and lifted the woman’s head off her chest so she was looking right at us. He rested it against the stove, the handle of the ax sitting atop the surface. Her clouded eyes bore through us. “Much better,” he said.

Satisfied with his work, he left the room and shut the door, leaving the three of us to get acquainted.

Slowly, like a glob of pudding, the woman’s head sagged forward and fell on her chest again. Was she defying him, or was the ax blade too heavy for her neck?

“I’ve got to get my phone out,” Tooth said, straining to get a hand around toward his back pocket. The handcuff prevented him from reaching it, only the tips of his fingers brushed the pocket. He held his breath as he stretched, as if this might help, then exhaled, defeated. “Shit, I can’t get it. Are you okay?”

Blinking away tears, I nodded yes. Working the rag out of my mouth with my jaw and tongue unleashed another wave of searing pain in my head, but I ignored it. I was having trouble breathing through my nose now, so there wasn’t much choice in the matter; I needed air. Tooth took another stab at reaching his back pocket. He was getting closer, I think.

“I can…just about…get it…”

A heartbeat later, the door crashed open and slammed against the wall. Skinny Man was back and he had an armload of firewood. He carried it over to the stove and shoved the logs inside, moving them about so he could stuff in as many as possible.

“Why don’t you just kill us and get it over with?” Tooth asked, no longer going for his pocket.

Again, Tooth’s remark went ignored. From his back pocket, Skinny Man took out a newspaper and tore it into sections. He twisted them up like he was wringing someone’s neck and placed them under the logs. Then he took out some matches and lit the contents of the stove. Immediately, my eyes darted to the woman chained to it. If he didn’t move her she would fry.

Like a bolt of lightning the man rushed at Tooth and punched him in the face. Hard. The smack of fist on jawbone was horrific. I closed my eyes and turned away, struggling against my chains, thrashing like a swordfish on a hook. Again, the smack of knuckle on jaw resounded. Again and again and again!

With each blow, Tooth’s grunts and gurgle-choking filled the basement. The sweet aroma of burning wood began to mingle with the stench of fear-induced sweat and blood. I cried. I prayed. But the beating wouldn’t end. Why was this happening to us? What had we done to deserve this? Why wouldn’t he just leave us alone? Just leave us alone! Stop, stop, stop! I jammed my tongue forward, pushed the rag out of my mouth.

“Hit me, you fuck!” I screamed.

He stopped.

I quivered.

Sluggishly, my best friend’s head lolled to the side-a mass of contusions. The man faked like he was going to punch me and I winced, but no blow came, and I guess that’s what he wanted because he just laughed. When I opened my eyes, I saw him stuffing the rag back in Tooth’s mouth, keeping his eyes on me the whole time. When the rag was tight, Tooth’s blood had nowhere to go but out his nose.

Skinny Man sneered at me for another half minute before coming over and running his hand through my hair. “I’ll hit you, little boy. Oh, man, I’ll hit you. But not yet, not like that. I’m gonna come at you with something special, something unreal.” He put my rag back in my mouth, tied it in back. “I’m going out to bury my friend, and I when I get back, maybe we’ll discuss your punishment a little more.”

He stopped to look at the woman, gave her a nudge with his boot, saw she was still in her coma-like state, and left.

Next to me, Tooth was mumbling incoherently and trying to open his swollen, puffy eyelids. Something started to smell like smoked ham and together we realized that, against the stove, the woman was starting to burn.