The Runaways

Chapter 31

Liam

I woke up drownin’ in gasoline.

Soaked through my clothes and strapped down tight as an animal to a slaughterin’ table, chokin’ on poisoned air.

There were men shufflin’ around in the dark, moving in and out of whatever room they’d confined me to like demons between shadows.

I yelled out to them blind, turning my head towards the sound of their footsteps, demanding answers to questions they wouldn’t give me. But I’d be damned before I let pigs keep me clueless in one of their pens.

I barked at them, hopin’ to taunt the pair into coming close enough for me to bite. But they stayed safely away, just laughing at me from the wings of the room. My blood burned for another fight, for the chance to tear my restraints apart, rip the black bag away from my face, and beat the bastards black and blue.

But I couldn’t move, and the more I struggled, the harder it was to breathe. Even so, I planned on rubbin’ my wrists and ankles raw before succumbin’ to anythin’ like that.

Treat a man like an animal long enough and he’ll become one. There’s no beatin’ or burnin’ the humanity out of a person with none left. I pushed up against the straps across my chest, waitin’ for the moment where they’d snap to pieces.

But they held fast, and my muscles tightened and stilled like a new weakness had stolen their will power away.

 I kept thinkin’ that gettin’ out was a matter of time and tryin’, that if I fought hard enough my irony hatred wouldn’t rust into fear. But the cold, wet claws of gasoline lingering over my skin, threatened to drive me into quiet madness at the thought of what a spark could do.

A door opened somewhere in the darkness, rattling on it’s old hinges while a third, strangely silent man, stepped into the room.  The pigs who’d been cackling at me in the corners, lost the light in their laughter as his footsteps drew nearer.

After being baptized in death and chaos, I’d started to believe that no other man in the world could frighten me.

            But he wasn’t a man.

The measured way he took every step, every breath, every movement hinted at something deranged, and familiar. Something unnatural. He stood over me for a long while, listening to me grind my tongue between my teeth, just to keep from losing control too soon. Foamin’ at the mouth before the time was right wouldn’t lead me anywhere far.

               So I kept quiet, and waited for the shadow to speak.

He snapped his fingers and a light switched on above his head, like a faded halo. Even staring through that matted black cloth I remember thinkin’ how beautiful the light specks looked after lying in the dark for so long. But then he spoke to me, and all the life in the room died, like he’d sucked the soul out of the air itself. I didn’t need to see his face to know who’d come callin’.

                 You never forget what the devil sounds like.  

            “Rise and shine, Mr. Evans,” he said, behind what looked like the glow of a cigarette. “We’ve got some work to do tonight. But you’ve done well thus far. Much better than I’d hoped, and I like overachievers.”

Anderson.

I slammed against the restraints to see if I could break free and wrap my fingers ‘round the bastard’s throat. Just hearin’ him speak was enough for my blood to catch fire, and the way he was playin’ around, a spark from his cigarette could do just that.