Beneath the Neon Moon (2 page)

He and Mal sat on the ground close to the back wall, near the midpoint of the cellar. The floor was packed dirt, scooped low in the middle and rising up the sides before giving way to the smooth river rocks in the house's foundation. Overhead, copper pipes stitched the dim reaches together. An old coal stove squatted in a dark corner to the left, and discarded building materials crowded the corners of the room—paint cans, a table saw, two by fours, and a rolled carpet, its woven underside dry-rotted.

A set of wooden steps rose close to the wall on Zach and Mal's far right, old and gray, flanked by flimsy wooden railing. The window, the only source of light, faced them from high up in the wall, square and squat. Dirt pressed against the glass pane about halfway up on the outside and was barred and wired from the inside.

Bars on the inside. Not the outside. It made Zach's stomach hurt in a whole different way. "Dammit," he muttered.

"What?"

"The bars." Zach pointed at the window.

Mal didn't even look. He lay on his back, legs tented, feet close to Zach's. "Yeah." His voice was flat.

Zach shifted, searching for a more comfortable position. The ground was too damned hard. "So how did you end up in here?"

"I got hurt last night. I was unconscious. I don't remember anything about being brought here." Mal tapped fingers restlessly against his chest. "I need to stretch out my legs, okay?"

Zach nodded, slowly stretched out his left leg. At the same time, Mal stretched out both of his.

"Smooth as synchronized swimmers," Mal said, grinning a little. He folded his good arm behind his head. "You know, it's weird. The details of what happened yesterday before waking up in this shithole are pretty foggy. Fading. Like a dream or something." He shook his head. "I'm taking an accelerated summer class at UT. The professor and I aren't exactly hitting it off. He made some smart ass comment a few days ago, like he didn't think I was gonna pass yesterday's test. Pissed me off. So I put pedal to the metal and studied. I passed it. I
aced
it, I know it."

"You like flipping off your professors?"

The corner of Mal's mouth lifted. "Maybe, when they're assholes. So then I went with Kassy and Steve and some other friends to …" Mal's forehead wrinkled, thinking. "We went to their place, celebrated a little. Celebrated a
lot
. Some smoke, some JD. I didn't feel like crashing at Kassy's afterward, just wanted to head home, so I walked. It wasn't that far.

It was late, heading toward dawn. Really quiet. I didn't see anyone else out. I crossed a parking lot and was going down Tyler Street when something knocked me down from behind. I hit the sidewalk in front of a florist shop, rolled over and there was this big, light-colored dog standing right over me. I couldn't believe it."

"A dog on campus?"

"Yeah, I don't know. It bit me on the arm. I beat it on the head with my fist, I kicked it, but it hung on." Mal hesitated. "It got pretty surreal after that. There's this big neon rose in the window of the florist shop. It was blinking, and I'd hear this electrical sound, you know, like a bug zapper? It kept getting louder. I must have been more messed up than I thought because the dog looked crazy huge, too big to be real." Mal looked at Zach, gauging his reaction, then continued. "The thing was chewing on me like a piece of meat. I stared at its eyes and just … stopped fighting. Kept hearing that damn noise the light made, getting louder and louder, buzzing and popping. I remember thinking something crazy, that it was just the beginning—that I was being eaten alive and it'd never end and I couldn't do anything about it. It hurt, damn but it hurt. His teeth were red. Everything was. It all looked red." Mal blinked as if clearing his head. "Talk about a nightmare. I'm starting to wonder just what was in that weed." He shrugged. "That's all I remember. Just woke up here this morning, like I told you. I heard noises upstairs—people walking across the floor. Then two guys came down. They took me up to the bathroom and tried to give me some food." He shook his head. "They looked at my arm and laughed, said it was a good job or some such shit, the fuckers. I asked why I was here, what they wanted, but all they'd say is that I'd find out later." Mal rubbed a hand absently over his jean-clad thigh. "When they decided it was time to bring me back downstairs, they pushed me toward the basement door. I fought back, tried to get loose. One of them was kind of skinny, didn't look like he'd be very strong, but he knocked me on my ass big time. It surprised the hell out of me. Didn't think he had it in him." He paused. "They were talking to each other about somebody passed out in a bedroom down the hall. Was that you?"

Zach swallowed. "Yeah. I guess it was."

Mal looked puzzled. He sat up again. "You were kidnapped, right? Same as me?"

Zach made himself answer. "They didn't—I was out with my friends. We met these guys. They didn't make me do anything. Not until they threw me down here."

Mal watched him, eyes narrowed and moss green in the streaming light coming through the window. "You were dead to the world when they brought you down. Must have been a hell of a party. Or did they give you something?"

"No, they didn't. Least I don't think they did."

"Zach. What happened?"

Zach looked out of the window. "I woke up here. With you. Look, I was really wasted. I couldn't remember any of it when I woke up."

"I don't give a shit about when you woke up. What do you remember now? What do you know about all this?"

"I don't know why the fuck we're down here, okay!" Zach shouted. He took a deep breath. "Mal, I know you don't know me, all right, so you don't have much reason to believe me, but I'm telling you I have no idea what's going on."

Mal scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "So you don't know these guys?"

Zach flushed, his face hot. "Not really."

"What do you think they want with you?"

"They already
got
what they wanted. So I thought."

"They get upset with you for any reason?"

"It was a
fuck
. You get it? It was what it was, no drama. I'd have left right after if I hadn't been so damn drunk."

Mal's eyebrows rose. "Okay, okay. I'm just trying to figure out what in hell's going on."

"Doesn't mean I want to talk about it to a stranger," Zach muttered.

"Yeah?" Mal snapped. "You might just be dying with this stranger, does that make it feel a little more intimate?"

Zach stared at Mal, then put his head down on his knees, shutting out everything—the streaming light, the dankness. The guy he might die with.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry."

Zach rolled his head and looked at Mal from the corners of his eyes. "You think I've got something to do with why you're down here and you're apologizing to me?"

"I didn't say I thought you were to blame. We just both need to know as much as we can about the situation, don't you think? So maybe we can figure out how to get out of here." He paused, then gestured at a white plastic pitcher sitting against a legless, peeling pink dresser on his left. "You want any water yet? I drank a little of it earlier. It's okay. They're not trying to poison us or drug us, in case you're worried."

Zach shook his head. "Not yet. Let me look at your arm, okay?"

Mal's eyebrows rose again. "We've been over this before. Nothing to be done for it, same as the ankle."

Zach straightened, looking Mal in the face. "Have you tried to wash it out?"

"With what?"

"With water. What else?"

"Water won't cut it."

"It's a dog bite, Mal."

"I'm really,
really
aware of that."

Zach ignored him. "Let me see it, dammit."

Mal raised a brow at him, staring, looking a little startled at Zach's emphatic tone. He nodded reluctantly. Zach scooted carefully down by Mal's feet and turned so he was facing him. He held out his hand, waiting.

Mal slowly stretched out his left arm. "Don't touch it." 

Zach huffed out a breath and ignored him, turning the arm and looking closely. He couldn't help the sudden intake of breath.

"It fucking hurts," Mal complained, as if he hadn't tried to ignore it before. 

"I bet it does," Zach said softly, trying not to let the shock of it catch in his throat and show in his voice. The skin was swollen, blood trickling sluggishly from the wound. The center looked like hamburger, and above and below were clear bite marks: deep red holes and ugly, glistening tears. "I'm just going to stretch out and grab the jug. I won't let the chain pull, okay?"

"You dump all our water over my arm and we're going to get pretty thirsty."

"If I don't, you're going to be in trouble. They'll bring more." Zach tried to sound confident.

"You don't know what they'll do. Or why we're here. We don't know anything."

"I know they brought water in the first place. They don't want us to die."
Yet
, he didn't add, though they both heard the implication.

"I think it's a case of too little, too late, to tell you the truth. Water isn't going to fix this. Odds are I'm going to get pretty sick before long."

Zach looked at him but Mal refused to meet his gaze. "It'll help. Just let me, Mal. Okay?"

Mal sighed, a long deep breath out as if he'd been holding it. "Yeah, okay. Don't blame me if you get thirsty later on."

"Ingrate." Zach moved to pick up the jug, keeping his left ankle close to Mal's feet as he could. He settled back into position in front of Mal. "Ready?"

"Set, go." Mal smiled a little. Zach poured a stream of water over the wound, blood and water running onto the dirt below.

A muscle in Mal's cheek jumped. He stared down at his arm. "You probably won't believe this, but it actually looked worse when I first woke up."

Zach kept pouring. "That doesn't make sense. You said you've only been here since this morning."

"I know. Said you wouldn't believe me.
I
don't believe me, but I swear it looked worse. I thought I might bleed out down here at first, but it slowed. A lot."

Zach pulled the hem of his dark-colored T-shirt up and inspected it doubtfully. "Maybe we'll just let it air dry."

Mal looked at the tail of Zach's shirt and grimaced. "No maybe about it."

"Wish we had more to work with." Zach chewed his lip.

"I know. Feels better," Mal added, voice soft.

"Liar." Zach's brows rose skeptically.

"No, really." Mal nodded his head for emphasis.

"Yeah?" Zach smiled, looking at him. "If you say so."

Chapter 3

"C
AN
WE MOVE a little? Lean against the wall or something?" Zach arched his spine, stretching, and put a hand to the small of his back.

"Sure. But I'm here to tell you, those rocks aren't comfortable against your back, even if they are rounded."

Zach groaned. "It doesn't matter, I just need to move. Wanted to warn you."

Mal smiled at him. "I appreciate that. I'll stay close." Both of them crabbed back on their hands until they reached the wall.

Zach leaned against it. The stones stood out round and hard against his back through his T-shirt. He made a face. "Nice."

Mal scratched his back against a rock. "At least they're good for something." He looked up to his left and back at the wall behind them. "Did you notice the way these fuckers have me chained up? The wall bracket, the ring at the end of the chain … hell, even the chain's pretty thick. Talk about overkill. No way I could break that. Though I tried."

"That work out well for you?"

"Smart ass."

Zach craned his neck, looking. He gave a low whistle. "Guess they want to be damn sure you can't get off their leash." He eyed Mal. "If that's what they think it'll take to keep you from escaping, they're giving you way more credit than I would."

"Yeah. Definitely more than they should have," Mal said, and Zach grinned at him. "Look at this setup, though. It just screams that these guys aren't new to the kidnapping business. And since we're here now, I'd say they got away with it before."

Zach shifted restlessly. His ass didn't like the cellar, and in particular the earthen floor, any more than he did. He looked up at the wall bracket again. "Shit. Is that a blood stain?"

Mal glanced up. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure. At first I thought it was rust. Hoped it was. It's harder to spot on the rocks, but it's there, too." His expression was grim.

"None of this makes any damned sense. So what, they kidnap us, keep us down here, give us food and water and then kill us?" Zach's voice grew louder as he spoke. "It's like some fucked-up horror movie—you get that, right?" His fingers dug into the packed earthen floor.

"Yeah, I do." Mal's voice was soft and even. He watched Zach.

"And I slept with the guys holding us. Way to go, me." Zach slumped back into himself and rubbed a hand over his face.

Mal was quiet a moment. He bumped Zach's shoulder with his own. "No worries, man. Long as you used a condom."

Zach stared at him. "Will you shut up?"

"Okay." Mal yawned.

"How can you be sleepy? We're in the middle of a kidnapping!"

"You want me to scream and tear out my hair?"

"Please. No."

Mal didn't crack a smile. "I'm exhausted. Everything hurts. I don't have a lot left over for hysterics, but if you change your mind and want a show I could give it a shot."

"I won't. What I want is for you not to be hurt at all." Zach felt as startled as Mal looked. It just slipped out of his mouth before he could think. "Uh, why don't you try to sleep anyway? Get some rest."

"Don't think I can. We're in the middle of a kidnapping."

Zach threw him an exasperated look.

Mal ignored it. "The weird thing is, I don't feel as shitty as I did. Relatively speaking. The dog attacked me just last night, we're not in exactly sanitary conditions, we only have water to clean the bites … and I feel better than I did when I woke up, even with the ankle messed up on top of everything else. It's crazy. It worries me."