Eleven, Twelve ... Dig and delve (Rebekka Franck Book 6) (15 page)

“Hush, my little baby,” he whispered. “Everything is going to be alright. I’ll take care of you.”

She had fought him for hours while he held her down. It wasn’t until she calmed completely down and fell asleep that he let go of her.

“I’m gonna take such good care of you, Rikke,” he whispered, and held her in his arms while rocking her back and forth. “This time, I’m gonna do it right. It’s for your own good. I can’t have you telling on me to all the neighbors, can I? What will they think of me? I can’t have that. So, now you stay with me, you hear?”

Thomas had found a cave that no one else had been in. He wasn’t much of a sleeper, so every time the two others fell asleep, he roamed the tunnels and explored every one of the ones nearby. He had mapped it all down on his paper that was supposed to be for good ideas, and now he found his way around easily. Back when that David guy, the handsome one, and that small skinny journalist-girl had found the remains of a house in the tunnel, Thomas had been watching them. He had followed them through the tunnels, and after they had ripped the area for food and what else they could find, Thomas had gone through everything as well. He had found lots more food that he had kept to himself and eaten, then he had found a flashlight that he didn’t tell anyone about, and some other stuff, like a butcher’s knife. Afterwards, he had walked through the tunnels, destroying every mark that David had made, making new ones so they wouldn’t find their way back again. He wanted to keep the place to himself. And, so far, he had succeeded. Now he had the girl too, so everything was complete.

He felt complete. And he wasn’t going to go back to the others…to Brian and Lars. He didn’t need them anymore. He had found a barrel in the remains from the house, and every day, he had stolen water from Brian’s tank, filling up bottles from the house and carrying them to his secret place. Now the barrel was full, and Brian’s tank was close to empty. It wouldn’t be long before he found out, and Thomas wasn’t going to be there when he did. He wanted to be here with his beloved, and never ever let go of her again.

“As long as you’re here with me, Rikke, I won’t feel so alone. Boy, how I’ve missed you. I missed you so much it HURT! Do you have any idea how bad I have hurt, Rikke, huh?”

Thomas took in a deep breath and hugged the sleeping girl. He saw blood on her face and wiped it off. More blood ran across her face, and Thomas felt anxiety. Had he killed her? Had he killed her and didn’t know it? Thomas blinked his eyes a few times and the blood disappeared. He felt relieved. He really wanted to do it differently this time. He didn’t want to happen what had happened to Rikke. He had lost it, blackened out, and when he got back to being himself, it was too late. She was gone.

He put himself on top of the girl, pressing her down, while crying and thinking about how much he loved Rikke.

“Why?” he cried. “Why did you have to leave me?”

The girl moaned and moved underneath him. Thomas crept closer to her face and caressed her gently.

“It’s just you and me now, baby. No one will ever come between us again. No one, Rikke. No other guy. I’ll forgive you for what you did to me. I have to. Then we’ll spend eternity in here together. Just the two of us. Forever and ever.”

Thomas sniffled, then grabbed the chains he had found in the remains of the house as well. He looked at them and laughed. Whoever used to live in that house must have had a kinky basement. There were leather ankle cuffs connected by a heavy shackle. While strapping one end of it on the girl and the other to his own ankle, Thomas thought about his neighbors and tried to picture who among them would engage in sex games using these. He couldn’t imagine any of his quiet and decent neighbors being into bondage, but it turned him on simply thinking about it.

Thomas closed the straps and lifted his ankle, which was now attached to the girls’. He was at least twice her size, so if she wanted to go anywhere from now on, he would have to agree. He watched her calm breath, thinking how much better everything was now that they had each other. The girl moaned and moved. She was going to wake up soon. She would be hungry once she woke up.

He’d better start preparing his welcome-home dinner.

46

M
ALENE FELT SORE.
Her body was hurting badly when she woke up. Where was she? She blinked her eyes several times to see better. Then she gasped. Suddenly, she remembered everything. The guy, the poet, had taken her away from the others. She had tried to fight him, she had kicked and tried to scream, but he had kept her in the cave, held her down till she ran out of strength. He had been caressing her hair and cheek while calling her Rikke. Who was this Rikke, and why did he call her that?

Oh, my God! He’s going to kill me!

He didn’t seem to notice she was awake. What was he doing over there anyway? Malene stretched her neck to see better. He was working on something and whistling. What the hell was he up to now, the crazy bastard?

Think quickly, Malene. This is your chance to get away. He’s not watching you. He’s busy doing something else. Run!

If only she could get into one of the tunnels. She could hide in there till he gave up looking for her.

What is he doing over there? What’s on the floor?

Malene couldn’t see much, since he was the one holding the flashlight. His body cast a grim shadow on the wall of the cave. Malene tried to move, to slide carefully across the ground, thinking he might not notice her if she stayed close to the ground. It was when she tried to move that she saw it.

What the hell has he put on my leg?

It was a chain. It was heavy, and as she moved, it made a sound. Thomas didn’t seem to notice. She looked at the chain that continued into the darkness. Where did it end? What had he chained her to? She had to get closer. Malene tried to slide further across the ground, hoping the chain wouldn’t make another noise.

Thomas was singing loudly, like he was enjoying himself and what it was he was up to.

  Chop chop, Sweet Charlotte

 Chop chop, till he’s dead

Chop chop, Sweet Charlotte

Chop off his hand and head.

What was he singing? It sounded like that old song from that old movie Malene’s dad used to show her. The one with Bette Davis.

Hush…Hush, Sweet Charlotte
.

Only the lyrics were different. Like a ghoulish version. It gave her the chills. Malene took in a deep breath and tried to follow the chain to see where it ended. But as she did, she finally got close enough to see what Thomas was up to. In front of him on the ground lay Mr. Bjerrehus. Or what was left of him. He was being chopped into pieces, the meat of his stomach and leg being cut off by a butcher’s knife in Thomas’ hand, while he sang his little song. Malene felt nauseated. She gagged, and a few seconds later, she threw up.

Thomas heard her and stopped singing. He turned his head and looked at her. “Ah, you’re awake. I’m preparing a feast for the two of us. You know…to welcome you home.”

Malene stared at the dead body on the ground and felt sick again. She threw up yellow gastric acid. It burned in her throat.

“Don’t look so outraged,” Thomas said. “I didn’t kill him. At least, I don’t think I did, ha ha. I found him in a cave. I might have killed him. Who knows, right? At least we have something to eat.”

Malene whimpered as Thomas picked up a piece of Mr. Bjerrehus and showed it to her. Blood was dripping from it.

“Looks delicious, don’t you think?”

Malene shook her head and crawled backwards. She got up and started to run. She only made it a few steps towards the tunnel before Thomas yanked the chain forcefully and she fell flat on her face in the dirt.

Day 11-12

October 16
^th
-17
^th
2014

E
AT OR BE EATEN

47

W
E WERE LOSING
hope and, worst of all, we were running out of food. After eleven days underground, our bodies had started to change drastically. The skin now hugged the bones on our faces, and our ribs all showed. When we walked, our legs trembled. Knowing a lot about the subject, David had explained to me that without roughly a hundred and twenty grams of glucose a day, the human brain starts to malfunction and our bodies had started to eat our muscle mass. We slept constantly to not feel the hunger. Even our prayer time had stopped.

We never did find Malene or Mr. Bjerrehus, nor did Kurt ever come back from running off. I wondered what had happened to all of them, but didn’t have the strength to look anymore.

On this morning on the eleventh day, I reached the bottom of the pit when I picked up an empty can of tuna and licked the inside again and again.

I had made another trade with Brian, and we still had a little water left, but none of us could go much longer without food.

Afrim’s mother was doing the worst. She was all skin and bones and hardly awake at all anymore. I could see the anxiety in Afrim’s eyes, and feared the worst. She had only a day or two more left in her, if that.

On the eleventh day, Brian came to us. He could barely walk as he came through the tunnel, flanked by Lars and Kurt, who apparently had joined them after running away from us. His wife, Annette, was happy to see him, but kept her distance. He smiled at her, but went to sit with Brian, not her.

“We’ve finally run out of food and water,” Brian said, sitting down next to me. He had lost a lot of weight. “There is no more.”

“No more water either?” I asked. “It was a big tank.”

“Not big enough, apparently. Maybe there was another hole in it, I don’t know, but the water is gone. We ran out of the last of the food this morning. And we’re hungry.”

“We all are, Brian,” David said.

“Where is Thomas Soe?” I asked.

Brian shrugged. “We lost him some days ago. He was just gone when we woke up. We thought he would be back eventually, but he never showed up.”

“Same thing happened to Mr. Bjerrehus and Malene,” I said.

“You think they might have found a way out of here?” Kurt asked.

I shrugged. “Or they’ve gotten lost somehow. I don’t know.”

“It’s strange,” Kurt said. “I believe there’s someone or something else in these tunnels. When I left from here, I wandered the tunnels for a day and a half. I heard strange noises, especially at night. Voices and singing. I heard footsteps and, I swear, someone was watching me while I slept. I woke up with a gasp and there was someone in the darkness with me. I swear there was. He was standing really close to me. I could hear him breathe. Thinking of what happened to poor Michael West, I started yelling and slamming my fist into the darkness, hoping to hit him. I did. My fist struck something and there was a sound like someone fell backwards. Then I heard footsteps, like someone running, and he was gone. I swear, I was certain he would have killed me.”

“Could it be Mr. Bjerrehus?” Mrs. Sigumfeldt asked.

Kurt laughed. “No, he would certainly have killed me if he had the chance. He hates my guts as much as I hate his. You can be certain of that.”

“Then, who else could it be?” I asked. “Thomas Soe? Malene?”

Kurt shrugged. “I don’t know. People seem to go crazy down here. The lack of food and water makes us lose it. I tell you, we’re going to end up eating each other.”

“Speak of eating,” Brian said. He nodded in direction of Afrim. “That dog still alive?”

“He’s holding on like the rest of us,” I said. I had a sense that this conversation wasn’t going in a good direction. “Why?”

Brian shrugged. “Just wondering.”

48

A
FRIM SAW THE
look on Mr. Jansen’s face. It wasn’t pleasant. He was staring at Buster with a strange smile, very similar to that of Afrim’s aunt before she went to the hospital.

Afrim pulled Buster closer and held him tight. The dog was nothing but skin and bones. He could feel his ribs as he lifted him. Just like his mother. Afrim sniffled and looked at her. She hadn’t spoken to him for two days. She had been awake for maybe a few minutes, in total, those same two days. Afrim knew she was doing poorly, and every day, he prayed to whomever would listen to please, please keep his mother and dog alive. But he knew there wasn’t much time left.

Afrim watched as Mr. Jansen came closer. He sat next to Afrim and looked at Buster. “So, how’s the dog?” he asked.

“Hhhe…he’s alright,” Afrim said.

Mr. Jansen touched Buster. He petted him on the back then felt his stomach. Buster didn’t even move.

“Not much meat left on him, huh?”

Afrim shook his head, while staring at Mr. Jansen. He had never liked him much. Afrim had heard Mrs. Jansen screaming at night and Mr. Jansen yelling at her. She would scream for him to stop hitting her. Why he didn’t stop, when she was obviously in pain, Afrim didn’t understand, and he had asked his dad about it.

“Some men don’t know how to appreciate a woman properly,” he had told Afrim.

“Can’t you teach him, Daddy? ‘Cause she sounds like it hurts a lot,” Afrim had said. “Why doesn’t anyone help her? Everyone can hear her screaming, can’t they?”

Afrim’s father thought about his answer for a while. “Most people like to mind their own business. They don’t like to meddle in other people’s lives.”

“But why? I don’t understand.” Afrim had asked.

His dad didn’t have an answer. Later that same day, Afrim’s mother had tried to reach out to Mrs. Jansen, and had asked her to come over for a cup of coffee, but Mrs. Jansen had told her she couldn’t. Her husband didn’t want her to be around
those Muslims
.

“She doesn’t want our help, Afrim,” his mother had said when she came back and slammed the door in anger.

So, they had done what everyone else in this neighborhood did. They had pretended they didn’t hear her screams at night and moved on with their lives.