The Cage (9 page)

“I don’t know,” Jared said. “I figured you’d be going out on dates or something. I was always jealous of you and Scott and Ray and Clint. You guys seemed to have exciting lives.”

“Not on a work night. Not for me, at least. I just go home and crash. There’s nothing good on television on Wednesday nights.”

“Sure there is. I watch
Castaways
.”

“Castaways
jumped the shark a long time ago, dude. And besides, it’s off by the time I get home. You know what sucks? Working in this place and selling TiVo and DVR shit all day, and then not having them when I go home.”

Jared nodded. They both fell silent for a few minutes.

“Jeff?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry about earlier. For the way I acted and what I said.”

“It’s okay, Jared. I’m sorry, too. I was being a real dick.”

“No you weren’t. You were just frightened. We both were.”

“Well, it still didn’t give me the right to holler at you. So I apologize.”

“Apology accepted.” Jared grinned. “But you’re wrong about
Castaways
. Best show on television.”

Jeff snickered quietly, then chuckled, and then threw back his head and laughed. Jared joined him, slapping his thigh. The two of them sat there giggling until their eyes watered.

“Shit,” Jeff sighed. “That felt good. I needed that.”

“Yeah.” Jared nodded.

“So…”

“So.”

Jared’s expression grew serious again. “What are we going to do when he comes back?”

“I don’t know. We could try rushing him and tag-team his ass.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry, but I just can’t. Especially after watching him shoot Scott in the knee like that.”

“Well, don’t feel too bad. To be honest, I don’t think we’d get away with it anyway.”

“So what do we do?”

“You mean which one of us goes next?”

Jared nodded.

“We could draw straws,” Jeff suggested.

“But we don’t have any straws.”

“Well, then I guess the only thing we can do is wait.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Unless you can think of something?”

“Maybe do what you said. We could try to attack him when he opens the cage the next time.”

“No. You were right. Not after what happened to Scott.”

“I thought what Scott did was very brave.”

“But it didn’t work out for him, did it?”

Jared didn’t respond. Jeff stifled another yawn. Then he scooted his box over to the wall, leaned backward, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes. He let his chin droop down to touch his chest and focused on his breathing so that he wouldn’t have to think about anything else.

Jared mumbled a whispered prayer. “Dear Jesus, please forgive me for my sins. I accept you into my heart. Please don’t let me die in here.”

He paused. At first, Jeff thought he was finished.

“Is that how it’s done, Jeff?”

“I guess so. Sounded okay to me.”

“Thank you, Jesus,” Jared said. “I’m so sorry. Please…”

Jeff tuned him out, but he couldn’t tune out the signal, humming insistently in the background.

When Jeff woke up again, Jared was screaming.

Jeff didn’t move. Not a muscle. Not a twitch. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, made sure his breathing seemed regular, and pretended to be asleep. He didn’t need to see to know what was happening. He could hear it.

“No,” Jared squealed. “I don’t want to go. Jeff, wake up! I’m not going to go out there. You can’t make me.”

“Stop it.”

“Leave me alone! Get away from me ri—”

Flesh smacked against flesh. Jeff was pretty sure that Simon had just slapped Jared across the face. He resisted the urge to jump at the sound. Jared continued to sob and shriek. Another smack rang out, followed by a more solid, meaty thud. Jared fell silent, as if someone had flipped a switch. Jeff wondered what had happened, but he kept his eyes shut. Perhaps Simon had pistol-whipped Jared, or maybe he’d knocked him out cold. He heard Simon grunt, heard the chain links jingle, and then Jared began to scream again.

“Take Jeff instead! Not me. Take him. He wanted to rush you. He’s the one who’s disobeyed.”

Bitch,
Jeff thought.
I see how you are.

“Take him,” Jared insisted. “Get him instead of me! He was plotting against you the whole time.”

“He’ll get his turn.”

“Oh Jesus. Oh Jesus, help me! I don’t want to die.”

“Want me to shoot you in the balls?”

“No, no, no, no, n—”

“Then quit wiggling.”

“Please. Please, please, please! Jeff, wake up! I don’t want to die.”

“Stop it!”

“I don’t want to die. I don’t want to—”

He was interrupted by a third smack. Jared groaned, and then went quiet for a moment. Simon’s boots echoed off the concrete. Then Jared began to yell—a high-pitched, keening wail that seemed to have no end. It went on and on and on, drowning out Simon’s threats and the ever-present sound of the signal. Jeff had to focus to hear the sound of the padlock snapping shut. Jared’s cries lasted until Simon had dragged him out of the warehouse. The door swung shut again. Silence returned to the cage.

Jeff kept his eyes closed. He felt safer in the dark than he did in the harsh, yellow glow of the fluorescent lighting. In the dark, you couldn’t see the monsters when they came to get you.

The signal swelled, booming throughout the warehouse. The fluorescent light fixtures swung back and forth, creaking on their chains and raining dust down onto cardboard boxes full of various home electronics, which were also swaying. The fire extinguisher fell from its hook on the wall and crashed onto the floor, then rolled out of sight. The wire mesh of the cage trembled and clanged.

Jeff opened his eyes, unsure of what was happening or how long he’d been sleeping. Yawning, he stood up and stretched, wondering for a brief second where he was, and what the hell he was hearing. Then he remembered, and the realization was like a kick in the gut. The noise made his teeth and ears ache. His feet were numb—asleep. He stumbled around, wondering why the signal had gotten louder. And then he saw why.

The warehouse door stood open again.

And Simon walked toward him.

It was his turn.

“Shit.”

He mouthed the word, but realized that he couldn’t hear his own voice over the roar. The sound throbbed up through the floor, boring through his feet and then his legs and then surging into the rest of him. Jeff felt it rumbling in his chest. His ears and nose felt blocked, like he was in an airplane making its ascent or descent. He wished they would pop. More dust drifted down from the ceiling, making his nose and throat itch. Jeff’s eyes watered.

Simon didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The big, black pistol in his hand said everything. Jeff knew the drill. He’d seen it happen enough this evening. Simon would unlock the cage. Jeff would step out. The two of them would walk across the warehouse and disappear through the door.

He would not come back. Of this Jeff was certain. He didn’t know what was happening on the other side of the door. He didn’t know what Simon was up to. He didn’t know if his friends and co-workers were alive or dead, but he knew that once they’d taken this walk with their captor, none of them had returned. And neither would he.

“Please?”

It was all Jeff could say. He hoped it would be enough.

It wasn’t. Simon pulled out Alan’s key ring for the last time, unlocked the cage, and opened the door. If he’d heard Jeff’s singular plea over the cacophony of white noise, he gave no indication. He simply stood back, pointed the gun at Jeff, and waited. Jeff noticed that the gunman was no longer wearing his sunglasses. When Jeff didn’t move, Simon gestured again, impatient. The signal grew even louder.

Jeff took a deep breath, held it, and then stepped forward. His legs felt wobbly. His feet tingled. He had to reach out and grab the chain links to keep from falling. Simon watched this impassively. Jeff stared into his captor’s eyes—those two dark circles, devoid of any emotion, and Simon stared back without blinking. Then, Jeff found himself at the door. He exhaled as he left the cage.

Simon motioned with the gun, not bothering to lock the cage behind him. Jeff shuffled forward and Simon fell in step behind him. The killer placed the barrel of the pistol against the small of Jeff’s back. Jeff felt the cold steel through the material of his dress shirt, grating against his spine. Simon leaned close to Jeff’s ear. His sour breath smelled of cheese.

“Your name is Jeff?”

Jeff nodded, unable to speak.

“You are six. The most important number of all. Some say that seven and thirteen are the power numbers, but for what we do tonight, it is six. You should feel very proud.”

Jeff nodded again, feigning understanding and hoping to placate the madman.

Simon prodded him with the gun. “Let’s go. You know the way.”

Yes,
Jeff thought.
I sure do. How many times have I walked through this warehouse and out into the store? A thousand? A million? Every time I go to the bathroom or take a lunch break or make a sale and come back here to get the item for the customer, I go through that door.

He’d never paused to consider it. Never thought about such a trivial act. But now, faced with the knowledge that this could very well be his last time doing so, it was all that Jeff
could
think about. His feet were no longer asleep, but now they felt heavy—weighted with sixty-pound bags of cement. He stopped, but Simon pushed harder with the gun. Jeff began walking again, past rows of televisions and stereos and speakers and microwaves. The door loomed before him. The sign overtop of it read “EXIT” in bright red block letters.

But this is not an exit,
he thought.
This is an entrance. An entrance into the store.

Exit. Entrance. Maybe it’s the same thing, depending on your perspective.

Jesus fucking Christ, I’m
really
going to die, aren’t I?

April…I’m so sorry, hon. I should have contacted you. I should have said what I’ve wanted to say. I love you. I never stopped loving you…

He halted again, and when Simon urged him forward, Jeff resisted by spreading his feet and locking his knees.

“Move.”

“I want to know something first.” Jeff had to shout above the noise.

“Speak. But you try anything, and I’ll put a bullet through both of your kneecaps.”

“What happens when we go through the door?”

Simon was silent. For a moment, Jeff thought that maybe the madman had answered his question and he just hadn’t heard it. But then Simon spoke.

“We’re opening the door.”

“I know that. I watched you take the others through it. I’m asking you what happens after we go through the door.”

“You misunderstand me. I said that we’re opening a door. I wasn’t talking about this door. Now move.”