Endurance - Jack Kilborn [39]
“Back off,” Felix ordered. His voice was shaky, but he held Cam’s gaze until the younger man slunk away.
Felix glanced quickly at John’s hands—most of his fingers were stuck out at odd angles—and walked around to face him. John was bright red, his face wet with tears. Felix yanked the sock out of his mouth and was rewarded with a soul-wrenching moan.
“Am… am I bleedin’?” John said.
Felix swallowed. “Not yet. But if you don’t answer my questions, my partner is going to start cutting off your fingers. Do you understand?”
John nodded, his chin trembling. Felix leaned down over him.
“Tell me, John. Is Maria alive?”
John stared, but stayed quiet. Drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth. Felix had once jammed a finger catching a football, and it hurt like hell. To have five broken fingers, misshapen and manhandled, must have been unbearable.
“Answer me. Is Maria alive?”
“You… hurt me bad,” John cried.
Felix felt his stomach turning again. But he managed to keep it under control when he said, “Cam, go out to the truck and get this bastard’s hunting knife.”
Cam nodded and hurried off. Felix considered his prisoner. Maybe John didn’t want to talk, because he thought if he did, he’d be killed. Killed because he was no longer useful. Or killed in retribution for the things he’d done to Maria.
“I’m not going to kill you,” Felix said. He knew it sounded hollow. Lame. But the alternative was letting Cam start slicing off fingers; something Cam seemed disturbingly eager to do. This was a slippery slope, and unless Felix could convince John he’d live through this, the situation would get a lot messier.
Could I allow Cam to keep hurting John?
Felix closed his eyes. He saw Maria’s face. If John had something to do with her disappearance, Felix would let Cam roast the guy over hot coals in order to get answers. Felix could have a crisis of conscious after John talked.
If John talked.
“Got it,” Cam said, hurrying back ‘in. “Man, this knife is wicked.”
John began to blubber uncontrollably at the sight of Cam, and Felix felt ready to do the same.
Be strong. It’s for Maria.
Cam positioned himself behind John.
“Don’t cut me… please don’t cut me.”
He knew it sounded hollow.
“I just want to know what happened to my fiancé,” Felix said. He forced himself to maintain eye contact.
“He’s… he’s gonna cut my fingers off.”
“Not if you tell me the truth. If you tell me the truth, I promise he won’t cut you. We won’t hurt you any more if you tell me.” He crouched down, staring into John’s face. “Is Maria still alive?”
John’s lips trembled, but he stayed silent.
Anger surged up in Felix like the vomit had moments ago, and the last vestiges of sanity left him as he reared back and slapped John across the face, hard as he could.
“Goddammit, tell me!”
John’s whispered answer was the most important thing anyone had ever said to Felix.
“Your woman is… alive.”
Maria allows herself to be led out of her cell by George. He’s one of the largest of her captors, close to seven feet tall, and among the most sadistic. He’s not as deformed as the others, though his head is a little too big for his body, and his arms are too long, like a gorilla. The cattle prod he has in his hand is used for amusement as much as persuasion.
But today George seems distant. He straps on her ball gag without saying a word, and the nudge he gives her with the stick lacks electricity.
He puts the black cloth bag over her head, grabs her elbow, and leads her through the underground tunnels. As usual, Maria counts her steps. The first dozen times, they’d been clever, having her walk in circles. All the better to keep her disoriented. But lately they’d slipped into a routine. At exactly a hundred and fifteen paces, they come to the door to the Room.
She hears it open, feels George push her from behind. Maria’s legs lock. As terrible as her captivity has been, her times in the Room were the low points. What happens in the Room goes beyond pain, beyond sickness, beyond desperation.
What happens in the Room is an abomination.