Jeff Strand - Single White Psychopath Seeks Same

Daniel stopped, and waved for the others to do the same. I began to back away, putting about ten feet between us.

“I strongly recommend that you let her go,” Daniel said.

“No, I strongly recommend that you let the others go,” I told him. “Now! Open every one of those cells or I’ll blow her head off!”

“And where does that leave you?” asked Daniel. “Holding my headless wife while I put a few bullets in your face.” He pointed his gun at me.

“I’m serious, Daniel!” I took another step back, forcing Josie to follow.

“Oh, I’m sure you are. But I’m certain that you’ll understand my position here. I can’t let the prisoners go. It’s just not going to happen.”

He was trying to act casual, but it was obvious that Daniel was concerned. I pushed the gun more tightly against Josie’s head.

“I’ll pull the trigger!”

“Really? So will I.”

Daniel fired a shot. It sailed safely past my face, but Josie gave a violent shudder and Roger pressed himself more closely behind me.

Mortimer and Stan raised their own guns.

“You’re gonna get her killed!” I warned.

Daniel fired again, coming close enough that I could feel the air move as the bullet passed. “Let her go and I promise you can have your own coffin this time.”

I couldn’t believe this. Was he really going to let everyone open fire, blowing Josie away along with Roger and I? If I made it home alive, I was going to make it very clear that Helen could have done much worse in her selection of husbands.

Obviously, Roger believed that we were moments away from a bloody free-for-all, one where everybody took hundreds of slow-motion bullet hits and died with a chanting chorus in the background. He took off running in the opposite direction. “Come and get me, you sissies!” he shouted, rounding the corner.

Daniel glanced over his shoulder and nodded to Mortimer and Stan. “Take him out.” They turned around and went down another path.

I took another step back. Daniel kept the gun pointed at me. “So, it’s just us now,” he said. “You have no idea how much it pains me to have to shoot you and your friend instead of doing something more elaborate, but you gotta do what you gotta do.”

He fired another shot. I wondered how long I had before he tried to shoot at me through Josie.

I removed the gun from her head and pointed it at Daniel. Just as I squeezed the trigger, Josie smacked my arm away, and the shot went wild, hitting the ceiling. As we struggled with the gun, we stumbled through an open doorway.

We were in the darts room. I was still sore and tired from the beating I’d taken from Foster, so while I fought vigorously against Josie, she kept moving me toward the clear cube. Another wild shot pounded into the floor.

Daniel followed us, but from his angle Josie was in front of me, and he didn’t shoot.

Josie slammed me against the cube wall and the gun fell out of my hand. She wrapped her hands around my neck and began to squeeze, her eyes like a crazed animal, as we slid along the surface of the cube.

Then the wall ended, and I tumbled backward into the open entrance, pulling Josie back with me. We both struck the floor of the cube, sending a jarring memory of my butt wound tearing through my body, and continued our frenzied scuffle. Her hands were still firmly clenched around my neck.

Daniel slammed the clear door shut and fastened the lock.

When she heard this, Josie released her grip and turned around. Daniel slid a spike into the cannon, and motioned for her to get out of the way.

She did.

I followed.

Daniel swiveled the cannon toward us. I lunged for Josie, but she shoved me back with both hands. “Get away! ”

The cannon was pointed right at me. Instead of going for Josie, I jumped the other way.

Snap!

A punching bag jerked forward as the dart struck it. While Daniel reloaded, I rushed back at Josie and tried to throw my arms around her. She took a swing at me that glanced off my shoulder, but since it was my injured shoulder the pain was excruciating.

Snap!

I don’t even know how close the dart came, but the sound of it slamming against the wall of the cube was ten times louder from the inside. My ears started to ring.

Daniel was putting another spike in the cannon. Now, I could’ve kept myself alive for a while by just running from one side of the cube to the other, forcing Daniel to keep trading cannons, but I didn’t see that as the most astute tactical decision. I had to keep myself as close to Josie as possible.

She punched my shoulder again and my eyes filled with stinging tears. But then I delivered an amazing blow to the jaw that knocked her against the slide. As she struck it with a clang , it occurred to me that my day’s activities had included punching out a woman and stripping another one naked without permission. Chivalry was dead in the Mayhem household.

She got up and came at me, but I shoved another punching bag at her. She let out an ooommph and staggered against the slide again.

Snap!

I let out a yelp as the spike ripped across the top of my shoulder. The same freaking shoulder. Any doctor examining me was going to think I had some sick masochistic shoulder fetish. Daniel clapped his hands together and did some obnoxious cheer that I was thankful I couldn’t hear, then flexed his muscles.

Hadn’t Roger killed off Mortimer and Stan yet? I needed help!

As if in response to my mental question, Stan entered the room. Daniel said something to him, and he took a position at the next cannon. I began to reminisce about the good old days when all I had to worry about were a couple of lunatics with malfunctioning power tools.

Snap! A spike fired by Daniel struck the far wall.

Snap! A spike fired by Stan also struck the far wall.

I dove at Josie yet again, managing to get her in a bear hug. My shoulder hurt so badly that I couldn’t even start to enjoy the sensation of being snuggly. I spun around, getting her in front of me, and then fell back against the slide, Josie ending up on my lap.

She began to claw at my arms with her fingernails. I gritted my teeth and refused to let go. Then she smashed the back of her head against my face. The second time she did that, I let go.

I made a grab for her leg as she tried to run off. I caught her thigh, lost it immediately, and then got a hold of her ankle. I yanked her toward me, and then lost my balance and toppled backwards.

Snap!

A dart struck Josie in the leg, plunging deep into her thigh. She let out a glass-shattering shriek, though unfortunately not a plastic cube-shattering one. Daniel stormed over and punched Stan in the chin, knocking him completely off his feet, and let loose with a barrage of shouted observations that I suspected might include some profanity.

Screwing up my chivalry status even more, I sat on Josie’s back, wrenched the spike out of her leg and pressed the tip against the side of her neck that faced Daniel. If my body were to, say, engage in any sort of locomotion, such as the type that might occur when a fast-moving projectile struck it, the spike would be driven into her neck.

Daniel apparently got it. He reached into the cardboard box, took one spike in each hand, and went over to the door.

He said something that was probably very intimidating and dramatic, but of course I couldn’t hear him. He switched the spikes to his left hand just long enough to unlock and open the cube door, and then stepped inside.

“All right, Andrew, it’s just you and me,” he said.

I shook my head. “Um, no, actually I’ve got Josie right here.”

“Let her go.”