Jeff Strand - Single White Psychopath Seeks Same

“I’d rather not do that. I think she’s swell.”

“Maybe we can work something out.” Daniel slid the spikes against each other as if sharpening them.

“Oh, gee, what made you change your mind? Seeing your wife’s blood? There’s a lot of it here, huh? Watch out you don’t slip.”

Daniel’s smile looked more like a grimace as he walked toward me. “I’m impressed. You can be just as cruel as we can. Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”

“That depends. Does your insurance plan cover spouse and children?”

“But of course. You stand to make a good hundred grand in life insurance after we massacre them.”

“Funny, funny, funny. Not the best negotiating tactic, though.”

“I’ve decided not to negotiate.”

“You asshole!” Josie sputtered.

“I really suggest you stop moving,” I told Daniel. “You’re gonna kill her.”

“That’s the chance I’ll take.” He was only a few steps away from us now.

I pressed the spike more tightly against Josie’s neck. She let out a whimper, and Daniel stopped.

“Why’d you hesitate?” I asked. “Not quite the uncaring husband you’d like to portray, huh?”

“You know, I didn’t mention this before, but those are some cute boxers,” said Daniel. “Where’d you get them?”

He couldn’t fool me. He was scared.

“Wal-Mart,” I replied. “They were kind of pricey, but the tag said they were burial-resistant, so I figured it was worth the cost.”

“I’ll have to pick some up.”

“I’ll sell you these if you want. Make me an offer.”

“I’m going to have to pass, but I do appreciate your generosity.”

“That’s okay. Keep it in mind.” I glanced at something behind Daniel. “Boy, Stan just doesn’t learn, does he?”

I couldn’t believe this actually worked, but Daniel spun around to see what I was referring to. Stan was standing outside the cube, nowhere near the cannon, massaging his chin.

I pulled the spike away from Josie’s neck and flung it at Daniel. It twirled, end over end, directly at his face.

And to my astonishment, it struck him in the forehead.

This would have been cause for celebration, except that the side hit him and not the point. Still, his head flew backward, and the noise he made seemed to indicate that it really hurt.

I leapt over Josie and ran as fast as my pain-wracked body could move. Daniel still had his gun and he was far from mortally wounded, so I didn’t try to tackle him. Instead I sprinted for the door.

I did, however, shove a punching bag at him, hitting him in the side. Those things were turning out to be darn useful.

Stan stepped into the doorway to block me. Before he could raise his gun, I slammed the door into him, knocking him out of my way. I got out of the cube and pulled the door shut just as Daniel fired a shot that would have went through my belly had the plastic not been there.

I took a swing at Stan and missed, but a blow with my other hand struck him in the chin, almost exactly where Daniel had hit. I could hear footsteps behind me…Daniel rushing for the door.

A brutal knee to the groin took away a good portion of Stan’s savagery. He still held the gun, but didn’t look like his aim was going to be all that it could be, so I hurried back to the cube door and fastened the lock an instant before Daniel reached it.

A bullet ricocheted off the door right next to me. I didn’t see anybody in the hallway outside, but unless Roger had gone loopy it had to be Mortimer. I ran toward the wall and around the corner of the cube, cursing myself for it before I’d finished my second step. I should’ve fought for Stan’s gun.

Mortimer entered the dart room. “You take the left, I’ll take the right,” he said. Stan nodded weakly and began to limp around the cube in the opposite direction that I was running.

I ran around to the far side of the cube. No other exits except the way I came in. Armed bad guys moving in on each side. Bummer, bummer, bummer.

I THINK it’s safe enough to say that I’d had my share of bad luck during this whole ordeal, so as I watched Mortimer and Stan move closer I decided that it was high time for a bit of good luck to come my way.

Of course, that’s a really stupid thing to decide when you’re in a situation like this. Sort of like the thunderstorm that always follows “So what else could possibly go wrong?” As soon as I thought it, I expected a suffer a fatal coronary, or for a slab of the cube wall to drop off and squish me, or for the floor to crack open revealing the pits of hell and six hundred and sixty-six demons ready to drag me down to my fiery demise.

As it so happened, I lucked out.

Roger entered the room, still uninjured. He saw my predicament, and began waving his arms over his head. “Hey! I’m still around! What’s the matter, you can’t find someone in your own place?”

Mortimer and Stan each turned toward the sound of his voice, but they didn’t go after him.

“Damn it, Roger, forget about me!” I shouted. “Get out of here! Unlock the rest of the cells!”

Roger left the room.

Stan and Mortimer exchanged a concerned glance. For all they knew, Roger had the pass card. After a moment’s hesitation, Mortimer went after him.

I truly hated sending them after Roger, but it wasn’t like he could get out of here without my pass card. Okay, so, he could have somehow taken out one of the bad guys and got a pass card of his own, but still…it was a wise strategic decision.

And the fact that Mortimer had gone after him revealed an important piece of information. Even though the alarm had gone off and the second cell door hadn’t opened with the pass card, they still believed we might have the means to get the prisoners out. So maybe we did.

I went around the corner on Mortimer’s side just as he exited the room and just before Stan appeared on my end. I ran toward the door. Stan followed me, but he was still shaky from the gonad pounding and engaged in a lackluster pursuit.

Daniel was crouched next to Josie, wrapping his shirt around her leg, not really paying attention to what was going on outside the cube.

I left the dart room, took a split second to recall the layout of the parts of the structure that I’d visited, and hurried down the hallway away from the cell area. After crossing through an intersection, I waved the pass card, opened the door, and stepped into the operating room.

Charlotte was strapped to the table, fully clothed this time. Her eyes widened as I shut the door behind me.

“I’m here to help!” I insisted. “I promise, I’m not some deviant rapist…despite my lack of pants.”

“What on earth is going on?” she asked. “Who are you?”

“It’s really kind of complicated,” I explained, unfastening the straps. “Your husband hired me to help rescue you, but things worked out kind of goofy.”

I cringed as I unfastened the strap binding her left wrist. Her arm was covered with five or six long cuts, stretching from the back of her wrist to her elbow. She noticed my concern.

“It’s nothing-don’t worry about it,” she said. “You look a lot worse.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t been a good day for my body.”

“I saw them wheel you through the place where they’re keeping everybody. I take it they don’t think you’re one of them anymore?”

I shook my head. “It was nice while it lasted.”

I finished the final strap and she got off the table. I knew we had to hurry, but we could most definitely spare a moment to gather some supplies. There were a lot of great weapons in here.

Charlotte grabbed a spiked metal club and a short spear. I went for the machete. “Could you take these?” I asked, handing a screwdriver and small knife to Charlotte. “I don’t have pockets.”