Jeff Strand - Casket For Sale

She got back up.

I scooted backward on my aching ass. I just had to stay alive long enough for my children to make it to safety-I only hoped they found it in the creepy, trap-filled forest.

The woman crouched down and pried open the jaws as far as they would go, setting the trap. Then she picked up the contraption and walked toward me.

My hand brushed against something.

I threw the dart at her. The point jabbed into her leg.

She looked down at it in shock. Then she smiled. "What, you think there'd still be tranquilizer in there?" She plucked out the dart and tossed it aside.

Then she dropped to her knees.

Blinked a couple of times.

"You bitch," she said, tossing the wolf trap at me.

It landed between my legs, bounced once, and hit my upper thigh. The jolt in my heart was so great that for an instant I thought the trap had sprung.

The woman came toward me, still on her knees, arms extended, her eyes wide with fury even as her movements slowed.

I picked up the trap and slammed it against her face.

It sprung.

I turned away, not wanting to see the results. Her body dropped onto mine, and I rolled her out of the way. I wiped her blood off my cheek, grateful it wasn't an eyeball or something like that. After all I'd been through, I didn't need to be wiping other people's eyeballs off my cheek.

Despite the gruesome sight next to me, and despite the continued pain in my ankle and countless other parts of my body, I couldn't help but laugh. We had a limo. We could get out of here. Drive away and find help. Rescue Andrew.

"Theresa! Kyle! It's safe now!" I shouted as loud as I could while being almost completely out of breath. "You can come back!"

I listened for their response.

Nothing.

"Theresa?"

I forced myself to stand up. My leg tried to buckle beneath me, but I held steady. "Kyle? Honey? Come back!"

Still nothing.

Where were they?

Oh, God, where were they?

Back with Andrew

I WOKE UP, NOT realizing I'd been unconscious.

The dru g in the dart had obviously worn off because I could move again. That is, I could have moved again if my arms, legs, and torso hadn't been duct taped to a metal chair. They'd used a ridiculous amount… I looked like a duct tape mummy. My left hand had been bandaged up, which I hoped meant they planned to keep me alive for a while.

Roger and Samantha were similarly bound to my right, while Goblin was to my left. Goblin had received a black eye sometime between my loss of consciousness and now, and he looked scared and pitiful. He was the only one of the four prisoners who wasn't wearing a tight cloth gag.

We were in a large room with a white tile floor and lockers lining the walls. There was a door on each side. The centerpiece was an operating table, surrounded by lights, and another table covered with what appeared to be a combination of medical equipment and home improvement supplies.

Witch was wiping down the operating table with bleach. Mr. Burke, Troll, and Medusa weren't around.

"Come on," Goblin pleaded. "You can't let them do this to me. I was a good boss, right? You were always my favorite. You know that."

Witch avoided looking at him and focused all of her attention on cleaning the operating table, looking sick to her stomach.

"Don't ignore me! It doesn't have to happen like this! You can just tell them I got free!"

"How?"

"I don't know. Make something up!"

"Yeah, right. Then I'll be on this table in your place."

"We can both go. Let's just leave. He'll do you next, you know. If he's disbanding our team there's no reason for him to keep you and Troll around. You'll die next. I promise you'll die next."

Witch shook her head. "No, I won't."

"You will, I swear. Witch, we're a team. You don't let this kind of shit happen to your teammates."

"We were never a team. You were the leader and we were the followers. You said that all the time." Her voice cracked. "And if you don't shut up I'll gag you."

Goblin lowered his head and wept softly.

A door behind me opened. Somebody walked into the room, and I felt a light slap on the back of my head. "Wakey-wakey!" said Troll, moving in front of me. He was soon followed by Mr. Burke. Troll was wearing green surgical scrubs, and Mr. Burke was in a white lab coat.

"Well, well, well," said Mr. Burke, rubbing his hands together. "Some lovely specimens we have here today. Who shall I work on first?"

"Do Goblin first," Troll suggested.

"Yes, that sounds like a fine idea. But let's take care of some other business before we get started." Mr. Burke looked at me, reached into the pocket of his lab coat, and removed a finger-sized object wrapped in tissue. "Now, Andrew, do you really think proper storage of a severed digit includes keeping it in your filthy pocket?"

If I'd been able to speak, I probably would have said something along the lines of "It was the next best place to Witch's mouth." Then again, I might not have.

Mr. Burke unwrapped my finger and shook his head sadly. "I don't know. Even with the amazing advances in laser surgery, I doubt this finger is in a sufficient state to be reattached. I think we're just going to have to give it the goldfish treatment."

He walked to the door on my right, which led to a small bathroom. He held my finger over the toilet at chest-level, let it dangle for several seconds, then dropped it. It landed with a small splash.

" Adios , dear finger," said Mr. Burke. He flushed the toilet and watched happily. "Going… going…"

I wondered if this was payback for his being dunked in the toilet once too often by bullies in school.

"Going…" He frowned. "Aw, shit, it's still there. Fuckin' low-flow toilets." He flushed again. "Ah, there we go." He left the bathroom and shut the door behind him. "I'm afraid you won't be seeing your finger again."

I told him to mmmphhh mmmmmmphh himself. I hadn't really counted on being able to save my finger anyway, but still, you never want to see your pinky get flushed by a madman.

"Let's hope it doesn't grow in the sewers like one of those alligators," said Troll. "It could come back for revenge."

"Indeed it could. We'll all just have to be careful."

Troll winked at me, and then ran his hand through Samantha's hair. He looked at Roger. "How did a babe like this ever end up with a dork like you?"

Roger's response was muffled but easy to translate and quite vulgar.

"Y'know," said Troll, still stroking her hair. "I wouldn't mind having some fun with this one myself."

Mr. Burke shook his head. "I want her alive when it's her turn on the table."

"I won't kill her."

"I've heard that before."

"No, really, I won't."

"I don't want any parts of her cut off, either."

"I won't."

Mr. Burke nodded. "All right. But if you betray my trust, the consequences will be severe."

"Am I allowed to break anything?"

Mr. Burke considered that. "Nothing vital. And do it in the other room. I don't want you distracting me."

"Ooooh, privacy. Even better. How about I drag her boyfriend in there with us to watch the show?"

"I think you're beginning to violate basic human decency, Troll," said Mr. Burke. "He needs to see what happens in here. Don't get greedy with your sadism."

Troll chuckled and walked behind Samantha's chair. As she screamed through her gag, he tilted her chair backward, and dragged her across the floor in front of Roger and I, the chair making a horrible screeching sound as it scraped across the tile. Roger struggled violently but fruitlessly, shouting muffled curses the entire time.

Troll reached the door, opened it, and dragged Samantha into a dark room. When she was out of sight, he stepped back into the doorway and waved to us. "Have fun, everybody! I know I will."