James Swain - The Program

Wayne tossed back the sheet and threw his legs over the side of the bed. The room where Renaldo made him sleep was no bigger than a closet and without windows. Like a prison cell, only worse, his lack of contact with anyone but Renaldo driving him crazy. A naked lightbulb dangled from the ceiling, and could only be turned on from the hall.

Renaldo sniffed the air. “The toast is burning.”

“Better not burn the house down,” Wayne joked.

“Put some clothes on and join me.”

Renaldo pushed himself off the doorframe and walked away. Wayne sat motionless for several seconds, expecting his captor to come back and padlock the door, just like he had every time when Wayne was by himself.

Only Renaldo didn’t come back and shut the door. Wayne nearly pinched himself. Was he dreaming? It felt way too normal – being woken up, the smell of breakfast, the way Renaldo had addressed him. Like his old man used to do before he died.

Wayne got up and started to get dressed. He looked for his clothes, which he threw onto a chair each night before going to sleep. They were gone. In their place was a brand-new pair of chinos and a navy polo shirt that still had the tags on them. He unfolded the clothes and held them up for inspection.

“Oh, wow,” he said.

It had been a long time since he’d worn new clothes. Most of his wardrobe were hand-me-downs from his brother. Not that he’d ever complained, but wearing his dead brother’s clothes had started to be a drag. He needed to become his own man.

He tore off the tags. Renaldo had paid full-price for the threads. It made him want to like the guy, only he couldn’t get the head in the refrigerator out of his mind.

“You coming?” Renaldo called from the other side of the house.

“Just getting dressed. I’ll be there in a second.”

Wayne slipped on the clothes. They fit. He wasn’t supposed to feel happy – he was a prisoner – yet he couldn’t help but smile. The clothes were way cool.

Wayne walked down the hall to the kitchen, smelling breakfast. In the kitchen he found Renaldo standing at the stove, doling out the food onto a pair of plastic plates. His captor nodded approvingly as Wayne entered.

“The clothes look good on you,” he said.

“You shouldn’t have,” Wayne said.

The remark drew a blank stare. The humor was lost on him.

“Where did you get them?” Wayne asked.

“The men’s shop at Dillard’s. They have nice things.” Renaldo handed Wayne a steaming plate and a tall glass filled with orange juice. “Have a seat at the table. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Wayne moved into the adjacent dining area, which consisted of a round table with four high back chairs. A blond-haired woman sat at the head of the table, facing him. Small and pretty, she was securely bound to the chair, and had a wild, helpless look. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, only a gag ball prevented the words from coming out.

Wayne gasped. “Who’s that?”

“Your new girlfriend,” Renaldo said.

Wayne’s plate hit the table with a soft thud. He took the chair next to the captive woman, and tried not to make eye contact. He wanted to help her, but had no idea how to accomplish that. She was in just as bad a situation as he was. Probably worse.

No longer hungry, he moved his food around the plate. The silverware was made of transparent plastic. Renaldo still didn’t trust him with anything sharp. He was still being tested, and needed to watch everything he said and did.

Renaldo sat down so he faced the woman, and started to eat. A mountain of scrambled eggs filled his plate along with a towering stack of bacon. He washed down a mouthful of food with orange juice and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“Who is she?” Wayne asked.

“Her name is Rachel,” Renaldo said. “I met her last night. I thought she was very pretty. She reminded me of an actress in the movies. I couldn’t remember her name.”

Wayne lifted his eyes to stare at Vick. She did have a face out of the movies. Not just pretty, but genuine. In a small way, she reminded him of his girlfriend Amber.

“Reese Witherspoon,” Wayne said.

Renaldo slapped his hand on the table. “That’s the one. She was in the movie with the little dog. They could be sisters, yes?”

Wayne nodded woodenly. He saw tears well in the corners of Vick’s eyes. She had to know she was fucked.

“Yes,” the teenager said.

“Have you tried the OJ? I squeezed it myself. It’s very good.”

Wayne lifted his glass of orange juice and took a long swallow. It was a strange combination of sweet and tangy. His heart was pounding against his rib cage, his mind racing. He had to help this poor woman, only he didn’t know how.

“How did you meet her?” he asked.

“She was looking for me,” Renaldo replied.

“What do you mean? Is she a cop?”

“FBI agent. She and her partner thought they could capture me, only I turned the tables on them. It’s too bad you weren’t there.”

Wayne drained his glass. The drink was having a strange effect on him. He no longer felt scared or intimidated by the situation. If anything, he felt empowered, and ready to take on the world. It was a wonderful feeling, and he heard himself laugh.

“Is something wrong?” Renaldo asked.

“I just think it’s funny that you put a gag ball in her mouth,” Wayne said. “What are you afraid of – her talking you to death?”

Renaldo roared with laughter. “Very good!”

“Why don’t we untie her, and let her run around the house. Then we can try and catch her. It would be fun.”

“You mean like a game,” his captor said.

“Yeah. First one to catch her wins a prize.”

“What would it be?”

“I don’t know – you still got the head in the fridge?”

Renaldo let out another roar. “Very good, but I have a better idea.”

“What’s that?”

Renaldo went to the kitchen, and returned with a plastic pitcher of OJ. He came around the table so he was behind Vick, and with his free hand, removed the tie holding the gag ball in her mouth. Vick spit the ball onto the table and glanced fearfully at Wayne.

“Open your mouth,” Renaldo said.

Vick shook her head defiantly. Renaldo grabbed her by the back of her hair, and jerked her head back. He brought the pitcher directly over her face.

“Do it, or I will break your neck,” Renaldo said.

Vick parted her lips. Renaldo poured the OJ in a long stream into her mouth, then grabbed her jaw and forced her mouth shut.

“Swallow it,” he commanded.

Vick gulped the liquid down while twisting violently in her chair. Renaldo released his grip on her, and returned to his chair. He resumed eating his breakfast.

“What did you just give her?” Wayne asked.

“The drink is spiked with drugs and vodka,” Renaldo said. “She’ll be out soon.”

“Was that in my drink, too?”

Renaldo nodded. Wayne tried to protest, but the words wouldn’t come out. His tongue had grown thick and the room was spinning. He was going to pass out, and he had the foresight to move his plate before resting his head on the table.

Linderman had to wait for the cadaver dogs.

The dogs were on the other side of the county with their police handler, trying to find an Alzheimer’s patient who’d slipped out of a nursing home and ambled off into the woods. Wearing a bathrobe and slippers, it was assumed the patient had crawled into a cave or a hole when it had grown cold, and died from exposure. Now his body needed to be found and put to rest.

Linderman had still asked the trainers to hurry. He was running out of time.

He stood on the front porch with Fitch and watched the never-ending rain. Fitch had a habit of taking off his hat whenever he was standing still. It added gravity to his words, even though he rarely spoke.