Victor Methos - The Extinct

Lily lay nude in the bed, asleep. Last night she’d had the smell of orange blossoms from her bodywash and a new manicure, her nails red and glossy. Eric thought she was beautiful when he’d first met her, but over the months she’d grown haggard. Her skin was marked with blemishes and acne. Her once soft, wet lips were now always dry and cracked. Eric never asked her about it, he didn’t really care that much anymore. Besides, he had no right to say anything. He’d lost more than forty pounds of hard earned muscle and was left with a sagging, pale body. His eyes had sunken in with dark circles and his hair was long and had the appearance of being greasy to the touch.

Thoughts of suicide were always in his head. They came mostly at night when he’d be trying to go to sleep and they drove him to anger. It was as if he didn’t have control over them, like his thoughts were telling him what to do. His will was wearing away. The truth was, he was in complete apathy. The hotel room was a place to stay, but he wouldn’t have cared if he’d been thrown out on the street. He didn’t care if Lily was there or not. He didn’t care whether he was alive or not.

He went inside and sat on the couch, taking up a used needle and spoon to start cooking, when he heard a knock on the door. He ignored it but they knocked again, this time louder. Slowly, he rose and answered it.

A woman stood in the doorway. She was slender and black, sapphire eyes incased in a thin face. Her hair was straight and came to her shoulders, only accentuating the beauty of her face. A man stood behind her with shining green eyes and a slight smile on his lips. He was dressed in canvas shorts and a vest. “What do you want?” Eric mumbled. “You don’t remember me, boy?” the man said. “Thomas Keets, we met at your father’s funeral.” Eric nodded, unsure if he fully remembered him. “What do you want?”

Thomas took a step forward and the woman stepped aside. Thomas looked Eric up and down, a hidden contempt and sympathy showing in his eyes. “May we come in?”

Eric looked from one to the other and then left the door open and walked back to the couch. He didn’t even hesitate before starting to cook again. Thomas sat down across from him in a high-backed chair and the woman walked to the balcony and stood outside.

“That’s Jalani,” Thomas said, taking a pipe out of his breast pocket and putting it between his lips though he didn’t light it. “She helps me on my hunts and tours. I found her when she was young in Africa. Her parents were killed by a rival tribe and she escaped and lived on the plains.” “How’d you find me?” “Your mother. She said you haven’t called her in over two months and she’s worried.” “I told her not to tell anyone where I am.” “As I said, she’s worried.” “Why’d she call you?”

Thomas crossed his legs and looked out the sliding glass doors at the sky. With the pipe in between his lips and his eyes turned upward, Eric thought he looked like a sitting Buddha in contemplation.

“I knew your mother before your father. That’s how I and your father met actually, though, that’s a story for another time.”

Eric filled the hypodermic and stuck it in between his toes on his right foot. The drug warmed him, but, something he’d realized only recently, brought him no pleasure. It didn’t make him happy in any way but he couldn’t go more than a handful of hours without it. “What do you want?”

Thomas took the pipe out of his mouth and held it in his hand. “The truth of it is boy that I owe your father a life, and I intend to pay him back by saving yours.”

Eric chuckled softly as he fell back on the couch, warm and content. “I don’t need saving.”

“Oh? Pardon me, but I beg to differ. I’ve seen men where you are and they don’t last very long.” They watched each other and Thomas rose to his feet and walked toward the balcony, looking over the city through the open sliding glass door. He leaned against the wall with one hand and put the pipe back into his mouth. “I came to this city once before you were even born. It’s far different now; crueler. Perhaps that’s just what happens when large masses of people live together.” He turned toward Eric. “We are a malicious species boy, and I don’t normally care for us outside of those close to me, but I repay my debts.”

Jalani walked in and Eric got a good look at her. Everything about her permeated sensuality, from the way she crossed her feet in a relaxed stance, to the smell of jasmine emanating from her wrists and neck. She stared at Eric with a detached curiosity. Then, abruptly, she walked out of the hotel room. Thomas sat back down and filled his pipe with tobacco from a small cherry wood carrying case he kept in his pocket. He lit it with a silver lighter and the sweet smell of tobacco filled the air.

Eric was nodding off, his head bobbing painfully slow up and down in an effort to stay awake. He didn’t notice when Jalani walked back in carrying a length of chain and cuffs and threw Lily out of the room.

Thomas and Jalani picked Eric up and he only nominally protested.

They lay him down on the bed and shackled his right wrist and then ran the chain around the bed, locking the two ends together with a padlock. Thomas tore the phone line from the wall, tearing apart the wires and rendering them useless.

They walked out of the room together, neither looking back.

Eric slept for six hours and woke in the afternoon. The sound of the river was in the distance, fleets of car engines beyond that. He thought he’d dreamed of Thomas coming to his room and smiled at the dream. When he went to itch his arms, he heard the rattle of chains.

He was shackled tightly with a thick metal cuff halfway up his wrist. He followed the chain with his eyes and saw that it was wrapped around the bed. Leaning down and looking underneath, he saw that it ran around the bed frame, locking him to the bed.

Eric scrambled and tried tearing at the cuff and then pulling on the chain. He reached down and tried to pull the chain off the bed-frame and then started trying to open the padlock. He stood and was almost growling as he violently yanked the chain over and over. Finally he sat down on the floor, his arms exhausted and heavy. He had enough length to reach the bathroom and halfway into the living room, but no more. The phone was disconnected.

He walked into the living room. His money was still on the coffee table, untouched, but his drugs were gone. Panic gripped him and he began pulling on the chain again, trying to break apart the bed. He was too weak for anything more than making a loud clanking sound, and gave up.

He lay on the floor until nightfall. He was starting to feel sick. It was making him jittery and he felt sharp stabs in his stomach. As he lay flat on his back staring out at the glittering lights past the balcony, the door opened and Thomas walked in. He held a small brown bag and a large jug of water and placed them next to Eric.

“There’s some turkey and plums in the bag.”

“Fuck you!” Eric screamed.

Thomas seemed not to notice and only walked into the kitchen, checking to see if anything useful was in the fridge. Finding only beer, he took the bottles out and poured the golden liquid down the sink, throwing the empty ones in the garbage and walking out the door.

Eric was on the floor all night, unable to sleep. There were waves of pain that came and went like electric shocks. Drops of sweat covered his body and formed a wet ring around him on the carpet. He tried to pull on the chains again and when he failed, he simply curled on the floor and cried.

The next few days Eric was in full withdrawal. He was vomiting constantly and had diarrhea. Stomach pains toppled him over whenever he’d try to stand and he found himself screaming for help, but no help came. His tongue bled from the multiple times his shivering caused him to bite it and he’d go between extremes of freezing cold and scalding hot.