Jack Kilborn - Endurance

“ I got yer legs.” Teddy said. “You can’t get away.”

The fear was overwhelming. What could she do, other than wait there, unable to escape, while this crazy man crept up the side of the bed and climbed on top of her? She might as well have been tied up. Or paralyzed.

How do I run from someone when I can’t even stand up?

Mal, Deb thought. He’s right next door.

“Mal!” she screamed, banging on the wall behind her. “Mal, help!”

“ Help me, Mal!” Teddy joined in, using a falsetto. “Please help me!”

Deb filled her lungs and yelled as loud as she could. “MAAAAAAL!”

Mal didn’t answer.

“ Your little boyfriend ain’t gonna help you, Debbie. Harry already took care a’ him.”

Teddy pushed the mattress up, so hard and violent that Deb almost rolled off.

“ Ready ‘er not, here I come.”

She heard a palm slap the wood floor. Summoning up some dregs of courage, Deb peeked over the edge and saw Teddy’s hand, sticking out from under the bed. It was large and grimy, the fingernails long and yellowed. Teddy’s thumb was actually two thumbs; at the knuckle it split into a Y shape.

Deb thought about reaching down, grabbing it, trying to break a finger, but she was too scared to move.

Another hand came appeared, also with a bifurcated thumb. Then Teddy slowly eased himself out. His hair was brown, matted, a bird’s nest of tangles. He turned and stared up at Deb. His face was just as ugly as his hands. Bushy eyebrows. A scraggly beard. One eye bigger than the other, the lens gray with a cataract, the other so deeply bloodshot it looked like a maraschino cherry. Teddy smiled, showing stained, rotten teeth, and Deb caught his pungent odor—stale sweat and sour milk.

“Ain’t you a pretty one. Ol’ Teddy may get hisself a taste ‘fore we get to bleedin’ you.”

Then Teddy pulled himself the rest of the way out from under the bed, and Deb got another shock.

He doesn’t have legs.

No, wait. He does.

His overalls ended just below the buttocks, and jutting out of them were two tiny, underdeveloped feet. Like those of a baby.

I have a chance.

I can get away.

Fear gave way to action, and Deb rolled to the opposite side of the bed. She slid off the end, face-first, landing on her hands and knees. Then she peeked under the dust ruffle to see where Teddy was—

—and stared directly into his gray eye, only inches away.

Teddy’s hand shot out, grabbing Deb by her hair before she had a chance to flinch. Deb made her fingers stiff and poked at his good eye, jabbing hard. Teddy howled, releasing her, and Deb crawled like crazy around the bed.

Hall or closet? Hall or closet?

Closet. I can’t get away without my legs.

Deb beelined for the closet, her bare knees beating a painful staccato against the hardwood floor. Teddy slid out from under the bed, pushing himself along on his belly, cutting off her route. Then he headed for her, efficiently dragging himself forward in a serpentine manner, like a fish swimming on land.

Deb spun around, scurrying past as his hand reached out. His fingers brushed her thigh, but he couldn’t grab on. She frantically tried to figure out where to go next. The closet was blocked. So was the hallway. And Teddy was slithering toward her at a quick clip, a grotesque, hairy snake.

The bathroom? Go for the knife?

No. I’d be trapped in there.

So what the hell can I do?

My Cheetahs. He took them.

Maybe they’re under the bed.

She grabbed the post, sliding under the bed, immediately seeing the displaced boards and the hole in the floor. Teddy was reaching for her again, fingers grazing her stump. She caught a quick glimpse of his wide, brown grin, and then Deb pulled herself, face-first, through the trap-door.

Then she was falling—a sick, familiar feeling that was worse than any pain in the world. Her fear was short-lived, and she quickly banged her arms and head into a recessed floor, only a few feet lower than the one she’d just fallen from. Trying to catch her breath, Deb squinted at her surroundings.

I’m in a crawlspace between the first and second levels.

A few yards away was a dim, flickering light.

A candle.

Deb felt around, finding one of her Cheetahs, then the other, and then Teddy was dropping through the trap-door, landing next to Deb with a huge thump.

She swung her prosthetic like a scythe, hard as she could, trying to catch Teddy’s face with the blade edge. The blow hit home, the leg vibrating in Deb’s hands. Teddy howled, covering up his head. She followed up with two more strikes, trying to pound his face into hamburger. But the Cheetahs were lightweight, not much heft to them, causing only superficial injuries.

Tucking the legs under her arm, Deb crawled toward the candle. It was awkward, and she had to switch from crawling to a sideways shuffle. She sucked in dust and cobwebs, trying to avoid banging her head on various support posts.

Teddy began to chuckle. “Oooo, y’all gonna pay for hittin’ me, little girl. Y’all gonna pay dearly.”

Deb reached the candle and smacked her palm on top, snuffing out the flame. The blackness was stifling, and the enormity of her situation hit her like a sledgehammer.

I’m trapped in a dark crawlspace with a psychotic freak.

She began to hyperventilate, unable to get enough oxygen. That led to wheezing.

I’m too loud. He’ll find me.

Deb clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to silence herself. When she was sure she wouldn’t pass out, she scooted away from her position, moving quietly. It was slow going. She didn’t want to bump into anything, or make the floor creak.

After she got some distance between herself and the candle, she began to put on her Cheetahs. Even though her hands were shaking, her years of competing in races paid off and Deb was able to get them on in less than thirty seconds.

Now I need to find an exit.

Deb raised her hands up over her head, feeling above her. She found a beam, and began to follow it along its length, crawling as silently as she could.

“Where you goin’, Debbie?”

Teddy was close. Very close. To her right. Deb paused, holding her breath, listening for movement.

She didn’t hear anything.

He’s either sitting still, moving toward me, or moving away from me.

So what’s my best option?

Keep going. Don’t wait for him to find me.

Deb softly blew out her breath, then continued her trek.

“I get it. Y’all wanna play a game.” Teddy had gotten even closer. Almost near enough to reach out and touch. “A little hide ‘n seek.”

She moved faster, feeling a sob well up in her chest.

I can’t cry. I need to stay quiet.

“I looooove games, girly girly.”

She froze.

Oh, sweet Jesus, he’s right in front of me.

“I know all sorts of games. ‘Cept I never played none of ‘em with a cripple before. You got no legs, just like me. I won’t even gotta tie you up to make babies.”

He got even nearer. She couldn’t see him, but she could sense his mass, feel his body heat.

Can he sense me as well?

“Maybe Momma will even let us get married. She’ll make us a big ol’ wedding cake.”

He’s so close.

Deb could actually feel his warm breath. It washed across her face like a foul summer wind blowing across a garbage dump. She tilted away, turning her head, crazy with fear that the floor would creak and he’d find her.