Authors: Jeff Strand
She ignored his comment. Alan chuckled and led her back into the cabin.
After she was seated on the couch again, Stephen handed her a cup. "Here's some hot chocolate for you," he said. "Some asshole forgot to bring marshmallows, but it'll warm you up."
"Thank you," Rebecca said. Thanking her kidnapper for bringing her a cup of hot cocoa was ridiculous, but it was an unbreakable habit. She probably would've thanked Adolph Hitler for a shower cap.
"So, Rebecca, do you miss your husband?" asked Stephen.
"Of course I do."
"Happy marriage? No divorce plans on the horizon?"
She shook her head.
"Good. I'm glad you like him. So let me answer the big questions that are probably on your mind. Yes, he's alive, and yes, you can have him back."
She nearly wept with relief. She didn't care how much they wanted for ransom; she'd come up with the money, somehow.
"Here's the deal," said Stephen, leaning forward. "You have to prove that you're worthy to get him back."
"How do I prove that?"
"Gary and his buddies went through an absolute nightmare. Scary, scary stuff. Now, that was always the intention, of course, but even we didn't anticipate it going as far as it did. But your hubby showed what he was made of. To be honest, he impressed the hell out of me. His buddies did all right for themselves, too, at least one of them did, though in the end...well, I don't want to give too much away. But Gary, no matter how much we messed him up, all he cared about was getting back to you."
"Is that fucked up or what?" asked Alan.
Stephen glared at him, and then returned his attention to Rebecca. "I've heard a lot of begging in my life. Hell, sometimes the pleading is the most satisfying part. Know what I usually do? I pretend to go along with it, offer a glimmer of hope that they've found my soft side, and then I laugh in their face. One woman was crying her eyes out, saying that she had a six-month-old baby at home that needed its mommy, and I honestly didn't feel a shred of remorse. It made it
more
fun to watch Alan with the hacksaw."
"You're not drinking your hot chocolate," Alan noted.
Rebecca took a sip, burning her tongue.
"So when Gary told us that he needed to get back to you, it wasn't anything I hadn't heard before, but something about the way he said it just got me in the heart. Weirdest thing I've ever experienced. People spout a lot of superficial lovey-dovey crap, but this guy loves you. He deserves you. Believe me, he deserves you. The question is, can you prove that you deserve
him
?"
Rebecca nodded frantically. "Yes. I'll do anything."
Stephen leaned back in his seat, cracked his knuckles, and smiled with satisfaction. "Then you're off to a good start. It's simple, really. All you have to do is relive his entire nightmare, step by step, minute by minute. Go everywhere he went. See everything he saw. Do everything he did. And survive it."
Rebecca gaped at him. Was he serious? "I don't understand...I can't..."
"Now, now, don't ruin that good start you had. Gary wouldn't have used the word 'can't.' Gary would have said, yes, anything for my darling wife, where do I sign? Did I mention that he's going to die a very slow, excruciating death if you don't come through for him?"
Now Rebecca's legs were shaking. "How do I know he's still alive?" she asked.
"You don't. You go on faith. Gary would have gone on faith, I bet. You'll learn as you go. Just think of the whole thing as a game. In the right frame of mind, it could even be fun."
Rebecca stared at the larger man, stunned. How could they possibly expect her to live through an ordeal that Gary barely survived? And that Scott and Doug presumably didn't survive at all? It was impossible.
"You won't let him go," she said. "I've seen what you look like. I've seen your house."
Stephen let out a surprised laugh. "Give me some credit. This shack is
not
my house. And yeah, you've seen what we look like, but that doesn't matter because we're on our way out of the country. Consider this our farewell party."
"I don't believe you."
"Then leave. Leave now. But let me tell you, they won't find your husband anytime in the near future. And when they do, they'll be too busy puking their guts out to put him in the body bag. Make you a deal, though. If you get through the first part of the morning, the easy part, we'll throw you a bone. How's that sound?"
Rebecca shook her head. "I want the proof now."
"Well, you don't get the proof now. You go on faith or he dies. I will, however, be more than happy to provide you with proof when he's dead. Do you think you could identify one of his ribs?"
Rebecca looked into his eyes. Stephen wasn't kidding. He really did intend for her to relive Gary's weekend.
She couldn't possibly make it through this.
But she couldn't possibly refuse.
"All right," she said. "I'll do it."
"Great!" exclaimed Stephen. "That saves us having to shoot you right here. Now, we still have some more work to do, so my partner and I have a long night ahead of us. You, on the other hand, need some rest, so we'll be taking you to the guest bedroom. I apologize in advance for the quality of the mattress, and for having to lock you in the room, but some things just can't be helped."
* * *
The room was empty save for the bed, lacking even a window. The wood looked good and strong--she didn't see any way she could break through it. There were several locks on the outside of her door, and she'd heard them all slide shut, so there wasn't much chance of getting out that way.
There'd been some shouting, though she couldn't make out the words, and then she'd heard a car drive away. She still heard occasional footsteps. Even if it was possible to get through the door, it certainly wasn't possible to do it quietly enough not to get caught by whichever one of the kidnappers was still in the cabin.
The smart thing to do was climb in bed, do everything she possibly could to put this whole horrific situation out of her mind, and try to sleep. She didn't know what was going to happen to her tomorrow, but she'd certainly be better equipped to deal with it with a full night's rest.
She climbed in bed, got under a blanket that smelled of mildew, and closed her eyes. She couldn't cry anymore, and her mind was racing so furiously that it exhausted her.
She fell asleep.
CHAPTER SIX
In her dream, Rebecca prodded her dead husband as he lay sprawled on their bed, blood trickling from his eyes. "Gary, it's time to wake up," she said, shaking his shoulder. "Gary? Gary...?"
"Gary...?" repeated Alan, gently tapping her cheek. "Gary, you're going to be late for your camping trip."
Her eyes flew open. Alan hovered over her, waving a handheld alarm clock that read 6:30. "C'mon, Gary, it's time to get up. You don't want to keep Scott and Doug waiting, do you?"
It took her a few seconds to fully awaken and realize what he was talking about. This was too bizarre. He couldn't possibly be serious, could he?
Alan grinned. "Just kidding. We're not taking it
that
far. But you still have a schedule to keep, so up and at 'em. We've got some clothes for you." He pointed to a pair of jeans and a red sweater that lay draped over the foot of the bed. "You owe me."
"Thank you," Rebecca said.
"Get dressed. I'll be back in five minutes with a grape jelly-covered bagel. Remember, like Stephen said, just think of this as a game. That'll keep you out of the loony bin, though maybe not out of the cemetery."
She wanted nothing more than to let loose and punch the smug bastard. If he was caught off guard, she might even be able to bring him to the ground, bash his head against the floor a few times, and force him to tell where they were keeping Gary.
Or not.
Alan left the room and closed the door behind him. She got up and quickly dressed, then sat on the edge of the bed to wait. If only there was something,
anything
, in the room to use as a weapon. But what was she going to do, overpower them with her slippers?
Another knock at the door, and this time it was Stephen who entered the room, holding the plate with the bagel. He adjusted his glasses and looked her over. "Get a good night's sleep?"
Rebecca shrugged.
"Don't have much of a personality, do you? Oh well, not your fault, I guess." He extended the plate toward her. "Here's breakfast."
She wasn't the least bit hungry, but she stood up and took the plate from him anyway. Stephen gestured for her to sit back down on the bed.
"I'm not the kind of person who likes to bog things down with a lot of rules and regulations," Stephen explained, standing in the center of the room. "So we're going to keep this simple. Like I said, it'll pretty much be a 'learn as you go' experience. You can bail out whenever you want, and the only penalty will be that your husband dies a torturous, ghastly, agonizing, miserable, messy death. Something wrong with your bagel?"
"No," said Rebecca, shaking her head.
"Then eat up. You'll need the energy."
She forced herself to take a bite. Even with the thick layer of grape jelly, the bagel was dry in her mouth.
"So there's really only one major rule," said Stephen. "Absolutely no police involvement. If the cops get involved, then you're no longer following in Gary's footsteps, and you've lost. If you purposely get other people involved that you're not supposed to, that'll cost you Gary's life, too. Understand?"
Rebecca nodded as she strained to swallow her first bite of bagel.
"Say 'I understand.' It makes you seem more human."
"I understand."
"Much better. Hurry up and finish eating. The car's all packed and ready to go."
* * *
Gary's car was parked outside the cabin. As they walked out the front door, Stephen handed her Gary's set of keys, which were easily identifiable by the Homer Simpson keychain. They'd also provided her with a pair of tennis shoes and a leather jacket. It wasn't as heavy as she'd like, but it would definitely keep some of the outdoor chill away.
"As soon as you hit the main highway, open the glove compartment," Stephen told her.
"Don't peek early," said Alan.
"That's right. Realize that we'll be listening and watching, and that we aren't the only ones participating in this little game. So think about that before you try anything that your hubby wouldn't have done."
"When do I get to talk to him?" Rebecca asked.
"I never said you did," said Stephen.
"Yes you did!"
"No. I said we'd prove that he was alive. That may or may not involve speaking to him, and I don't want to spoil any of the surprises." Stephen patted her on the shoulder. "If you make it far enough, you'll get the reassurance you need to keep going. I promise."
The promise of a psychopath like Stephen didn't mean much to Rebecca, but she said nothing. They walked her over to the car, as Alan whistled a happy tune. She recognized Gary's camping supplies in the back seat and again had to fight back tears.