month after, but when he realized how much he missed her—and he would—he’d definitely haul ass and rescue her.
So until then she was just biding her time. She was back in her Belle Reve cage, chained to a black plastic restraint chair. A spit guard was strapped tightly to her mouth. Her forehead was belted back so she couldn’t move it.
It hurt like all kinds of hell, but that didn’t matter. Her Puddin’ was coming. She most certainly knew that.
Any time now.
Any time now.
The prison nurse hovered over her and snaked a feeding tube into her nostril. She was unable to turn her head, but then another figure stepped into view, and she saw Griggs holding up three cans of liquid nutrition. He was smiling at her.
“Looky-looky, lil’ mama. Tonight it’s your choice. Chocolate crap, strawberry crap, or vanilla crap.”
Whistle. Whistle.
Any time now, Mr. J. I’m waiting.
Harley stared daggers at Griggs. When she was free, her first order of business would be payback. Right now, though, clenched teeth and a dirty look would have to do.
Griggs leaned closer and caressed her thigh. “Why is it always a fight with you?” he asked. “I could make it nice in here. Really nice.”
Any time now, Mr. J.
Nurse Wretched, or whatever the hell her name was, connected a large syringe of the liquid nutrient to the feeding tube. She tightened its connection then squeezed the plunger. Harley shook with rage. Bubbles foamed out of her nose. She scowled at Griggs with a look so angry he involuntarily took a step back.
Any time now, Mr. J.
* * *
Floyd Lawton was trying to sleep. The nightly screams of hundreds of crazies blared through the air ducts and directly into his cell, it seemed.
Unable to sleep, he stood and paced the cell. Five steps. Turn. Five steps. Turn. Five steps… Back and forth. Back and forth. He thought about Zoe, and that he might never see her again, and he wanted to join in on the screaming. He knew better, however, than to surrender to madness. In here it was catching.
It was raining outside.
Floyd knew he wasn’t crazy. He was a stone-cold killer, but only for hire. He never thought his victims were sending messages to him through his teeth, or that the only way the voices would stop was if he wore an aluminum foil headpiece. Besides, he never even heard voices, unless they came from flesh-and-blood people.
Maybe others did, but not him.
His kills were for money. Lots of money. There was nothing personal in any of them. It was just a job—at least when he wasn’t spending his days and nights behind bars.
He watched the rain drip past his cell window. He thought of Zoe as much as he could. He worried, tossed in here, away from the world, that his memories would fade like a bad dream, but he didn’t want to forget his daughter.
* * *
Captain Griggs and his posse of guards sauntered along Belle Reve’s pipe-lined basement corridor. Dixon, his chief tough guy, kicked a food cart aside and exposed a manhole cover beneath it. Griggs gestured toward it and two of his flunkies unscrewed the bolts which held it in place, then pulled it loose.
Griggs carried a carbine with a well-worn night-vision scope. He used it to peer into the black hole.
Two evil, glowing eyes stared back.
Dixon leaned in. “Is it true he chewed a dude’s hand off?”
Gerry Moench, standing behind Dixon, waved his prosthetic hand. Dixon pulled back and looked to Griggs for help, but Griggs wasn’t the helping kind.
“Time for his dinner,” the captain said. “You know what to do.”
Dixon sucked in air, held his breath, and grabbed a goat carcass from the cart. As he tossed it down into the hole, he let the air whoosh out.
“This garbage smells like crap,” he said.
* * *
Below, in the sewer, the huge figure was locked behind bars and barbed wire. He watched the goat drop just outside the cage, into the dirty water that was flowing through the tunnel.
A large shrine made of animal bones sat to one side. A
So until then she was just biding her time. She was back in her Belle Reve cage, chained to a black plastic restraint chair. A spit guard was strapped tightly to her mouth. Her forehead was belted back so she couldn’t move it.
It hurt like all kinds of hell, but that didn’t matter. Her Puddin’ was coming. She most certainly knew that.
Any time now.
Any time now.
The prison nurse hovered over her and snaked a feeding tube into her nostril. She was unable to turn her head, but then another figure stepped into view, and she saw Griggs holding up three cans of liquid nutrition. He was smiling at her.
“Looky-looky, lil’ mama. Tonight it’s your choice. Chocolate crap, strawberry crap, or vanilla crap.”
Whistle. Whistle.
Any time now, Mr. J. I’m waiting.
Harley stared daggers at Griggs. When she was free, her first order of business would be payback. Right now, though, clenched teeth and a dirty look would have to do.
Griggs leaned closer and caressed her thigh. “Why is it always a fight with you?” he asked. “I could make it nice in here. Really nice.”
Any time now, Mr. J.
Nurse Wretched, or whatever the hell her name was, connected a large syringe of the liquid nutrient to the feeding tube. She tightened its connection then squeezed the plunger. Harley shook with rage. Bubbles foamed out of her nose. She scowled at Griggs with a look so angry he involuntarily took a step back.
Any time now, Mr. J.
* * *
Floyd Lawton was trying to sleep. The nightly screams of hundreds of crazies blared through the air ducts and directly into his cell, it seemed.
Unable to sleep, he stood and paced the cell. Five steps. Turn. Five steps. Turn. Five steps… Back and forth. Back and forth. He thought about Zoe, and that he might never see her again, and he wanted to join in on the screaming. He knew better, however, than to surrender to madness. In here it was catching.
It was raining outside.
Floyd knew he wasn’t crazy. He was a stone-cold killer, but only for hire. He never thought his victims were sending messages to him through his teeth, or that the only way the voices would stop was if he wore an aluminum foil headpiece. Besides, he never even heard voices, unless they came from flesh-and-blood people.
Maybe others did, but not him.
His kills were for money. Lots of money. There was nothing personal in any of them. It was just a job—at least when he wasn’t spending his days and nights behind bars.
He watched the rain drip past his cell window. He thought of Zoe as much as he could. He worried, tossed in here, away from the world, that his memories would fade like a bad dream, but he didn’t want to forget his daughter.
* * *
Captain Griggs and his posse of guards sauntered along Belle Reve’s pipe-lined basement corridor. Dixon, his chief tough guy, kicked a food cart aside and exposed a manhole cover beneath it. Griggs gestured toward it and two of his flunkies unscrewed the bolts which held it in place, then pulled it loose.
Griggs carried a carbine with a well-worn night-vision scope. He used it to peer into the black hole.
Two evil, glowing eyes stared back.
Dixon leaned in. “Is it true he chewed a dude’s hand off?”
Gerry Moench, standing behind Dixon, waved his prosthetic hand. Dixon pulled back and looked to Griggs for help, but Griggs wasn’t the helping kind.
“Time for his dinner,” the captain said. “You know what to do.”
Dixon sucked in air, held his breath, and grabbed a goat carcass from the cart. As he tossed it down into the hole, he let the air whoosh out.
“This garbage smells like crap,” he said.
* * *
Below, in the sewer, the huge figure was locked behind bars and barbed wire. He watched the goat drop just outside the cage, into the dirty water that was flowing through the tunnel.
A large shrine made of animal bones sat to one side. A
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