been mistaken for nothing more than the warmth of the rising sun expanding the old wood. Approaching the door on the opposite side of the room, Matt turned the knob so slowly that he almost seemed like a cat burglar trying to gain entrance. Pressing one hand against the door, he opened it carefully so that the creaking of hinges wouldn’t give them away.
The room on the other side was much darker and emptier than the one they’d been held captive in. Rather than smelling of lilacs and body powder, this one had an almost coppery, salty aroma in the air. Mixed with this was a stench that reminded Mona of the time their toilet had been clogged for nearly three days: something like shit and stale piss tainted the air and, as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she noticed the sole piece of furniture in the room for the first time.
It was a large, butcher block table that looked as though its legs had been bolted to the floor by a series of metal fixtures. A naked woman leaned across the table with her hands stretched out in front of her and she seemed to be placing all of her body weight into her torso. Even so, her buckled knees trembled and Mona wondered for a moment why the woman simply didn’t sit down upon the floor. She looked pale and tired and the skin drooped from her frame as if she’d lost a lot of weight in a very short period of time. But there was something else… a series of dark lines marred her skin almost to the point that it looked as though her emaciated body had been used to draw clusters of tic-tac-toe boards onto her flesh.
“What the fuck is this?”
At the sound of Matt’s voice, the oily mass of tangles that was the woman’s hair turned slightly. She glanced over her shoulder and her eyes grew round as she saw the couple in the doorway. Tears streamed from the corner and she mumbled excitedly into the same sort of gag that Matt and Mona had come to know all too well.
Matt walked across the room as if the woman might leap toward him at any second. With steps as slow and deliberate as a big game hunter, he circled around the table while his eyes took in every detail.
“Oh shit, sweetie… her hands have been nailed to the table. She’s cut up bad, too.”
Mona stayed in the doorway and looked back into the room they’d came out, listening for the key to rattle in the door once again. The Exacto knife was leveled in front of her and, if her husband’s words had any impact on her at all, it was not betrayed by the hard expression that was chiseled onto her face.
“Looks like this bitch has been kept here a while.”
The woman probably thought she was thrashing about, but—in her weakened state—she looked more like a fish that had been thrown onto the bank for far too long and was in the final stages of its death throes. She continued babbling into the ball gag and her eyes almost seemed to plead with Matt, who squatted down next to her.
“Look, I’m going to take that gag out, okay? But you have to stay quiet. That old lady? She doesn’t know we’re free yet. And we want to keep it that way, okay? You understand?”
The woman nodded her head as tears glistened on her hollow cheeks.
“Okay… I’m taking the gag off, now.”
Standing, Matt slid the straps through the buckle on the back of the woman’s head and plopped the ball from her mouth. Almost immediately, loud sobs burst from her mouth like water from a crumbled damn. Matt slapped his hand over the woman’s lips so hard that her head snapped backward. Even then, her words kept bubbling up like the snot that was beginning to leak from her noise.
“Look,” he hissed, “I told you… stay quiet. I mean it, okay? I’m not fucking around here, you understand?”
The woman sniffled and nodded her head again as she tried to blink away her tears.
“You sure? Because I’m serious… you only get one more chance, honey.”
More nodding.
Matt eased his hand away from the woman’s mouth, ready to clamp it back down if he had to. But this time the lady with the nails in her hands stayed true to her word. Her voice was nothing more than a whimper that hitched and quivered with tears.
“Crazy, they’re all crazy, please get me out of here, please, please, please.”
“Shhhh… it’s okay… shhhh….”
From outside the house an engine rumbled, causing Mona to spin around as quickly as a ballerina. She now faced the locked door in the other room again as she held the Exacto knife in front of her like a swordsman preparing for battle.
“Cop’s leaving.” She whispered. “I figure that old hag will wait until he’s well out of sight before….”
“Cop? There’s a cop here? What’s wrong you with, you people? There’s a cop!”
Darlene’s eyes darted from Matt to Mona and then back to Matt again. Both of them stared at her silently, almost as if it had never crossed their minds that maybe, perhaps, they could simply yell for help. That all of this could be over, that they could go home, be free…
“Help m….”
The scream that had begun to erupt from Darlene’s mouth was cut short as Matt’s hand slapped over her lips again with a sharp crack. She tried to shake her head free, but he pressed his palm even more tightly against her face and braced his other hand against the back of her head.
“Now, I told you, damn it. One more chance. I told you, didn’t I?”
Darlene sank her teeth into Matt’s flesh and he winced but made no move to yank his hand away.
“Stupid fucking bitch.”
Without another word, he pushed the woman’s jaw in one direction and jerked her head in the other with a violent twist. There was a sharp snapping sound, almost like a wishbone being pulled apart at Thanksgiving, and then he allowed Darlene’s body to limply slump toward the ground. Only the nails in her hands kept her from collapsing like a discarded rag doll as her unblinking eyes stared into eternity.
For Darlene Honnicker, the agony of her torture had finally come to and end….
SCENE NINE
The added weight of the car being towed behind them made it seem as if the scenery were slowly scrolling by and the vehicles simply sitting still. This illusion was enhanced even more for Daryl, who sat in the driver’s seat of the wrecked Honda. Without the rumble of an engine, the interior of the car was eerily silent and he found himself wishing he were in the cab of the truck with his brother. Not to mention that it would be warmer up there. The motor of the car was completely shot, which meant the heater was out as well. Even with his layers of clothing, Daryl could still feel the cold upholstery of the seat seep into his back and ass and his teeth chattered between clouds of breath. Every few moments, he had to lean forward and wipe the frost from the inside of the windshield with his arm, but other than that his part in the operation was monotonous.
Basically, all he had to do was watch for the brake lights of the truck to wink at him and apply pressure to the pedal in the car as well. A few small adjustments were required with the wheel, but for the most part the chain that connected the two vehicles made this a simple task. Which was perfect, seeing as how Daryl had never actually learned to drive. However, this lack of participation also gave the mustachioed man ample time to think… and his mind turned, time and time again, to the book that sat on the passenger seat beside him.
He glanced at it for what must have been the hundredth time in the past five minutes. That worn leather cover, the elegant handwriting, and those three seemingly innocent words: Mona’s Secret Delights. A chill coursed along his spine that had nothing to do with the sub-zero temperatures within the car and his stomach felt as if it had turned into a writhing knot of worms. Earl had said he was just being a little baby, that the book was obviously some kind of joke; but, at the same time, Daryl’s older brother certainly hadn’t put up much of an argument against going straight home and disposing of the car later.
“Everything’s gonna be okay.” He said aloud. “It’s gonna be right as rain, you’ll see.”
The quiver in his voice, however, betrayed the fact the he was trying to talk himself into accepting what he secretly believed to be a lie.
Mona’s Secret Delights.
He looked at the book again and his thoughts immediately turned to Mama. Sometimes, he woke up in the middle of the night with the remnants of a dream still clinging to his consciousness like a tenacious rottweiler. He’d
