was another note at the bottom of the box.
HAVE FUN
Georgia smiled.
A rat this large wouldn’t die right away. If Georgia restrained herself, it would be good for a few hours of entertainment.
“Hello, little friend,” Georgia told the rat, reaching for the latch with greedy fingers. “Would you like to play?”
Cindy opened her eyes. She hadn’t been asleep. Just sitting with her back against the bars, resting, conserving her energy. Exhausted as she was, Cindy didn’t know if she would ever be able to sleep again. Or if she’d have the chance to.
There was light coming in through the window, enough to illuminate the cells. She glanced over at Tyrone, who was staring at her. They were still holding hands.
“How you doin’?” he asked.
“This motel sucks. No room service. No cable TV. And the bathroom is seriously lacking.”
“You need to pee, I can turn away.”
She shifted her bad shoulder and gave his hand a squeeze, regretting it when she saw him grimace.
“I’m okay. You wanna hear something funny?”
“Hells yeah. Could use somethin’ funny right ‘bout now.”
“I haven’t thought about meth in hours. This is the first time, for as long as I can remember, that I haven’t had any urge to get high.”
“Cool. Sounds like you beat it.”
“You think?”
“Yeah. You’re strong. I always knew that about you.”
Cindy felt herself blush, but it was a good feeling, not an embarrassing one.
“How’s your hand?”
“Hurts. It started to scab over, but now every time I move it, starts to bleed again.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Won’t stop me from beatin’ the fuck out of whoever opens my cell door.”
Cindy smiled, gave his hand a much gentler squeeze.
“We gonna get outta here, Cindy. I promise.”
“Good morning.”
Cindy and Tyrone looked toward the staircase at the far end of the room, following the sound of that familiar, effeminate voice.
Tom noticed too, and began to make a high pitched, keening sound.
Lester strolled up to them slowly, casually. He was holding a broomstick.
“Today is a big day. The meeting with the important people. Lester needs the boys and the girl to behave.”
He reached into his bib overalls and removed a pair of handcuffs.
“Lester wants to know the black boy’s name.”
Tyrone said nothing. Lester raised up his broomstick, and Cindy saw it had a nail sticking out of the end. He aimed it at Tyrone.
“His name is Tyrone,” she quickly said. “He’s Tyrone, I’m Cindy.”
Lester tossed the handcuffs into Tyrone’s cell. They made a jingling sound when they hit the floor.
“The Tyrone boy needs to put the handcuffs on, behind his back.”
“Fuck you, you ugly, buck-toothed mutha fucker.”
Before Cindy had a chance to yell, “No!” Lester had jabbed Tyrone on the hip with the nail. Tyrone recoiled, making a small grunting noise.
“The Tyrone boy will put on the handcuffs.”
“You hear me the first time?” Tyrone said through his teeth. “Fuck. You.”
Lester jabbed him again, this time aiming for Tyrone’s crotch. The teen shifted and managed to deflect the strike, instead getting pierced in the thigh.
“Tyrone, baby, honey, please put them on.” Cindy ran her hand over his head, willing him to listen. “Please, Tyrone, for me, just do it.”
Lester raised the stick again. Tyrone scowled at him, then reached for the handcuffs.
“I’ll help you.” Cindy put her arms through the bars, cinching the cuffs loosely on his wrists.
“Now the Cindy girl will put on the handcuffs.”
Lester tossed her a pair, and she dutifully snicked them on behind her back.
“Let Lester see.”
She scooted over, showing him. Lester walked off, moving to Tom’s cell.
“The Tom boy puts on the handcuffs.”
The cuffs jangled the concrete floor.
“My finger, it’s, it’s all messed up,” Tom said. He had the hiccups. “I can’t put them on.”
Lester thrust out the broomstick, poking Tom in the stomach.
“The Tom boy puts on the handcuffs.”
“Jesus! Stop it! I can’t do it!”
Lester jabbed him again, this time in the leg.
“The Tom boy puts on the handcuffs.”
Tom reached for the cuffs, then moaned. “I can’t get them open.”
Lester hit him in the ribs this time.
“The Tom boy puts on the handcuffs.”
“Tom!” Cindy had her face pressed to the bars. “Tom, just put them on!”
“I’m trying.”
Lester stabbed Tom in the ribs, and he made a sound like tires screeching.
“The Tom boy puts on the handcuffs.”
“Tom, for God’s sake!” Cindy yelled. “Put on the goddamn cuffs!”
Slowly, painfully slowly, Tom managed to lock one bracelet across his left wrist, and get his hands behind his back. Cindy watched, intent but also repulsed at the site of his damaged finger.
“You can do it, Tom,” she urged. “Don’t give up.”
Tom was shaking like mad, still hiccupping, but he managed to finesse the second cuff on.
“Show Lester.”
Tom got to his knees, letting the man see his hands. Lester raised the stick again.
“No!” Cindy cried.
In rapid succession, Lester jabbed Tom four more times. He was raising back for a fifth when Cindy said, “Lester.”
Lester turned to look at her. He was grinning, a thin streak of drool running down his chin.
“Don’t,” Tyrone told Cindy under his breath.
But it was too late. Lester was coming over.
“Is the Cindy girl jealous that the Tom boy is getting all the attention?”
Cindy looked at Lester, then at the nail on the stick, which was glistening with Tom’s blood.
“I just, uh, had a question, Lester. You said we’re meeting important people today. Who are we meeting?”
“It’s a surprise,” Lester said.
“But these people are important?”
“Very important.”
“And you said we need to behave. But if you keep poking us with that stick, we won’t be able to behave. We won’t even be able to move. Is that what you want?”
Lester seemed to think about it, then slowly shook his head.
