We got in the car. I took the front seat and Tina sat in the back. Mr. Martin turned on the engine and we sat there for a few minutes, waiting for it to warm up. Then he turned the car around and we drove back to Chena Hot Springs Road.
“It’s not all that far,” said Mr. Martin, making a left turn when we reached the paved road, which would take us further away from Fairbanks. “You’ll be reunited with them pretty soon.”
I said nothing.
Mr. Martin chuckled. “Ah, the optimism of youth. I wish I were young again.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You think you can still get out of this. I would be wallowing in nihilism and despair. But you, you actually believe that you’re going to save your parents and have a happy ending with your girlfriend back there. It’s cute. Delusional, but cute. I like it. Looking forward to extinguishing it.”
A few miles later, he turned onto a plowed road without a street sign.
After a long and winding path, he pulled up in front of a small log cabin. Smoke billowed from a chimney. Another car was parked in front of it. Mr. Martin shut off the engine.
“Here we are,” he said.
I opened my door.
“Wait, hold on,” said Mr. Martin. “Not yet. Have either of you ever visited a prison? I don’t mean to visit a family member who held up a convenience store or something, I mean actually toured the inside of a prison.”
“No,” I said.
“You?” he asked Tina.
“No.”
“Well, what happens is that they have this rule that if somehow you are unlucky enough to be taken hostage, they will not release the prisoner. The prisoner can have a sharpened spoon to your throat and threaten to spray your blood all over Cell Block B, and they aren’t going to open that door. It seems cold-hearted, but it makes perfect sense. You don’t want prisoners thinking they can escape by taking hostages. The official policy of the United States of America is that we don’t negotiate with terrorists. Oh, we’ll talk to them, but we won’t give them anything in exchange for releasing hostages from a hijacked plane. Again, if terrorists know that we will not cave in to their demands, no matter what, they won’t bother trying. Do you get the point I’m trying to make here, Curtis?”
“Don’t try to take you hostage?”
“Exactly! Smart kid. My buddy will not release your parents in exchange for my life. If you try it, he’ll just laugh at you. I’m glad I didn’t have to explain that to you.”
“Can I get out of the car now?” I asked.
“In a second. My friend’s name is Griffin.”
“Okay.”
“Kind of weird that I told you that, huh? It gives you extra information in case you try to snitch on us. It’s almost like, if you really try to read into it, I’m not worried about you knowing things that you could use against us. Hmmm. Do you get that point, Curtis?”
“Yes.”
“The optimism of youth again. I’ve basically told you that you will not be coming out of that log cabin. And yet you’re still going to come with me to try to save your parents, aren’t you? Of course you are. Again, I wish I could find my own inner delusional child.”
Part of me—a very small part—did think that I should throw open the door, shout “Run!” and see if Tina and I could successfully flee. Mr. Martin didn’t seem particularly worried about that outcome. Maybe that’s what he wanted—a chance to chase us through the woods. To hunt us.
Or maybe he thought I wouldn’t leave my parents to die a horrible death.
If so, he was absolutely correct.
We all got out of the car.
“How do I know they’re in there?” I asked.
“I could bring out a head or two, if you want.”
“I mean it. I know you say that you never bluff, but for all I know they’re perfectly safe at home. I’m not going to be stupid enough to just walk into a trap.”
“I hear you,” said Mr. Martin. He walked over to the front door, knocked twice, then opened it. “Hey, Griffin, it’s me! Yeah, I’ve got him. Plus a bonus. But he wants proof.”
Mr. Martin turned back to face me. “You’d recognize your mother’s scream, right?”
A piercing scream came from inside the house.
I’d never heard her scream in pain like that, but it was definitely Mom.
23
Tina and I followed Mr. Martin through the front door.
“Take off your jackets and stay a while,” he said.
I shook my head. “We’re fine.”
“I said, take off your jackets. Boots too. You can leave on your hat so that we don’t have to look at that gory wound on your head.”
Tina and I took off our jackets and boots. Mr. Martin didn’t offer to take them for us, so we set them on the floor. Inside, the cabin looked just like a regular house except for the log walls. It was nice and toasty warm. I wondered how Ed and the others were doing.
“I’d give you the grand tour, but I know who you’re here to see. Let’s go.”
We followed Mr. Martin down a staircase into the basement.
There was a roaring fire going in a small fireplace. That was the only pleasant sight in the basement.
Griffin was down there. It was indeed the same guy who’d broken into my house and threatened me. Not that I’d doubted it would be, but it wouldn’t have surprised me to find out that Mr. Martin’s social circle included more than one other killer.
There were two beds, side by side. Mom was chained to one and Dad was chained to the other. It wasn’t
