rays as possible. He couldn’t explain why, but there was something about the sunshine that made him feel good about himself, something that made him feel healthy.
Those views quickly changed as he baked in the Devil’s Box.
“What the hell was I thinking?” he moaned. “Winter is so much better than this.”
With his uncovered forearm, Payne tried to wipe the large beads of sweat that had formed on his cheeks and forehead. Unfortunately, since his hands were shackled to a metal loop in the floor, it was impossible, requiring the flexibility of a triple-jointed circus freak.
“Snow, ice, hypothermia. That stuff sounds
good!”
When Payne was initially dragged across the length of the island and up the slope of the hill, he wasn’t sure what to expect. The possibility of a lynching entered his mind, but for some reason, he had a hunch that the Plantation was more about torture than death. He wanted to ask the guards who were towing him, but the four men weren’t speaking English, mumbling instead in an African dialect.
After reaching the hill’s summit, Payne was actually relieved when he saw the Devil’s Box. No guillotine, no electric chair, no gas chamber. Just a box, a simple four-foot wooden box that had been anchored to the ground. Shoot, he figured, how bad could it be?
Then they opened it.
The figure that emerged was something from a horror movie, a grotesquely deformed zombie breaking from the constraints of his wooden tomb. Haggard and obviously dehydrated, the man’s skin practically hung from his bones, like a suit that was two sizes too large. Payne wanted to turn from the scene-no sense getting a mental picture of the personal horror that was to come-but he knew it would be a mistake. He had to study the prisoner, investigate the guards, analyze the device. He needed to know what may be in store for him, if there were any loopholes in the system. It was the only way he could plan an escape.
The first thing Payne noticed was the prisoner’s size. Despite his malnutrition, the man was quite large. It took three guards to lift his massive frame from the tiny device, and even then it took a concerted effort. In fact, the prisoner was so big, Payne was amazed that the guards had been able to squeeze him into the cube to begin with. His limbs seemed too thick, too long to contort into such a confined space, but it brought Payne some optimism. He figured if they could fit the giant in there, then there should be plenty of room to maneuver.
Once hauled from the box, the victim tried to stand on his own, but it was a foolish mistake. He had been imprisoned far too long to stand unaided. Atrophy and disorientation took over, forcing him to the ground with a sickening thud, his once-proud body melting into the rocky soil that surrounded him.
The memories of the tortured man, shivering and trembling at the feet of the guards, made Payne flinch. So much so that it snapped him back to the real world.
He had been in the device for several hours, and the intense heat of the Louisiana sun was already forcing his mind to wander. And he knew things would only get worse as time wore on. The more he sweat, the more dehydration would occur. The more dehydration, the higher his body temperature. The more heat, the more illusions. And so on. It was a vicious ride, one that he desperately wanted to avoid.
“Hello!” he yelled, hoping to find a savior. “Can anybody hear me?”
But the only reply was the sound of the breeze as it coyly danced around the Devil’s Box.
Payne leaned his head against the oaken interior and stared at the bright sky above. The tiny slits of the lid’s lattice pattern gave him a limited view of the world, but he wasn’t about to complain. He figured things could be worse. He could be rotting in a freshly dug grave right about now. Still, his current situation didn’t offer much hope.
At least until he heard the sound.
At first, Payne thought it was his imagination playing tricks on him, his lack of liquid causing the synapses of his brain to misfire. A heat-induced hallucination. But then he heard it a second time. And a third. Each more clear than the last. The sound, like a memory coming into focus, grew more distinct with each occurrence. Hazy, then muffled, then clear.
It was footsteps, the sound of footsteps.
Someone was coming.
Payne stretched his neck as far as it could reach, trying to peer through the intricate grate of the Devil’s Box. But the tiny slits in the device prevented it.
“Who’s there?” Payne called. “Hey, I’m in the box. Can you give me a hand?”
But there was no reply. In fact, the only sound that he heard was the whistling wind as it whipped over the crest of the hill, which was baffling to Payne. He knew he had heard movement only seconds before. No doubt about it. Someone was definitely out there.
In order to listen effectively, Payne turned his head to the left and placed his ear against the grate. From this position he hoped to hear things clearer, praying that it would somehow make a difference. And it did. Despite the constant rumble of the wind, Payne was able to hear the sound again. But what the hell was it? It was loud, then quiet. Close, then distant. It sounded like breathing, labored breathing, like a fat man’s in aerobics class.
“Hello,” Payne yelled, his voice cracking from thirst. “Who’s out there? I want to know who I’m talking to.”
After a short pause, the movement started again, this time with calculated strides. But instead of approaching the box, the footsteps circled it, like a hawk examining its prey, patiently waiting for its moment to strike. Payne took a deep gulp, pondering the possibilities.
What the hell was going on?
To find out, he shoved his ear closer to the grate, his lobe actually sticking through one of the air holes in the box. Someone was out there. Payne could hear him. Breathing and footsteps, nothing but breathing and footsteps. Why wouldn’t he say something? Someone was circling the device, faster and faster, building himself into a frenzy. What was this guy doing? Payne strained to catch a glimpse of him, struggled for any clue, but the only thing he could hear was breathing and footsteps, multiple footsteps.
Then it dawned on him.
“Oh, shit!” he screamed, pulling his head from the lid a split second before the attack.
The beast, a snarling mixture of teeth and sinew, landed on top of the box. Drool sprayed from its mouth like it was a rabid coyote. Hoping to get inside, the animal clawed and chewed at the sturdy lid, but the device held firm.
For the first time all day, Payne was happy to be inside the box. He was actually thrilled that the contraption was so damn sturdy. Crouching as low as he could, he tucked his head between his legs like a passenger anticipating an airplane crash. As he did, he felt the creature’s saliva coating the back of his neck with drop after drop of slobber.
“Close your mouth, you drooling bitch!”
With his heart pounding furiously, Payne twisted his neck, hoping to identify the animal without getting in harm’s way. He wasn’t sure if it was a wolf or a dog, but it was, without question, the sleekest animal he had ever seen. Covered in a sheer white coat, the level back and lean muscular frame of the creature glistened in the bright sun as it frantically clawed at the Devil’s Box, trying to rip Payne into tender, bite-sized morsels. Its face, thin and angular, revealed a full set of spiked teeth, each quite capable of inflicting serious damage, and a pink nose, one of the few instances of color on the entire beast. The most prominent of its features, besides its ferocity and propensity for drool, were its ears. Long and light pink, they stood at attention like an antenna on an old TV.
As the attack continued, Payne gained confidence in the cube’s sturdiness, which allowed him to take a relaxing breath. If the animal had somehow entered the box, Payne realized he would’ve been screwed. Since his hands were bolted to the floor and his legs were severely restricted, he wouldn’t have had a chance to defend himself.
“Bad doggie!” Payne yelled, cowering from the lid. “Go home! Return to Satan!”
Surprisingly, the command worked. Just as quickly as the attack had started, it stopped. The animal suddenly leapt from the box and scurried away.
Payne’s eyes grew wide from the surprising turn of events. He had never expected his request to work. In fact, he’d said it simply in jest. “Wow! Is my breath that bad?”
Before he could answer his own question, a voice interrupted him.
