Читать книгу Barry and the Vampire in the Rosedale Encounter - Darrell Bartell - Страница 13

The pain swirling around inside his head made Barry feel like he had been run over by a train—twice. With his vision slowly returning to normal, he lay on the ground, trying to survey his surroundings.

The fading sunlight stretched across the warehouse floor. An odor of spoiled meat mixed with vapors of diesel fuel polluted the air. In the shadows, he could make out the Dodge parked next to a cargo van at the other end. Barry sat up and discovered his wrists chained to a cinder block wall. The homemade iron shackles cut deep into his skin when he reached up to feel the back of his head. The bruise hurt, but he wasn’t bleeding. Out of reach, he saw Casey lying motionless with her back to him. A few feet away from her, a five-by-five-foot steel cage was elevated above the floor on a wooden stand of makeshift pallets. Someone’s voice whimpered out to him from within the cage.

“Mister, are you okay? Mister, can you hear me?”

Barry shook his head and narrowed his eyes to adjust to the light. It only increased the pain. “Do I look okay?”

The voice didn’t reply. Barry knew that if they were going to get out alive, he needed information. “Hey, what’s your name?”

She hesitated. “Lashonda.”

The name brought a glimmer of hope.

“What’s yours?” she asked.

“Barry.” He took a moment to let the pain in his head subside. “Lashonda, how did you get here?”

The frightened eight-year-old whispered her story. Her parents wouldn’t let her go swimming this morning. When they went to check out of the hotel, she asked to go to the bathroom. Instead, Lashonda sneaked outside. Next thing she remembered, she woke up inside the cage.

“Did you see who took you?”

“No.”

That didn’t make sense.

“But I saw who chained you up. He’s a really big man. The biggest I’ve ever seen,” Lashonda said.

He glanced over at Casey. “Do you know why my friend isn’t chained up?”

“The man got real scared when he couldn’t wake her. He thinks she’s dead. Is she dead?”

Barry didn’t know how to answer the question, since he wasn’t sure if Casey’s condition could be permanent. “Lashonda, I don’t want you to worry. We’re going to get out of here.”

“No, we’re not. We’re going to die,” she sobbed.

“Lashonda, I need you to be strong. Can you do that?”

She smeared away the tears running down her cheeks and whispered, “I’ll try.”

“Good girl.” Still fighting a possible concussion, he remembered something his dad had told him on a camping trip.

“Son, no matter what, survival is an important word to learn. Each letter of the word stands for another word.”

Barry recalled the lecture and took inventory: “Size up the situation, undue haste makes waste, remember where you are, vanquish fear and panic, improvise, value living, act like the natives, and learn basic skills.”

Right now, vanquishing fear and panic and valuing life were at the top of his list. He wasn’t accustomed to fighting for his life, let alone a dehydrated vampire’s or an eight-year-old girl’s, but if he didn’t, Barry knew he would end up on a missing person’s website, like thousands of others.

“He’s coming. He’s coming,” Lashonda warned, before she scurried to the rear of her prison.

Barry heard awkward footsteps come out of the darkness. The huge man, wearing coveralls, a plaid shirt, and work boots, approached the makeshift jail carrying a metal pipe and looked inside.

“I see you.” Using the pipe, he banged on the door a few times before looking at Barry.

The teenager tried to stay focused, remembering his dad’s advice, but his head and heart pounded in unison with his heightened anxiety.

“Hi, Barry. That’s your name, isn’t it?”

The question caught him off guard. “How’d you know my name?”

“I heard you and Lashonda.” The man stumbled over his words. “I like Lashonda. She’s pretty.”

Is he a pedophile? wondered Barry. Something seemed odd about the eyes.

“Can I ask your name?”

“I can’t tell you. My paw-paw said I shouldn’t talk to the toys.”

“Toys?”

“Uh-huh. Paw-Paw has fun playing with toys.”

Barry didn’t like the direction of this conversation.

“Why is she dead?” he pointed to Casey.

“I don’t know. Did you hurt her?” Barry grimaced in pain as the man poked him in the ribs with the pipe.

“I didn’t hurt her. Paw-Paw told me not to hurt anybody if I can help it.” He gave Barry a couple more jabs.

“Enough already. I get it! I get it!” he screamed.

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t if you make me mad. You don’t want me to get mad.” He wasn’t kidding. “M-A-D. That spells mad.”

“Oh, boy.” That confirmed Barry’s suspicions. “What about something to drink? Don’t the toys get water?”

“No. Paw-Paw said not to give them any food or anything to drink.”

“Why not?”

“Paw-Paw said it’s better that way. Paw-Paw knows best.”

“And television. Don’t we get to watch television?” Barry saw the man look up, trying to remember.

“Well, no. The other toys didn’t ask about television. They just wanted me to let them go.”

Barry kept obtaining information. “Are there other toys here?”

“Oh no. Once my paw-paw is done, he makes me get rid of them. See.” The mentally challenged man pointed toward the other side of the warehouse.

It hurt, but Barry tilted his head to the left and observed a couple of backpacks, a suitcase, some purses, and wallets stacked along the wall. The sight should have caused Barry to want his inhaler. Instead, it gave him an idea.

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“It does too.” The huge man smiled. “Proves I’m smart. Everybody thought I was dumb, but I’m not. I’m real smart.”

Barry kept him talking. “You caught me fair and square and it takes a pretty bright guy to put this together. Chains fastened to the wall and a steel cage. Did you make all this yourself?”

“Oh no, Paw-Paw built it, but I helped.”

Barry’s idea was paying off. The more he kept the brute talking, the more information he could use to figure out an escape. “How long have you known your paw-paw?”

“Gosh! I’m not sure. Maybe a year. We met at one of his meetings.”

“Oh, what meeting?”

“I can’t tell you that. He takes good care of me.” The brute reached into the pocket of his coveralls. “Paw-Paw even bought me this fancy key chain. See. This is the key to Lashonda’s cage. These three keys are to the warehouse, this is the key to the van, and this fancy key is the one to your chains.”

A car horn honking outside the warehouse interrupted the conversation.

“That’s Paw-Paw. Now you get to meet him.” The simple-minded man briskly trotted to the far end of the warehouse.

It was rare, but child predators had been known to work in pairs. Rarer still was when one had the IQ of a cinder block. Barry deduced the sadistic savage didn’t know the difference between right and wrong. He was only doing what he’d been told. Barry hadn’t figured out an escape, but he had located the keys and that was more than he had since he and Casey got into this mess. He knew what the backpacks, wallets, and other items piled together meant. They belonged to the previous victims, but he didn’t intend to join them.

But first, Barry was about to meet the other half of this murderous duo, providing he didn’t pass out.