Tongue steps from the shadows by the playroom door and has my heart skipping up a notch, his blade gleaming in the light of the treatment room as he licks his tongue across the polished metal.
“You’re right, Tongue. It’s time to show this guy what happens when they fuck with us.” Reaper, Tool, Bullseye, and Tongue head toward the playroom door.
“Hey, Prez? Can I come this time?” I ask, following behind them.
Each man turns their head to look at me. Reaper lifts a brow. “I thought you took an oath?”
“I can keep him alive.”
“We don’t want him alive,” Tongue snaps at me.
“I can keep him alive so he gets prolonged punishment.”
“Didn’t know you had it in you, Doc.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Tool.”
“I’m starting to see that,” Tool adds as Reaper opens the door.
It’s the first time I’ve been in here, and I don’t think it will be the last. I’m tired of not doing what I said I would all those years ago.
I want to pick and choose who I get to save.
I don’t want to play God, but I know how to play executioner.
My jury surrounds me, and I have no doubt it’s going to be a unanimous decision to let me gut him from the neck down.
Reaper is the judge, the man who holds the power, the gavel that determines the sentence for an enemy’s life.
And this man is guilty.
“My buddy Tongue here says you know something about what happened here at my club.” Reaper slides a sharp blade across the man’s chest. “I don’t know if you knew what you were getting involved in, but you fucked up.”
“I—I—swear, I don’t know much,” the young guy stutters through a busted lip. He can’t be more than twenty-three. He still has a baby face.
“Why don’t you get to talking?” Reaper suggests, sliding the blade in the other direction on his chest. “I’m impatient today because… you see…” Reaper laughs and shakes his finger. He yanks the guy’s head back by his hair and holds the knife to his throat. He leans close to his ear as he points the knife at me. “See that man? He’s our doctor. He’s saved everyone you tried to kill. And you see that man?” Reaper jerks the man’s head to the right where Tongue is standing in the corner. “I think you know him, right? He cut all the tongues out of your friends. One word from me, and he’ll do it to you. And then you want to know what happens?”
The kid whimpers, and his eyes dart around, filling with terror and tears. The smell of dehydrated piss fills the air, and I crinkle my nose from the ammonia wafting off of it. It trickles down the drain from the slated floors, and the pipes gurgle from below.
“I’m going to have Doc here patch you up so you’re still alive, and then I’m going to have that guy…” He jerks the man’s head again until they’re staring at Bullseye. Bullseye is shining his dart and practicing his stance and aim. “I’m going to have him throw darts at you.” Reaper holds out a hand, and Bullseye gives him one of his metal darts. “Doesn’t sound too bad, right? They’re just darts.” Reaper shoves the sharp tip in the man’s thigh, and I hear the tip expand, and the teeth clench on the muscle, locking under the skin with a click.
He screams at the top of his lungs, and the metal shakes from the vibrations as Reaper tugs on the dart. “Stop! Oh, God. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know. I swear, I’ll do anything,” our prisoner sobs.
Reaper stands, patting the guy’s back as if he did a good job by giving in. Reaper pulls out a pack of cigarettes, and I frown at him. “Those things will kill you,” I say for the hundredth time.
“Yeah, so will this life.” He lights a match by striking it across the stubble on our captive’s chin, and the swaying flame glows upon Reaper’s sardonic face as he inhales on the end of the cigarette. He presses the burning end against the guy’s face, extinguishing the fire.
The smell of flesh roasting fills the air, and while it nearly makes me gag, Tongue inhales and closes his eyes as if it’s a relaxing spa scent.
The guy’s shouts for mercy fall on deaf ears, and the skin is a bubble on his cheek. “Now that we have that out of the way…” Reaper blows smoke in the guy’s face. “What’s your name? Where you from? Mom? Dad? Brother? Sister? Wife? Kids? I’m intrigued by you. I want to know everything,” Reaper drops his voice to a menacing snarl. “Because you and you’re fucking guys almost killed my family. We have women here, pregnant, and young kids. I should kill you right here and now for threatening what’s mine but seeing as you’re the only one who told Tongue the truth, I’m going to give you a chance. So speak.”
“I—I—have brothers and sisters. My name is Daniel. My parents are married. I’m from Ohio. I’m going to school for business. No wife or kids. I have O-type blood … um … my favorite color is blue. I’ve always wanted to see the desert. Oh, God, please,” he sobs. “Please, don’t kill me.”
“I could use some O-type blood,” I say with realization. I’m running low.
“I’ll… I’ll donate. I’ll be you’re blood bank for all I care, please,” he begs, grasping onto a little shimmer of hope.
“Daniel. How did you get mixed up in this? Huh? A kid like you. Future all laid out for him.” Reaper arches his palm across the air while throwing his other arm around Daniel’s shoulder. “Can’t you see it? Pretty, busty blonde, maybe a brunette, few kids, a dog. You’re one of those guys who comes home every night for dinner and makes love to his wife on a schedule. Every Wednesday and Friday. Same position. It’s boring, but you love your life.”
Bullseye cackles, throwing a dart against the board at the other side of the room.
Daniel has snot running down his nose, wetting his lips like gloss. “I needed some extra cash. School is expensive, you know? This guy offered to hire a hundred of us to shoot your place up, and if we agreed, he gave us $2,000 each. That’s it. That’s all I know. I swear.”
“Why did you all go into the casino? Did you meet a man named Maximo? Dark features, suit, rich,” Reaper asks.
“No, no, no one like that. The guy said to meet us there to get our cash. That was it. He put up these flyers around the school. Call for extra cash. It was simple, a little sketchy, but desperate times. He said the only way he’d have the cash was at the casino. That was it. That’s all I know. I swear, I swear. I’m sorry. You can take the cash. It’s in my pocket. I don’t want it. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry,” he chants and tries to rock back and forth, but he can’t because he’s strapped to the chair.
Like so many before him and so many after him.
“You think I want your damn money? Your lousy two grand?” Reaper tsks, taking the knife to Daniel’s chest. “I make that in a few hours, kid. I don’t want your money.”
“You’re going to kill me.” Daniel’s voice shakes with realization, and then he bends his head to projectile vomit everywhere.
“Fucking sick,” Tongue gags and covers his nose with his hand.