Into an Unseen Distance and Other Tales

“Hey, man,” he yelled, “there’s no blood getting to my hands and feet. I’ll get gangrene.”

“Then you’ll get gangrene,” I replied. “And if you raise your voice again, I’ll shoot you in the foot. That’ll relieve the pressure.”

For his situation, he was remarkably calm.

“John, give me your gun.”

He handed it over.

“Mike, bring that dining room chair into the kitchen. John, drag him over and sit him in the chair.”

I was amazed at the effortlessness with which John placed him in the chair. The man weighed at least two-twenty.

“What are you going to do, Jack?” John asked.

The thug was smiling confidently, like the cavalry was coming.

“I’m going to torture this man,” I said, looking into his eyes. “I’m going to torture him so savagely, we’ll have to dispose of his body. Jerry, see if there’s some tape around here. We’ll have to muffle his screams.”

The confident look left the thug’s eyes. Jerry returned with duct tape.

“A million uses,” he said, “and found in every home.”

“Look, motherfucker,” the thug said unsteadily, “you fuck with me and you’re—”

I pistol-whipped his face as hard as I could. The blow knocked him off the chair. John gave me a questioning look.

“Pick him back up, John,” I ordered. “Jerry, get me another lamp cord. Make it two. I don’t want him falling out of the chair. John might get a strain.”

Jerry returned with the cords. His look was uncertain.

“John, put him back like before. Jerry, lash him to the chair. Make sure he’s secure.”

Once he was tied, John grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. The thug’s mouth opened and his eyes widened in pain. John was enjoying himself.

“What are you gonna do, Jack?” asked Jerry. “Don’t let this go too far.”

I looked him straight in the eye. “We’ll see,” I said.

I addressed the thug. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“Fuck you!”

He wanted to spit at me, but John still had a handful of hair. He was probably ripping his scalp.

“Okay, Mr. Fuckyou,” I said, “before we begin, I have a couple of questions.”

I walked over to refrigerator and opened it, peering inside. I peeked out over the door at our captive.

“Carbonated beverages!” I said, smiling.

I brought out two longneck bottles of lemon soda water. His eyes widened some more.

“I’ll be brief, Mr. Fuckyou. Please don’t waste our time. Mercy will be bestowed based on your perceived authenticity.”

I waited a moment.

“What happened to Mrs. Noonan?” I asked.

Silence. I shook one of the bottles.

“Forget the old lady!” he exclaimed. “She’s gone. She didn’t even feel it. We used an injection. Just like falling asleep.”

I studied him for moment.

“I asked you not to raise your voice,” I scolded him. “What are you doing here?”

He hesitated. John pulled down harder on his scalp.

“Ahhh, fuck!” he said. “Waitin’ for you.”