The Cage (4 page)

Jeff had to strain to hear him over the crush of sound. When none of them answered him, the man un-holstered his pistol and raised it to chest level. He tapped the barrel against the cage.

“Answer me, or I’ll shoot one of you in the gut or the knee. Doesn’t matter to me, and it takes a very long time to die from such a wound. Time enough for me to finish.”

“Yes,” Carlos said, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. “We’re on satellite dish. We sell them, and having the televisions hooked to it makes it easier to demonstrate. And some of the televisions have DVD and Blu-ray players hooked up to them, too.”

“And the audio section? Is that satellite radio?”

Carlos nodded. “That, along with iPods and compact discs.”

“What about Wi-fi? Do you have that here?”

“No,” Carlos said. “The bookstore down the street has it, but it doesn’t reach this far.”

With his free hands, the man pulled the keys from his pocket.

“What’s your name?”

“C-Carlos…”

“Okay, Carlos. I want you to show me. The rest of you stand back against the wall until Carlos leaves.”

His eyes didn’t stray from them as he unlocked the cage and opened the door with one hand. He kept the handgun trained on them with his other hand.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Carlos didn’t move. “You…you’re not gonna kill me, are you? I’ve done everything you asked.”

“I want you to show me how to turn the satellite off. Then I want you to switch all of the televisions over to broadcast, and the audio over to AM.”

“S-sir…there’s nothing on the broadcast channels anymore. Everything has converted over to digital.”

“I know. That’s why we’re doing this. Digital broadcast is no good.”

“And I don’t know if we can get AM radio in here.” Carlos’s tone was apologetic and plaintive. “There’s no antennae. And with these thick walls, we won’t pick up any signals. All you’ll hear is static.”

“All I
want
is static. And all I want from the televisions is an empty broadcast channel. I want no signal, whatsoever. No signal from the televisions. No signal from the stereos. No signal from anything. Understand?”

Carlos nodded. Jeff saw the confusion in his eyes. It mirrored his own.

“Good.” The man motioned with the pistol. “What’s your name, again?”

“Carlos.”

“That’s right. Excellent. That’s a good name. Full of power. Now, come on, Carlos.”

Carlos shuffled out of the cage. The man placed the pistol barrel against his head, and then closed and locked the cage. Then he turned back to the others.

“Remember. That security camera is watching everything you do. That means I’m watching, too. I found your little security monitors behind the sales counter. Don’t get any ideas. Work with me, and this will all be over soon.”

He marched Carlos out of the warehouse. As they left, he began humming the same tune Jeff had heard him whistling earlier. Jeff still wasn’t able to identify it. As they walked through the door, the gunman stopped humming and sang a snatch of lyric.

“You don’t have to be a Shtar, baby, to be in my show.”

Then he began humming again. He guided Carlos through the door and out into the store. The door closed behind them, and the noise from the televisions and stereos settled back down to a dull roar.

“Well,” Clint muttered. “That right there just proves how crazy he really is.”

Roy nodded. “I would have never guessed that guy was a fan of Marilyn McCoo and Billy Davis Jr.”

“What?” Jeff frowned. “Who are they?”

Roy shook his head sadly. “You kids. If it’s not Guns n Roses, you don’t know about it.”

“I was six years old when Guns n Roses came out, Roy.
Appetite For Destruction
was the first cassette I ever bought. How about you get with the times? Guns n Roses are classic rock, now.”

“Well, even still…”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Who are Billy Davis and Marilyn Mc-whatever?”

“I know,” Scott said. “Billy Davis is the guy who played Lando in
Empire Strikes Back
and
Return of the Jedi
.”

Clint groaned. “That’s Billy Dee Williams, you dip-shit. Billy Davis and Marilyn McCoo were one-hit wonders in the Seventies—back when Roy and I were your age and dinosaurs still walked the fucking Earth.”

Jeff snapped his fingers. “You don’t have to be a star, baby, to be in my show!”

Roy nodded. “That’s it. That’s the song he was humming.”

“But that’s not what he said.”

“What do you mean?”

“He sang something else. The words were a little different. He didn’t say star.” Jeff frowned, trying to remember. “Scar? Spar? Shtar?”

“I think it was Shtar,” Scott said.

“Yeah,” Jeff agreed. “That was it.”

“So not only is he crazy,” Clint said. “He’s got a speech impediment, too.”

The noise from the store continued for another minute. Then it began to slowly fade.

“Carlos must be switching everything over for him,” Roy said.

The others nodded. They waited for Carlos to return, but he didn’t. There were no gunshots. No screams or shouts. The store was silent.

They waited, wondering what time it was, wondering if anyone would find them, and wondering what was happening out beyond the cage.

“I’ve got to piss.”

Clint shifted from one foot to the other, looking miserable. His expression was pinched and pained. He clutched his groin with one hand. Nobody answered him. The only other sounds in the cage were Jared’s quiet, muffled sobs. He’d started crying again soon after the gunman had departed with Carlos. Jared had collapsed in the corner, sitting with his back against a stack of cell phones, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, face hidden, sobbing. He’d been unresponsive to all of their attempts to console him. Eventually, they’d just left him alone.

“He said something else,” Jeff told them. “Before. I just thought of it now. He said that he doesn’t want to wait a year. Not him, meaning the gunman. It sounded like he meant someone else.”

Scott nodded. “Yeah, I caught that, too. Maybe he’s got a partner outside in a getaway car?”

“Or maybe he’s just crazy,” Roy said.

“I’ve
really
got to piss,” Clint repeated, squeezing his crotch. “My back teeth are floating.”

“Hold it,” Jeff said.

“I don’t think I can. My eyes are turning yellow.”

“Well, for Christ’s sake, don’t do it in here! We’re in enough shit without it smelling like a toilet in here, too.”

“Oh, fuck off, Jeff. You always were Bumble’s little pet.”

Jeff whirled around and advanced on the older man. “Really? We’ve been locked up for ten minutes. Are we really going to start turning on each other already, Clint? Is that how you want this to go? Like every hostage movie ever made?”

Clint held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just…scared.”

“We all are,” Jeff said. “It’s cool. I’m sorry, too.”

“I really
do
need to piss, though. Whatever he’s doing out there, I hope he lets us out of here soon.”

“If
he lets us out.” Scott gripped the wire cage with both hands and stared out into the warehouse. “They’ve been gone a long time. Maybe he’s left already. Killed Carlos and then high-tailed it the fuck out of here.”

“Stop it,” Roy said. “That line of thinking will lead to no good. He didn’t kill Carlos. He said that he wouldn’t.”

“No,” Scott replied. “That wasn’t it. All he said was that he needed six of us.”

“Same thing.”

“Maybe,” Jeff said. “Or maybe not. Even if it is, how can we believe him? I mean, I don’t know about you, Roy, but I kind of have a hard time taking the word of some crazy fucker who just blew away two of my friends. You said yourself he might be nuts.”

“Exactly.” Scott nodded in agreement. “And he never said that he wasn’t going to kill us. Carlos asked him point blank, and all he said was that bullshit about the satellite signals.”

“I don’t know,” Roy said. “If he was going to kill us, I would think he’d have done it when he marched us back here. Or once he’d locked us inside. Why draw it out?”

None of them answered.

“I wish he hadn’t taken our cell phones,” Clint said.

“Why?” Jeff wrapped his fingers around the cage’s wire mesh and stared out into the warehouse. “It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. There’s too much concrete back here. We wouldn’t have been able to get a signal.”

“Then why did he smash them?”

Jeff shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t know that. Or maybe he just wanted to make sure.”

Scott scratched his chin thoughtfully. “He did say that he didn’t want anything sending out or receiving a signal. Maybe that meant our cell phones, too.”

“No,” Roy said. “That wasn’t it. He said something about—”

Jeff interrupted them both. “Guys, we’re debating the ravings of a nutcase here. I mean, come on. Does it really matter what he said or what he didn’t say? The guy is a fucking loon. We’re looking for logic where there is none. Rational people don’t walk into stores and start shooting the employees. He’s crazy. End of story. Instead of worrying about his manifesto, let’s concentrate on getting the hell out of here.”

Jared stirred from his spot on the floor and looked up at them. Tears and snot covered his face.

“That’s a great idea, Jeff.” Spittle flew from his lips as he spoke. His voice was thick and hoarse with sarcasm and panic. “I’m glad you’re in charge!”

“What’s your problem?”

“My problem? Well, first of all, how do you suggest we escape? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re locked up in the fucking cage!”

Jeff opened his mouth to respond, but then paused. The fact was, he hadn’t the faintest idea how to escape. He hadn’t thought about it until now.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve been too preoccupied with thinking that I was going to be shot.”

They all fell silent for a moment. Jared slowly clambered to his feet and wiped his eyes and nose with the sleeve of his white dress shirt. He sniffed a few more times. Then he stared down at the floor.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, not looking up at them. “Sorry I freaked out.”

“It’s okay,” Jeff told him, softening his voice. “Don’t worry about it. Like I told Clint, we’re all scared. We just need to hold it together—come up with a plan. I don’t want to die tonight, and I’m pretty sure the rest of you don’t either.”

“I’m gonna die if I don’t piss soon,” Clint groaned. “It really frigging hurts.”

“Hang in there,” Roy told him.

“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have an enlarged prostate.”

Roy grinned. “Yeah, but my liver is trying to kill me. Want to trade?”