"Please," I said, hating myself for begging. "Just let-"

"Stop it. I don't want to hear it. If you think I feel any sympathy for a pathetic helpless female, you're wrong in a big way. Now, here's the question that determines whether you die quickly and painlessly, or slowly and miserably: Where are your kids?"

"Fuck you."

The woman sighed. "Okay, let me accentuate that last point. This is the question that also determines whether your children will die quickly and painlessly or slowly and miserably. Where are they?"

I wanted to spit in her face, but my projectile spitting skills weren't that advanced.

"Oooooh, steel resolve. I like that. I know they're around here somewhere. Probably close. You wouldn't leave them out in the middle of the woods by themselves. I sure hope you found them a good hiding spot. Maybe your dog will help me track them down, what do you think?"

Joe hadn't proven himself to be much of a tracker, but the woman was absolutely right. Theresa and Kyle were close. If she went out looking for them, she'd find them.

"Theresa! Kyle!" I screamed. "Run away! Run as fast as you can! Do it now!"

The woman spun around.

I grabbed the chain fastening the wolf trap to the tree and yanked on it as hard as I possibly could, nearly wrenching my arm out of its socket. As the woman turned back to face me, the wolf trap bashed into her chest, knocking her to the ground.

I forced myself to stand up, but immediately lost my balance and fell to my knees. I saw my children fleeing deeper into the woods. "Run!" I screamed again. "And be careful!" Better to risk the booby traps than to have the woman catch them.

I raised the chain over my head and swung it again. This time it felt like my muscles were ripped right off the bone. The wolf trap flew toward the woman but she rolled out of the way and it struck the ground instead.

She got back up.

I scooted backward on my aching ass. I just had to stay alive long enough for my children to make it to safety-I only hoped they found it in the creepy, trap-filled forest.

The woman crouched down and pried open the jaws as far as they would go, setting the trap. Then she picked up the contraption and walked toward me.

My hand brushed against something.

I threw the dart at her. The point jabbed into her leg.

She looked down at it in shock. Then she smiled. "What, you think there'd still be tranquilizer in there?" She plucked out the dart and tossed it aside.

Then she dropped to her knees.

Blinked a couple of times.

"You bitch," she said, tossing the wolf trap at me.

It landed between my legs, bounced once, and hit my upper thigh. The jolt in my heart was so great that for an instant I thought the trap had sprung.

The woman came toward me, still on her knees, arms extended, her eyes wide with fury even as her movements slowed.

I picked up the trap and slammed it against her face.

It sprung.

I turned away, not wanting to see the results. Her body dropped onto mine, and I rolled her out of the way. I wiped her blood off my cheek, grateful it wasn't an eyeball or something like that. After all I'd been through, I didn't need to be wiping other people's eyeballs off my cheek.

Despite the gruesome sight next to me, and despite the continued pain in my ankle and countless other parts of my body, I couldn't help but laugh. We had a limo. We could get out of here. Drive away and find help. Rescue Andrew.

"Theresa! Kyle! It's safe now!" I shouted as loud as I could while being almost completely out of breath. "You can come back!"

I listened for their response.

Nothing.

"Theresa?"

I forced myself to stand up. My leg tried to buckle beneath me, but I held steady. "Kyle? Honey? Come back!"

Still nothing.

Where were they?

Oh, God, where were they?

Chapter Eighteen

Back with Andrew

I WOKE UP, NOT realizing I'd been unconscious.

The dru g in the dart had obviously worn off because I could move again. That is, I could have moved again if my arms, legs, and torso hadn't been duct taped to a metal chair. They'd used a ridiculous amount… I looked like a duct tape mummy. My left hand had been bandaged up, which I hoped meant they planned to keep me alive for a while.

Roger and Samantha were similarly bound to my right, while Goblin was to my left. Goblin had received a black eye sometime between my loss of consciousness and now, and he looked scared and pitiful. He was the only one of the four prisoners who wasn't wearing a tight cloth gag.

We were in a large room with a white tile floor and lockers lining the walls. There was a door on each side. The centerpiece was an operating table, surrounded by lights, and another table covered with what appeared to be a combination of medical equipment and home improvement supplies.

Witch was wiping down the operating table with bleach. Mr. Burke, Troll, and Medusa weren't around.

"Come on," Goblin pleaded. "You can't let them do this to me. I was a good boss, right? You were always my favorite. You know that."

Witch avoided looking at him and focused all of her attention on cleaning the operating table, looking sick to her stomach.

"Don't ignore me! It doesn't have to happen like this! You can just tell them I got free!"

"How?"

"I don't know. Make something up!"

"Yeah, right. Then I'll be on this table in your place."

"We can both go. Let's just leave. He'll do you next, you know. If he's disbanding our team there's no reason for him to keep you and Troll around. You'll die next. I promise you'll die next."

Witch shook her head. "No, I won't."

"You will, I swear. Witch, we're a team. You don't let this kind of shit happen to your teammates."

"We were never a team. You were the leader and we were the followers. You said that all the time." Her voice cracked. "And if you don't shut up I'll gag you."

Goblin lowered his head and wept softly.

A door behind me opened. Somebody walked into the room, and I felt a light slap on the back of my head. "Wakey-wakey!" said Troll, moving in front of me. He was soon followed by Mr. Burke. Troll was wearing green surgical scrubs, and Mr. Burke was in a white lab coat.

"Well, well, well," said Mr. Burke, rubbing his hands together. "Some lovely specimens we have here today. Who shall I work on first?"

"Do Goblin first," Troll suggested.

"Yes, that sounds like a fine idea. But let's take care of some other business before we get started." Mr. Burke looked at me, reached into the pocket of his lab coat, and removed a finger-sized object wrapped in tissue. "Now, Andrew, do you really think proper storage of a severed digit includes keeping it in your filthy pocket?"

If I'd been able to speak, I probably would have said something along the lines of "It was the next best place to Witch's mouth." Then again, I might not have.

Mr. Burke unwrapped my finger and shook his head sadly. "I don't know. Even with the amazing advances in laser surgery, I doubt this finger is in a sufficient state to be reattached. I think we're just going to have to give it the goldfish treatment."

He walked to the door on my right, which led to a small bathroom. He held my finger over the toilet at chest-level, let it dangle for several seconds, then dropped it. It landed with a small splash.

"Adios, dear finger," said Mr. Burke. He flushed the toilet and watched happily. "Going… going…"

I wondered if this was payback for his being dunked in the toilet once too often by bullies in school.

"Going…" He frowned. "Aw, shit, it's still there. Fuckin' low-flow toilets." He flushed again. "Ah, there we go." He left the bathroom and shut the door behind him. "I'm afraid you won't be seeing your finger again."