“Andrew, you’re not going to get off quite as easily. But that’s for later. First, I’d like to address the problem of our little intruder.” He tapped Thomas on the back with the toe of his shoe. “Foster was so kind as to be our official gatherer of information. I personally would have been more vicious with my technique; after all, I’d think that a blowtorch on frostbitten fingers would be rather soothing, but Mr. Thomas Seer did speak freely when properly coerced. As you already know, Andrew, there are no reinforcements. Nobody knows you’re here. Sucks to be you, huh?”

He took his revolver out of his jacket pocket. “As I admire Roger, I also admire Thomas. He put a lot of effort to get to where he is today, and therefore I have decided that his death will be quick and painless.” He held the revolver against the back of Thomas’ head.

“You don’t have to do this!” I insisted.

Daniel lowered the gun. “I have no admiration for you, and I especially have no admiration for your asinine comments, so please do us all a favor and shut up.”

“There are reinforcements. Didn’t you see his tracer?”

“I know all about his tracer. I even know that it’s stolen property. I know everything there is to know about the situation, even more than you do.” He returned the gun to Thomas’ head. “Ready to die, Tommy?”

Thomas’ body shook, as if he were sobbing without tears.

“I’ve never been shot myself, but I expect that it won’t be too painful. Should be over fairly quickly. But the whole suspense thing has gotta be pretty agonizing, huh? I mean, your life is going to be over any second now, but you don’t know which second it’ll be. Could be now. Could be…now. Man, oh man, that’s gotta be rough.”

“Please-” I began.

“Enough! One more word out of you and we’re putting on a gag, okay? You’re only making things worse for Tommy by stretching this out. Ooooh, I almost pulled the trigger that time. When, oh when, will it happen? Now? No. Now? Maybe. Could be now. Wait for it…wait for it…”

Then he lowered the gun again. “You know what? I’d like to hear what Tommy has to say about his approaching death. What do the rest of you think?”

The others murmured their approval. Mortimer had a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

Daniel ripped off the duct tape. “So, Tommy, how are you feeling at this unpleasant moment?”

“I’m gonna kill you!”

“No, actually, you’re mistaken. I am the one who will be killing you. And I lied. Nobody in my house gets away with a gunshot to the head.” He tossed the revolver away, then reached behind the coffin. “Mr. Seer, meet Mr. Hatchet!”

He held up a small hatchet in his right hand, and then walked around in front of Thomas so he could see it, too. “Mr. Hatchet is nice and sharp, but he’s kind of small. It will take a lot of work to get the job done. Good thing I’m not afraid of an honest day’s labor.”

Daniel walked behind Thomas again. “Now, now, where to chop first? Right here?” He touched the blade to Thomas’ ear. “Here?” He touched Thomas’ nose. “So many places. Decisions, decisions.”

He lifted the hatchet high above his head. “I think I’ll start…here.”

Daniel swung the hatchet down, slamming it into Thomas’ shoulder. Thomas let out a wail that echoed throughout the room. Daniel wrenched the hatchet free, and then slammed it down into the same spot.

I looked over at Roger. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

Thomas continued screaming.

The others were laughing.

“Whooooo-weee!” exclaimed Daniel. “I’m gonna work up a good ol’ sweat!” He brought the hatchet down again.

I closed my eyes.

Thomas’ screams were deafening, but I could still hear every impact of the hatchet. And the laughter and cheering.

The hits and the screams continued. The hits came faster and faster, and the screams grew louder.

I can’t even begin to guess how many times the hatchet fell before the screams faded.

Finally, they faded away completely. The hatchet hits continued.

When they finally stopped, I opened my eyes. Thomas was no longer recognizable as…anything. Daniel was completely drenched.

“That was fuckin’ exhilarating! ” he proclaimed, tossing aside the hatchet and whipping his head back and forth like a dog shaking itself off after an unwanted bath. “Don’t ever say I don’t know how to party!”

Chapter 17

“YOU DA man!” Mortimer proclaimed.

“Come on, it’s Andrew’s turn, let’s do it,” said Daniel, waving the others over to him.

“Don’t you want to clean up first?” asked Josie.

“Not at all.” He grabbed a handful of his shirt and wrung it out. “This is great. This is so great. I keep forgetting how much I love this.”

Stan came up behind me and pushed my wheelchair forward. My body was completely numb. I couldn’t have spoken if I’d tried.

“Okay, Andrew, we’ve got a special treat planned for you,” Daniel said, wiping some blood away from his mouth. “We had planned this for when we thought you’d be showing up as the Headhunter’s prisoner, so I’m glad it won’t be wasted. When you ask people what kind of death they fear most, you’ll get a lot of responses. Being eaten by a shark, dying of a lingering disease, getting chopped to bits with a hatchet-none of these are popular ways to go. But there’s one that really creeps some people out, and I think you in particular will appreciate it.”

“And what could that possibly be?” asked Mortimer, as if he were on an infomercial.

“Why, I’m glad you asked! The answer is…being buried alive!” Daniel gestured dramatically at the coffin. “What could be a more suitable punishment for a past graverobber?”

Oh, please God, no, I thought.

“Being buried alive is certainly a nasty way to go,” Mortimer remarked. “But don’t you have anything worse?”

“Worse?” asked Daniel, in mock dismay. “What could possibly be worse?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not convinced that his death is all it could be. I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that. What do the audience members think?”

“Make it worse!” Josie shouted. Stan and Foster pitched in as well.

“But…but…but…I’m only a simple businessman! I can’t possibly do anything worse than bury him alive!”

Josie, Stan, and Foster began to boo.

“Then I’m sorry, but we’ll just have to let him go,” said Mortimer, shaking his head sadly.

“No wait, let me think! There has to be a way!” Daniel snapped his fingers, sending a couple of drops of blood into the air. “By golly, I’ve got it!” He bent down and threw open the lid of the coffin. “It’ll be a double occupancy!”

Inside the pine box was a partially decomposed corpse, its mouth frozen open in a shriek of unrestrained terror. Maggots chewed its eyes. It looked vaguely male, but I couldn’t tell much beyond that from its grotesque appearance.

Thank God I couldn’t speak. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything but blubber for mercy.

“Andrew, meet Wesley. Wesley, Andrew. He was one of my own captures, but he was a very naughty little boy and we had to shoot him. It seemed like a waste at the time, but I think you’ll be pleased to see that we’re making good use of him.”

Mortimer walked over to assist as Foster began undoing the straps on the wheelchair. “That thing is nasty,” Stan said from behind me. “Sure glad I’m not the one being buried with it.”

Daniel grinned and wiped his bloody hands off on his bloody jeans. “Look at those babies squirm in those sockets! I don’t know how they’ll be able to contain their excitement when they get nice, fresh, live flesh!”

And then I found my voice. I don’t even remember what I said. It probably made no sense. But even though my conscious mind was telling me to shut up (Just shut up!You’re only entertaining them!) I couldn’t stop. I was babbling and whimpering and tears flowed down my cheeks and I couldn’t make myself be quiet.