Six(10)

He shook his head. “Doesn’t work like that. You have information, which is the only reason you’re alive right now.”

“So last night meant nothing?” I asked, more than willing to pimp out my body to live.

“Its purpose was pleasure. Nothing more,” he said. His words cut right through me, adding to everything else, and made my stomach turn. “And you were excellent at giving it.”

“Asshole. You knew you were going to kill me, and you f*cked me,” I said, tears spilling freely.

He took a sharp turn down a county road and the car accelerated, forcing me back into the seat. “Wrong. I didn’t know until I lined up my gun to your head.”

That didn’t help.

It felt like every muscle was vibrating from being clenched so tight.

The car was tense, my hands still bound as I waited. So many questions flowed through my brain along with all of the what-ifs to go with the sheer, undeniable shock. There was a chance it could all be a dream, but the pain in my wrists squashed any further thoughts of my reality being any different.

“What do you know?” he asked, breaking the silence.

I shook my head. If I told him, there’d be no reason to keep me alive.

“I can get it out of you, but it’s easier on you if you just tell me.”

A tear spilled down my cheek, lip trembling. “I don’t want to die.” My voice, even forced, was barely above a whisper.

“Everybody dies.”

I didn’t know to take that as a generalization, or that everyone he came into contact with died.

He offered no words, no sense of remorse, and the quiet resumed.

We hit over three hours of painful silence, with the exception of my crying. I wanted to enjoy the scenery, but the situation wouldn’t allow it. At least I would’ve had beautiful images as the last thing I saw instead of the gruesome ones from the lab.

In his haste, he saved me from seeing what he’d done to Marcy and the others, but from his precision…

Micah, Cheryl, and Dr. Mitchell… I let him in. I was the reason they were dead too.

No, that wasn’t true. They would have died anyway.

But that fact didn’t assuage the guilt, or free me of the vision of their lifeless, bleeding bodies on the morgue floor.

What horror was in store for me?





In the middle of nowhere, just into Tennessee, he pulled into a small-town motel. It was probably built in the ‘60s, with a dozen rooms attached to a floor-to-ceiling windowed circular main lobby area. There was a pool in the parking lot, but by the debris of lawn chairs and leaves, it hadn’t been used in years.

“We’ll stay here tonight.” He stepped out of the car, locking the doors before dipping his head back in. “Try to run and you’ll be dead in ten steps, and then I’ll have to kill everyone here.”

I nodded and stared after him.

When he returned, I shouldn’t have been surprised to see an actual key in his hand versus a key card, but I was. The place was in such disrepair it was obvious its last update was probably in the ‘80s.

After parking closer to our room, aptly room 6, he slipped a knife through the tape binding me, then pulled my arms out of my lab coat, throwing it in the back. I rubbed at my wrists, flexing them and my arms before climbing out of the car. He grabbed on to my hand and I flinched, earning a glare and a more forceful taking of my hand.

Sticking the ancient brass key into the door, he pulled me in and flipped on the lights before closing up the curtains and locking the door.

The two double beds were dressed in gaudy floral print comforters and looked as old as the motel. Stains in the carpet, antenna on the ancient TV, and smoke residue coating the walls. The smell was noxious, stagnant, like the room hadn’t been opened in a decade.

It was so bad, I stood five feet from anything with my hand over my mouth and nose.

Six threw his bag onto one of the beds, the springs squeaking as it bounced. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?” I nodded. He gestured his head to the small door at the back of the room. “Go.”

Tentative steps moved me into the small, windowless room, and I shut the door. I looked around the tiny space as I pushed the sleeves of my undershirt up.

The bathroom was like the rest of the motel. The sink was stained from years of a constant drip and misuse. Dirty, cracked vinyl floors pulled away from the walls, and the once white tub was brown on the bottom, the surrounding tiles covered in mildew.

The whole thing was straight out of a horror movie. Then again, I was in the middle of one, so it didn’t faze me too much after what had already happened.

I stared down at the toilet with its chipped seat and discolored bowl. Being my only option, I heaved a sigh and sat down. It wasn’t like I really needed to be concerned with germs anyway.

My mind was quiet, still stunned. I was going through the motions, drifting in an ocean of uncertainty. How was I going to get out of this mess?

After washing my hands, ignoring my horrid reflection, I headed out to whatever was next. I stopped after a few feet, and stared.

Six stood next to a boxy-looking, wood-framed chair, the roll of duct tape in his hands. “Sit.”

I shook my head and backed up.

His jaw flexed, making the muscles in his neck tighten. “Don’t f*cking mess with me right now. I have no problems making you, but it’ll be easier on us both if you do as I say.”