Chapter 11 - Trapped

Chapter 11 �" Trapped in the Basement

‘It’s gonna take a lot more than a few f*****g hail Marys to get out of this one boys,’ he shouted down the hall.  The blood had streamed from his nose bloodying his pure white gown.

‘You little sinners are going to hell for this one, with the lord above as my witness you two are fucked!’ and hurried back up the stairs.  Scott ran after him only for the trapdoor to be slammed closed before he could get there.  He banged on the wooden door.

‘Let us out,’ shouted Scott

‘Forget it Scott’ said a hastily resigning Carlos.

Scott continued to bang before turning to Carlos, ‘you better start talking right f*****g now.’

‘You better pray boys, the policia will be here soon.  I will conduct your last rights before the execution don’t you worry your little heads,’ shouted the priest through the trapdoor.

 ‘So how do we get out?’ asked a panicking Scott.

Carlos offered no answers to calm him, instead, gently sat Puerco down on the floor and leant against the wall adopted a gloomy downwards silent stare.  Scott couldn’t believe that all of his fight, ideas and energy had receded so quickly.  Carlos had dragged him in to this and now he was just leaning there offering no solutions.  The combination of his panic and anger collided but only served to produce a weak yelp, ‘How do we get out of here?’

‘We don’t,’ said Carlos before slumping down next to Puerco.  He put his arm around him and rubbed his shoulder trying to warm him up.

‘What do you mean we don’t,’ said Scott

He remained still other than to pull an arm out of it slump and unfurl a solitary solemn finger into a point.  ‘That is the only door, there is no other way out,’ he said retrieving all his limbs and curling into a tight ball next to Puerco.

‘There’s got to be a way’ pleaded Scott

Carlos paused allowing the grit to settle in his voice as he shook his head.  ‘Scott, that is the only door,’ he said falling into a sigh.

Scott skulked away from the trap door defeated.  ‘There’s got to be a way,’ his voice lowering as he dropped down the other side of Puerco.  The three sat there together in a line with Scott and Carlos attempting to squeeze some body heat in to the icy Puerco.

Now unprompted Carlos spoke, ‘Yes, I’ve been here before, like Puerco, on one of those tables.  They remove organs and anything else of use.  They used to let people go after removing something but now people seem to disappear for good.  I don’t know where they end up but there must be a lot of money involved.’

‘The, eh,’ murmured Puerco.

‘What? Puerco?’ said Scott and they both got in his face slapping him repeatedly.

‘Are you alright amigo?’ said Carlos.

‘There,’ he strained and managed to raise a shaking hand to point at a box on a shelf.

Scott jumped up and ran the few steps to the box and grabbed it.  He ripped open the steel briefcase the instant he placed hands on it.  Before him was a selection of gleaming stainless steel implements.  Sharpened tools designed to cut flesh and bone.

‘What’s in there?’ asked Carlos.

‘Surgical tools’ replied Scott displaying the tools to him.

They both grabbed a selection and made their way to the trap door.  They both set to work placing various implements through the cracks trying to prize the door open.

‘Wait, there a saw,’ said Scot pulling out a short razor sharp toothed implement.

‘It’s a bone saw,’ said Carlos

‘It’s for bones?’ A twang shot through his body imagining the saw scraping through his arm, grinding a hole through it leaving nothing but dust.

Managing to form a hole in the wood already Scott places the bone saw through and began to saw through the old wood around one on the hinges.  The wood splinted and cut away easily under the sharp bone saw.  Dust and splintered pieces of wood fell down on them, the old wood Meanwhile Carlos set to work puncturing holes around the other hinge, stabbing and scraping with a scalpel.

‘Ok done’ said Scott bursting through the wood around the first hinge.  He then moved straight over to the second where Carlos had already made some progress.  He took up pushing the blade up and down against the wood.  Carlos moved out of the way and began pushing on the trap door trying to snap the last of the wood.  Scott continued to saw and fast as he could his arm burning with the motion.

Now with regained vigour Carlos shouted ‘Come on hurry the Policia will be here’ straining as pushed harder on the door.  Scott dispensed with the saw joining Carlos in one hug push.  The wood around the hinge cracked and fragmented and the door finally flung open with a loud clunk as it hit the floor.

The two stood there half out of the basement looking at the priest who was just standing there.  They still held in their hands the razor sharp instruments as they emerged eyes fixed on the Padre.

The priest stood there unmoved, ‘It’s not too late to repent my sons.’  His eyes were rolling around and his voice was wavering, a plastic bottle on the ground.  Another huffer.

Carlos ran towards the priest, ‘you f****r’

‘Carlos don’t’ said Scott grabbing at his arm.

Carlos slipped the tenuous grip, rushed towards the frail priest and grabbed him round the throat.  ‘You f****r, you sick f****r,’ he snarled again almost foaming at the mouth.  He started punching him in the stomach over and over.  Then Scott saw it, blood growing across the priests white gown.

As soon as he could muster any words out of his shock, Scott said ‘Carlos no,’ in a disbelieving whimper.

He was not punching, the scalpel was still in his hand and he was thrusting it in to the priest’s abdomen.  He then drove the scalpel straight into the priests neck, blood sprayed back at him coating his face and clothes.   The white of the priests robes now a memory as they were now a wet crimson tone.  Carlos let him drop into the forming pool of blood on the floor.

‘Carlos’ said a disbelieving Scott as Carlos remained there shaking, looking at what he had done.  ‘Carlos?’ he enquired but still nothing.  ‘You’ve killed him Carlos,’ he continued but Carlos was fixed to the spot.  They sound of sirens echoed around the church walls, the Policia were coming.

‘Wait, Wait here,’ said Scott and ran back down the stairs.  He grabbed the defrosting Puerco dragging him up one gruelling step at a time.  His shivering body a dead weight causing Scott to strain with every heave and wrench.  They emerged into the smell of smoke with Carlos gone and the priest laying as dead as the chilling corpses below.

‘What…’ Puerco tried to understand what was going on having just woken from his daze.

Scott cut him off, ‘Never mind.’ ‘Carlos. Where are you…’ he shouted in hushed voice.

Puerco was now at least able to manage a few stunted steps and Scott supported him as they moved past the body.  The smell of smoke intensified as they entered the main hall of the church and flames where coming out from behind the church altar.  Books and broken wood had been piled hastily and set alight.  The flames were already licking the drapes on the wall ready to join the inferno below.  Smoke plumed into the air and the pair began to cough and splutter as it hit their lungs.

The moved quickly away, again Scott whispering loudly ‘Carlos where are you?’

An engine started outside and Scott heard the unmistakable sound of Carlos’ purple machine accelerating away.  The blue and red lights of the Policia vehicles shone through the stained glass windows and coloured the rising smoke.

The deadly rainbow of smoke bellowed from the fire rapidly filling the church.  ‘F**k,’ exclaimed Scott ‘come on, Puerco, we have to get out’ he continued to drag him between the empty pews faster and faster.  He pulled him into the adjoining room where the vagrants were still sleeping.  He grabbed a blanket and threw it over Puerco’s body.  He started shaking the rickety beds and the people inside shouting, ‘Come on, get up, fire, fire, fire.’  The more stable dwellers were already out of bed and were slowly being joined by the collection of drunks and huffers.  Scott grabbed another filthy blanket and wrapped himself in its stink.

He grabbed Puerco again and joined the small stream of rabble escaping the growing fire in the church.  Smoke was now pouring from the church door as they left.  They blended in with the vagrants rushing past the Policia and moved away from the church as quickly as Puerco was able to.  A few people had stirred from the sleep and were watching from windows and the street.

Flames were now clearly visible in the church windows and all eyes fixed on the blaze allowing Puerco and Scott to slip by relatively unnoticed.  They continued to pick up the pace to a quick walk and find the refuge of the shadows.  Puerco had regained some mobility making the struggle slightly easier and they found an alley to escape down.

They made their way to the darkness of the shacks on the edge of town, Scott wanting to get as far as that place as they could.  They sat a moment catching their breath whilst hiding in the shadow of a plastic sheet.  It flapped in the wind panicking the pair each time it flicked open.  Scott grabbed its corner and tucked it under himself and braved a peek out into the street. Nothing, not a soul.  This was mainly where the huffers and drunks lived and they would not be awake or would even stir until morning.

Puerco started to sob, ‘I’m sorry I’m sorry’ he kept repeating becoming more tearful with every word.

‘Stop it Puerco, stop it,’ said Scott trying to quell the noise and the awkwardness.  

‘I know I shouldn’t have gone, I was so hungry and he gave me food and wine,’ blurted out a confessing Puerco, only realising as he said it what had actually happened, ‘It was the wine, it made me sleepy.  I didn’t want to do garbage again, it stinks, and he said he would give me some food if I came with him. That’s all I remember until you woke me up.’  

He continued to cry the whole time his head between his knees staring at the ground.  He looked up and asked ‘Where is Carlos, did he; do that to the Padre?

That church troubled Scott greatly and in particular it’s Padre who he found particularly creepy.  He had been warned to stay away from that place as soon as he set foot off of the bus by an older boy called Carlos.  Even now Carlos would not go into any great detail as to why people should stay away but he was adamant the padre was not to be trusted.  Well a blind man could see that but unfortunately hunger and fear makes many a child blind.

The offer of food and shelter was too great for many to resist as the Padre coerced them behind its iron gate. A stay there was temporary not because they found a better place but temporary because a lot of them disappeared. There were many questions but the Policia and the Padre kept suspicious eyes away.

‘He will be ok. They won’t catch him, he is fast you know that’ said Scott

‘It’s all my fault he’s dead I know it,’ sobbed Puerco uncontrollably

‘Shut up’ growled a voice from the shadows.

‘Come on,’ said Scott, ‘it should be safe now we can go to my place.’

The fear of being identified returned and he needed to take action.  He took off his t shirt and handed it to the still naked Puerco.  ‘You better take this,’ he said.

He put in on and tried to pull it down to cover his dangling penis.  Not wanting to be recognised as being anywhere near the church they disposed of the blankets.  However the smell of the blankets had not finished with them and hung around as they crawled out from behind the sheet and walked into the road.

‘Come on, stick to the sides’ said Scott and led Puerco along the side street and back to the road.  The sound of sirens reverberated around the streets reflecting off every building obscuring the direction.  They hesitantly pressed on down an alley towards the main street when a flash of blue light lit it up.  They jumped to the side into a trash heap piled against a wall.  A Policia truck turned up the alley and slowly moved forward.  Scott clasped his hand over Puerco’s mouth just in case he tried to speak.  He struggled to keep his heavy breathing under control as the truck approached.

The truck crept along the road slowly crunching dirt under the tyres.  Scott crunched lower in to the trash.  The lights became closer and he closed his eyes tight.  Seeming to hope that if they could not see him then they cannot see him.  He finally opened his eyes and the car was gone, he looked round to see it turn the corner to the right.

‘Come on,’ said Scott grabbing Puerco and dragging him to his feet.  They began to run again and made it to the door of Scott’s building immediately pushing it open.  The boys raced up the stairs and along the hallway to Scott’s door.  He unbolted the multiple locks on his steel door before pulling it open to reveal his room.  An old mattress stretched from one wall the other.  A small pile of clothes languished unloved in the corner and a few scraps of food in the other.

Puerco dropped on to the centre of the bed sprawled himself out enjoying the contrast between this and the metal tray he was laying an hour ago.  Scott rolled him over to make room and laid next to his naked friend.

‘Do you think Carlos is ok?’ said Puerco from his face down rest.

‘I’m sure he is fine,’ lied Scott knowing that Carlos was likely dead or captured by this point.  ‘Don’t worry Puerco he will make it. He might not come back to here.’  He pulled the sheet from under them and placed it over him.  ‘You sleep and I will wait for him. Don’t worry it will be fine.’

Scott laid back and stared at the damp brown spot on the ceiling as he had done a thousand times before.

He must be dead, he can’t have got away from the Policia, even if he did, they must know who he is.  F**k what am I gonna do?

His thoughts flitted between going off into the night to find out what happened and staying put safe in the room.  He placed another t-shirt on from the pile of clothes in the corner.  He stood up and would have paced the floor if there was any room. He leant his head against the door. 

what should I do. I have to do something.  I can’t just leave him.  If only I had a bike. I could maybe lead the cops away.  His heart sank.  I don’t have a f*****g bike and it’s my fault I don’t have one.  Why do I have to do this to myself? I can’t help him, I can’t do anything.  Why the f**k do I have to get myself in these positions? 

He sat back down on the mattress with hands clasped and elbows resting on his knees gentle rocking back and forth as the hours passed.  Gradually Puerco’s snoring got the best of him and he punched him in the arm, ‘shut up.’  Puerco grunted but did not wake and continued to raise the dead with his snoring.  The sirens and lights had long since passed and light had begun to creep past the makeshift blind and into the room.  Scott stood up and opened the door careful not to wake Puerco.  He clicked the door shut and tiptoed towards the stairs the floor boards creaked with every gruelling step.

He stepped into the street with the first light of the morning crawling over the town with the alleys gradually coming into light.  Puerco’s place isn’t far his bike should be there.  He stepped through the streets as lightly as possible trying to not draw any attention to himself.  Even though no one would know what would have transpired during the night he still walked along the street shaking.

At this time many of the stall and store owners started to emerge into the light of the day making their way to the centre.  Each face Scott saw gave him a start as he was sure that they would know what happened and turn him in to the waiting Policia.

Every corner he turned he was sure there would be a waiting band of the militia waiting to beat him and then lead him away to be executed.  His heart raced more and more as the light of the day brightened his face to passers-by.

No one said a word or even made eye contact with him as he walked by, they had their own business.  The short ten minute walk have become a thirty minute stalk through the shadows avoiding and sign of life.  Finally he arrived at Puerco’s place and more importantly his bike and the chance to scout the area for Carlos.

He got on top of the bike and pulled off the side panel in order to by-pass the key and in an instant the bike started, spluttering but alive.  This bike sucks he thought scoffing at its state of disrepair as he rode off along the streets, maybe he his home.

He rode towards the square with the small light illuminating the patch of ground slightly more than the feint sun.  He rode to the edge of the square where he saw a Policia vehicle situated inform the church.  Even with a horrendous crime taking place still the blankets were being unravelled and good placed in readiness for the trading day.  A group of traders were arguing with the Policia in front of the church as their usual patch had been blocked.

His heart raced as he thought a Policia had seen him and trying to remain calm turned the bike off the square.  He thought he had better go around, constantly he checked behind him expecting the wail of sirens catching him.  He quickly rode around the square hoping that the Policia would not question why he was there.  Why did I come out, they’re gonna catch me, riding as fast as his heart beat.  One more block away, safety was one block away he felt just further away from the policia.  He turned left at the next alley and saw a figure in front of him.  He instantly applied to lacklustre brakes but it was too late.  His eyes locked with hers.