Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Rayna
All visions of escape evaporate after only a few minutes in the basement.
Samuel left us down here without a word.
He locked the door behind him, and that door is the only exit.
Despite being a morgue, all the tools of the trade are absent, save for the single autopsy table.
Not a bone saw or rib spreader in sight.
Which means we are well and truly stuck.
“At least it’s a nice temperature down here,” Dalton grumbles as he slides down the wall and takes a seat.
He’s ready to give up, but I don’t know the meaning of the words.
I give the door a final tug, then kick it with a scream before heading toward a metal cabinet that stretches from the floor to the ceiling.
I’m sad to find the doors unlocked, because that means the contents aren’t worth protecting.
My sadness only grows when I discover this is where they store their canned goods.
I grab a can of peas and test its heft in my hand. “If we shove a few of these into our socks, we could make a weapon.”
“It’s pointless.”
“Hell, the cans are made of metal. Maybe we can fashion a blade.” I throw the can to the floor, hoping it will burst open, but it only creates a dent.
“Didn’t you hear me, bones? Don’t waste your energy. We need to think of an actual plan.”
“What do you think I’m trying to do?” With a scream, I grab another can and toss it at the wall. “I’m trying to find a way out of this fucking mess I got us into. I’m trying to fix it.”
The tears threaten to come, but I refuse to cry. I grit my teeth and think about killing Samuel and his bitch of a mother, and the tears recede.
“Bones . . . come here.” Dalton waves me toward him, and I can’t help myself. I don’t rush into his arms like some terrified maiden, but I reluctantly plop into his hold, where I melt.
“I’m only going to say this once, so make sure you’re listening.” I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
He brushes the hair from my face, then moves me in his lap until I’m straddling him and resting my forehead against his. “You really got us into it this time, huh?”
I nod.
“You know I’ll get us out of it, though. Right?”
I nod again, because he will. He always does. This man has proven time and time again that I can count on him, even when the problem is of my own making. He’ll fix this.
“Do you think I’ll ever see Van Gogh again?” I whisper as I relax into him.
His hand traces lazy circles on my back. “I promise you will. If I have to tunnel through the hellfire beneath this town to get to him, I’ll do it.”
“So no more talk of leaving him?”
Dalton shakes his head. “No, we aren’t leaving this town until we’ve grabbed our son and wiped every one of these assholes from the earth.”
A speaker crackles overhead, followed by an unfamiliar male voice. “You wish to do my family harm? That’s not very nice.”
“Neither is kidnapping people for your creepy town, jackass!” Dalton shouts at the ceiling.
The speaker crackles again, followed by laughter. “You think we’re kidnapping you for our town? How cute. We only have plans for the woman, however. Your purpose . . . Well, it’s almost All Hallows Eve, and I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
The speaker cuts off, silencing the man’s laughter.
Dalton sighs and pulls me closer. “They’re listening in. We can’t even plot anything.”
If they’re listening . . . they might also be watching.
I press my lips against Dalton’s ear and whisper, “Play along.” The words are little more than a prayer lingering on an outbreath, so I hope he heard me.
A hum of excitement runs through me as I climb off Dalton’s lap and go for the first metal door built into the wall.
It comes open, and I slide the table from within.
I pull back the sheet to reveal a fully nude man in his forties or early fifties.
Bruising on his torso and abdomen suggests a pretty painful death, but I don’t dwell on that.
As much as I would love to examine this corpse and pull it apart, there is more important work to be done.
With a grunt, I grab the man’s icy feet and tug him backward. He slides a few inches, but little more. I grunt and pull again, but I get less movement this time. “Little help?” I shout toward Dalton.
He scrambles to his feet and helps me pull the man to the floor. The corpse lands on the hard tiles with a sickening splat, and Dalton recoils. I hurry to the next door.
“Please don’t disrespect our dead this way,” the man says through the speaker. “This won’t get you anywhere. Well, nowhere good.”
Ignoring his crackling words, I snatch open the second metal door and pull out the table. Below this blanket, I find a young woman. She doesn’t look much older than me. A Y-shaped incision mars her torso, cutting right between her small breasts.
Is this my fate?
“Bones, what are we doing?” Dalton asks. He stands at the woman’s feet as I stare down at her, frozen. It’s the first time I’ve ever considered my own mortality. Like . . . really considered it. And it’s fucking me up.
I can’t answer him, so I just step to the foot of the table and pull. With his help, we get her onto the floor and move her beside the man.
“You can continue these shenanigans if you wish, but bear in mind that you’ll be cleaning up the mess you make.” The speaker cuts off again, but now I know they can see us. Now I know that my plan will work.
The next bay is empty, but the bottom three tables all hold a surprise: three more bodies.
These also bear an autopsy marking, like the woman, but they are considerably less fresh than the first two.
The skin has shifted from a yellowish color to something more akin to gray.
The flesh slips a bit as we pull them down to join their dead friends on the frigid floor.
“For a town that prides itself on preservation, they sure did a shit job with these three,” I say, loud enough for our listeners to hear. Working in silence, we situate the bodies into a line.
Perfect.
With a smirk toward the ceiling—I don’t know where the cameras are, so I’m just guessing here—I turn to Dalton and raise my arms. “Now strip me. Let’s have that orgy.”
I expect the indignation from above to be instant, but Dalton is able to get the shirt past my bare breasts before the screeching begins.
“Her nakedness is an abomination! Her body is meant for my son, and no one else should see her! This is unclean! Filthy!” The woman’s voice blasts through the speakers, and I fear the devices will shatter. But at least I’m getting a clearer picture now.
“So this is a family affair?” I say as my shirt drops to the floor. “It’s going to be a bit uncomfortable to watch this with your kids, lady. Viewer discretion is strongly advised.”
With a laugh, I go to my knees and begin unfastening Dalton’s pants. He’s never been a fan of having an audience, so I’m not surprised that he looks terrified. His dick, however, is more than ready. It springs from his boxers the moment I’ve lowered them.
As I take his warm, firm cock into my mouth, I reach behind me and grip the first dead man’s dick. It feels like one of those slime tubes you get for three thousand tickets at an arcade. I enjoy the way it squishes in my clenching fist, a sharp contrast to Dalton’s stiff cock ramming past my lips.
“Mike is a married man! Leave his penis alone!” the woman squeals through the speaker. When she speaks again, her voice is muffled. “Get down there, Francis. Stop them! You mustn’t let that man soil our son’s clean dove!”
Dalton grips my hair and hastens my tempo on his cock. “Oh, are you worried I’ll get her dirty? You’re a little late, dear. She’s already fucking filthy.”
“And I’m no dove, bitch.” I moan, then deep throat Dalton until I’m gagging on his girth.
He lets out a low groan that sends a shock of pleasure straight between my legs. I release the corpse cock and begin removing my shorts.
“I want you. I want you now,” I say as I drop back on the bed made of bodies. Cold flesh rushes toward my skin, dampening my warmth and making me hotter all at once. “Fuck me, Dalton.”
“No!” the woman screams, but it’s too late.
Dalton has already dropped to his knees and rammed his face between my legs. I love it when he eats me out, but he knows we don’t have time to focus on pleasure. He’s just ensuring he doesn’t ram into me dry. Because he understands the plan, and he’s playing along, just as I asked.
Within minutes, we’ll either escape from this hell . . . or die trying.