Chapter 36 #2
We send back four of the five Cattle, leaving only the bitchy woman who kicked Gary. Working together, we strap her midsection to one of the loungers via some of the rope from the cabana. When we’re certain she isn’t going anywhere, we hurry to pick our tools for the game.
The gleaming gun catches my eye first, but that will end the game of body-part Jenga too quickly. Instead, I go for the reciprocating saw.
“This should help us drag this out,” Kindra says as she holds up a small soldering iron. “We can cauterize any major vessels.”
“Stop it, you’re turning me on,” Frankie says as she raises a katana and swipes the blade through the air.
Eve plucks up the chainsaw, Cat opts for the tray of surgical tools, and Kindra chooses the biggest set of pruning shears I’ve ever seen. With our murder weapons tucked under our arms like prizes, we scurry back to the woman on the chair.
“Let’s let Quinn make the first cut,” Cat says.
The girls agree, and I step forward with the tool and turn it on.
The blade whirs to life, and the woman’s eyes widen.
I grip her wrist and cut through the zip ties so that I can pull her arm around front and focus on a single finger, but she wallops me with her free hand and immediately tries to undo the rope around her waist.
Like hyenas, the women descend on her and pin her flailing limbs to the lounger. Knowing what I want, Eve ratchets the woman’s wrist and presents her quivering fingers toward me. So many choices.
Sensing my indecision, Cat offers some help. “The thumb and index finger contain the most nerve endings. Break through the center bone rather than the joint to inflict the most pain.”
“That nursing-school education is paying off in spades,” Eve says as she grunts and readjusts her grip. “Chop, chop, Quinn! She’ll have less fight once she loses some blood.”
The woman screams through her nose as I press the vibrating blade against her thumb.
It melts through the skin, but when the teeth hit that thick bone, the blade stutters to a stop.
I pull back and come at it from a different angle, and I’m rewarded with a loud pop as the bone splinters beneath the vibration.
The thumb remnant drops to the concrete.
“Fucking sick,” Kindra says with a grin.
Eve passes the arm to me, and we trade places. “My turn! And I’m going to take a risk. Get that soldering iron ready.”
Cat grabs it from the lounger and turns it on. “It’s heating up. I’ll cauterize any vessels that won’t clot.”
Eve nods and yanks the chainsaw’s starter.
In the silver bikini and black bathing cap, she looks like a deranged synchronized swimmer as she slings the whirling blade toward her prey.
She leans forward and, wearing the most maniacal grin imaginable, proceeds to lop off the woman’s right foot.
The appendage skitters across the pavement and spins into the pool.
Blood gushes from the open wound, and now that she’s down a foot, her legs are free to kick. We didn’t exactly think this through.
“Hold her still!” Cat screams.
We do, figuring she’s preparing to seal off the bleeding stump at the end of the woman’s leg, but she’s wielding the scalpel. She attacks the kneecaps with surgical precision, and the lower parts of the legs become more like spaghetti noodles.
Cat swipes some sweat from her forehead and sits back, pleased as punch. “There. It’ll be hard for her to kick without any ligaments.”
Tears stream from the woman’s eyes as she hurls curses at us from behind her sealed lips. Her nostrils flare, and she’s looking a bit pale. How wonderful.
Cat sees the change in pallor and hurries to close off the red jets.
“My turn,” Kindra says. She gets on her knees in front of the woman and slides the large pruning-shear blades over the big toe on her remaining foot.
The woman jerks her leg free, and Eve and I move to hold it down.
“As bad as it hurts to stub this little shit, I can only imagine how much pain you’ll feel when I chop it off,” Kindra says as she lines up the cut again.
Before slicing down, she situates the blade’s edge so that it covers all five toes.
“Then again, shouldn’t all the little piggies go to the market together? ”
Kindra closes the blades, and toes pop off like jumping beans.
When she pulls away, only the tiny digit on the end remains, wiggling in the wind.
We collapse in a fit of giggles, unable to continue without cracking at least five jokes about the Brave Little Toester.
Then Frankie uses the katana to lop it off as well, and we’re sent into gut-aching laughter again.
I guess those pina coladas are kicking in.
But the laughter is cut short when Jim’s and King’s voices reach us. They’re yelling about something—or at someone—and my heart ceases beating. Did Aven finally catch Desmond, and now they’ve caught him? I stand and look, but I can’t see them.
“What’s going on?” Frankie asks.
The men step out from the garden path and finally come into view. I don’t know if I’m more shocked or relieved to see that Aven isn’t with them. They’re just yelling at each other. But why?
Then their voices reach me.
“He got onto the gondola with Desmond, but they didn’t show up at the second station. It was just like before,” Jim says. “I love him like a son, King. We have to find him.”
Their voices fade as they hurry into the hotel, but Jim’s words echo inside my brain. The girls are ready to get back to the game, but not even torture can pull me out of this mental tailspin. If Jim and King are worried about Aven, then I am too.
I make my excuses—much to the girls’ displeasure—and hurry up to my room. If I want to go on a rescue mission, I’ll need to dress for it. I choose jeans and a snug t-shirt in case I’m forced to climb. Something about that gondola is the key to all of this.
My suspicions are confirmed as I’m buttoning my jeans. The secret cell phone buzzes in the nightstand, and I nearly trip over my feet as I rush to read the message.
I’ve trailed him and found his hiding place. Meet me at the gondolas.
There’s no time for questions, so I shove the phone into my pocket and bolt out the door. I hurry back to the pool area. The girls are gone, and some crew members busy themselves with cleaning the blood from the concrete. I can only hope no one has removed the table of weapons yet.
Inside the cabana, I’m relieved to see everything exactly how we left it. Well . . . mostly. The gun is no longer on the table, and that’s exactly what I planned to take with me. Everything else is too bulky to wield with any efficiency.
With empty hands and a lot of hope, I exit the cabana and hurry to the park entrance.
Security gives me a nod as I rush through the turnstile and jog toward the gondolas at the other end of the property.
I don’t know which one is considered station one, so I’ll just ride it both ways until I see something.
Hot breath saws in and out of me by the time I reach the station, but before I can board one of the swinging cars, I find the missing gun. It’s in Desmond’s hand as he pushes the barrel against my back and leans down to whisper, “Gotcha.”