Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
C haz gagged at the smell coming from the suit. It was like a rotten hunk of meat and Axe body spray had a baby and then it died. A horrifying thought popped into his head. What if this was the suit he and Ezra discovered yesterday? Nope, now wasn’t the time to dwell on the negatives. This was a new costume emitting an awful smell. That was it. No one had died, and no one was going to die.
Chaz searched the fabric for stains. His mind demanded he get a second opinion as a precautionary measure. Chaz took a deep breath and pulled the brown polyester on. His minders zipped up the back, and he was trapped inside Bigfoot.
“What is the point of this?” Chaz asked. He turned his head and discovered the mask didn’t move at all. The only way he could see was through the eyes at the front. There was no peripheral vision. Irrational anger built up in his chest, causing Chaz to growl. He tugged on the clasp, but to no avail. Realizing he was close to hyperventilating, Chaz took a deep calming breath and then another. “You guys have to know something!”
No one answered. They nudged and prodded him along a rough path until he was on a stone patio. Chaz could hear people, but their voices were distant.
“Mr. Adams! Welcome, welcome! You are our guest of honour. All these people on the upper deck are here for you. How exciting is that?” Mr. Jones’s enthusiasm left a lot to be desired. “Please give us a thumbs-up to tell us you’re listening.”
A punch in his lower back had Chaz lifting his hand. “Asshole.”
“Good man. I’ve already told our guests about this afternoon’s events, so I’ll let you in on the secret.”
Chaz straightened up. Finally, some answers. He was done with this cloak and dagger shit.
“You have the option to find the National Park and gain your freedom, no strings. Or… you can retrieve your lover from the boathouse. It’s up to you,” Mr. Jones said.
Chaz’s first instinct was to run to the park and get the authorities. They were better equipped for these situations. But Ezra was Ezra, and no way would Chaz let him continue to be alone.
“What say you, Mr. Adams? Park or Mr. Smith?” Mr. Jones called down. The chattering from the audience grew louder the longer Chaz pondered the question.
“Let me go, and you can guess what my plan is, asshole!” Chaz yelled.
“What did he say?” Mr. Jones asked. “The mask muffled his words.”
“He said to let him go.”
Chaz rolled his eyes. Of course, the minder wasn’t going to relay the whole message.
Mr. Jones laughed before turning to face the house. “Did you all hear that? What should we do?”
Chaz seethed. This was a joke. He didn’t have to play the game. He could do what he wanted. So, he turned and moved toward the water in the distance. What he wouldn’t give to be in that icy cold bay.
A rough hand on his back stopped him in his tracks. Chaz growled, but his friend didn’t release. “I’ll make it worth your while if you let me go .”
“Yeah, right. No way am I going to get in trouble with Mr. Jones. I know what side my butter is on.”
“Friends! Did you see that? Bigfoot has chosen!” Mr. Jones chuckled. “If only he could see Mr. Smith now. What would happen then? Shall we, honoured guests? Should we let our star-crossed lovers glimpse each other?”
Chaz braced himself for the audience’s decision. He ached to just catch a glimpse of Ezra. He had to find out if Ezra was okay. The last visual he had of Ezra was bloodied and woozy. Mr. Jones promised Chaz he’d take care of Ezra, but there was no acknowledgement since then. Maybe… Mr. Jones lied. “Show him to me!”
He projected his voice clear and loud, so Mr. Jones heard him. But Mr. Jones wasn’t paying attention. “Goddamnit, Jones. Let me see Ezra!”
“Ohh, Bigfoot is getting impatient.” Mr. Jones grinned while the crowd laughed. “I don’t think we should listen to him. It’s time for Bigfoot to decide his fate. Park or lover? From here, he will be led to a spot five hundred metres away where we can’t witness him choose a direction. There, he will determine which way to go. I do have cameras located in discreet locations so we can all watch from the comfort of my sunroom. Refreshments will be offered as the game proceeds. I don’t want to influence Bigfoot, but I can’t make it easy for him either.”
Chaz snarled. What the fuck was the man thinking? He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. Now was not the time to go in half-cocked. Ezra’s life was on the line. His as well. Chaz had to make smart decisions, or they were fucked. His actions had a direct effect on Ezra.
Be a smart man.
Chaz allowed his minder to lead him to a spot surrounded by thick foliage and waited for the next step.
“You gotta run. Doesn’t matter what direction. The boss will declare it a win for the house. Then you and your buddy will be free. Do not play the hero. Mr. Jones is already pissed off because our first guy tried to call the cops.” The whispered instructions were more than what Chaz expected. He hadn’t thought any of the henchmen knew how to talk in something other than grunts.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it,” Chaz muttered. He gave his new friend a fist, and the guy gently bumped it with his own.
“He’s going to expect you to hightail it toward the park, which is in this direction.” He spun Chaz gently to face a different spot. “But your friend with the bloody nose is this way.”
Chaz was spun three-quarters and faced another set of trees and rocks. His sense of direction had disappeared. Despite the friendly advice, he had no idea as to how he was going to get out of this fucked up situation. He took a deep breath, then another. But first, Ezra.
“He has an air horn he likes using. It’s a dick move, but he’s a big money guy from Toronto. Be warned and then go.” The guy patted his arm and melted away. Chaz hoped he’d be able to tell if he was alone, but losing Ezra’s location terrified him more than anything else.
The Bigfoot costume annoyed him in every way. If he wanted to see, he had to turn his whole body. He couldn’t feel anything through the faux fur gloves. He only had tunnel vision for any sort of visual cues. Hey, if all he had to do was aim for the buildings and retrieve Ezra, what else could go wrong?
The air horn trumpeted. Chaz hissed at the sharp noise as birds scattered from the trees. The guy was right. Mr. Jones had no reason to make that noise in the middle of the forest.
Chaz aimed himself toward the area Ezra was in. The sound of water crashing against the shore was to his left. He stepped carefully, remembering Ezra and the blood he'd splattered everywhere. All because he'd stepped on a root. Chaz picked his way through the dense area, using his hands to push through the thin branches and small trees. He kept his ears open for the chatter of humans, but the world around him was deafeningly silent. No noise except for wind through the canopy. God, wouldn’t he love a clue to know he was heading toward the house.
Chaz’s palms grew sweaty, and his breathing became choppy as time ticked on. Had Mr. Jones given him a timeline? Was he supposed to rush to Ezra’s side? The details were foggy because he was an arrogant prick who thought he had everything in hand and could save the day with a swift kick and a romantic kiss.
Life wasn’t like that though. He was trapped in a Bigfoot outfit and disoriented. He had no way of knowing what was next on his agenda.
“Goddamn fucking asshole.”
Chaz shook his head and wiped his hands on his thighs, even as he remembered that wouldn’t work.
Ezra.
He had to keep the goofy, delightful beanpole of a man in his thoughts. Ezra was the point of this. Ezra was likely as panicked as he was. Yeah, now was when he had to save his boyfriend. Was it too soon to call Ezra his boyfriend?
Chaz moved slowly, keeping the bay in sight. Still no human noises. That was okay. He had one side figured out, and he sensed a clearing coming up. The trees seemed to have thinned out as he trudged along.
His positive pep talk stopped when someone slid in front of him. Mr. Jones, with his dead eyes and plastic smile.
“Chaz? Can I call you Chaz?” he asked. He crossed his arms and shook his head. “I expected you’d come for Ezra. Sweet man. A bit na?ve, but some people are into that. Anyway, I can’t just let you rescue your damsel. This is a sport! It’s only been fifteen minutes. My friends are expecting a show! A spectacle! You’re not giving it to them.”
“I want Ezra and to go home. I don’t even care if you get away with your crime.” Chaz waved his arms around. “Let us go.”
“Spectacle and then you can be released. Scare some hikers.” Mr. Jones smiled, reminding Chaz of an evil villain from a seventies movie. “I don’t wish to see your disgusting costume for an hour, say. I expect to hear screams from people on the trail. Then maybe I’ll free you.”
“Goddamnit. Fine. Whatever. You are the world’s biggest twat,” Chaz snarled. He stepped around until he was facing a new direction. Mr. Jones’s request seemed impossible as there were no hikers anywhere around. They were a noisy lot as human chatters tended to keep the wildlife away to remind themselves why hiking was fun.
There was nothing.
He walked forward, even as his head spun. The costume was hotter than hell, and his underclothes were drenched with sweat. The smell had been steadily getting worse than the dead body, which he’d been actively trying to forget. Time stopped as he tramped through the woods, seeking out any living soul. He was so close to surrendering. This wasn’t worth it. Ezra was a SPAM agent. He could free himself from Mr. Jones’s clutches easily.
“Oh, my God! George! It’s Bigfoot! He’s not dead!”
Chaz froze. He remembered that twang. It haunted him. Ricky and George, the two asswipes who'd gotten them into this mess. What wouldn’t he give to turn around and actually see them. But to do that was to lose his way.
“Didn’t we put him down?”
“Shot him right in the back.”
“Then what’s this?”
“I don’t know! I thought we made sure the guy was gone. What are we going to tell Mr. Jones? That the guy we thought was dead is now reanimated and doing stuff? Oh, God, Mr. Jones is gonna be so pissed!” Ricky wailed. George grunted an answer.
Chaz counted to ten. Were these assholes the hikers Mr. Jones wanted him to terrify or did he mean actual people using the trail? Chaz voted for scaring Ricky and George. They were dumb, and Chaz itched for payback. Grimacing, Chaz raised his arms above his head and did a weird sort of spinning dance, hooting and hollering. Ricky, the slim one, screamed, and the sound of gunfire ricocheted through the forest. Chaz stopped moving, shocked at Ricky’s reaction. George had his eyes closed and was shaking his head while Ricky held his gun and pointed it at Chaz.
“Are you guys for real?”
“He speaks English!”
“Scream once more, Ricky. I dare you,” Chaz taunted. He was done. This was it. If he got shot by these two numbskulls, so be it. Though he was sure they had the aim of a stormtrooper. He'd scared people, even if there was a possibility they worked for Jones. Chaz had still done it, and that had to count toward whatever playbook Jones had in his head. “You’re coming with me.”
George—the more rational one of the duo—narrowed his eyes. The gears were spinning in his head. Chaz could see the smoke from his ears. “How are you going to make us?”
“I’m fucking Bigfoot, that’s how!” Chaz wished he had Ezra’s height so he’d be able to intimidate these cretins a little better. He rushed Ricky, and the guy crumpled at Chaz’s feet. The gun Ricky used lay loose in his hands, and Chaz grabbed it. He hated guns, thought they were useless most of the time. However, he’d descend his moral ladder and get over it because it meant he had the upper hand. “Get your ass off the ground and walk in front of me.”
“You can’t tell us what to do! We’re not the ones in the ridiculous costume,” George snapped. Chaz arched an eyebrow. So, George knew what was up. Why didn’t Ricky, though?
“My life is so fucked right now I couldn’t care less if you obeyed me or not. Everything that could go wrong has, and I have no more fucks to give. So shut the fuck up, get the fuck in front of me, and move. I don’t have time to listen to you assholes whine.” Chaz waved the heavy gun to prove he had the power and not them.
“Why the fuck did you have to drop the gun? I gave it to you for a reason.” George sneered at Ricky, who looked at his feet, shamefaced.
Ricky and George complained bitterly and acted like punished puppies as Chaz nudged them along. They dragged their feet and threatened Chaz with bodily harm once George explained to Ricky who Chaz was. Chaz ignored them as best he could. Images of Ezra’s bright smile and flushed cheeks kept him going. He was done with this weekend. His plans had been hijacked from the get-go by one of the sweetest men he’d ever met. While Chaz didn’t regret a single moment, including his time as Bigfoot, he was ready to disappear. He would never relive these memories, even the good ones. They’d be tossed out the window the minute Ezra was back in his arms.
“Jones!” he yelled as clearly as he could. Chaz wished to rip the fucking mask off, but he was zipped in, and he didn’t trust Ricky or George to not do anything stupid. “Get your ass out here now!”
A sliding door opened from up above, and the perfectly dressed Mr. Jones stepped out, holding a snifter in one hand. The smirk he had changed to dawning horror as he saw what Chaz had brought. “Who are these people?”
“Murderers and dumbasses. Where’s Ezra?” Chaz gave up being polite. It hadn't gotten him anywhere. No more bullshitting, costumes, or playing fucking games. He spun the gun as best he could while wearing fuzzy gloves. Anything to disarm Mr. Jones.
“He’s enjoying my company. Talk to me, Mr. Adams. Who are these fellows? Where did you get that useless device? Guns were not part of the scenario.” Mr. Jones leaned on the deck rail and smiled at Chaz. “I don’t believe I told you to bring me hikers. You’re ruining my guests’ fun.”
“Do they look like hikers to you? In loafers and suits? They're your goons, and they’re the ones who got me and Ezra into this mess.” Chaz pushed on Ricky’s shoulder. “They phoned the wrong fucking number.”
“I’ve never seen these two men in my life,” Mr. Jones said. “But a deal is a deal, I guess. Stop spinning that gun. It’s beneath us as men.”
George squawked. “What? No way, Boss! You told us to shoot the asshole who phoned the cops.”
“I never said such a thing. Please go away.” Mr. Jones made a shooing motion, but no one listened. Least of all, Chaz.
“I don’t fucking care if you don’t know one another or took dance lessons together. I scared these assholes. Ricky screamed like a little girl. Give me Ezra. And you will get me out of this fucking death suit now.” Chaz tugged on the mask and snarled as it continued to hold on. “Or I will use the useless weapon on one of your dear friends.”
“Lance, please help Mr. Adams remove the costume. Max, go down and take care of our hiker friends.” Mr. Jones flicked a wrist lightly, and everyone snapped into action. Lance came from the side and removed the headpiece and unzipped the rear of the suit, while another man jogged down the stairs and grabbed a hold of Ricky and George.
Breathing fresh air was the sweetest thing. Having the cool breeze touch his heated skin was the next best. Chaz gulped it in as well as the bottle of water Lance passed him before smiling at Mr. Jones. “Thank you. I appreciate your kindness. Now where’s Ezra?”