Orphans of Wonderland (17 page)

Chapter Seventeen

What do you remember, Joel?

The field. I remember coming awake in the field.

Why were you in the field, Joel?

We all passed out…or…maybe we fell asleep in the grass…but I remember coming awake and seeing the sky. It was so beautiful…so…blue. And the clouds…there were these giant clouds, they…they looked so peaceful.

Had you and the others been sleeping in the field, Joel?

I don't know. I think so. But maybe…maybe it was just a game.

Were you pretending?

Maybe.

Did you all lie down in the grass, Joel, and pretend to be asleep?

I don't know. I…I only remember the car…the big black car…and then…

What do you remember about the big black car, Joel?

It tried to run us down. We thought it was someone trying to scare us.

And did it scare you, Joel?

Yes. It scared all of us.

Then it was gone?

Yes, but it came back.

The big black car came back?

Yes. I remember seeing it coming. Slowly, it…it was coming slowly toward us.

And then what happened, Joel?

I don't know.

What's the next thing you remember?

Waking up in the field.

And how did you feel when you woke up in the field, Joel?

Tired…confused…afraid. We all did.

What happened with the big black car, Joel?

I don't know.

You don't know? Or is that you don't want to remember?

I don't…I don't want to remember.

Why don't you want to remember?

Because, I…

Why don't you want to remember, Joel?

I'm not supposed to. None of us are.

A slight headache tingled behind his eyes even as the first moments of consciousness returned. Light from a row of filthy little windows high above him illuminated an intricate pattern not far from where he was lying. It took him several seconds to realize it was a large, very intricate web. Slowly, like a swimmer rising toward the surface of the ocean, Joel ascended toward consciousness, his mind firing and linking thoughts with sight and sound. The web belonged to a plump black spider hanging in its corner, slowly devouring the remains of a butterfly.

Joel hated spiders, was afraid of them, and with this memory came horror. In his mind he scrambled away, putting as much distance between himself and the spider as possible. But in reality he was still sluggish and barely moved at all, only managing to roll over slightly from his left side to his back.

The floor was cold and hard. The ceiling above consisted of old rafters and rotting beams. And then the smell…body odor, urine, fecal matter and…something else…something that actually smelled quite good. Soup? Beef of some kind?

Joel tried to move his arms. His hands flopped against his face, and he rubbed his eyes with fingers that tingled and felt like they were asleep. Still groggy, he raised his head, pressed his palms flat against the cold floor, bent his legs at the knee and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Everything tilted and spun for a few seconds before coming to a blurry stop.

He felt nauseated and cold. Shivering, he drew his knees in closer to his chest, then wrapped his arms around his shins. It was all coming back now, gradually, and he wanted to run. Unfortunately Joel wasn't even in a position to stand up yet, much less flee, so he remained where he was and worked on focusing his vision and clearing his head.

“Relax,” someone said. “Breathe. Give it a minute and you'll be good as new. It's normal to be groggy for a few minutes. Need to clear the cobwebs is all.”

The word
web
reminded him of the spider. He looked for it, but the spider, the web and the butterfly were gone. Had he dreamed them?

Joel kept dragging himself away from where it had been until he felt a wall against his back. With a wider and clearer view of the area, he guessed they'd taken him to one of the abandoned factories. The building was enormous but gutted and falling apart. His head lolled to the side, following the smell of soup, and he found an older man huddled in the corner, eagerly slurping at a steaming can of beef stew. The man looked to be in his sixties or early seventies, was horribly unkempt, and had a long gray beard that hung nearly to the middle of his chest. Dressed in filthy clothes that more closely resembled rags, and shoes that were literally falling apart, the homeless man was obviously unconcerned with anything but his stew, as he noisily scooped plastic spoonful after plastic spoonful into his toothless mouth like he hadn't eaten in days, which he probably hadn't.

Sunglasses still in place, Novak and Kavon stepped from the shadows. Kavon had replaced the needle with a handgun, which he held down by his thigh.

Novak smiled and motioned to the homeless man. “This is our new friend Barney,” he said. “Say hi, Barney.”

Barney looked up long enough to nod at Joel, then continued shoveling.

“There's a lot of homeless people in the city,” Novak explained. “Lots of them take refuge in these old buildings. Hey, beats the streets, right, Barney? Anyway, he looked awful hungry, so we got him some nice discount beef stew in a can. Looks yummy, doesn't it, Joel? Eating good today, huh, Barney ole boy?”

Barney nodded and gave a toothless grin.

Joel attempted to ask Novak what they'd done to him, but his words came out slurred and unfamiliar. A string of spittle drooled from his mouth and dangled from his bottom lip.

“It's okay,” Novak assured him. “Sounds and looks like you've had a stroke, but it's nowhere near that serious. The effects wear off fairly quickly. First minute or two can be a bear though.”

“Why are you doing this?” Joel asked, the words still slurred but discernible.

“It's awfully cold out today, even in here.” Novak's breath tumbled forth like smoke, as if for emphasis. “So I've got an idea. How about we do our best to get along and have our little talk as quickly as we can? Then you can get back in your car, turn the heat way up, get nice and cozy and warm, and be on your way. How does that sound? Does that sound good to you, Joel?”

Spitting the drool free, he swallowed, coughed and wiped his chin. “I want to know who you are, why you've been following me and what you want.”

Novak responded in a tone still eerily pleasant but unmistakably threatening. “Joel, it's been my experience that things tend to work out best when one person does the speaking and one person does the listening. So I'd like you to listen while I speak. Think you could do that for me, Joel? Think you could listen while I speak?”

Joel nodded, hopeful his feigned annoyance masked his anxiety.

“Super.” Novak removed his sunglasses to reveal dull hazel eyes. “That's a good decision, Joel, and good decisions are the way things ought to be, because if you think about it, life is really all about decisions. To a large degree, the decisions we make determine the kind of lives we ultimately have, wouldn't you agree, Joel?”

An icy wind whipped against the building, infiltrating the numerous fissures and openings and blowing debris and trash about. Joel was sure he'd never be warm again. Novak continued grinning at him like a psychotic catalogue model, awaiting his response. “Yes,” Joel answered. “I agree.”

“Great, because as it turns out, you have a very important decision to make right now, Joel.” Very subtly, Novak moved closer. “You can go on back to Maine and your nice, quiet life with your beautiful, loving wife, your fat little bald friend and your nifty job.
Or
you can stay here and continue to do things that are detrimental to your health and well-being, and maybe even theirs. Now I want you to think about that a minute, Joel. I want you to think about it very carefully. Can you do that for me? Can you think about it very carefully, Joel?”

“Threaten me all you want,” Joel told him. “But don't you ever threaten my wife. I don't give a shit who you are.”

Novak exchanged glances with Kavon. “Oh, this is
so
disappointing, Joel. I asked you to listen just now, didn't I? Didn't I ask you to listen and then to think very carefully? Jeez Louise, was I not clear on that?”

Before Joel could answer, Kavon stepped forward and kicked him in the stomach. The blow was so violent it took Joel's his breath away and sent sharp, slashing pains from his gut all the way up into his chest.

As he gasped and slid to the side, Kavon grabbed him by the shoulders, then slammed him against the wall, releasing him to sit up on his own. Joel wobbled but remained upright.

Barney let out a cackling laugh, then continued eating.

“Decisions,” Novak told him. “It's all about good decisions, Joel.”

Joel's breath slowly returned, and the sharp pain eventually turned to a dull ache in his lower abdomen. “Is this what you did to Lonnie? Did you threaten him too? Did you kill him when he wouldn't leave things alone?”

Kavon stepped toward him, but Novak stopped him with a quick shake of his head. “Joel,” Novak said, “I want you to take a good look around. Can you do that?”

Joel stared daggers at him instead.

“Do you see where you are, Joel?” Novak asked. “Here we are in the middle of a city, and yet, we're kind of in the middle of nowhere, aren't we? Gosh, I'd imagine a grown man could scream his head off for help out here at the top of his lungs and no one would ever hear him. I'd venture to say someone could even disappear on a road like this, with all those lost little spaces in all these big old buildings, and no one would ever find them. Except for maybe the rats, right, Barney?”

The homeless man was so engrossed with his stew he didn't answer.

“It's kind of scary if you think about it,” Novak said. “Are you thinking about it yet, Joel? Give it a try. Think about it for me, and let's see what you come up with. How's that sound?”

The pain finally subsiding, Joel straightened his posture but remained sitting. “You're not going to kill me. Too many people know I'm here looking into things. If I turn up murdered too, it's going to be impossible to explain.”

“
Murdered
? I don't recall saying anything along those lines.” Novak looked to his partner. “Mr. Kavon, do you recall me saying anything along those lines?”

Kavon shook his head.

“Who are you?” Joel pressed. “Who do you work for, Tuser Industries? The government? Who?”

Using his free hand, Kavon fired a vicious uppercut to Joel's jaw.

As his teeth clacked and his head snapped back, slapping the wall, he let out a grunt, doubled over and fell forward into Kavon's waiting arms. He propped Joel up, leaning him against the wall again. Joel coughed, then gagged, struggling to catch his breath as nausea and horrific pains raced along his jawline up into his temples.

“Anyhoo,” Novak said, “I'm going to need to see your phone now, okay, Joel?”

“I don't have it,” he said, his jaw sore and crackling and the back of his skull throbbing. “I left it at the hotel.”

Kavon thrust a beefy hand into Joel's jacket pocket, yanked the cell out and handed it to Novak.

“Well, aren't you a Sneaky Pete? I had a feeling, you rascal.” Novak ran his finger over the screen. “Let's see. Stop…and…Delete. Now, I'm going to give this back to you, Joel, because I know how expensive these darn things can be and just how attached we get to our cell phones these days. But if you try that again, Mr. Kavon is going to break it up into teeny-weeny little pieces, okay?”

Finally able to sit erect again, Joel took his phone back when it was offered and returned it to his pocket, keeping a wary eye on Kavon throughout. He'd been in his share of fights in his youth, but no one had ever hit him that hard.

“Here's what it boils down to, Joel.” Novak crouched down in front of him, took Joel by the chin and gently lifted his head until he was looking at him. “Like I said, it's all about making good decisions.”

Kavon sidled up next to Barney, but the old man didn't seem to notice.

“Take ole Barnabas for example,” Novak continued, eyes locked on Joel's. “Nobody's born a filthy, homeless loser. I'd be willing to guess this old man has made numerous decisions over the course of his miserable and useless life, wouldn't you, Joel? Wouldn't you say he's probably made a lot of decisions in his miserable, useless lifetime?”

In his peripheral vision, Joel saw Kavon straighten his arm and aim the gun just inches from the side of the homeless man's head. Still slurping and focused on the stew, Barney had no idea a weapon was pointed directly at his temple.

“Yes,” Joel said. “I would.”

“He
decided
to sleep in this building last night. He
decided
to stay when we came in. He
decided
to have some stew on us and hang around. Barney didn't have to do any of those things. He chose to. Decisions, Joel, decisions.”

As Joel looked into Novak's dull eyes, he had no doubt that the man before him was a vicious sadist who had killed many human beings. Kavon was the brute and muscle of the two, but Novak was the truly frightening one. “Stop it,” Joel said softly. “Please. He's done nothing to you. He has nothing to do with any of this.”

Novak stood up. “That's the thing about our decisions, Joel. They can reward us or they can punish us.” He motioned to Barney. “On one hand, Barney's decisions rewarded him with that no doubt delicious gourmet beef stew he's so delicately scarfing down as we speak.”