Tuesday, Afternoon, June 17th 1924: Hiding in Plain Sight
In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 18):
It’s bad when a wound smells, right? Burt thought to himself. He had been in this underground cell for days. The shirt that had wrapped around his broken arm had turned a foul yellow color. The last thing he remembered was walking to the roadhouse for the weekly poker game. At his age, it was one of the few things he had left to enjoy in life. He knew that Lucy and the others humored him, but it was nice to get out of the house. He loved Ida of course, but a man needed to have his vices and gambling was his.
Ida is probably worried sick. He might have slept a few off at Hibb’s, but he’d never been gone this long. With a soft grunt, he lifted himself off the floor and approached the grate the kept him sealed in the makeshift cell. He had long given up trying to pry it open. There didn’t seem to be a lock and with one good arm he doubted he had the strength to pry it open, even if he could find some sort of lever
A loud clunk and the squeal of rusty hinges were the first sounds Burt had heard since he had awoken in the cell, causing his heart to nearly jump out of his chest. “HELLO!? HELLO?!” Burt shouted. “Let me out of here!”
His shouts were met by a soft chuckle. “You left him down here sister? How delightfully cruel of you.” The sudden illumination that filled the chamber caused Burt to shield his eyes in pain. Once his watering eyes adjusted to the light, he saw the two figures that stood before him. Spitting images of each other, only barely distinguished by gender, were a pair of raven-haired twins.
“I had completely forgotten about him Hector, inconsequential gnat he is,” said the women.
“Please, whoever you are, let me out of here,” Burt pleaded reaching his good arm through the bars of the cell as if he could grasp freedom.
“Pathetic,” said the woman disdainfully, spitting in disgust.
“Don’t be so heartless sister. Surely there is some sort of arrangement we can come to.” The man placed a finger against his chin. “How long have you been in there?”
“I… I don’t know….” stammered Burt. “I was walking to the roadhouse and next thing I knew I was…” The man raised a hand and Burt felt his mouth run dry.
“Sister?” said the man.
“I don’t know, 2 or 3 days, I forget,” the woman said with a huff. “We’re supposed to be getting the book not chatting with this insect.”
“Come now Carla, give the man a chance.” The man started pacing in front of Burt’s cell, his footfalls kicking up small clouds of dust. “Now I’m nothing if not generous. So…. Let ‘s say two days.” Stopping abruptly the man pulled a knife from his belt with a flourish, holding it out hilt first. “The price of freedom, two fingers.”
Burt looked at the knife wordlessly, his outthrust hand falling limp. “Two… fingers?” he whispers softly.
“Yes, yes. And preferably soon,” the man says lifting the knife towards Burt again.
Reaching out with a shaking hand, Burt grasped the cold hilt of the knife. 2 fingers…. And I can go home…
He unwound the shirt from around his injured arm, revealing the odorous wound. Almonds his mind remarked, trying to escape the situation.
He placed the edge of the knife against the third knuckle of his pinkie. 2 fingers….. I love you Ida… He pressed down on the knife.
Burt awoke to the rough grit of stone against is cheek.
“Such a shame you only got to one.” Groggily Burt lifted himself into a seated position. On the floor before him was his severed finger. Looking up he saw the man wipe the now bloody knife on a white rag. “Maybe tomorrow you’ll be up to task. Come Carla, we can’t keep Abner waiting.”
The twins retreated into the darkness around them, leaving Burt alone, clutching at his hand.
“Oh, and by the way, the price of freedom has just gone up.”
Burt wasn’t sure what was the cause of the tears that welled up in his eyes, the ache in his hand or the empty feeling in his heart.
I love you Ida…
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:06, Wed 09 May 2018.