Page 83 of Seth
“Nah, you have it. I feel like my blood vessels will burst if I force any more caffeine down my throat.”
“Your loss.” Diego clutched both paper cups to his chest and filled his lungs with the bitter aroma.
Gustavo ignored him, focusing on the doorway.
No one paid attention when a man, dressed in a leather jacket, too heavy and thick for the sultry summer, kicked the stone from under the door and entered the unremarkable building. No one cared when two drunken men left the building fifteen minutes later; one almost carrying the other on his shoulder.
With blood-chilling casualness, Seth lowered his victim to the floor of the blue van, got in, and drove away.
Flooring the accelerator, Gustavo sped after Seth.
* * *
The mixof ice and waterhit the man’s face. The bald head jerked; bleary eyes blinked and surveyed the windowless room.
“What the f-fuck?” Walter Fischer huffed out the words. Water, skating down his face, drizzled in all directions. He squeezed his eyes and opened them again, sense returning to his gaze with every passing second. He tugged at his limbs, and the rope sank into his flesh, tightening the knots. The loop around his neck bit into his throat.
“If you move too much, the knot around your neck will tighten and strangle you.” Seth squatted in front of him.
From the floor, he picked up a piece of a half-rotten wooden log and a sharp short knife. Placing the log on its end, he drove the blade into it and splintered a long sliver. He rested it on the floor, then repeated the process.
The man rounded his eyes as he looked down his naked body. His torso was tied to the back of the wooden chair, hands and elbows to the armrests, and ankles to the front legs. His toes curled around scattered ice cubes.
“What the fuck? Who the hell are you?” He hurled forward, and the rope sank into his throat again, choking his words. Strangled coughs reached Seth’s ears, but he didn’t look up. “Wait, I know you. You are the pizza guy. Is this about the tip?”
Seth looked up from the knife and granted his victim a tight-lipped smile. The man stopped fighting. “Two years ago, you broke into a BDSM club, killed one man, raped another. Tell me the names of your comrades, and I’ll make it quick and painless.”
“You got the wrong guy,” the man squeaked, protesting. His head turned left then right, the whites of his eyes flickering. “The court found me not guilty. I wasn’t there; I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Is that so?” Seth picked the sliver of wood and dipped it into a glass, half-filled with transparent liquid, standing on the floor. The wooden tip blackened. He fetched rubber gloves from the back pocket of his jeans then snapped them on. Carefully, he pulled the stick out of the liquid and gave the burned tip a satisfied look. “Unlucky for you, I find you guilty.”
The man chuckled. “Do you know who I am? You can’t scare me with a toothpick. You better let me go before I get mad. I eat fuckers like you for breakfast.”
“That’s impressive.” Seth’s smile grew wider at the fake bravado. He shuffled to the man; his keen fingers grabbed the callous hand and forced the fist open. The splinter’s tip approached the nail of the index finger and slowly sank under it. The man shouted, eyes protruding, pupils blown with pain. “You’re a dead man. I’ll fucking bury you alive. You hear?”
Saliva flew in all directions as Fischer kept spurting insults and threats.
Seth waited for him to settle. During Fischer’s struggle, a piece of the splinter broke off, but the black tip remained beneath his nail. The flesh bloated, fingers shook, informing Seth that the acid had already started working.
“Does it hurt?” Seth asked when the man shut up, gasping for air. “I hope it does. I have to admit, I’ve never done this before, so let’s call it an experiment.”
The man’s neck and face corded as he clawed at the chair. His pupils fixed at the splinter under his nail. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s rotten wood I found outside. And this,” Seth lifted the glass with transparent liquid, “is concentrated sulfuric acid. When it comes in contact with flesh, it causes severe tissue damage. Right now, the acid is blending your melted flesh with molecules of rotten wood. Chemistry is fascinating, isn’t it?”
“You are crazy.” The man looked at the metal door, then shouted, “He-e-e-elp!”
“We’re in the basement of an abandoned cement factory. No one will hear you. No one will save you.” Seth smirked, picked one more splinter, and repeated the process with another finger. “It’s up to you how many fingers you lose tonight. I can do this all night.”
Screams of pain filled the basement. Ricocheting against the wall, they bombarded Seth’s ear drums. He got up and circled the room to give the man space and time to reevaluate his options.
“Get them out. Out-out-out,” the hoarse voice chanted. The light gray eyes stared at the inflamed fingernails and the graying flesh around them. Fear and pain hollowed his cheeks. With his eyes sunken, his bald head resembled a skull. “What do you want? I can give you money. Who hired you? I’ll pay double. Triple.” When Seth didn’t say a word, Fischer yelled, “What do you want?”
“Names.” Seth shrugged, stopping before the man.
Fischer shook his head, sweat rolling down his temples and forehead. “You don’t understand. They will kill me. They will kill my family.”
“It’s you who don’t understand.” Seth squatted, picked up the acid, and poured a puddle on the back of Fischer’s hand. An animalistic shriek pierced the air. Seth cringed as the noise chaffed his nerves. He got up and placed the glass on the floor. “You can resist and die in disgrace. Slowly, painfully, rotting from your fingertips to your toes. Soon, I’ll get impatient, and it won’t be only a hand anymore. I’ll start injecting you with acid. You won’t die at first, but you will bloat and beg me to kill you.” Seth paused to let the information sink in. When he continued, his voice sounded low. “Or, you can tell me the names, and I’ll finish it quick and painless.”
