Page 99 of Seth
The wind howled, trapped within. It pushed the bulb into constant motion. Long shadows, cast by eight figures, flung from wall to wall.
Seth dragged his gaze over the slack faces. Sharp, predatory features, light eyebrows, chiseled chins, buff bodies—his captives looked like clones or members of the same family. Ropes swathed around their necks, chests, wrists, and ankles held them in identical positions. Naked and tied up, they looked like dolls in a creepy dollhouse.
Nine chairs bolted to the floor formed a ring; only seven were occupied. A pile of torn clothes heaped next to the entrance door. The corpse of the eighth man, who had been lucky enough to die quickly and painlessly from the gas, lay nearby.
Seth had already searched their clothes. Only two had driver licenses; the rest had no IDs or credit cards on them. He collected their weapons into the duffel bag and rewrote the settings of each phone to unlock with a simple pin code instead of a fingerprint scan.
Remembering the mention of DNA tests in the legal case and having a tiny hope of obtaining them one day, Seth took blood samples from all of his hostages. With a black felt-tip pen, he marked the foreheads of each person with a number, then scribbled the same numbers on the blood-filled syringes.
A violent cough, ricocheting against the walls, drew his attention to the man thrashing with seizures, saliva and bile dripping from his gagged mouth.
Ignoring his agony, Seth ghosted toward the ladder. He squatted next to it and tucked the blood samples and the phone of the dead man into his duffel bag.
When he got up and turned around, more muddy eyes settled on him. Seth’s lips stretched in a smile he didn’t feel.
“Good morning. I hope you rested well.” A wind, not a voice, swished through the room.
On his way to the man doubling over in a coughing fit, he scooped his cellphone from the floor. With a casual flick of his fingers, he released the knot of the gag at the back of the man’s head. Despite the thin latex gloves protecting his hands, the contact with the oily, bare scalp made him cringe.
The gag fell on the man’s lap, yellowish dribble and a half-digested dinner splashing on the floor. The thrashing of the tied body grew frantic as the man retched the last contents of his stomach. Despite the stench, Seth kept his face straight as he waited for his prisoner to clear his lungs.
“What the…” The hoarse voice came out in coughs. The man lifted his head, the number six written on his forehead. “Who are you? What do you want?” Receiving no answer, the man dragged his gaze around until his light-green eyes fixed on the corpse. “What’s with Sven?”
“Sven, huh?” Seth imprinted the name in his memory as he unlocked the man’s cellphone. “He’s dead. Can’t you tell?”
More and more glares settled on Seth, but his attention centered on the screen and the recent chat history. The atmosphere in the room thickened, and the sharp, sour smell of sweat and fear permeated the air.
“You are a dead man, you hear?” the man whispered, then screamed, “I’ll kill you! I’ll chop off your dick and feed it to dogs before I cut off your head and put it on the headlight of my bike. I’ll drive around until the wind rips out your tongue and eyes.”
Seth snorted, imagining the picture. Curiosity veered his gaze from the phone to the flashing whites of the man’s eyes.
“Be quiet, worm, or I’ll put the gag back and let you drown in your vomit.”
The color drained from the puke-covered face; the man whispered, “What do you want?”
“There’s nothing you can give me, worm. But let me introduce myself.” He looked each man in the eye. The realities clashed. Seth’s voice gained the power of the roaring desert as the dying god spoke through him. “I am Set—your god and your judge. This is your final sentencing.”
“You are insane… Help!”
Groaning and muffled screams attacked his ears, way too loud. Seth tuned them out as he found Ernst’s message with Ignaz's picture attached to it.
“Remember the cutie? I got a tip his hole is itchy again.”
Seth nodded. Black anger poisoned his blood. Loud hammering filled his ears, awaking the sleeping desert of his soul as the howl of wind substituted his voice. “You like raping boys, don’t you?”
The need to kill corroded his mind, but he thrust it aside because today it wouldn’t be enough. Ignaz’s words bounced against the inside of his skull as he shrunk back to the blue cloth and squatted next to it.
“What did you say?” The question drifted from behind, but Seth barely heard it, as Ignaz’s voice filled his head.
“They raped me one after another. They made him watch. And when they couldn’t get it up anymore, they used a broken bottle to ‘give me what I wanted.’”
The electric light glinted off the hollow glass tubes Seth took from the bag. The finest, thinnest glass clanged, producing a clear tune. Seth nodded, admiring the pristine quality. “I said I know what you want. Let me give it to you, worm.”
CLANG.Seth put several tubes in a stainless-steel kidney bowl. In breathless expectation, acute glares pierced his back. Almost palpable, the chaotic thoughts of his captives formed a single question that seemingly burned out all the air in the room. What would happen next?
Seth picked up the ceramic pestle and brought it down in the bowl.
CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.Tiny shards glittered and sparkled with rainbow lights. Methodically, carefully, he crushed big pieces into tiny fragments with sharp, uneven edges.
