Page 40 of The Fix
But she’d been wrong.
She’d been very wrong.
Cyrus drained the last bit of water just before he heard footsteps in the other room and then the key in the lock. The man came inholding another greasy bag of food and set it down on the floor with a bottle of water.
He squinched up his ugly face as he collected the bedpan and set it outside the door, and then he picked up a second bag next to the food and dug inside it. “I’m glad you got some sleep,” the man said. “I got you some candy and some playing cards to keep you occupied.” He tossed two chocolate bars on the bed and then held up a deck of cards. “You know how to play solitaire?”
“Any idiot knows how to play solitaire.”
The man let out a chuckle that sounded like it was mixed with a huff, and then he dropped the cards back in the plastic bag and tossed it onto the floor next to the food. “Enjoy.”
“Hey, wait. What if I ... need something?”
“Like what?” He swept his hand around. “What more could you possibly need?” He laughed, and this one sounded as greasy as the food he’d delivered.
“Like what if I’m hurt or something? Do I knock on the door?”
The man’s eyes narrowed as though he was trying to determine what Cyrus’s angle was. “You can try. Sometimes I’m right out there, and sometimes I sit on the porch. I might hear you, I might not.”
Cyrus nodded. “Okay.” The man was lying, maybe because he wasn’t around as much as he said he was. Cyrus hadn’t heard a car engine start or doors closing, so the man wasn’t parking close to the cabin. Or whatever hellhole this was. But either way, now Cyrus knew for sure there was no one else watching him. Only the nose picker.
“I don’t like my time being wasted. Just read your comics and play your cards and bide your time, you hear me?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, good.” And with that, he pulled the door closed behind him and locked the door.
There was a camera watching him.
That was another thing Cyrus now knew. Because how else would the man know he had slept? The key in the lock was loud, as wasthe door when it swung open. The bird on the windowsill outside had woken Cyrus, and he’d have definitely heard the door. No, the man hadn’t come in while he’d been asleep. He’d watched him some other way.
Cyrus did a slow walk around the room, pretending to check out his surroundings once more like he’d done yesterday. But this time, his eyes wandered along the top of the wooden walls, and a couple of times he stretched and tipped his head and looked at the ceiling.
He didn’t spot a camera anywhere.
But that didn’t mean it didn’t exist. There were so many knotholes in the walls and on the ceiling. There could be a camera or even an eye peering at him right that moment. A shiver danced over his spine.
Cyrus grabbed the bag of food and sat down on the floor against the wall and opened it. Inside was a paper cup of chili and a baked potato with orange cheese and bacon bits. He pulled out the plastic spoon and peeled the lid off the chili and ate a few bites. He needed to keep up his strength if he was going to fight his way out of this situation once he got the chance.
He finished the food and stuffed the garbage back in the paper bag, and then he used a napkin to wipe off the plastic spoon and then pretended to put it in the bag sitting next to him. But he actually dropped the utensil behind his hip.
He gripped low on the handle and began carving into the wall, his moving hand hidden by the bag as his gaze roamed over the walls again, looking for that tiny viewing device.
Cyrus stood when he was done and picked up the bag full of trash and dropped it by the door. When he turned, he glanced at the place where he’d carved his name, satisfied that it could barely be seen and probably wouldn’t be noticed by the man who brought him food and playing cards. The one who might or might not be just beyond the door. But if Cyrus disappeared, if the bad men came and took him from here, and he was never seen or heard from again, then maybe somedaysomeone would see his name carved in the wall by the floor and know that at one time, he’d existed.
He wasn’t sure why that mattered to him. It just did.
He took a seat on the bed in the same spot he’d sat before, and again, he reached his hand down and gripped the bedpost nearest the wall. When he moved his wrist lightly, he could feel that the post was loose, and when he turned his head and yawned and looked down at the place his hand gripped, he could see that when he turned it, it came up slightly, as though it was a separate piece that had been twisted onto the one below.
If he could loosen it enough to pull it off, he’d have a pretty good weapon. He could use it to club the man over the head. He’d have to time it right, though, so the man wouldn’t see Cyrus preparing his attack through the camera before he entered the room.
He couldn’t let him know he had a weapon at all.
But he was going to try to escape.
Because Cyrus didn’t give a shit what that nose picker said about wild animals in the woods. He knew what happened when you waited around for someone to save you. It was better to save yourself.
And Cyrus had decided he’d rather take his chances with a bear than with the bad men on the way.
