Page 182 of Stand: Part One
But as Camaro’s claws clicked against the white tiles, my stomach clenched with dread. I knew something bad was going to happen, either to me or to someone else, probably me. But if I was the target, Camaro was usually removed to avoid her trained interference. When I wasn’t the target, she wasn’t exactly dismissed either, her presence more inconsequential than anything else. But it seemed this time that Darren actually wanted her involved. And that made me even more nervous.
“Darren, what’s going on?”
“Quiet,” he clipped, his eyes focused on the path ahead.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The tunnel seemed to go on for ages, but well before it ended, we finally stopped at a door on our right. Darren pressed his thumb into a small screen beside a security panel. The door then clicked open, and Darren pushed me inside, waiting for Camaro to cross the threshold before shutting it behind us.
I blinked as I observed the room around me, its familiarity hitting me like a punch to the gut. I hated this room. It was the underground chamber of the “shack” that Darren utilized for some of his more gruesome “activities” that I was lucky enough to witness at times. The place made my stomach sour, the scent of blood and bleach always tainting the air.
But the room wasn’t barren like it usually was. There was a plain white mattress laid out on the floor in one of the corners, with a bright spotlight pointed at it and a camera placed on a tripod. About ten feet away sat two sturdy-looking metal dog cages placed about one foot apart from each other.
Oh God, what the fuck is this?
In the opposite corner, another camera and spotlight were also set up and pointing at an old wooden chair that was clearly bolted to the floor. A small metal table stood against the corner wall with silver-looking instruments laid out.
In front of both settings, a large metal table was bolted down in the middle and allowed for a perfect vantage point of both scenes.
“What the hell is this?” I asked as I struggled to pull away from Darren’s grip.
Without answering, he just shoved me forward and pressed my upper body onto the large metal table. Three seconds later, my wrists were forced down onto the frigid tabletop, my cuffs magnetized to the metal. Fighting against the magnetic pull, I only managed to move my wrists a single centimeter, the strength of the cuffs impeccable for their size.
Darren stepped away and walked over to one of the cages, opening the door and whistling for Camaro. She followed the command and settled into the cage without complaint, lying on her belly while her tongue peeked between her teeth. Darren crouched down and placed something around her neck before shutting the cage door.
“What did you just do?” I asked, failing to hide the panic in my voice.
He ignored me as he came back around to the table and stood directly behind me. A few seconds later, I could hear people coming down the stone steps of the shack, the sounds of a struggle echoing throughout the room. Scott came into view first, leading the way as two guards dragged a woman down the steps, followed by another two carrying another woman in the same manner.
Both of the women seemed to be somewhat drugged as their struggles were pathetically minimal as they were carried away to the opposite corners of the room. One was dropped onto the mattress in the corner, the two men not even needing to hold her down as a chain bolted to the floor was wrapped around her neck and padlocked closed.
It was difficult to tell her age with her matted brown hair covering much of her face, but she looked deathly skinny under the baggy T-shirt and shorts that hung from her small body.
The second woman, a blonde, looked a bit younger but had a much heavier build than the brunette. They actually had to squish her into the small chair before tying her limbs down with scratchy-looking rope.
When both women seemed to be properly arranged, all but one guard left, the other moving to stand by the camera near the crying blonde, seemingly waiting for his next set of orders. Scott then turned around to nod at Darren and my stomach immediately dropped to my feet.
Ah, fuck.
I could hear Darren release a heavy breath from behind me before his steps carried him to the front of the table so I could see him clearly. With his hands in his pockets, he stared down at me with a blank expression I couldn’t read worth a damn.
“Do you know what snuff films are, Jaden?”
I closed my eyes and sighed, turning my head away as my stomach soured, hoping to regain some composure before answering him.
“Yeah,” I replied with a nod. “I know what snuff films are.”
You mean murder porn.
“Good,” Darren said. “Daniel used to run quite the little production set at his home, but since it’s been burned to the ground, we’ve had to improvise a temporary location to keep up with the demand of his clients.”
Clients?
“Daniel has clients that actually pay to watch people get murdered? Seems like a waste of money when they can just watch slasher movies,” I commented.
Darren smirked. “They don’t pay just to watch, Jaden. They pay for their production,” he replied darkly. “Specifically, just for them. They hand us the script, and we make it happen. There’s no mass distribution or reproduction, no marketing scheme or promotion. Just a single tape, no editing or copies. It’s an incredibly simple process.”
I internally groaned with disgust. “Sounds too simple.”
