Page 20 of Caution Tape

It went insodeep.

And Jerald! Look at him go! It’s akin to when fish get pulled out of the water, how they jerk and twist and flop. Well, Jer-Bear can’t twist and he can’t flop, but oh baby, can he jerk! He positivelyvibrateswith pain, his head whipping back and forth while rocking the chair sideways so hard I have to catch him from tipping over. Blood, bright and glorious blood spurts out in chaotic, frequent splats. It bursts, like the blood is speaking in Morse code.

I watch as he grips the sides of the metal folding chair so hard that his fingernails show cracks, splintering on the curved metal tubing, blood leaking out from under his cuticles.

I step back for a moment, wanting to savor it. To examine it from all angles, this suffering wrought before me.

The shipping container creaks. A small, slight metallic groan that is obviously a gust of wind making the container shift, but that fact doesn’t stop a sudden, paranoid—yet tantalizing—idea.

A fantasy hits me like hot water is poured over my head.

Cora, in that black dress, catching me in the act with Jerald.

I imagine Cora, striding toward me and glaring as I shrug helplessly. Stopping an arm’s length away, she leans down, her hair falling in front of her eyes. Slim fingers work along her hips to the hem of her underwear, slipping them down long legs and stepping out of them with dainty precision. Then as she turns around, she bends over in front of me, tight dress riding up around her hips. With a smirk, she moves to place her panties delicately on the exposed nail that is artistically penetrating Jerald’s face.

As if she were hanging up a coat.

Jerald gags, breaking the fantasy and bringing me—regretfully—back to earth.

“I don’t have Cora,” I tell him, and I get the sense he’s not really listening. “But I do have you!”

The next naildoesgo into his balls, and what do you know, that fishcanjump.

Chapter Nine

Cora

Target Guy drove down the street, taking a sharp turn, disappearing into the night. He didn’t see me lurking in the shadows, and I assume he believed he was alone. Except he wasn’t.

I saw it all, and I know Jerri is with him.

In the trunk.

I try to wrap my head around what I just witnessed. So, Nolan isn’t normal after all, just as I had suspected. That normal façade isn’t correct. He has layers… how interesting.

Instead of screaming for help that my friend has just been choked out with a rope and shoved into a trunk, I stroll down the sidewalk and casually make my way back into the Halloween party.

I fetch myself another drink and play out a few different scenarios in my head. Maybe that girl Jerri has been talking to—Jessi—has set him up. Maybe this is some kind of kinky role play that he found himself a part of.

For a moment, I become fascinated just thinking about the idea of it. At least until I freeze, half choking on my drink as the booze drips down my chin and neck.

What if there is no Jessi?

What if therenever was?

I ponder why Target Guy has taken him and I wonder what exactly he has in store. What his plan is or even what the end game goal could be. Abruptly, I find myself smiling with anticipation.

For the first time in a long time, excitement consumes me.

I’m going to find out.

Nolan

“A guy from our school is missing,” Natalie tells me one morning. She is sipping orange juice and flipping through an actual newspaper; one of those little eccentric routines of hers that she claims keeps her “grounded” and “rooted in reality.”

I don’t care, but she’s flipping the newspaper pages self-importantly, peering down the nose of her reading glasses—that I don’t think she actually needs—and clucking her tongue. Normally this would cause mild thoughts of tying her to the chair and burning the house down, but the last week has granted me an unparalleled level of calm.

“Jerald, I remember him. He was in my sociology class.”

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