JORDAN LIES CURLED IN A ball on the hard concrete floor. It feels like he has lain in this position for days, but there are no days or nights now, just sleeping and not sleeping.
Everything hurts.
His head throbs. His back aches. His shackled arm is numb and his legs wobble when he stands. His lips are cracked and swollen. He tries to wet them but his tongue is thick and feels like a dry dirty sink sponge.
Closing his eyes, he tries to recall happier times.
He can almost feel his body float and drift back to the summer. It was his ninth birthday and he had gone for pizza with Mum and Dad. They weren’t fighting then. They were getting along and for the first time, for as long as he could remember, Jordan felt like he was part of a proper family. Everything was perfect. It was August and the sun was shining and there were balloons on the table and presents and a surprise birthday cake with nine candles that he extinguished with one single fierce blow.
Dad laughed and ruffed his hair. Mum told him, ‘Did you know your star sign is Leo, Jordan?’ He didn’t know that. ‘People who have the Leo star sign are lions, Jord, and you’re a lion, that’s what you are. My little lion man. You know, just like the song.’
Jordan beamed at her. He didn’t know the song but liked the idea of being strong and fearless like a lion. She hugged him and then she and dad and a waitress sang ‘Happy Birthday’.
His eyes well, despite feeling bone dry, and two tiny tears, the last of his moisture, squeeze through the roots of his lashes. He lifts his free hand and gently tries to scoop the sap to his mouth. His fingers are grubby and all he can taste is salt.
He tries to refocus his mind back to his birthday, but the strip light begins to fizzle and flicker off and on, off and on. It makes his head spin and for a moment he feels he might puke, and to his relief, he doesn’t. Within moments the light gives up and the entire room is plunged into darkness.
Jordan lies still, lost and small in the blackness. He wants so much to return to his ninth birthday but the feelings it’s brought up have wiped him out. He closes his eyes and within moments falls into a restless sleep.
In his dream he hears someone call his name.
‘Hey, Jordan!’ says the voice, louder this time.
Jordan looks up. The light is working and the room is bright again. He slowly pushes himself into a sitting position and scans the room but doesn’t see anyone.
‘Who’s there?’
‘I’m over here.’
Jordan follows the sound of the voice but all he sees is the thing in the tank. Bubbles appear at the mouth of the mask and float upwards to the thing’s foot. The eye is no longer pale, it’s a clear blue and peering directly at him.
‘Hello, mate,’ says the thing.
Jordan jolts backward, sliding against the wall.
‘We need to talk,’ it says.
Jordan puts his hands to his ears and shuts his eyes.
‘Well, that’s not very nice,’ says the thing.
‘Shut up!’
Despite covering his ears he can still hear the voice loud and clear. His heart is pounding and he feels his head swimming.
‘Are you feeling OK, mate?’
Jordan takes three deep breaths.
He opens his eyes and lets his hands drop heavily on to his lap. The thing has somehow freed an arm and is trying its best to wave at him from within the confines of the tank.
Jordan is frozen, unable to speak, but after a moment he digs up the courage and says, ‘How can you talk?’
‘How can you talk?’ the thing replies.
Jordan has no answer to that.
‘Who are you?’ he asks.
‘You know who I am. You just haven’t figured it out yet.’
Jordan looks at the ripped denim and the eagle tattoo. He has seen them before. But where? He thinks back and a moment later it comes to him. He saw them on his mum’s Facebook. ‘You’re Ben Peters.’
‘Ten points, Sherlock.’
‘But I thought you were him . . .’
‘By him do you mean the bloke that chained you up and took paedo photos of you? The same bloke who—’
‘Stop! Don’t say it.’
‘He hurt your mum, Jordan. He hurt her bad.’
Jordan feels hollow inside. After a moment he asks, ‘What happened to you?’
‘What do you think happened to me?’
‘Did he do that to you?’
‘Yes, he did, and he’ll do it to you too.’
Jordan feels his stomach lurching. The thought of ending up a thing in a tank terrifies him. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘Because he’s demented.’
Jordan feels his chest tighten. ‘My mum . . .’
‘I know, mate. I’m sorry.’
Jordan draws in his knees and hugs them close to his chest.
‘We need a plan, Jordan. We need to get out of here.’
‘And how do we do that? I’m chained up and you’re floating upside down in a tank.’
‘Yeah, there is that. But that doesn’t mean it’s not possible, does it?’
Jordan shrugs.
‘I can’t get out of this glass prison so it’s up to you to save us.’
Jordan holds up his sore and sticky shackled wrist. ‘I’ve tried!’
‘Then shout as loud as you can.’
Jordan sighs heavily. ‘I’ve tried that too but my voice—’
‘If you can’t shout then make a noise! Any noise, just make it loud!’
The light begins to flicker.
‘It’s up to you, little lion man. Save us. Please.’
The flickering stops and the room becomes dark once more.
Jordan blinks his eyes open to the darkness. His head feels woozy and his body shakes with cold and pain. He thinks he hears the rumbling of an engine which disappears as quickly as it arrived.
He calls for Ben, but his voice is like an old dog’s bark.
He listens, but Ben doesn’t respond. Instead he flinches at the sound of a door slamming closed upstairs.