The Taker finished preparing the food and placed it inside the bag—this time it had reinforced handles and could support the weight more easily, which meant it wouldn’t tear like the McDonald’s bag nearly had. She’d also prepared some for herself, and she planned to dine with him.
Finishing up, she wiped clean the surface and grabbed the bags, then headed into the garage. She locked the door from the inside, dropped to her knees, and twisted the wheel. Each turn gave a squeak, the pitch getting higher each time she twisted. In turn, each increase of that pitch elevated her excitement to new heights until she lifted open the hatch and watched the lights blink on again.
When she saw Mason, her heart dropped.
“Haven’t you been happy, love?” she asked, looking at the way he sat with his face in his hands, his knees brought to his chest. “There’s no need to be upset. Look, I brought us some sandwiches. I thought we could eat together. What do you say?”
Mason said nothing, lowering his hands and looking up at her with a piercing stare. He looked even worse than yesterday, which was saying something. “You brought us sandwiches… You brought us sandwiches? I’m your captive, you crazy b—”
“I’ll remind you to watch your language.”
That silenced him.
The Taker smiled at her dominant victory and took a hook from the side. As before, she attached it to the bag and lowered it down to him. Even when it reached his eye level, Mason only took one look and then turned his head like a stubborn child refusing his dinner. The Taker had no interest in arguing with him, so she simply dropped the bag to the bottom of The Pit and then dragged the rope back up, hook and all. When the delivery was made, she opened her own bag and produced a tuna mayonnaise sandwich, which she didn’t hesitate to cram into her mouth. The soft texture made it feel like air, and she wolfed it down without either of them saying a single word. By the time she was done, she was ready to talk.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “You can’t go forever without eating.”
Mason shrugged. “I’m not going to be here forever.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I have people looking for me.”
The Taker giggled, burping into a closed fist. “Why so certain?”
“Because I have a family.”
“Is that all?”
“I’m also a cop.”
“Yes, well, don’t think for a second I didn’t already know that. I’m more than familiar with your background, Mason. Some might even say I’m an admirer of yours. From what I read, you’re sort of a trouble magnet. That stuff with Anarchy and Lady Luck—”
“Shut up.”
The Taker ignored him. “All of this after your ex-wife cheated on you. Tut-tut. What was her name again? Sandra? It must have really hurt you—really done a number on you to see her with her Pilates instructor. I had to laugh when I found out you’d even paid for the lessons.”
“Please,” Mason said, shaking his head. “Shut up…”
“But then again, it contributed to your rage, didn’t it? You know, I read some bullshit blog post about how they think you murdered the Lullaby Killer. Tell me, did he really escape, or do you have him in a room somewhere, like I have you?”
“Shut the hell up!” Mason shot to his feet, clawing at the wall like a rat desperate to escape a dumpster. He leapt and scratched but to no avail, screaming bloody murder. “I’m a person, you psycho. A human being! Let me out of here, or I swear to god I’ll kill you!” He turned on the spot and kicked his bucket. Urine and feces spilled across The Pit, covering every inch of the previously clean floor as the edges of bright yellow liquid reached out to claim the bag with sandwiches in it.
The Taker watched, fascinated.
“You’re losing it already,” she said, standing up to avoid the putrid smell emitting from the hatch. “Tell you what: I should probably leave you alone to think about what you’ve done. If you let me go without yelling some more, I’ll consider bringing you a mop. Deal?”
Mason stood still, his chest heaving as he wept. His fists were clenched, and he hunched over, his hands shaking while his knuckles turned white. Towering above him, she could see his teeth, bared like a rabid dog. But this little pooch was in his cage, right where he should be.
“Good,” she said, reaching for the hatch. “Then we understand each other.”
The truth was, she had every intention of bringing him the mop. Even as she heard his screams echo through the small hatch while she closed it, The Taker knew she couldn’t be so harsh as to make him wade through his own piss and shit. Eventually, she would have to open the safe room again—a couple times a day if she wanted to keep him alive—and she didn’t want that awful stench reaching her nostrils if she could help it.
But for now, she’d done her job. If he didn’t want to eat, that was fine. She couldn’t be held responsible for that, which was what she reminded herself as she tightened the valve and picked up her empty sandwich bag, leaving the soundproof garage with her pet in The Pit.