Death After Death (#2)

Chapter Thirty-Two

"Did you really think that I wouldn't find out?" Joey seethed, slamming his fist against the cheekbone of Doctor Saunders. "Did you really think it would be that easy?"

Saunders shook off the pain and stared up, deeply into Joey's eyes, "Fuck you," he growled.

"Wrong move yet again, Doc," Joey laughed, crashing his fist against the other side of Saunders' face.  

Droplets of blood splattered the nearby wall and stained Joey's fist. Saunders however remained calm, his hands bound behind the chair in which he was imprisoned. He knew that calmness was the fastest route underneath Joey's skin.

"Why did you do it?" Joey asked. "Why is she worth risking your life for?"

"I'm going to stick with my first answer. Fuck you."

"Wow, the good Doctor has finally grown a spine, ay? Maybe I'll have to tear it out, bit by bit," Joey grinned.

Saunders struggled to contain his anger and fear, his entire body shaking uncontrollably.

"What have you achieved? All you've done is bring her more pain. Slow, and agonizing pain. You know, what you didn't think through is that I actually need you both alive...and believe me, you're going to wish you were dead. God, you're going to beg for it. Every waking minute of your life is going to be spent dreaming of your own demise, an end to your endured misery. But that day will not come, oh I can assure you of that. You won't be dying for a very long time," Joey beamed manically.

"Then I won't work for you. You can say goodbye to your cure," Saunders spat, his blood slapping against the stone floor.

"We'll see," Joey sniggered, as he reached behind him to retrieve a pair of pliers from a nearby tray. "Everyone breaks, Doctor. And believe me, I'm going to break you."

Joey clamped the pliers down onto Saunders' large toenail, wiggling it almost playfully before wrenching it towards him. Animalistic cries filled the room, followed by pathetic whimpers as the exposed toe oozed blood.

"Have you ever heard the nursery rhyme, 'this little piggy went to market?" Joey asked, clamping the plyers down onto the next toe.

***

Lizzie pummelled the cell door with her fists until they were raw, like two red, swollen hams. She crumpled to the floor and let loose the cap on her emotions which had spent so long bottled up.

Tears streamed down her face as she trembled against the door, her eyes clamped shut, unable to bear the sight of those four walls once again. It was different this time, this time she knew there was no rescue party. They had tried and failed, this was her life now. Her life was four walls, and a door she could never open.

She slipped her hand inside her trouser pocket, dancing her fingers around the cold plastic handle, before taking the plunge and retrieving the knife. She had picked it up in the butchery, thinking it could be a tool to help them escape, a last resort. The irony of that now rang true. Perhaps this blade was indeed the only escape, the only key to free her from these four walls.

***

Saunders moans and sobs were muffled by the constant gargling of blood forcing its way down his throat. The floor beneath him was like a maroon swamp, littered with nails and teeth, and bloody tools. His fingers and toes were now completely bare, leaving bright red, sore, exposed skin in place of the once pearly nails. His mouth was like a volcano, oozing molten lava from gaps between teeth and cuts from Joey's punches.

"Tell me, was it worth it?" Joey asked simply.

Saunders couldn't answer, his body didn't have the energy left in it. Instead he gazed down at the floor, his vision blurring, leaping into the warm embrace of darkness as he passed out.

"I'll ask again later," Joey chuckled, cracking his knuckles, and stretching as if he'd just crawled out of bed.

"Joey, sir..." a voice called gingerly from the door.

"Yes?" Joey chirped back, a wide grin painted across his face.

"There's someone here to see you," the nervous man stammered.

"What am I running, a fucking office? What do you mean there's someone here to see me?"

"He...he said his name was Paulo...and he has information on the whereabouts of Max Dalton."

For a second, Joey was breathless. He grabbed the side of Saunders' chair for support as he regained his composure. He had assumed that Max would have perished on the road in the months since he'd seen him last. It would be such sweet coincidence to finally capture him now.

Joey gazed down at Saunders' still body, practically drooling at the image of Max sitting in that chair in his place.

"Well, please send him in," Joey chimed.