The Pole Shift

Sean's locked in the Cellar

It was dark. He was bound and gagged in his cellar. Why hadn't the police arrived? Why hadn't drones blown their heads off? Where the fuck was Macka! He had been let down, or had he done something wrong? He kept thinking about the case of Grey Goose that had been dropped on the lawn, he'd done the lot in a little under two weeks. Perhaps it was that, the Vodka had been a test and he failed it. It was his fault. He grunted, trying to get comfortable and get an idea of where the shelves were. At least he was alive he thought, Sally saved him and they couldn't bring themselves to comit murder.

                From behind the locked cellar door came a pair of giggles. The twin girls. Tom's fat brother's brats wouldn't be far.

                "Dare you!"

                "Darers go first!" There was more giggling. Then came the sound of running feet. The boys.

                "Lets poke him with a stick or something." Sean reddened, that little turd, he thought.

                "I know let's throw water on him!" There was general agreement, then the sound of running feet going away then coming back. The door was unlocked, light entered the room, quickly Sean got an idea where he was on the floor. There was the vodka corner, he moved his body so the back of his head faced them, anchoring his spacial awareness. He faced the other corner, where he was accustomed to dropping a variety of old tools, including a hand saw.

                Suddenly he was thoroughly soaked with what was possibly toilet water,  there was much hilarity. He kept his eye on the corner of rusted tools. He never really looked after them, but he knew what was there, some of the tools were his grandfathers. It will be a challenge getting to them, but I'm on my own now, I must try.

                He shuffled into a position where his chest and belly met the floor, as if he were a performing seal. The rope tightened. He wasn't expertly tied and he found that he could edge to the corner by bumping along. He grunted with each effort, the rope chaffing his wrists. He was finding it hard to breathe through his nose and when the door opened again, and young faces looked to where he had been to where he was now, he thought they might call for the adults. Instead they threw something soft and cold at him, exploding on his shoulder and running down his arm, it was possibly dog food.

                "No in the face! Get some more." Little feet padded away then returned. 

                "Make him eat it!"

                "Yeah! He can't get us can he?" One of the girls sounded serious.

                "No Dad tied him up really well, take off the tape let's make him eat it!" That little turd, Sean thought again.

                Tom's fat brother's brat stepped down into the cellar and tore the tape from his mouth. Sean took a deep breath, absurdly grateful to the twelve year old.

                "Thanks." He said. The boy couldn't control his giggling.

                "That's okay boy! Good boy. Want sommat ta eat? Here doggy!" The boy slapped a handful of slimy jelly like dog food against his closed mouth. "Eat boy, good boy!" Sean suddenly obeyed, forcing the food into his mouth and down his throat. There was an incredible peel of laughter from all four children. Sean played along, and panted like a dog. He said Scooby- Doo manner:

                "Rank roo very much!" He panted again, letting his tongue loll out. The children were delighted, but the noise had roused one of the adults, he couldn't place who's voice it was, Tom's he thought. The shout had come from the garden and he wondered what they were up to. The children froze and backed away from Sean, all laughter gone. Just before they went, Sean smiled at the twins and said:

                 "Be loves, turn the light on for me, I get scared of the dark." The girls obeyed and when they had locked the door Sean felt like things were looking up. He peered around him. A letter with his name in red caught his eye, it was on top of the cans of tuna.  He felt a small thrill, perhaps the letter contained instruction on how he could get help. He turned his mind back to the corner of tools, on the other side the vodka lay, completely forgotten.