Agoraphobia

Day 22 (The Unexpected)

At first morning's light, Uncle Peter, Bryce, and I set out to confirm the handsome man's whereabouts. Why? Because we would have had to carry my family to Uncle Peter's truck one at a time. That would've left us vulnerable to an attack. We needed to know if the handsome man was still a threat.

The three of us exited the stairwell. Uncle Peter was armed with his crowbar, I was armed with my pepper spray gun, and we had a pit bull escorting us. So for an eleven-year-old girl and a cartoonist, we were pretty formidable.

Uncle Peter was in a surprisingly good mood considering the nature of our "mission". Often it was difficult to predict what would upset him or made him happy. When Uncle Peter's spirits were high, they could not be anchored with a trunk of lead. When they were low, wild horses couldn't drag him out of the doldrums.

With our flashlights, we cautiously made our way to the whale sculpture and entered its mouth. We gathered around the spiral staircase above the dungeon. It had been nine days since I last saw the handsome man. As soon as we leaned over, we could smell death emanating from below.

"That smell could be rotten food or a dead animal," pointed out Uncle Peter with a low smile. "The only way to know for sure is to look."

"Let's send Bryce down first," I suggested.

"Can he do that?"

"That's his job... Check it out, Bryce!"

Bryce gave me a reluctant look; the steep spiral staircase probably intimidated him. But Bryce was a professional. Slowly, he descended into the dungeon. We shined our flashlights down to give him some light. Bryce soon disappeared from sight. He was gone for about twenty seconds, then came back up and yawned adorably.

"Yawning is his way of saying the coast is clear."

"Okaaay..." drawled Uncle Peter skeptically, "Let's split up. You and Bryce—"

"NO! If there's one thing I've learned from movies, it's the phrase 'Let's split up.' always precedes something horrible."

"The same could be said about the phrase 'Let's all stick together.' But you make a good point. Are you sure you want to go down with me?"

I stood at my full height, shoulders squared, and spoke with a steady voice. "Yes, I am." The bravado was as much for my own benefit as Uncle Peter's. I've found acting brave usually facilitates bravery.

We sent Bryce down first. Then Uncle Peter. Then me. We followed the wall's curved surface until we came within sight of the narrow passage. I stopped. That was as far as my bravado would take me. "That's where he was stuck," I pointed out with a trembling finger.

Uncle Peter cautiously approached the narrow passage and peered down.

"He's dead," reported Uncle Peter.

"How dead?"

"Very dead."

"How very dead?"

"See for yourself."

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to get out the hell out of there. But another part needed closure.

I cautiously approached...

I peered down the narrow passage...

The handsome man was still stuck there. But now he was dead. Very dead. Nothing says "I'm dead," like a mouthful of maggots.

Out of curiosity, we opened the utility closet where the handsome man had been locked up. The closet had been created from a submarine's conning tower. Evidently, the handsome man had untied himself and escaped through a hatch in the ceiling. That's why the door was still locked when I had checked it.