Page 113 of Pure Silence

“Don’t need one. It’s a combination lock,” Goldie replied. “One, two, three, four.”

“That’s a terrible code.” Jack snorted dryly.

“Fuck you,” Goldie growled.

“Hey, man, fuck you!”

“Fuck you!”

“Gentlemen.” Lionel raised a hand for silence. He was studying Goldie’s face carefully, as if he couldn’t decide whether or not Goldie was telling the truth. “I’m going to go check this little gym of yours.” He snapped his fingers at Jack and Lin. “You two, stay here. I’m going with Ron. I’ll let you know what to do shortly.”

“You got it, sir,” Jack said.

Lionel eyed Goldie again. “I hope for your sake and your little boyfriend’s that you’re telling the truth. If not, well…” He smiled cruelly. “Jack and Lin can be very creative.”

Goldie refused to look away, and he stared Lionel down until he turned to leave. Goldie huffed in frustration, and he watched Lionel vanish into the back of the house. Since the front door was boarded up and covered in that thick black form, the back door was the only way in or out.

He could always try to break a window, but that would definitely take too long.

And that would only be possible if one, Goldie actually could get out of these ropes, and two, Jack and Lin both went to take a piss at the same time or something.

Shit.

Goldie had bought him and Day at least twenty minutes, more if traffic was bad and the staff at the gym put up a fight. He felt bad putting them in danger, but he hadn’t been thinking about that when he concocted that ridiculous ploy.

“So,” Lin said, clicking his tongue loudly, “wanna tell us why you went all Norman fuckin’ Bates with your daddy, tough guy?”

Day hummed quietly, but he didn’t reply.

“Come on,” Lin taunted. “Bet you’re a real fuckin’ freak, huh? You eat people too? Did you take a little nibble outta Daddy?”

“Shut up,” Jack grumbled. “You ain’t gotta talk to ’em.”

“What?” Lin scowled. “This might be our only chance to talk to a legit whacko.”

“How do you know he’s whacko?”

“Go look in the mirror for one, stupid.” Lin snorted. “He ate your fuckin’ face. Think about it. What kinda person eats on people and keeps their old man dead in bed like that? All tucked in and shit? That’s fuckin’ nuts.”

“Don’t listen to them, baby,” Goldie said quietly, trying to get Day’s attention. “Day? Can you hear me?”

Day lifted his head, and he was still humming the song.

“Hey, are you okay?” Goldie tried to scoot closer.

“Hey, fucker!” Jack shouted. “Don’t you fuckin’ move!”

“Fuck you!” Goldie yelled back. “I’m tryin’ to see if he’s okay!”

“What are you talking about?” Lin sneered. “He’s fine.”

“Day, hey, are you there, baby?” Goldie pleaded. He was scared that something was actually wrong with Day from being hit in the head too many times. It could be a concussion or some kind of internal bleed or even a fracture.

Having been a wrestler and seeing guys get knocked around hard for years, he knew the dangers of a head injury could be lethal.

Day’s eyes met Goldie’s, and he frowned. He stopped humming to reply, “Father isn’t speaking to me.”

Goldie glanced at the corpse, and he looked back to Day. “Does… does he normally do that?”