12.3

Woody uttered an involuntary, ‘Shit,’ when he saw the state of the captives.

They were skinny, pale and bloodied.

They slumped against the wall, their hands all chained to thick rings that were set into the stone.

They were all gagged with dirty white handkerchiefs.

In spite of their apparent misery and discomfort, they were asleep.

One of the girls awoke as Sam’s footsteps approached.

She began screaming at the top of her lungs when she saw the axe in his hands.

‘Shh, it ok,’ Sam said, leaning the axe in the corner to their left as he moved in. He pushed a bloody finger to her lips. He then stroked her hair, clumsily rubbing more blood into it. Luna could see the poor girl was doing her best not to recoil. ‘Other toys still a-peeps.’

The others woke too, the jingling of the first girl’s chains enough to pierce their thin veil of sleep.

Their eyes were all wide, their mouths all muttering words rendered nonsensical by their gags.

‘Shhh,’ he said.

His bloody finger pointed at them all. His mouth worked quietly as he moved his finger around the room’s inhabitants.

With mounting horror, Luna realised he was deciding which one of them to pick.

*

Finally, Sam’s finger fell upon a dark-haired woman.

‘No,’ she shouted, shaking her head frantically and pulling hard at her chains.

Sam moved in close to her, grinning.

‘Sam’s new doll need new noggin,’ he smiled.

Luna caught movement from the corner of her eye.

Woody was racing towards the corner. She knew he was heading for the axe.

She tried to stop him, but he pushed her away.

Sam spun, his vacant expression turning confused, then scared then angry.

But by then the door had already barged open.

A woman came in through the door and she swung a short length of wood hard at Woody’s arm.

He cried out as it hit him, knocking his hand away just before he could grab the axe handle.

Sam covered his ears for a second, letting out a wounded cry.

Woody turned to fight, throwing a wild punch at his attacker that hit her high up on the right side of her face.

‘Woody no hit Polly. Woody naughty,’ Sam said, grabbing Woody bodily and hurling him to the floor.

Woody’s head hit the floor with a crack.

He went limp for a second.

‘Please don’t hurt him, Sam,’ Luna said. ‘He’s just playing. Woody plays rough sometimes.’

Sam nodded as if this might have been a possibility.

‘Sam play rough too,’ he said, grabbing Woody’s ears, lifting his head and smashing it face-first into the floor.

Finally, Woody slumped back, blood pissing out of the bridge of his nose.

Sam chained Woody’s hands to a spare set of shackles next to the other captives.

‘Who this?’ the girl, Polly, said.

‘Luna. Sam’s friend,’ Sam said, throwing a huge arm around Luna’s shoulders. It took every fibre in her being not to recoil from his clammy grasp.

‘Polly play too?’ the girl wore the same hopeful, childlike expression as Sam did.

‘No! Luna no Polly’s friend. Luna Sam’s friend.’

Polly pouted, crying. She slapped Sam’s arm.

Sam began to cry too. ‘No like,’ he said, tears rolling down his grubby cheeks.

‘Polly play too,’ Polly said, grabbing Luna’s arm and pulling her away.

Sam pulled her back.

It was like being in a tug of war between two giants.

‘We can all play,’ Luna said.

‘No,’ Sam said. ‘Sam play all by himself. Sam no like Luna… any more.’

And before she could prepare herself, he had shoved her back.

She landed hard on the floor, the impact knocking the breath out of her.

Then the door slammed shut, the sound of half a dozen heavy bolts being thrown like exclamation points on her incarceration.

*

It was some time later when Luna woke up.

She came to unsure of where she was until the tautness of her shoulders brought everything flooding back.

She heard muffled noises outside the door.

Looked up and saw the tops of Sam and Polly’s heads at the window, peeping over the lip of the window sill.

When they saw her looking they ducked down.

A few seconds later they poked back up again, slowly, tentatively.

The feel of their eyes crawling over her skin made her flesh creep.

She looked up again at the door and again they ducked down, letting out little surprised gasps and giggles.

They really are like kids, she thought, a shudder running through her.

That was perhaps the most fucked up thing about it all; that they were seemingly innocent in all of this. In their screwed up minds they weren’t doing anything wrong, they really were just playing with dolls.

She looked away from the door, waiting for the feel of them watching her again.

Once more, she felt their eyes on her.

She kept her head where it was, but moved her eyes, catching them in her peripheral vision.

Sam was there, Polly too. They were both peering in admiringly at their toys.

She felt sure Sam was moving his finger across the window, seemingly counting his toys.

It was an unnerving experience, having them just watching like that.

She’d have preferred they come in and get it over with; instead of just prolonging their torment.

They watched for what felt like forever.

Everyone else in the room was still sleeping, knowing nothing about the creepy voyeurs that watched them.

She tried to calm herself; they weren’t doing anything watching them like this.

In their minds they probably were just like kids looking at their toys.

She felt panic welling up in her chest, but she fought hard to keep it down. Breathing deep, she muttered reassuring phrases to herself like a mantra.

She’d been in situations like this before and had survived.

Keep your fucking cool, girl, she thought. Wait it out. On the bright side, this is distracting you from thinking about poor Tia.

Finally the panic subsided, but Sam and Polly kept on watching.

Thoroughly creeped out, she tried her best to settle back into sleep.

*

She must have had some meagre amount of rest, as the next thing she knew was the sound of the bolts snapping back.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Her eyes snapped open, as did those of the others in the room.

The fear in the eyes of the others told her that the re-emergence of the ominous figures was a bad sign.

Sam stood over them all, grinning in that vacant way that he did.

‘Luna and Sam play?’ Luna said, looking up at him hopefully.

Sam shook his head, poked his bottom lip out a little.

He looked over his collection, putting out his finger – which she idly noticed was still covered in blood – and mouthing something silently to himself.

Finally he closed his eyes and spun round, pointing his finger out the whole time.

She winced when she saw that it had landed on one of the men.

Sam smiled and moved in.

His stench intensified, catching in her throat and making her retch.

Sam fought off the man’s weak struggles and grabbed his head in his big hands.

With frightening ease, he twisted the man’s head round so it was facing the wrong way.

There were sickly crackles and pops, and a whimper from the man.

Mercifully, his face was facing away from them when he died.

Sam threw his body to the floor.

His dead eyes stared straight at Luna, making her let out a pained sob.

Sam turned round and stared at her.

‘He’ll make a beautiful doll,’ she grinned through her terrified tears.

He smiled at her and turned back to the body.

Polly seemed as if she’d remembered something, muttered, ‘Silly Polly,’ then shuffled into the corner.

A moment later she turned around and Luna saw the blood-spattered axe that Sam had brought in from the previous room.

She handed it to Sam after a brief debate over who was going to be the one to use it.

She pouted a little, but let him do it.

Her eyes were glued to the body as Sam raised the axe high.

He brought it down hard, spattering everyone with the dead man’s blood.

They all screamed, Luna included.

What made it even worse was Sam giggling and saying, ‘Sam’s a mucky pup.’

‘This is fucking horrific,’ Luna muttered to herself.

She did her best to keep the horror from her face, to try and seem enthusiastic to please Sam.

That, she already knew, was the key to getting out of this alive.

But she wasn’t sure if she could do it for much longer.

*

It took Sam six hard swings to completely sever the head.

The axe blade hit the concrete floor with a clang.

The head came loose with a jet of blood.

They were all doused in it. Everyone in the room but Luna was now whimpering in terror.

Luna was managing – barely – to keep a leash on her panic.

It was warm and sticky and made Luna’s skin crawl. She’d had blood on her dozens of times, but never like this.

This was just fucking twisted.

‘That’ll make a beautiful head for your new doll,’ she smiled kindly at Sam.

He moved awkwardly over to her.

He looked all shy, like a toddler being asked to do his party trick in front of a new audience.

Then he bent down and planted a tentative kiss on her lips.

‘Mooch,’ he smiled.

She tried not to gag at the sticky mix of blood and slaver that coated her lips.

‘Thank you, Sam,’ she beamed, fighting the urge to scream with all of her soul.

‘Sam broke Polly toy,’ Polly pouted, pointing to the dead man’s decapitated body.

The two began to scuffle in a curiously childlike manner, slapping at each other’s arms and pulling at each other’s clothes.

It looked for all the world as though the minds of toddlers had been placed in grown adults.

Woody’s eyes flicked over to the axe handle, now dripping with blood from the decapitated man.

Luna saw his intentions and caught his eye.

Shook her head furiously.

Woody glared at her as if to suggest she was out of her mind for not wanting to escape. Then he glanced over to the open door.

She shook her head again, darting her eyes to the dead man.

Woody was sneaking his foot out towards the axe handle, managing to catch it with his heel.

He began trying to pull it back towards him.

Again Luna shook her head.

Sam had Polly’s hair in a vicelike grip and was pulling it hard.

She was crying and wailing, her face the colour of beetroot.

She slapped out, catching him hard on the forehead. Sam’s pet lip came out and he too began to wail.

Woody managed to get the axe close enough so he could grab the handle.

He managed to manoeuvre it underneath him.

He slammed it down hard, knowing he’d probably only get one chance at this.

The sound of the axe hitting the floor gave him away.

Woody pulled the damaged link of chain hard and it came loose.

Sam’s head snapped round.

Tears and snot ran down his face.

But his paddy was over in the blink of an eye.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Woody no play fair.’

Woody stood, the axe in his hands.

He swung wildly, making Sam stumble back.

Then he turned and began chopping at the chains of everyone else in the room.

‘Let’s fucking get them,’ he shouted.

But the others ran out of the door without stopping to help.

In a way they did help, because Polly ran out after them.

Luna and Woody were alone in the room with Sam.

Luna still figured the best way to go was to get on his level, try and befriend him. She strongly felt that was the only way out of this alive.

‘Sam, Woody was just wanting to play,’ she said, fixing Woody with a hard stare. ‘Isn’t that right, Woody?’

Woody looked at her, looked back to Sam.

He shook his head, furious. ‘Woody’s fucking sick of playing.’

Then he raised the axe and ran at Sam.

*

Sam charged in like a bull, his shoulder hitting Woody at chest height and sending him flying into the wall.

Sam was furious.

‘Woody spoil Sam’s game,’ he spat, blood-flecked drool spilling from his mouth.

He picked Woody up and hurled him into the wall.

Woody slid down the wall and landed in a crumpled heap on the stone floor.

‘Sam, that’s enough,’ she said.

But Sam didn’t seem to notice her now. The red mist had descended.

‘Cut the shit, Luna. Just fucking hurt him,’ Woody snapped, wincing with pain and trying to regain his feet.

Her eyes scanned the room for a weapon.

Screams echoed around from outside the room.

Polly had evidently broken one of Sam’s toys now too.

Luna saw a sharp piece of wood in the corner.

It would have to do.

She moved over to it, hoping Sam didn’t hear her.

He was still throwing Woody around like a rag doll.

Ribbons of blood were snaking from Woody’s nose and mouth now.

She took a deep breath and charged, digging the makeshift spear as far as she could into Sam’s back.

He let out a pained cry, and she saw blood soak into his plaid shirt, but it had not done as much damage as she had hoped.

He was still standing for one thing.

‘What the fuck have I done?’ she muttered as she ran from the room.

His bare feet slapped the floor behind her.