chapter forty two

chapter 42
word count: 514

The silence suffocated Jane. The crazy man hadn't spoken for the last hour. She had thought they were bonding when he admitted they were both victims in the same calamitous soup. But now he sat in the corner, curled up, aloof, as though she didn't exist. When he did at last speak, his voice sliced in acerbic cuts through the dark, digging deep.

"Yep. We're both victims, victims of your hubby."

"What?"

"Your hubby. I mean, he's chasing me down til I'm stuck in a hole, and he's abandoned you in this hellish cell, as well."

Jane shuddered. The very idea! "Bud did not abandon me."

"Sweetheart, we've been in here for days. It seems to me he doesn't want to get you back very much or he'd have gotten his precious wife out of here by now." He followed that with a chortle from deep in his throat.

"He's trying. I know he is." Her heart started again... thump, thump.

"In your dreams."

She could hear his shoes scraping the concrete floor, shifting position. The next time he spoke sounding closer, even though it was a whisper. "Seems to me this is a handy way to get rid of a useless wife...an invalid wife...let her die in some stinking basement somewhere."

"NO!"

"Mrs. Kramer, you're going to rot here, while hubby shops around for a new little missus. One with some signs of life below the waist."

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" she roared, pulling against the ropes that bound her wrists, wishing her useless legs could propel her. She'd kill him! She'd go over and grab his neck and squeeze and squeeze...a pain in her chest...a pressure the size of an elephant slammed against her, squeezing the air out of her lungs....she couldn't breathe.

A crip like you shouldn't make empty threats," Stan returned. "Besides like you said, we're two peas in a pod, you and me. Hell, maybe we can get together since hubby don't want you." Now that would fix Bud Kramer, screw his wife.

She didn't answer.

"Ms. Kramer?" Nothing, not even a squeak from the wheelchair. Stan dragged himself to her. He found the woman's body slumped over. She was still. Was she breathing? He checked. Dragging back to the door, he pounded with both fists. "HEY! HEY! SOMEBODY! SOMETHING'S WRONG WITH THE WOMAN! YOU BETTER GET HERE QUICK! Mission accomplished. He'd taken proper revenge on Bud Kramer, through his precious wife.


As Bud took his last sip of coffee, he placed the cup down, next folding his hands on the table to watch as Ren went for another donut. Unbelievable! A stab of fear suddenly overtook him, deep, resonating, the kind of fear you get in nightmares, uncontrolled. It swirls like a cyclone out of your reach, taunting you, hurting you, and you can't stop it. He felt light-headed as it took him by surprise, knocking the wind out of him. His head swirled while at the attack's conclusion, a black-fisted illusion of dread sucker-punched him in the face. What the hell? Something was wrong, very wrong.