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Defiance

Matt Rosen

    Creep woke up to the sound of an earsplitting shriek. He picked himself up off the floor and faced the source of the cry, an obese, unsightly woman. She screamed again.
    “What the hell is going on?”
Creep said, as he rubbed his eyes. His head felt groggy and his body ached. He looked down and saw two more bodies lying on the floor, assumingly asleep.
    The obese woman screamed again.
    “Why are you screaming?”
Creep said. But the fat woman continued to squeal. Creep smacked the woman in the face. “Get a hold of yourself.”
    The fat woman shut her mouth. Tears flowed down her chubby face.
    “What are we doing here?” she said.
    Creep examined the room. Nothing but a toilet, a large door with no knob, a speaker on the ceiling, and an odd metal slot on one of the walls.
    “What’s going on?”
another voice said.
    Creep looked down and saw one of the men on the floor had woken up.
    “I don’t know. I just woke up, this woman was screaming,”
Creep said.
    “My name is Kim,”
she interrupted.
    The man on the floor stood up. “Well do you mind telling me what we’re doing here, Kim?” he said.
    “Don’t get snotty with me,”
Kim said.
    “What the hell are you talking about?”
the man replied. He turned to face Creep. “What’s your name?”
    “Creep,” Creep said.
    “Peculiar name,”
the man said.
    “So they say,”
Creep replied.
    “I’m Jomes,”
Jomes said.
    “What about me?”
Kim said.
    “You should just keep quiet for now,”
Creep said.
    Kim folded her arms and sat down. “Rude, rude, rude,” she muttered.
    Creep and Jomes made their way to the door and examined it.
    “Should we wake up sleepyhead?”
Jomes asked, pointing at the man lying unconscious on the floor.
    “I suppose so,”
Creep said.

    Days had past. Creep, Jomes, Kim and sleepyhead, whom they now knew as Kenny, sat against the walls in the empty room.
    “I’m hungry,”
Kim said,
“I could use a bourbon.”
    “Bourbon isn’t food,” Jomes said.
    “I know that. Don’t be such a jerk.”
Kim said.
    “Whoever brought us here better say something soon,” Creep said, “nothing is worse than silence.”
    “I’m sure our host will turn up soon enough,”
Kenny said.
    Out of the foursome, Kenny had remained strangely calm. He seemed giddy at times. The others chalked it up to the stress of being kidnapped, which had surely taken its toll on all of them. Creep’s tolerance for stupidity was low. Jomes’s carefree attitude was starting to slip. Kim was getting more and more annoying by the minute. But something was different about Kenny, and Creep sensed it.
    Creep had always been a sharp-eyed fellow, able to see things that remained hidden to others. Creep noticed Kenny’s right had was in a fist, and had been even before he woke up on the floor.
    There was no solitude in this room. No private conversations. Creep had formed a plan, but was unsure if he could execute it without backup from Jomes. Despite his concern on the matter, Creep had grown tired of waiting.
    “I was wondering if I could ask you something, Kenny,”
Creep said, as he stood up and made his way to the door.
    “Sure thing,”
Kenny replied.
    “What’s in your hand?”
Creep said.
    Kenny let out a wicked and unsettling snicker. Creep was now sure of it, Kenny had put them in the room, and then he had posed as one of them.
    “I don’t get it,” Jomes said.
    “I don’t get it either,” Kim said.
    “Shut your face, Kim,”
Creep said.
    “Excuse me, but you didn’t tell Jomes to shut his face and he said it too,”
Kim said.
    “That’s because Jomes isn’t an annoying pig like you. So shut your face and shut it now,” Creep said,
“Jomes, come stand next to me.”
    Jomes stood up and walked to Creep. They stood in front of the door.
    “Excuse me, but what is going on here?”
Kim said.
    “Kenny is an impostor. He brought us here, or at least is in cahoots with the people who did,” Creep said.
    “How do you know?”
Jomes said.
    “I just do. He has something in his right hand, too. I don’t know if it’s a key or a weapon, but I do know I’ll feel a lot better if we’re the ones holding it.”
    “Well done,” Kenny said, “well done.”
    “Give it up or kill me now,”
Creep said.
    “I’m not going to kill you,”
Kenny said, as he opened his hand to reveal a small remote. He pressed a button and gas flooded the room. “But you will.”
    Creep, Jomes and Kim fell to the floor, down for the count. Kenny smiled.

    Creep woke up to a harsh scream. “Damn it, Kim.”
he said, with his eyes still closed.
    “It wasn’t me,”
Kim said.
    “Sorry dude, it was me,”
Jomes said, “I wanted to wake you up.”
    “So you screamed like a girl?”
Kim said.
    “Let it go, Kim,” Creep said.
    “Excuse me, but you always give me a hard time when I scream,” Kim said.
    “That was one time. Shut your face and sit down.”

    Kim crossed her arms and sat down.
    “What happened?”
Jomes asked.
    “He gassed us. The rotten bastard gassed us,”
Creep said.
    “I certainly did,”
Kenny said through the speaker on the ceiling,
“I didn’t want to do it so soon, you know. I wanted to get to know you first, without you knowing who I was.”
    “And who are you?”
Creep asked.
    “I’m your kidnapper, of course,” Kenny said, “I brought you here to do something for me. And you’re going to do it. You know how I know?”
    “How?”
Jomes asked.
    “Because everyone does it,”
Kenny said.
    “I’m telling you right now I’d rather kill myself than have sex with Kim or Jomes, no offence Jomes.”
    “None taken, buddy,”
Jomes said.
    “Then why don’t you do just that?”
Kenny said.
    “What?”
Creep asked.
    “Kill yourself.”

    Months had past. Creep, Jomes and Kim were officially roommates. Once a day the slot in the wall opened up and food came out. Every now and then Kenny would get on the speaker and criticize them, or bore them with mundane stories from his day.
    Kenny had been serious when he told Creep to kill himself. That is all Kenny lived for, the death of others. But he didn’t think of himself as a murderer. He never pulled a trigger, or plunged a dagger into someone’s flesh; he simply kept people in a room, locked up and well fed, and waited for them to kill themselves out of boredom or desperation. They always did. Usually it took years, sometimes far less.
    “This guy is insane, Jomes. We’re dealing with an insane person,” Creep said.
    “Does he really expect us to commit suicide?”
Jomes asked.
    “He seems sincere about it,” Creep said.
    “How long do you think you can last?”
Jomes said.
    “Before I go insane?”
Creep asked.
    “Before you kill yourself,” Jomes said.
    “Never,”
Creep said, “I’ll never kill myself.”
    “I wish I could say the same. I don’t think we’ve been here more than a year, and I’m already starting to crack,”
Jomes said.
    “Nonsense. Retreat into the bountiful world of your mind, Jomes. This heathen can’t reach us there. He is far from a Freddy Krueger. We’ll find a way out of this. Mark my words.”

    Four years had passed, and while they had no way of telling time, the three prisoners knew it had been at least a couple years.
    Creep lay against a wall. He had a considerable beard. Jomes sat against another wall; he too sported a sizeable beard. Kim, also bearded, was standing in front of the door, staring at it intensely.
    “Her cheese has been thoroughly creamed,”
Jomes said.
    “She was crazy from the beginning,”
Creep said.
    “What do you think she’s doing?”
Jomes said.
    “Hell if I know,”
Creep responded, “I’m just glad she doesn’t talk anymore.”
    Kim had been standing at the door for several days now. She hadn’t spoken in months, and she no longer slept or ate.
    She broke her gaze with the door and slowly turned to face Creep. She presented a stale, crazy smile. Creep shuddered.
    Kim turned and faced the door again and without notice began savagely pounding her head into the door. Creep and Jomes watched in shock as Kim’s lifeless body fell to the floor. Her head was caved in and the door was red, soaked with her blood.

    Several months after Kim took her own life, Creep and Jomes sat together enjoying delicious eggs.
    “I’ll tell you what,” Jomes began, “This guy may be a crazy kidnapping whack job, but he sure knows how to cook.”
    Creep kept his mouth shut. Though the food was always wonderful, Creep didn’t intend on complimenting the chef.
    Jomes shoveled the food into his mouth. “So good,” he said as he chewed.
    Creep stopped eating. He watched Jomes’s beard, which was full of eggs from days past.
    “This is some life,”
Creep said.
    Jomes muttered something, but Creep ignored it. He lay down and closed his eyes. Jomes started making weird noises. Creep opened his eyes and saw Jomes, on his knees, choking. Creep grabbed Jomes and tried to aid him.
    “I don’t know what to do,” Creep said, “I don’t know how to do it.”
Creep squeezed Jomes’s stomach again and again, and then Jomes went unconscious.
    Gas flooded the room. Creep fell to the floor.

    When Creep came to, he was still in the room, and Jomes was lying in front of him, breathing, alive. “Are you okay?”
Creep asked.
    “I think so,” Jomes said, “what happened?”
    “I saved your life is what happened,”
Kenny said.
    “What?
Why?”
Jomes asked.
    “I couldn’t just let you die, could I?
Choking isn’t a suicide, after all,”
Kenny said.
    “You’re sick,”
Creep said, “you’re a lunatic.”
    “That isn’t a nice way to treat the man who saved your only friend,”
Kenny said.
    “You only saved him so you could watch him kill himself another day,”
Creep said.
    “Semantics,”
Kenny said.

    Two decades had passed. Creep jogged in a circle around the room. His beard, much longer now, was thrown back over his shoulder.
    Jomes sat in the center of the room, a plate of eggs in front of him.
    “Why aren’t you eating?”
Creep asked.
    “Not hungry.”
    “Come on now, you got to eat.”
    “Not hungry,”
Jomes repeated.
    “Suit yourself,” Creep said. He was worried about his friend. Jomes didn’t talk much these days. He hadn’t been eating much either. Creep knew Jomes was severely depressed, but he did everything in his power to make Jomes more comfortable. Even so, Jomes was a changed man.
    “You don’t exercise, you don’t eat, and you hardly talk,” Creep said, “I’m just worried about you, man.”
    Jomes looked at Creep and gave him a stale smile. Creep shuddered. Suddenly Jomes grabbed a fork and began plunging it into his neck again and again.
    Creep ran to Jomes, grabbing the fork and throwing it across the room. Jomes fell to the ground, bleeding profusely. Creep covered Jomes’s wounds with his hands and applied pressure, but it was too late, Jomes was dead.

    “I never thought you’d last this long,”
Kenny said through the speaker, “you and Jomes reaching over two decades was impressive enough, but you have almost gone four decades now, Creep, and you’re going strong.”
    “Have you forgotten?”
Creep said,
“I told you I wasn’t going to kill myself. That isn’t going to change. If I die it will be at your hands, not mine.”
Creep lay against the wall. His long beard was now grey. His clothes were tattered and worn.
    “We shall see,” Kenny said, “we shall see.”

    Creep woke up to an unforgiving shriek, or so he thought. He stared at the empty room. It had been several weeks, and still no sign of Kenny. Creep sat against the wall, dehydrated and starving. He wondered where Kenny was. Kenny would never deliberately go without feeding him, he certainly never had before, it wasn’t his style.
    He was dead, Creep realized. Kenny was dead. And now without a source of food, Creep began to laugh, tears running down his face.
    “I told you I wouldn’t kill myself,” he said, “my death is on your hands, Kenny, your dead, rotting hands.”
Creep smiled and closed his eyes.
    “You failed,”
Creep said, “I win.”

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