The Law of Retaliation Read online

  As Ryan shuffled through his supplies, Owen laughed—laughter of frustration. He wasn't frightened, but he was anxious.

  Owen shouted, “Hey! Look at me, you son of a bitch! Do you know who I am?”

  Ryan glanced over at him, unperturbed but curious. Owen wiggled his arms, leading Ryan's eyes to his elbows.

  The man asked, “Do you know what these mean? The tattoos, boy. Do you know what they mean?”

  Ryan examined the spider web tattoos on his elbows. He didn't understand the meaning behind the tattoos. He didn't realize the art had a sinister background.

  Oblivious, Ryan smirked and said, “I'm guessing you're a big fan of spiders.”

  Owen growled and lunged forward, causing the heavy chair to scrape the floorboards. The tattoos were special to him. He earned the right to wear those tattoos, he wasn't just some oblivious college student. He was proud of them, so the snide remark made him angry.

  A clicking sound emerged from the duffel bag.

  His eyes locked on Owen, Ryan pulled his hand out of the bag. He revealed a utility knife with a retractable blade in his hand. He wagged the knife at his captives as he approached the chairs. Owen and Natalie stared at the blade with steady faces. They didn't want to show fear or weakness.

  Ryan asked, “Do you know what this does? Hmm? It does more than cut boxes. This is a sharp blade. It's cheap, it's thin, but it's sharp. It can hurt you. You understand me? I don't want to hurt you if I don't have to. So, where's Caden?”

  Owen scowled and responded, “Fuck you.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  Ryan grabbed a fistful of Owen's hair and pushed his head to his right. He sawed into his right ear with the blade, struggling to cut a straight line on the ridged cartilage. Some blood oozed from the wound and streamed into his ear canal.

  Owen's hearing became muffled, as if water had clogged his ear. He could still hear his own screaming, though. The pain was insufferable. He wiggled every which way, but he just caused the blade to change course in his ear.

  Ryan stepped back after he cut off the top-half of Owen's ear. He watched as his victim trembled and screamed, but he wasn't bothered by his actions. He stared down at his hand as he balanced the severed ear on his steady palm.

  Natalie watched in awe. She glanced at her husband's mutilated ear, then at Ryan. Her bottom lip quivering, she stuttered, “You–You're... You're monsters.”

  “Shut your mouth or I'll make you eat this bastard's ear,” Ryan sternly warned.

  Natalie sucked her lips inward, shocked by the threat. Her confidence was whisked away with the act of violence. Owen trembled in his seat, furious. He breathed deeply through his nose, struggling to keep his composure.

  Unable to control his rage, Owen leaned forward in his seat and tried to stand with the chair attached to him. Before he could rush them, Ryan ran forward and placed his knee on the captive's thigh. He swayed left-and-right on top of Owen, as if he were riding a mechanical bull.

  Ryan shouted, “Get the hammer! Alexa, pass me the damn hammer!”

  As Alexa reached into the duffel bag, Natalie hopped in her seat and yelled, “Get him, Owen! Bite his fucking ear off!”

  Ryan leaned away as Owen chomped at his face. He was caught by surprise. Like a feral animal, the man was actually willing to maul him. Alexa gave the steel claw hammer to Ryan.

  Without any hesitation, Ryan struck the side of Owen's head with the hammer—thud. One hit wasn't enough, though, so he struck him again. With Owen dazed by the blows, Ryan stood from the seat and stepped in reverse. He glanced over at Natalie. The pregnant woman stopped yelling as soon as Ryan received the hammer. She wasn't going to root for the losing team after all.

  Ryan said, “Keep your mouth shut or you'll end up worse than him. Don't make me tell you again. You just sit there and wait until it's your turn.”

  Ryan cleaned the blood off of the knife using his coat, then he retracted the blade—click. He tossed the utility knife into the duffel bag, then he riffled through his supplies again. He pulled a screwdriver out of the bag. The tip of the blade was sharpened before the couple embarked on the trip. He could easily puncture someone's flesh with the screwdriver—but he wanted to make it even easier. He approached the fireplace and held the steel shaft over the fire, carefully heating up the tool.

  He said, “Your son committed a... a... a despicable crime against our family. You may be feeling pain now, but let me tell you something: you don't know real pain. When you lose your kid, the person you love most in the world... That's when you'll know pain. Do you have anything to say?”

  Still dazed, Owen muttered, “Fuck you... Fuck this...”

  Ryan pulled the screwdriver out of the fire. The tip of the blade had a slight red tint on it due to the immense heat. He approached Owen, staring at him with an icy glare. He wanted to give him the chance to cooperate.

  Yet, Owen remained quiet. He needed to be 'persuaded' to share information about his son's whereabouts—and Ryan was more than willing to persuade him.

  Natalie shouted, “Stop! You need to stop this right now, boy! You've done enough to disrespect us. Stop this or–”

  Alexa slapped the pregnant woman, putting all of her weight behind the strike. Natalie's head flung back due to the powerful impact. Strands of her hair dangled over her brow and eyes. Before she could utter another word, Alexa slapped her again. A small cut formed on her upper-lip. Alexa grabbed Natalie's cheeks and turned her face towards her, forcing her to stare into her eyes.

  She said, “We screamed at your son a hundred times that night. We begged him to stop, but he didn't. He kept going until our daughter died. So, we won't stop until he's dead. Now, shut your fucking mouth and let my husband work, bitch.”

  Natalie was awed by her speech. She gazed into Alexa's glimmering eyes. She could see her pain, but she didn't feel any remorse for her.

  Ryan nodded and said, “Thank you for that.”

  He walked closer to the dazed captive. He placed his hand on Owen's brow and pushed his head back. With the red-hot tip of the screwdriver, he stabbed into Owen's cheek.

  Owen shook his head and convulsed upon feeling the searing steel. As he shrieked at the top of his lungs, the blade tore through his cheek and entered his mouth. The hot steel burned his moist tongue, causing a faint sizzling sound to accompany the man's bawling.

  With the blade jammed in his cheek, Ryan wiggled the handle of the screwdriver. He sought to maximize the pain by widening the hole on his cheek. He placed his knee on Owen's thigh, ensuring his victim wouldn't tip over. Blood streamed across Owen's cheek and poured into his mouth. Owen screamed and cried, but to no avail. His pain was only beginning.

  Ryan gritted his teeth as he slowly pulled the screwdriver through the hole on his cheek. The slow movement only prolonged the pain. The screwdriver made a plopping sound as it exited the wound. Owen placed his tongue on the side of his mouth. He hissed and groaned as he felt the stinging pain on his cheek. His eyes watered, he was frustrated by the torture, but he refused to snitch on his son.

  Owen said, “You think you have it all figured out... You think you're going to get vengeance and 'redeem' yourselves, don't you? Well, you're wrong. When I get out of here, I'm going to kill both of you.”

  Ryan responded, “We've already accepted death. We know it's coming. If it's not you who kills us, it'll be someone else. We're ready for that. To be honest with you, Owen, I died when my daughter died. I'm just trapped here until I can avenge her. That's all. That's it...”

  Ryan walked back to the duffel bag. He riffled through his tools, searching for his next weapon of torture. He tightly closed his eyes and staggered as he felt a twinge in his head—a sharp, debilitating ache.

  “Daddy, what do you use these things for?” Lucia's voice asked, echoing from the back of his mind. With a soft, tender tone, she said, “Oh, they're your tools? Please be careful, daddy. I don't want you to get hurt when you're using them. They look scary and I don't
like seeing people get hurt. Hey! Do you think we can build stairs to the clouds? To heaven? I want to visit Lucky!”

  His eyes closed, Ryan sniffled and shook his head as his daughter's voice echoed through his mind. He remembered that day. His daughter had visited him in his new tool shed—he didn't use it much, but he hoped to become the family's handyman with some practice. She asked about the tools, then she asked about building a staircase to heaven. She wanted to visit Lucky, the family dog who died a year prior to Lucia's death. The memory was sweet. The voice in his head sounded so real.

  “Ryan? Ryan, are you okay?” Alexa asked.

  Startled, Ryan hopped and gasped as Alexa patted his shoulder. He snapped out of his trance and the memory slipped away from him.

  Ryan stuttered, “I–I'm fine..”

  Owen chuckled, then he said, “Look at yourself, fool. You're losing your goddamn mind. You dumb motherfucker...”

  Disregarding Owen's insults, Ryan pulled the sledgehammer out of the bag. The floorboards vibrated as the heavy hammer head clashed with the floor. Owen and Natalie stared at the sledgehammer, surprised. They had hoped the torture would move slowly so they would have the opportunity to escape.

  As he stared at Owen with a set of glum eyes, Ryan asked, “Do you know what I'm going to do with this?” Owen remained quiet. Ryan said, “I'm going to break your knees, then I'm going to break your arms, then I'm going to crush your testicles. Where's your boy? Where's Caden?”

  Owen clenched his jaw as he glared at Ryan. He refused to speak, he refused to back down.

  Ryan said, “Have it your way.”

  The young man grunted as he lifted the sledgehammer over his head. He stared down at Owen's left knee. He could hear the crunching bones in his mind. Owen closed his eyes and looked away, afraid of the imminent strike.

  Before Ryan could swing down, the sound of a car driving down the driveway emerged.

  Ryan, Alexa, Owen, and Natalie simultaneously glanced over at the windows in the living room. The headlights of a vehicle seeped through the closed blinds.

  Ryan released his grip and dropped the sledgehammer behind him, causing the floorboards to crack and tremble. He rushed to the window. Alexa glanced over at the captives, then at the window. She was shocked. The parents had been waiting to exact their revenge for years, but the opportunity caught them off guard.

  It was actually happening.

  Alexa rushed to her husband's side. The couple peeked through the blinds and stared at the driveway.

  One, two, three—three men climbed out of the vehicle: Caden, Vincent, and Nathaniel. They appeared a bit taller and stronger, but they barely changed since the murder. Vincent, who once had a head of lush hair, shaved his head down to a buzz cut. The group still wore their signature clothing: flight jackets, faded rock n' roll t-shirts, jeans with braces, and steel-toe boots. The blonde haired man, still wearing a Caesar haircut with pride, was their only target—Caden Clark.

  Ryan shook his head and muttered, “There's too many of them right now. Shit...”

  “What do we do?” Alexa asked.

  “Caden! We're in here!” Owen shouted as he hopped on the chair, reinvigorated by the arrival of his reinforcements.

  Natalie yelled, “Caden! Boys! Help us! Hurry!”

  Ryan grabbed Alexa's hand. The couple sprinted across the living room and rushed up the stairs. They could still hear their captives screaming for help. They ran into the first room to the right, closing and locking the door behind them.

  Chapter Five

  Caden's Room

  “What do we do, Ryan? Oh, shit, what the hell are we going to do?” Alexa asked as she paced in front of the door, nervous.

  Disregarding her questions, Ryan glanced around the room. The blinds and curtains were closed so the room was dark. He could see an open door directly ahead of him. Beside the door, there was a single-size bed. He couldn't see anything else through the darkness.

  Ryan said, “Find a light.”

  Alexa glared at her husband, irked. There were more important matters to tend to, but he sought to explore the bedroom. She sighed in disappointment, then she walked towards the right side of the room.

  Ryan blindly tapped the walls next to the door, searching for a light switch. He stopped upon spotting a picture frame on top of a dresser. Even through the darkness, he could see Caden and Owen in the photograph. Judging from the size of the room and the men in the picture, he rationalized that the room belonged to Caden.

  Ryan said, “Let me know if you find anything, Alexa. This is the punk's room.”

  Alexa nodded and grunted—okay. She spotted a desk hugging the wall to her right as her vision adjusted to the darkness. The computer and the keyboard were insignificant. Her eyes widened upon spotting the lamp beside the PC. She turned the knob and—voila—a wave of light whisked the darkness away and illuminated the bedroom.

  “Holy shit,” Ryan said, awed.

  Alexa turned around, then she gasped and staggered. She covered her gaping mouth with her trembling hands. Ryan approached his estranged wife, his eyes wide with fear. He wrapped his arm around her and rubbed her shoulder, trying his best to comfort her. The pair were bewildered by their discovery.

  A 24-by-36-inch color poster clung to the wall above the bed. The poster depicted an image of Adolf Hitler holding the flag of the Nazi Party; an army of soldiers marched behind him, carrying their flags with pride. At the bottom of the poster, a banner read: Gott mit uns. Hitler, of all people, watched Caden as he slept.

  Small swastikas were carved into the wooden bed frame. The wall between the poster and the headboard was also marked with swastikas.

  Shocked, Alexa glanced around the room. Her eyes stopped at a shelf above the desk. She tapped Ryan's shoulder, then she pointed at the shelf.

  Ryan stared at the books and asked, “What is it?”

  “Those are all... they're um... They're racist books, Ryan. I learned about them in school. They're the kind of books you have to get from white supremacist newsletters and shit like that. They don't sell these in stores. Oh, fuck...”

  Ryan stared down at the floor and Alexa gasped. A loud thud emerged from downstairs. Caden and his friends had finally entered the house. It was only a matter of time before their captives would be untied and a new confrontation would begin.

  Ryan nodded and said, “Okay. They're racist. They're a family of racists.” He glanced over at Alexa and said, “We're in the house of a bunch of neo-Nazis.”

  Alexa grimaced and shook her head. The news was devastating and horrifying. Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to cry. Instead, she shoved Ryan. It wasn't enough, though. So, she shoved him again.

  She yelled, “Shit, Ryan! How the hell did you miss this? Why would you bring me here with these monsters? Oh, God, we should have brought a gun. We should–”

  “Stop,” Ryan said as he hugged his wife. He rocked her left-and-right as he caressed her hair. He said, “Don't scream again. If they hear us panicking, they'll think they have the upper-hand. We can't let them think we're scared, okay? We have to keep going. Calm down. Everything's under control.”

  Alexa gazed into Ryan's eyes. To her utter surprise, her husband appeared confident and determined despite the revelations. He didn't show a shred of weakness. Yet, she still recognized him. The man she loved didn't change, he just grew. She nodded in agreement, ready to continue with their plans.

  As he walked around the room, Ryan said, “Listen, I didn't know they would all show up like this. He usually brought his friends over on Fridays. I didn't know they were... they were like this, either. These people aren't like the racists they show in movies, though. They're not flaunting their racist beliefs in public. They don't have swastikas tattooed on their bodies. Most of them don't even look like skinheads. No, they're... they're blending with the crowds.”

  “Like the mafia,” Alexa said. Ryan glanced over at her with a raised brow. Alexa explained, “Nowadays, everyone thinks t
he Italian Mafia is gone because they don't make movies about them—because they're not gunning people down in the streets with Tommy guns. They're not gone, though. They're just more organized these days. They're in big business and corrupt politics. They never left, though.”

  “Yeah, I guess you can say they're like the mafia—a big, racist mafia. Hell, if they're actually connected to others, they probably used political ties to get Caden out of that court case. They could have roughed up an attorney, they could have messed with the cops... I don't know. That punk should have been locked up for life, though. Someone had to pull some strings.”

  Alexa grabbed Ryan's arm and stopped him from walking. She asked, “Ryan, what are we going to do?”

  “Nothing's changed. We hit a bump in the road, but we can't stop. We have to finish what he started. We have to kill Caden. I don't know how, but I'll... I'll think of something. We'll think of something.”

  The couple stood in silence, contemplating their next move.

  Chapter Six

  Lex Talionis

  “What the hell happened to you guys?” Caden asked as he stood near the front door, a sly smirk plastered on his face.

  Owen hopped in his seat and said, “Wipe that stupid smile off your face, boy. Get some knives from the kitchen and cut us free. Hurry.”

  Caden bit his bottom lip, fighting the urge to chuckle. He beckoned to his friends, communicating without uttering a word—get the knives. He strolled into the living room as Vincent and Nathaniel jogged into the kitchen. He cracked a smile upon spotting the hole on his father's cheek and his severed ear. The old man has a glory hole on his face, he thought.

  Owen sneered in disgust and asked, “Didn't I just tell you to wipe that stupid-ass smile off your face?” Caden clenched his jaw and nodded. Owen said, “You better start listening to me, Caden. This is all your fault to begin with.”