The Cage (3 page)

This is it,
he thought.
If he’s going to kill us, it will be back here. People will wonder where we are later tonight. Someone will report one of us missing. The cops will show up, and they’ll find our bodies lying back here, bleeding out all over the concrete. Then we’ll be on the news for a few days, until something else happens somewhere in the world. And that will be it. The end of our story.

“Don’t turn around. Don’t talk. Just do as you’re told. Empty all of your pockets. Everything. Cell phones, pagers, keys, money. Throw all of it on the floor. Now.”

His voice was still calm, still matter-of-fact, as if he were asking about the difference between plasma and LCD screens or for an explanation of Dolby 5.1 and how to get the most from his center channel. Jeff felt like giggling at the absurdity of it all, but his will to live was stronger, and he suppressed the manic urge.

The group did as they were told. The warehouse rang with the sounds of coins and keys jingling, of cell phones cracking as they were dropped onto the hard concrete. Jeff went through his pockets, checking each item off his mental inventory as he cast it aside—his cell phone, his key ring, a handful of loose change, a small purple and black stone that he’d picked up from the sand during the vacation he and his ex-girlfriend, April, had taken to Ocean City, and finally, his money clip, which held his driver’s license, credit card, debit card, health insurance card, and a few bills. The money clip was a graduation present from his parents. They’d bought it at the Things Remembered store across town—located in the same shopping mall where two of Big Bill’s competitors were located. His initials were engraved on the money clip, along with his graduation date.

Jeff dropped all of his belongings on the floor one-by-one and stared straight ahead, biting his lip and trying not to shake. He heard the stone bounce off the floor and roll away. It felt like his life was rolling away with it. His thoughts turned to April. He wondered what she was doing now. He hadn’t talked to her in months. Now, he might never talk to her again.

“Okay,” the killer said. “Everybody take ten steps forward. Keep looking straight ahead.”

Jeff shuffled along behind the others, silently counting his steps and expecting to hear the shotgun at any second. He wondered if he even
would
hear it. Wouldn’t his head explode before the sound reached him? Did that happen with shotgun shells, or was it only with bullets? He didn’t know. He focused on the drab, gray cement-block walls in an effort to distract himself from what was happening. Distraction seemed to offer some type of safety, no matter how fleeting, temporary, or false. His gaze flicked upward. Spider-webs dangled from the dusty ductwork overhead. The fluorescent lights hummed quietly. Above them, the shadows seemed to coil and twist. A few of the fluorescent bulbs had burned out. Jeff wondered if Big Bill had noticed yet, and if so, who would get the job of changing them—him, Jared or Alan. Usually the task fell to one of them, and they all hated it. Then Jeff remembered that both Alan and Big Bill were dead. It would have to be him or Jared, then. Maybe they could flip a coin to see who got to stand on the rickety ladder. The only fun part of the job was throwing the burned-out bulbs into the garbage dumpster behind the store, because they always exploded on impact. So, he and Jared had that to look forward to. All they had to do was stay alive.

The back room was filled with boxes of brand-new televisions, DVD and Blu-ray players, stereos, speakers, computers, printers, fax machines, microwave ovens, dishwashers, refrigerators, washers, dryers, video game consoles, dehumidifiers, entertainment centers, and more. They’d all been stacked neatly into rows, reaching from the floor almost to the ceiling. The ware-house was climate-controlled but a few of the boxes showed water damage from leaks in the roof. Big Bill had been talking about getting the roof patched, once the economy evened out. Now…

Jeff closed his eyes for a moment, afraid that he might fall over. When he opened them again, the logos on the boxes around him blurred. The warehouse seemed to be spinning. The ventilation system came on, rattling and blowing. Behind him, he heard what sounded like the intruder stomping on their cell phones and kicking their keys down the rows. Jeff clenched his fists, letting his fingernails dig into his palms, and bit down harder on his bottom lip. The pain brought him back into focus. He stared ahead again, trying desperately to keep his shit together.

At the far side of the warehouse was a loading door and a fire exit door. A basketball hoop without a net hung over the loading door, and an old dart board hung beneath that. A fire extinguisher occupied the wall between the two doors, along with a stand-up ashtray for Roy and Clint. Big Bill hadn’t let them smoke in the store, but allowed them to do it in the back room. Usually, the two lurked in the doorway between the warehouse and the store, puffing away and watching for potential customers.

To the right of the fire exit was the employee restroom. The door to the restroom was slightly ajar, and both the light and the exhaust fan were on. Jeff caught a glimpse of the ugly pea-green walls, the cracked and smudged mirror, the filing cabinet full of various owners’ manuals, recall notices, and warranty information, the dirty toilet, and the stack of old soft-core porno magazines and home electronics manufacturers’ catalogs sitting on top of the toilet tank.

Next to the restroom was what they called the cage.

The cage was manufactured out of safety fencing and steel posts. Its length ran along most of the warehouse’s rear wall, encompassing the space not occupied by the restroom or loading dock. One wall—the store’s exterior wall—was composed of gray cement blocks. The other three walls, as well as the ceiling, consisted of the thick, stainless-steel wire fencing, as did the cage’s padlocked door. Inside the cage were all of the store’s small inventory—iPods, iPhones, Blackberrys, GPS units, digital cameras, camcorders, computer flash drives, and other items that were easy to steal. Most were stacked on shelves. Others were stacked on the floor, up against the wall. They kept the merchandise inside the cage as a security measure. Not that they’d ever had a problem with theft. Only Big Bill and Alan had keys to the cage. Anytime one of the employees sold an item housed inside of it, they had to get the keys from one of them. The store had over a dozen camcorders set up as security cameras. One of them was pointed directly at the cage.

“Okay,” the man said, startling Jeff. “So far, so good. I’m going to frisk each of you, starting back here with you. What’s your name?”

Jeff heard Roy moan, followed by a slapping sound.

“Your name, old man. What’s your name?”

“R-roy…”

“Okay, good. Names are important. Knowing someone’s name gives you power over them. Now, I’m going to start with Roy here. When I’m done, he’s going to take these keys from me and unlock that security cage. He will go inside, followed by the next one and the next one. If any of you speak, or do anything other than proceed into the cage when it is your turn, you know what will happen. Do any of you wish to test me?”

No one responded.

“Good.” Although Jeff couldn’t see him, the man’s tone sounded as if he was smiling. “Roy, you will leave the keys in the lock and leave the lock hanging from the door. When each of you enter the cage, you will move to the rear wall and stand there with your hands on it, with your backs to me. Do this, and I promise the evening will end well. Disobey, and it won’t.”

The ventilation system shut off again. The gunman fell silent. Jeff wondered what was happening, but resisted the urge to turn around and peek. A moment later, Roy brushed past him, head down, staring at the floor, Alan’s key ring clutched tightly in one hand. His arms trembled as he unlocked the cage door and stepped inside, leaving the key in the padlock as ordered. He walked to the rear wall, put his hands over his head, and pressed his palms against the concrete blocks. He was followed by Carlos, then Scott, and then Jared. Jeff flinched as he felt the man’s gloved hands on his buttocks. The search was quick but thorough. The killer’s hands were strong and forceful. Jeff bit his lip until it was over. Then the intruder gave him a nudge forward.

Jeff walked past Clint, not daring to look back, and took his place next to the others. The concrete wall felt cold and rough beneath his fingertips. His stomach was in knots. He’d heard the expression before, but had never thought about what it meant until now. It felt like someone was twisting his intestines like pretzels. Jeff clenched his teeth, worried that at any second, he might shit his pants. His pulse throbbed, radiating from his chest to his throat to his temples. His face felt flushed, and even though the back room was cool, sweat poured down his forehead and back and arms.

Clint shuffled up next to him and placed his hands on the wall. Behind them, the cage door slammed shut. Jeff heard the hinged hasp fall into place, followed by the sound of the lock snapping shut. The keys jingled as their captor pocketed them.

“Okay, well done. See how easy that was? You can all relax now.”

Slowly, Jeff turned around and faced the man. So did most of the others, except for Jared, who remained facing the wall and sniffling quietly.

“Now then.” The man lowered the shotgun, pointing the barrel at the floor. “I’ve got things to do. Time is short.”

Without another word, he turned around and strolled back out into the store, shutting the warehouse door behind him. Jeff, Jared, Clint, Roy, Scott, and Carlos all stared at the door and then gaped at each other in silence.

Then they all began talking at once.

“Jesus fucking Christ, what the…”

“I think I pissed myself…”

“This isn’t happening…”

“Is he gone? Is he…”

“Shot Big Bill. Shot Big Bill and Alan…”

“Oh God, oh God, oh God…”

“Quiet.” Jeff held up his hands. “Listen. Is he still out there?”

They fell silent and listened. Beyond the closed door, the intruder was whistling. The tune was familiar to Jeff, but he couldn’t quite place it. Then they heard him begin to turn all of the televisions and surround sound systems back on. Alan and Carlos had turned them all off, as they did every night ten minutes before closing.

“What’s he doing?” Scott whispered.

“Robbing the place,” Clint said. “Duh.”

Jared shuddered. “Let’s just hope he hurries up and leaves after he gets what he came for.”

“I don’t think it’s a robbery,” Jeff said.

“Well,” Carlos asked, “then what the hell do you think he’s doing?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s a robbery. Why would he waste time turning all of that shit back on, first of all? And if it was a robbery, then why didn’t he take our wallets and stuff when he made us empty our pockets? Why didn’t he empty out the cage? This is where the top-dollar stuff is, and it would be a lot easier to steal iPods and cell phones than to walk out of here with a big screen TV or a refrigerator.”

“What about the cash drawer,” Roy suggested. “Maybe he just wants that?”

“Maybe.” Jeff nodded. “But then why not just ask for it at the beginning? Why herd us all back here and go through all of that? If he just wanted the cash, why waste all that time? And besides…”

His voice trailed off as he listened to the sounds from out in the store grow louder. It sounded as if the intruder had turned up every television and stereo full blast.

Carlos nudged him. “Besides what, Jeff?”

“He…he said he only needed six.”

“Yeah.” Roy shook his finger at the others. “I caught that too. Weird shit. What the hell did he mean by it?”

“I thought it meant that he needed six of us alive,” Jeff said.

“I heard him, too,” Jared whispered, “but I thought he was talking about money. I thought maybe he needed six hundred dollars or something.”

Despite the tension inside the cage, Jeff grinned at that. He noticed that Roy was grinning, too.

“On a Thursday night? In this frigging economy? With everybody either wanting to put things on layaway, or just having us explain all the technical aspects to them so that they can turn around and buy it at Wal-Mart for half price? Fat chance. We won’t have that much cash on hand until the weekend.”

“But a robber wouldn’t know that,” Jared insisted. “And Bumble offered him money, right…right before he got shot.”

They all fell silent for a moment. Then Scott shook his head.

“If it’s a robbery,” he said, “then why is the sick fuck turning the volume up on all the televisions and stuff?”

Jeff thought about pointing out that he’d already mentioned this, but didn’t. Scott was scared. They all were scared. Last thing any of them needed to do right now was start breaking balls.

“To mask the sound,” Carlos answered. “That way, nobody hears him. All they hear is the televisions and shit.”

“If he was worried about noise,” Jeff said, “then he wouldn’t have shot Alan and Bill.” Jeff couldn’t bring himself to refer to his dead boss by the man’s nickname. Calling him Bumble now seemed wrong somehow. “That fucking shotgun was a lot louder than anything else in this store. And besides, who’s going to hear him, anyway? The parking lot is empty, except for our cars.”

“Shit,” Clint muttered. “We’re all alone in here. I mean, nobody is gonna notice I’m missing, except for my dog. I don’t get my kids until next weekend.”

“I told my wife that me and you were going out after work,” Roy replied. “So she won’t miss me until after midnight. What about the rest of you?”

“I was leaving my girlfriend a message on her voicemail,” Scott said, “right before he came in. She’s expecting me later tonight. I was going to take her out for her birthday.”

“Okay, that’s good!” Roy’s expression grew excited. “What time is she expecting you?”

“Not until eleven. She had to work late at the hospital. We were going to hit Fat Daddy’s. Last call isn’t until one.”

“Shit. Eleven o’clock. That’s two hours from now.” Roy turned to Carlos, Jared and Jeff. “What about you guys?”

Carlos shrugged. “I got nobody, man. My girl moved out three months ago. Been living alone ever since. Nobody’s expecting me.”

Jared nodded. “Me neither.”

Jeff just shook his head.

“Well,” Roy’s eager expression turned to defeat, “then that’s that, I guess. We’re screwed.”

The cacophony from the store grew even louder. Jeff listened to competing noise. Subwoofers rumbled with explosions from
The Dark Knight
. Surround sound systems blasted a battle scene from
Independence Day
(while dated, the movie still provided an outstanding display of home theatre’s full potential). CNN’s Campbell Brown read the news simultaneously from twenty different televisions. Circle of Fear, Vertigo Sun, Lupara, Fergie, and Redman competed for stereo supremacy in the store’s audio section. The noise reached a confusing, maddening level. Then the warehouse door opened and the sounds grew even louder, blasting into the room with enough force to make Jeff wince.

The intruder strolled up to the cage and tapped on the wire. Jeff noticed that he no longer had the shotgun or the machete, and assumed that he’d left the weapons lying somewhere in the store. The handguns were still holstered at the killer’s sides.

“You’re on satellite dish here?”