Page 197 of Malice and Surrender
“This place has a bad vibe, man,” Roach said, echoing my thoughts. We’d been in some pretty hairy situations together, in places that most would never travel, and his feeling confirmed I wasn’t going crazy.
“Agreed.”
Wilder jogged around to the front of the house. “This is definitely the place you’re looking for.” Wilder nodded toward the back. “Follow me.”
“Are we really going to follow him?” Roach whispered. The corner of my mouth pulled up in a lopsided grin.
“He grows on you, kinda like a barnacle that just sorta sticks and grows back if you scrap it off.”
“That’s a horrifying image, thanks,” Roach said as he made a gagging face. We rounded the back of the house, but Wilder was nowhere to be seen.
“Over here,” he said, waving his arm from inside a tool shed.
“Yeah, definitely not feeling any better about the situation now,” Roach grumbled as he pulled his gun.
The shed looked like one you’d pick up at any hardware store for all your lawn crap. It was metal and rusted, with no windows and a single door. Scraggly trees had grown around the sides, and a few vines were growing along the top.
Reaching the door, I looked inside the small space expecting to see Wilder and maybe a pile of bones. Instead, a massive trap door was open with a soft glow coming from inside.
“Fuck my life. I said I wasn’t helping you anymore. I should’ve stuck with that,” Roach complained.
“Oh shut up, it’s not that bad….” I said and then watched as a spider the size of my hand ran across the dirt and disappeared.
“Right…cause I didn’t just see that rat-sized spider,” Roach said.
I glanced over my shoulder at him. “You should feel right at home with your fellow insects.” I smiled wide.
“I fucking hate you. You know that, right?”
“Are you two coming,” Wilder asked as he poked his head out of the ground like a gofer.
“Coming.” I waited until he jumped back down before stepping on the steel ladder and making my way down. Roach was close behind me. I looked around the tunnel that was over six feet tall and about the same width. “How is this even possible? I didn’t think we could even dig this deep here in Miami?”
“He had the entire piece made from formed concrete, metal, and a silicone substance. Then he had it installed and sealed to keep water from penetrating the cavity. Quite smart, actually, but how all this got done without anyone knowing is the real mystery. This takes a backhoe to dig, a crane to install it, and a massive flatbed truck to move it. This is not a sneak in the night quietly sort of situation,” Wilder explained.
“Why the fuck would someone go to all this effort,” I asked, following Wilder and his flashlight.
“Not sure, but wait until you see this,” Wilder said when we reached the end. All of this was boggling my brain. The door was sealed with a wheel like you’d see on a submarine, and when Wilder opened it to the space beyond, the stench hit us. Roach and I gagged while Wilder seemed completely unaffected.
The combination was similar to the prison laundry I used to wash, but on top of the shit and cum scents was old piss, mold, and something rotting. My nose was assaulted by the worst combination of smells someone could ever put together.
Covering my nose with my arm, I followed Wilder into the basement of a house and assumed it was the one we’d been watching. It was an open space with nothing but darkness. There were no windows, but as Wilder shined his light around, my eyes went wide. Chains and cuffs lined the walls, enough for a dozen people. We reached another hallway with a line of doors that reminded me of solitary confinement at the prison. They were solid metal with a small flap that could be slid open to look inside. The first one we looked in was empty except for a thin old mattress that had seen better days and more chains and cuffs.
There were six doors in total, all the same. The last one had fresh blood on the ground and a smear that couldn’t have been more than a few days old.
“What the hell am I looking at here,” Roach asked, his voice muffled behind his arm.
“Trafficking, I think, or torture and murder. Each room has a different feature.” Wilder pointed to the corner of the room and the tiny camera I hadn’t noticed. Then he pointed to the thin lines of wires pulled up like a beast ready to drop from the ceiling. “Those are for electrocution. They can drop and dangle a designated height off the floor. The person here has to stay flat or get zapped, but I’m sure there is more to it. If this were my torture room, I’d let loose a few of those massive spiders or a snake so the person wants to jump up.”
I stared at the side of Wilder’s face. “You’re creepy, man. I like you, but you worry me.”
Wilder turned his head to look at me. “Why?”
“Never mind, let’s keep searching. I need some clue about where this asshole is hiding. I find him. I find Dave.”
The door to go up was locked, but Wilder had it unlocked faster than I ever could. We walked up the stairs quietly, ready for anything.
“Is this the house we were watching?” I looked out a window between a crack in the wooden boards covering the glass.
