No Strings Attached

Chapter 6

No Strings Attached

VI

Soaked to the core, Isaiah left the pool after his skin was wrinkled and the majority of the blood was gone. Water splashed all over the concrete as he hoisted himself up and tried to wring his clothes. Miranda didn't seem to pay him any mind as he patted over toward her. All of her attention was on Thomas; she listened intently as he told her about his life before being kidnapped, each smile of his earning a grin of her own, each laugh enough to make her giggle with him. Isaiah enjoyed the sight so much he merely observed as he allowed water to gather at his feet.

"You're very motherly," he stated. His voice came out of nowhere, so it ended the conversation between Thomas and her.

She smiled up at him as he approached. He eased his butt on to the concrete next to her. Concerned for Thomas's injury, he lightly brushed the boy's hair aside. The bleeding had stopped and the swelling wasn't as bad as he had feared.

"You, too," Miranda said. It sounded ridiculous, so she clarified. "I mean, you've played big brother since I've met you."

It was a role that he took pride in, but he wasn't about to tell her that out of fear that he might sound arrogant. Instead, he explained honestly, "I've spent a lot of time in foster care, and it seemed like I was always one of the older kids. It's weird, but you learn to look after others quick when you're all going through the same thing."

She wasn't sure what to say so a simple, "oh" was all that escaped her lips. Just like his previous confession about his father, it was a strange admittance that she wasn't used to hearing. No one talked about their problems where she was from, especially if it involved family. Then again, maybe Isaiah didn't view these things as "problems." Still, she felt as though if he was going to be open about his life, then maybe she should offer some insight as well.

She said, "I'm the only girl in the family, aside from my mom, but she's busy all the time. I'm always mending clothes and cleaning scrapes. I don't mind it though. It's fun."

A peppy giggle followed and it caused the others to smile. Thomas grabbed her sleeve and tugged on it. Once her attention was solely on him, he asked with puppy dog eyes, "Promise you won't die like the others."

Fresh waves of anxiety hit her hard. Tensions caused her hands to clench at the request. Innocence was clear in his tone but the harsh bite of the words brought her temporary coziness crashing down to face the reality of their situation. Her breathing stopped for a beat as she tried to swallow the lump caught in her throat. It was bizarre how that sentence had disturbed her more than anything she had yet to witness.

Isaiah sensed the uneasiness that Miranda was trying to grapple. He placed a hand on Thomas's shoulder and offered him a bright smile. "We won't. No one will," he assured him. It was difficult for him to say that, as the mere word "die" brought back flashbacks of that torture room he'd ungraciously slipped in. Somehow, it sounded convincing enough. One more pat on Thomas's shoulder was given for good measure, and then Isaiah said, "Alright. I think we should get going."

Isaiah motioned for Thomas to climb onto his back, which the child accepted. Miranda watched as Thomas placed his head on the older boy's scalp, surely enjoying the company of two people seemingly so in control of the situation. Obviously, they weren't, and she was very well aware of it. Regardless, she forced herself to bury any apprehensive thoughts that dared to surface.

She fell in behind Isaiah as he took charge again. There was only one way out, per usual. They expected to find another dark hallway, but to their surprise revealed to them was a room of many colors, each illuminated beautifully under soft yellow lights. It was a children's play room. Toys were scattered about, including building blocks, action figures, and cars. Animals were painted on the walls. Cushy seating was present, including an ottoman shaped like a giant block. Off in the corner all by its lonesome was a three foot tall playhouse.

Something drew Isaiah to this playhouse; Miranda followed, curious as well. It was large, really mansion sized in comparison to the homes they had grown up in. Located on the bottom of this model was a room that looked suspiciously like the pool room they had just exited and just to the left was a playroom painted in bright pastels.

"Hey, look, this looks like Pudge," Isaiah said as he snatched a wooden doll from the playhouse. He brought it up close to face to inspect it.

Miranda never got a good look at it. The moment the doll was picked up, a flash had her spin around. Appearing before them, blood covering his hands and soaking his knees, was Pudge. Tears had coated his entire face which had lost all color. Frightened, he swung his head about to find out just where he suddenly had been brought to this time.

He caught the sight of the three other kids, all staring at him in disbelief. The doll in Isaiah's hand and the house that was next to them had him start to piece stuff together. Another doll was present inside the model; he rushed toward it, clutched it, and set it on the floor.

Carrie phased into the room. The sight of her, also in tears and in shock, had Isaiah quickly setting Thomas down and rushing toward her. Embraced by Isaiah, Carrie collapsed. He held her tight, expecting her to cry or say something – anything, really – but she didn't make a single noise. Even her breathing was so light he barely heard it.

Pudge was still in a half-deranged state, his eyes scouring the room and taking in every detail. He was searching for something. Before Miranda could ask, he spotted what he needed. A baseball bat tucked in the corner was exactly the object he had hoped for. He seized it. Seething, almost growling and foaming at the mouth, he swung the bat over his head and let loose a hellish fury on an object connected to the wall.

He then turned the attack on another object, and then another. After three relentless beatings he let the bat slip from his hands. Between violent breaths he said, "There's… cameras… everywhere. This whole thing… is recorded."

Then he collapsed against the wall. He couldn't handle it anymore. The insatiable sting that shocked his hands and knees was draining him of physical energy. Mentally he couldn't even bother fighting the hurt anymore. What he had just gone through and what he had just witnessed was enough torture for him. Even if they got out of there alive, what was the point?

Miranda watched as Pudge hid his head from the world, turned to the wall and covering his face with his hands. There was a desire to go and comfort him, whether to place a hand on his back or fully embrace him. Something inside her head told her that probably wasn't a good idea. Sometimes, as she had discovered in her own life, people just want to be alone for a moment.

A strange noise reached Miranda's ears. It wasn't human. A dog? She glanced around the room and saw no place where an animal could hide. A window was located near Pudge's head, but that was closed and the sound surely came from inside. Again, she heard it. It continued and she carefully crept toward the origin. Soon she realized she was being led toward the wall. Louder and louder it got the closer and closer she approached.

Face to face with the wall, she found a cute painting of a dog not three inches from her. A loud, low bark emitted from the brown, smiling painting. She jumped at the aggressive nature of the noise, even throwing an arm up in defense. This time, everyone else in the room heard it, too.

Thomas, apparently having been through this exercise before, grabbed Miranda and tugged on her. There was no chance for him to warn her. The painting leapt from the wall, transforming from a cute doodle into a vicious, rabid creature the size of a small wolf. It snarled at them but didn't move, waiting to see which child would panic first.

Isaiah moved first. He shoved Carrie away, yanked on Miranda's arm and pushed Thomas. All of them ended up behind him. He ordered, "Get out of here!"

There was only one direction to go: the window. Pudge managed to stand despite the pain he was suffering. He jerked on the window but it wouldn't budge. With his hands already injured and desperate to escape, he reeled back and punched the glass repeatedly. It took a few solid hits but it did split and his fist went through. Able to break apart the rest of the glass, he made an opening big enough that they should fit. He grabbed Thomas from his armpits and tossed the kid out.

Carrie was next. At first, she remained petrified, unmoving. A silent, beaconing wave by Pudge and a light push by Miranda had her reach for him. Gently he helped her up and got her through the window. This left only Miranda. He expected her to be right behind Carrie but found that she had turned her back to him.

"Isaiah, come on!" she ordered to the older boy.

He kept his hand back toward her, keeping her away from him. Defiantly he stepped back until his hand was nearly touching her. "Go!" he shouted at her.

She was shaking. For the seemingly hundredth time since that clown grabbed her she was unable to control how her body reacted. Snarls from the dog grew louder and it nipped at Isaiah. Somehow, the boy held his ground, barely flinching at the beast.

Pudge was annoyed. "Come on! Let's go!" he screamed at her.

"Not without him!" she argued. "We should all stick together!"

"Why, so we can all die together?" Pudge snapped.

"Why haven't you left already, then?" she retorted.

There was no answer from him.

"I'll be fine. Please. Just go take care of Carrie for me. And the others. I'll join back up with you soon," he collectedly said to her. His voice was so low, so soft, it sounded almost like a father assuring his child. It didn't help; she froze at the sound. Isaiah turned his attention instead to Pudge and gave out a commanding and pleading, "Pudge!"

The boy got the hint and with a nod left his spot by the window, nabbed Miranda and started to force her out. A shard of glass cut her shoulder and the sensation brought her back to the present. She screamed, "Isaiah!"

Pudge nearly tumbled out with her as he rammed her outside. Before he left as well, he grabbed the bat that he had dropped near the window. "Isaiah!" he called out. Isaiah turned back just in time to catch the bat as it was tossed to him. For a moment they just stared at each other; Pudge could see how terrified Isaiah was despite the bravery he expelled, and Isaiah could see the respect Pudge had for him. "I'll see you," Pudge said.

"Yeah."

A quick nod from Pudge and he climbed out the window, disappearing into the darkness. Isaiah turned his attention to the ravenous dog that attempted to corral him.