26 Feb Locked In

Ted pulled his car off the paved road and onto the gravel driveway where his worn tires grumbled.

“Yeah, I get the feeling.”

It had been a long sales day for them both.  When Ted had started selling water purifiers, everyone was in a panic about lead or chromium-6 or whatever was on the news that month.  The office handed him leads by the stack.  So many of those had been good that he’d gotten himself a boat.  Now that people had moved on to the next thing to be scared about, his boat sat in some repo lot, and he was chasing leads out in the back-ass end of the woods.

“Last stop for the day, one way or another,” Ted muttered.  Then he shook his head.  He looked at himself in the rearview mirror.  “Last stop, first sale.  You can do it, Teddy.  Think about that commission: catch up on rent, steak dinner, maybe a new set of tires.”

He flashed a grin in the mirror and winked.  “That’s right.  Another 50,000 miles worth of commissions!  Think what you can do with all that cash!”

Now his head was clear.  The rumbling from the gravel suddenly sounded like applause. All it takes is getting him locked in.

Ted pulled in front of the house, a big wooden, two-story Tudor thing.  The guy obviously had some money, maybe inherited.  Inheritance was the best: they hadn’t earned it, so they didn’t know what to do with it.

He took a closer look.  The paint was chipping.  The yard was cut short, but tall weeds stood along the tree line.  Behind the house, a tin shed had its door hanging open with just a modest sedan inside.

Some money, but not a lot.  He rewrote his pitch while he shut off the car, grabbed his clipboard, and climbed onto the stone porch.

There was a “No Soliciting” sign hung on a nail above a pot of dried-out flowers.  It made Ted smile.

Politely placed, not large.  Just the kind of guy who has a hard time telling people, “No.” He knocked on the door and then pressed the doorbell.  Double encouragement.

Ted waited to the count of twenty-two and knocked again.  This time he heard footsteps inside.  The lacy curtain in the window beside the door flipped back.

Ted smiled and gave a nod even though he couldn’t exactly see who was looking out.  It was too dark inside.  All the window gave was a dusty reflection of himself: snazzy tie, white button-up shirt rolled at the sleeves to show he was a working man, laminated badge for the company.

The curtain closed again.  Ted looked at the peephole in the door, keeping up his professional smile.

Show the guy how tired you are.  Lock in that emotional connection.  He changed his weight from one foot to the other, hanging his head down a bit as he did.

The door opened.

Ted threw his head back up and met the guy’s gaze with his own.  It was a squat guy, maybe five-four if he stood up straight, heavyset.  He had on a stained gray t-shirt, plaid pajama bottoms, and thick glasses.  The guy’s hair was greasy from generic shampoo, combed into a tight side-part parents give their kids for Christmas pictures.

“Hi, I’m Theodore Bridges from Water Protection Services.  Are you the homeowner here?”

The guy stared at him.  The lenses made the edges of his eyes warp like a magnifying glass.  He finally nodded.

Ted went on.  “We’re doing water sampling in the area.  Would you have a minute so we can see if your water quality is above safe levels?”

“Uh,” the guy stammered.  “Not really.”

“It only takes a minute,” Ted assured him.  He checked his wristwatch, one he had picked up to look expensive but not too expensive.  “I could be out of here by, oh, 6:20 if everything goes smoothly.”

The guy sighed.

Ted kept smiling at him.

“Uh, okay, I guess.”

“Wonderful, thank you so much.” Ted stepped inside.  Halfway to the sale.

The house was dark inside.  Dark wood floors extended up the walls in waist-high wainscoting with only a few pictures hanging on the dingy wallpaper.  There was a lamp on down the hall.  It smelled like a museum.

He glanced around at the pictures hanging on the wall, trying to find something he could connect with Kevin on.  Most of them were photos with Kevin in them, standing alongside some actor or another in front of a comic convention screen.

“What’s your name, sir?” Ted asked.

“Kevin.”

“You living out here all by yourself?”

The squat man shifted and grunted.  “I moved out here to get some quiet.  I’m not much of a people person.”

“Well, Kevin, I do want to thank you again for your time.  It’s unbelievable how many people have unsafe water, and they don’t even know it.”

Kevin gripped the collar of his t-shirt with a fist.  “Really?”

“It’s true,” Ted assured him.  Probably, internationally speaking.  “It’s actually a good thing there has been so much press about it recently.  Pipes get old, begin to break down, and who knows what ends up in our water?”

Kevin nodded.  “Yeah, I’ve heard about that on the news.”

“It’s a life-saver.  You might be drinking the same thing your whole life, not knowing a thing about it, until you end up at the doctor with cancer.”

“Cancer!” Kevin shrieked.

Ted put a hand on his shoulder.  “Oh, sorry, I don’t mean to scare you or anything.  In fact, that’s why I’m here: I just want everyone to be safe.”

Kevin nodded and even smiled with a curled lip.  He had a gap in his teeth.  “Yeah, cool.”

“Where’s your kitchen, Kevin?  That’s usually the best place to start.” The kitchen had white-painted cabinets and a checkered linoleum floor.  It would’ve been the height of fashion a few decades back.  The stove was that old, although the fridge was new, stainless steel.

Ted pulled his bagged testing kit from his pocket and tore off the perforated plastic top. Kevin ogled it.  Ted could almost hear the lock clicking.

He laid out the plastic vials carefully, waving a hand at each like a model on a game show, the same moves he used back when he sold knives.  Then he took the big one labeled “Your Water—Tested!” and pointed at the kitchen faucet.  “If I may?”

Kevin nodded.  “Uh-huh.”

Ted turned the faucet handle.  It squeaked a bit.  He imagined all the potential filings that might peel off the edge of the valve and help land the sale, but he made his face serious.

“There.”  Ted set the water on the counter next to the rest of the kit.  “Now those bubbles?  Nothing to worry about.  That’s just from your aerator in the faucet.”  That’s right, you can trust me.

“Okay.” Kevin moved close, leaving down to put his eyes on level with the countertop.

Ted picked up one of the droppers.  “What I have here is a binding substance.  What it will do is bring the minerals together so you can get a look at them.”

“Maybe I have mineral water in my faucet,” Kevin said, snorting a laugh.

“Ha!” Ted laughed along.  Then he turned it into a sigh and shook his head, “Although, you wouldn’t want it, really.  Who knows what those minerals are doing to your plumbing, let alone to your body!”

Kevin backed up from the counter several inches.

“Okay, well, let’s see.  We might not have anything to worry about anyway.” Ted squirted the dropper into the water and gave it a stir with a plastic rod.  Just as they always did, little specks began to show up.

Kevin’s mouth fell open.

Ted grinned.  What was it the fella said?  Science is knowing one thing more than the next guy.  Magic is knowing two things more.

“So, I do have mineral water?” Kevin asked, his voice soft.

Ted patted him on his shoulder.  The guy’s shirt was starchy.  “Well, I’m afraid so.  But it might not be anything to worry about, health-wise.  Let me try a couple of tests to see what we’re dealing with exactly.  Could be anything with what people are dumping into city drains these days.”

Kevin stood up and sniffed.  “But, I’m on my own well.  Wouldn’t you know that?”

“I certainly should have guessed that, you being out here,” Ted said quickly.  “That could even be more dangerous, you know?” Kevin just squinted at him from behind his thick glasses.

“Here,” Ted offered, holding out three new droppers.  “Why don’t you squirt these yourself?  I’ll divide what we’ve tested so far into three different tubes, and we’ll see what we’re dealing with.”

Kevin’s stubby fingers took the droppers from him.  Ted lined up the tubes on the counter and let him spray into each one.

“Now, ideally,” Ted said, slowing his words to time the reveal, “we won’t see any changes at all, but sometimes…”

Right on schedule, the water in the tubes changed: one vibrant red, one dark blue, and one piss yellow.

“Oh, wow,” Ted mumbled.

“What?” Kevin asked.

Ted shook his head.  “It’s just, all three of them.” “What?!” Kevin’s voice cracked.

Ted wondered if there were tears welling up behind those glasses.  “There are definitely minerals and chemicals in your water.” He flipped open his clipboard and looked at the pre-generated charts.  “I’d say we’re looking at chlorine levels of 3 or 4, hardness 6.1, and even some biologics just past the Caution matrix.”

Kevin gulped.  “What does that mean?”

I don’t exactly know myself.  “It means you aren’t in immediate danger, but I would warn against running this water all the time.  You can’t always trust those safety standards set out by the government.”

“But aren’t you with the government?  Like the Water Board or something?”

“I’m with Water Protection Services.  We’re here to help you make sure your water is safe.” Kevin glared.  His lip curled up again, not smiling this time.

“I’m sorry if there was a miscommunication!” Ted told him fast.  He held up his badge and then pointed at the colored water.  “I just want to help you with your water.  And, it’s a good thing I did.  Look at these tests!”

Kevin looked at both and then back at him.  “Maybe you should go.  I need to get back to my computer, anyway.  My auction–”

“I couldn’t leave in good faith without offering you some options,” Ted told him.

He pulled the folder of brochures from the back of his clipboard and stuffed it into Kevin’s hands.  Kevin unfolded it.

Ted launched into his pitch. “So, with your own well, how much do you spend on filters and treatment chemicals monthly?

“Oh, gosh, I…would have to check my budget.”

Said like a man who knows exactly.  “We could probably save you money on those alone.  What would you say, $30?  $60?”

“Probably.”

“I could get you a full filtration system for less than $20 a month.” Kevin sniffed and held his face close to the papers.  Then he shook his head and looked up.  “Can this wait until after my auction?” Self-motivated.  Ted’s smile widened to a grin.

“We’ll only be a minute, really.  Isn’t your water safety a priority?” Kevin scratched his head, mussing the plank of hair into a new angle.

“I guess.”

“Besides, since we work at a national level, we can buy from our suppliers in bulk and pass the savings on to you!  Where do you typically get your filters from?” Ted hit all the beats.

“It’s not just about saving you money.  It’s an investment in your lifestyle.”

“Hard water damage costs the average consumer potentially $800 each year.”

“With maintenance decreased, you’ll have more time to spend with loved ones.”

Kevin listened, shuffled through the papers, and leaned on the counter.  He tried to go sit at the table at one point, but Ted kept him close to the colorful tubes of what had once been his water.

“I gotta go,” Kevin would mumble every few minutes.

“Absolutely,” Ted would agree.  “Let’s see which model is the right for you.  With your lifestyle, would you rather finance or save with upfront purchasing?”

The guy was ready to crack; Ted just knew it.  Gotta keep him locked in.

Somewhere in the depths of the dark house, a grandfather clock rang out its haunting song.  Then it chimed one.

Kevin dropped the blue folder, sending pages with smiling people holding glasses of water all over the kitchen floor.  “Oh, crap!”

Before Ted could say anything, Kevin tore out of the room, throwing one stomping foot ahead of the other.  The thuds went far into the house and then upstairs.

Ted took in a breath of the musty house.  He knelt down to pick up the pages.  It’s all right.  When he comes back, just hook him again.  You’ve got this.

A screech that sounded like it came from an animal ripped through the air.  Ted’s skin prickled.  He slowly stood up from the floor, leaning to get a better look through the door to the hallway.

“Kevin?  Everything okay?”

Horrible grunts came from the hall, then thuds of furniture being overturned.

“Crud,” was all Ted could say.  He looked at the papers.  Maybe I should just go… He shook his head.  He’d made this headway with the customer.  All he had to do was seal the deal.  It might take longer now, but the commission would be worth it.

Kevin let out a shrieking laugh upstairs.

See?  Probably won whatever it was anyway.

Ted had just put all of the papers back into the brochure when Kevin appeared at the kitchen door.

Ted actually jumped.  He placed a hand over his pounding heart.  “Oh, hey!  Sorry, I didn’t hear you come down the stairs.”

Kevin had his lips pressed tightly together.  He snorted through his nose.  His hands were behind his back.

“So, let’s get back to this,” Ted said, trying to smile.  “We could go with the Standard model to save you some money, but if you ever plan on–”

“You made me miss my bid,” Kevin mumbled.

“Oh.” Ted rolled his head to the side and grimaced.  “I’m sorry!  Maybe we could get your payment figured out, and then we–”

“You!” Keven screamed.

Ted bumped into the kitchen counter.

“Made me!  Miss!  My bid!” Kevin panted for air.

“I said I was sorry,” Ted told him.

Kevin’s voice came calmly.  “You made me miss my bid.”

“Maybe I can make it up to you.  We have partnerships with a lot of great companies for coupons on things you already use.” Kevin shook his head.  He took his hand from behind his back and raised a revolver to arm’s length.

Ted gasped through his nose.  He threw up his hands.  “No, Kevin!  Easy!”

“You made me miss my bid.  Do you know how long I’d been waiting on that?  No, you don’t.  You don’t care about anything but stupid water!  Now I’m going to make you miss something.”

“Kevin, you don’t want to do anything like that.”

“Oh, I do!” Kevin’s eyes were wide behind the glasses.  “You made me stand here!  My feet hurt, but you wouldn’t let me sit down!  You lied to me!”

“I never lied to you, Kevin.  I just wanted to help you with your–”

“Shut up!” Kevin waved the gun toward the front of the house.  “Go.” Ted nodded slowly.  He realized he was holding his hands up.  “Okay, I’ll go.  I’m sorry things happened like this.” He left the test kit on the counter and the folder on the table.  He thought about going for his clipboard.  No, don’t.  Just get out as fast as you can.

Ted walked sideways out of the kitchen.  Kevin sniffed and kept waving the gun.

He kept his eyes on Kevin’s thick glasses.  “Listen, I am sorry.”

“Shut up!”

Ted backed his way down the dark hall.  The photographs of Kevin all leered at him with their wrinkled smiles.  The real Kevin only glared, his lips drooping.

Ted’s hip bumped into the front door.  He choked out a laugh and fumbled for the knob to open it.  “All right.  Here we go.”

Kevin sniffed again.

Ted’s hand was sweaty.  The brass knob wouldn’t turn right.

Kevin growled.  He changed his grip, putting both hands on the revolver.

“No, don’t.  I’m sorry!” Ted stammered.

Finally, the knob moved.  The door swung free, and Ted ducked behind it.  He slammed it shut behind him.

“Go!  Move!” he said to himself.  His shoes slid as he scampered across the stone porch. He fell flat and rolled down the stairs.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” he heard Kevin yell.  Then he heard the gunshot.

It was a pop, loud, but not as loud as Ted thought it would be.  He wondered if he had made a mistake.  Maybe Kevin never would’ve shot at him if he had just walked to the car and not made a break for it.  Now he was on his feet, running across the tangled grass and gravel.

There was another pop, and something heavy slammed into Ted’s arm.  It pushed him to the ground.  Then his arm felt like it was on fire.  At first Ted didn’t know what to think, but when he touched it and pulled back blood on his fingers, it was obvious.  He’d never been shot before.

The world around his hand spun around, blurring like a melted painting.

On the porch, Kevin cackled.

Ted squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.  He was gasping for air.  Slow down!  Get a grip!  He pushed his mouth closed and pulled in three deep breaths through his nose.  When he opened his eyes again, the world wasn’t spinning anymore.  Kevin stood on the porch, gun still in his hand.

“Y-you can’t do this, Kevin,” Ted called at him.  “People are going to hear you!”

“Out here, people would just think someone’s hunting.”

Ted winced.  “I’ll go.  I’ll go.  Just let me.” Kevin came down the stairs, sticking out his thick left leg to step down before drawing his right leg in, then repeating with the next step.

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere.  Not for a while!”

“Please, Kevin!”

“No, no, no,” Kevin said, waving the gun at him as he trudged closer.  “Get up.” Ted tried to say something, anything, but his throat was stuck.

“Get up, moron!” Kevin shouted.  He stuck the gun straight at Ted’s face.

Ted took several quick breaths and then rolled over onto his stomach.  His arm felt like he jammed it against the stove.  He pushed up with his good arm onto his knees.

“You’re going to learn your lesson,” Kevin told him.  “You’re going to be thinking, ‘Oh, I need to go to the hospital!’” His voice was singsong.  Then he growled.  “But you can’t!  Not until I give you permission.”

“Kevin, just let me go.”

“No!” Kevin shouted.  He moved the gun into one hand and pointed with the other toward the tin shed.  “Now move!”

Ted climbed to his feet.  His vision went dark for a moment, and his ears buzzed.  He took in another deep breath and waited until he could see clearly again.

Something shoved his hip.  “Hold it!”

He looked back over his shoulder.  It was Kevin’s hand, digging out his cell phone.  Ted gritted his teeth and shuffled forward.

The grass felt slippery under his shoes.  His knees were loose.  The world shifted again, with the shed falling backward until it looked like it was a half-mile away.  Then it came back, and he could lean against the warm tin door.  It felt good on his head.

“Open it,” Kevin told him.

Ted looked at the big latch next to him.  He grabbed it and pulled, straining to make it budge.  The door rolled on a rough track.  He was sweating and panting just to crack it open wide enough for a person to slip through.

“Inside.”

Ted started to shake.  Tears blurred his vision this time.  “Please.  Not like this.”

“Go!” Kevin yelled.

The shed was even darker and mustier than the house.  An old Mustang sat beside a workbench strewn with tools, some new, some decades old.  On the other side was a metal door built into the ground.

Kevin grunted behind him, and the door squealed as he pushed it open further.  “All right, get in the shelter.”

Ted took a step forward and then stopped.  “The what?”

“The storm shelter, stupid!  The sliding door there!  Slide it open!” Ted dropped to his knees on the concrete floor of the shed beside the door.  A small hook held the door in place.  When he unhooked it, the door moved freely under his palm.

It opened to an artificial cave, black as night inside.  He could see the first three metal steps, but everything beyond it was darkness.

“Don’t worry.  There’re no snakes,” Kevin said.  He snorted out a laugh again.

Ted looked up at him.

Kevin wrinkled his nose, shoving his thick glasses upward.  The revolver clicked in his hand.  “Get in there!”

Ted nodded and crawled down the steps.  It was cool inside.  He liked the hard, smooth metal against his hands.

The meager light shifted, throwing Kevin’s round shadow.  “Now you’ll see what it’s like to have to sit and wait on somebody for no reason!”

The door rolled shut, and everything was in black shadow.  Reality settled in.  Ted sucked in a gasp of the metallic air.

“Wait, no!  Don’t!”

Kevin just grunted.  Ted could hear a chain rattling.  Then the door rattled.  Then came a final clunk, and everything went still.

Ted crawled back up the metal steps.  He yanked on the door with his good arm.

“Don’t bother trying!” Kevin’s voice was muffled.  “I’ll be back for you when I feel like it.”

The shed door whined and groaned.

Then Ted’s breathing was all there was.

He sat there for a moment, just breathing.

He touched spot on his upper arm where he’d been shot.  The pain from his fingers was sharp at the top, like a blister.  You have to do something about it.

With his good hand, he pulled the laminated badge over his head.  It clattered somewhere on the metal floor below.  Then he unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time.

His fingers were slippery.  Ted didn’t know whether it was from sweat or blood from touching his arm before.  He tried not to think about it.  All he focused on was getting his shirt off.

Once the buttons were done, he rolled his good shoulder, slipping that arm free.  Then he rolled the shirt around to his right side.  He gritted his teeth and pulled.  Hot pain ripped up through his shoulder and down to his pulsing fingertips below.  Finally, it slipped free.

“No!”

Ted felt for it in the dark.  Had it fallen to the ground?  Who knew what would be on it.

No, here it was.  On your lap.

Ted unclasped his belt and wriggled it free.  Biting the belt, he wound up his shirt into as rough of a bandage as he could.  Then he

He wanted to feel around in the shelter.  Maybe there was a flashlight or even a real first aid kit.  But what about black widows?  Brown recluses?

He didn’t want a bite from who-knows-what on top of all this.

So he sat.

He waited.

He listened to himself breathe.

He tightened the belt on his arm every few breaths.  The stabs of pain were duller each time he did.

Ted wondered if he had fallen asleep at some point.  He couldn’t really tell when his eyes were opened or closed.  Memories flickered through his head.  Or were they dreams?

His apartment would be sitting empty all night.  He doubted anyone would even notice.

He mapped the quickest way to the hospital once he was back in his car.  Did Kevin do anything to it?

Maybe that was the fat suck’s plan: cut the brakes so that when Ted sped out of here, he’d go careening into a tree, and the whole thing would look like a traffic accident.

The shed door whined, and brownish light slipped into the corners of the shelter.

Ted sat up.  He heard sniffing, gasping, coughing.  Was Kevin crying? “Kevin!” he called.

“Oh, man, man,” Kevin’s muffled voice floated down.  “I screwed up.  I really screwed up.”

Ted climbed up the metal stairs to the edge of the sliding door.  “Kevin, let me out!” “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, Kevin!  Come on!”

“No, no, no… I screwed up big time.”

“We can make this work, Kevin.  Just let me out, and we’ll figure it all out.  I could just walk away.”

“I shot you.  I shot you!”

“It’s okay.  I’ll be okay, Kevin.  Just let me out, and I’ll go to the doctor.”

Kevin let out a long wail.  “And you’ll tell him I shot you!”

“I won’t tell anybody.  I promise, Kevin.”

“But you’ll have to.  At the hospital.”

“I’ll say I was goofing around with some buddies.  It’s fine.  Just let me out, Kevin.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can!”

Kevin groaned.  “I m-moved out here so people would stop bothering me.  But still, you bothered me!  Why did you have to bother me?”

“I’m sorry, Kevin.  I’ll never bother you again.  Just let me out, I’ll drive away, and you’ll never see me again.”

“You’ll call the cops.”

“I won’t call the cops, Kevin.  I won’t tell anybody.  Please!” Kevin whimpered something too soft to hear through the door.

Ted knocked on the door with his good arm.  “Seriously, Kevin.  I promise!  Anything you want!”

“There’s only one thing.”

“Name it, Kevin.  We can make this work.”

“I’m going to start the car.”

Ted blinked.  Car?  My car?  “Why are you starting the car, Kevin?  You don’t need to.”

“It’s all I can think of.”

“You don’t have to think of anything!  Just let me out!  I’ll handle everything!”

“You’ll put me in prison.  I don’t want to go to prison.”

“I told you, I won’t tell anyone!” Ted knocked again on the door.  “Please, Kevin, hurry up!  I think something crawled on my leg!”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Sure it does, Kevin.  Hurry!  Open this thing up!”

“No.  You’ll get out.”

“You have to let me out, Kevin!  Do it.  It’s the right thing.”

“The only thing now is to start the car.  But I have to close the door first.” The shed door squealed on its rollers and slammed with a thud.

Ted’s eyes pulled so wide they hurt.  Running the car inside the shed would fill it with exhaust.  He scratched at the corners of the shelter.  “Don’t do that, Kevin!  You can’t start the car with the door closed!”

“I have to,” Kevin said with a grunt.  “I screwed up so bad.  This is the only way to fix it.”

“Killing us won’t fix anything!”

“It’ll make it stop…all I wanted was to bid on Amazing Spider-Man #2.  You know how rare that one is?  It almost never comes up.  But you had to ring the doorbell.  And I missed it. And I got mad.  I screwed it up.”

Ted started panting for a.  “It’s okay, Kevin.  I forgive you.  I won’t tell anybody.  It’s my fault.  Just let me out, and I’ll fix it.”

Kevin didn’t say anything.

“You hear me, Kevin?  I can fix it.”

Ted waited a beat.

“Hey, Kevin, seriously!  It’s not bad, even, just a scratch.  I’m fine, and soon everything will be okay.”

Then he heard the car door open.

“I’ll make it okay,” Kevin mumbled.

“No, Kevin!” Ted screamed.  “Let me out first!  Kevin!” The Mustang started with a hum and then a roar.  The engine revved a few times while Kevin played with the accelerator.

“Kevin!” Ted screamed.

The engine revved again.

He pounded against the door.  “Don’t do this, Kevin!  Stop it!  I’m locked in!” The engine growled.  Ted screamed and pounded, but soon he couldn’t even hear himself over the Mustang.  The air started to feel thick.

Ted stopped to breathe.  Maybe it’s the exertion.  Maybe there are enough gaps in the shed that the monoxide will get out.  Maybe the shelter’s tight enough it won’t get in here.

He couldn’t keep lying to himself.  Ted started pounding on the door again.

“Kevin!  Open this door, Kevin!  I’ll do anything you want, just let me out!” Only the droning rumble of the engine replied, going on without stopping, no matter what Ted said.