When they reached the next case the same thing happened: Scott put his hand on the glass and a light began to shine. This time, the art was different. The case had a photograph––but no body.
The photo said: SEVEN-THREE – CURTIS RYAN BERRY.
“Why is it empty?” Penny asked.
“I have no idea.”
Scott could see the room now, not much, but a little. It seemed like a gymnasium. After he put his hand to a few more cases, he’d know for sure. He stubbed his toe on something solid, dismissed it, and moved on.
“There is something sharp sticking out of the floor,” Penny whined. “I think my foot is bleeding.”
“Just keep walking.”
Scott touched the next case with a trace of excitement. Each case revealed more of his surrounding, like he was unwrapping a gigantic gift. Unfortunately, this sensation was short lived and replaced with the feeling of imminent horror.
The light inside the case crept on.
Both Scott and Penny recognized the corpse. SIXTY-EIGHT – GARY SOMERS.
It was the real estate agent.
His body was in pieces.
* * *
Lawrence took a sip from his tumbler, looked at his wife and shrugged.
“I don’t get it,” he said. “What’s happening?”
Before Elizabeth had a chance to respond Buck Million barged into the conversation. “Of course you don’t get it! You’re catching this act halfway through the performance. Maybe you guys would be better off waiting for the next round. Go talk to the piano man or something, tell him he’s doing a good job.”
“Next round?”
“Yeah… next round. Every ten minutes or so they sweep up the mess and start again.”
“Do you think we should wait?” Elizabeth asked politely.
Buck looked Elizabeth in the eye. “Naw. This here is the best part, the main part. You should shut-up with the questions and enjoy. Hell, it’s a magic show, that’s what it is. A gosh-darn magic show.”
* * *
“Scott,” Penny said. “That’s the man I gave a cigarette to.”
“No it isn’t,” Scott said; his voice was barely a whisper. “It… it only looks like him. It’s part of the experience.”
“Part of the experience? Look! Look at him! Blood is pouring out of his head! See the tattoo? See his eyes! It’s him!”
Scott didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything.
He pulled Penny away from Gary’s box, grinding his teeth together. His heart was beating faster now; his thoughts were reeling. What if it was the man from outside? Could it be him? Was it at all possible?
Had they stepped into a snuff film?
Were they about to die?
Scott dragged Penny across the creaky floor and heard a strange sound. He knew that sound. (Oh God, he knew––but he didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t even want to think it.) He slapped his free hand on the next box, wanting to see, needing to see. The light inside the box turned on. The box was empty, with the exception of the photograph. He read the name, not that he needed to: FORTY-FIVE – PENNY BEACH.
“Oh my God,” Scott said. “What the hell is this?”
Penny’s eyes were bright and alluring above her smiling lips. She was wearing the same dress. Her hair and make-up was a perfect match. Yes, the photo was taken today. There was no denying it.
Scott didn’t recall seeing anyone with a camera, but then again, he hadn’t been looking. Someone could have snapped one easy enough.
Penny began weeping. “That’s me! That’s my name!”
“No,” Scott whispered, but his eyes spoke the truth.
The box was for her.
Suddenly there was a deep, low, growl. The strange sound, he realized, had not been his overactive imagination. And this time, he could not dismiss it.
They were not alone. There was a dog in the room.
“Oh shit,” Penny said.
Then the lights came on––all of them.
They were standing in a warehouse. In the center of the room was a large cage. Inside the cage was a dog. It had teeth like daggers.
But could not attack, yet.
The cage was sitting on a riser, three feet from the ground, attached to what seemed like, a pulley system. There was a metal cable linked to the top part of the cage that extended high above the animal.
Florescent lights hung from the rafters. Glass cases were attached to the walls. Must have been a hundred of them. Half the cases were empty, save the photo inside. The others were stuffed with the mutilated dead. On the far wall, maybe twenty-five feet from the floor, several windows overlooked the room.
People watched through the windows with happy, smiling faces.