Bad Games

46



“Maybe it’s time Carrie and Caleb met Uncle Jim?” Jim asked.

Arty looked at Amy and Patrick first, smiled, then faced his brother. “I think that’s a great idea.” He turned back to the couple and pushed the television stand a useless half-inch closer, clicked it back on, winked and said, “Want to make sure you guys have a great view. I contemplated giving you some popcorn but…” He pointed to their gags, their binds. “Probably wouldn’t have worked out too well.”

“Arty?” Jim called from the door.

“Patience, my brother. Patience.”



* * *



The two brothers left the room, shutting the door softly behind them. When they arrived at the bottom of the stairs Arty took Jim by the arm and pulled him close. “Carrie, the little girl, can be a pain in the ass,” he whispered. “She already made Mom doubt some things. Try and steer clear from her. Dote over the little boy more often if you can. He’s a good kid. Quiet and harmless.”

Jim nodded and Arty let go of his arm. The two brothers walked through the den and into the family room.

“Look who I found,” Arty announced to the room, his mother in particular.

“James!” Maria cried. She nudged Caleb gently to one side and stood up to approach her son.

Jim hugged his mother hard and kissed her on the cheek. He held her by the face when he asked, “How you doing, Mom?”

She nodded fast, patting his shoulder with the same speed of her nods. “I’m good, I’m good. How are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m doing just fine, Mom.”

Maria patted her son’s shoulder again then returned to the sofa with Caleb back at her feet. “Oh this is so wonderful—everyone here like this. Sit, James, sit.”

Jim went to take a seat, but was instantly questioned by Carrie before he had a chance to settle.

“Who are you?” she asked.

Jim glanced over at Arty. Arty returned the glance with raised eyebrows and a See what I mean? expression.

Maria’s stint with earlier doubts had left her self-conscious, and she seemed to feign indifference to Carrie’s question towards Jim. Arty spotted it all the same and took control. “This is Uncle Jim,” he said.

“Where are Mommy and Daddy?” Carrie asked him again.

Her confident manner seemed to amuse Jim as he smirked at the little girl’s grit. Still, he ignored her and followed his brother’s advice by leaving his chair and stepping over to Caleb. He loomed down over the little boy at his mother’s feet. “How’s my big man doing?”

Caleb craned his neck as far back as it would go in order to take Jim in. His mouth hung open in a tiny O, cookie crumbs still flecked around the sides.

“Fine,” he said softly.

“Fine? Just fine? You look better than fine to me, my man. You look strong enough to fly!”

Caleb continued staring, seemingly unsure whether he should be excited or completely freaked out.

“Have you ever flown before?” Jim asked.

Caleb shook his head, his mouth still dangling open, his eyes still looking through the top of his head.

“You haven’t? Well what do you say we get going then, pilot Caleb?”

Jim bent over, scooped up Caleb, and swung him over one shoulder like a man carrying a log. Caleb’s body was rigid, but Jim’s enthusiasm seemed to pique the little boy’s interest enough to keep him in the game a little longer before crying out.

“Okay, pilot Caleb,” Jim began. “Hold your arms out straight like Superman.”

Caleb did.

“Good. Now…” Jim grinned. “Are you ready?”

Caleb nodded hesitantly.

“Come on, pilot Caleb. I said, are you ready?”

Caleb nodded again, stronger this time, but still with a hint of doubt.

“Well then let’s get ready for takeoff…”

“Be careful, James,” Maria said.

“Here we go…3…2…1…BLAST OFF!”

Jim raced throughout the family room with Caleb over his shoulder, the man making wild airplane sounds that changed pitch every time they dipped, rose, and swooped around a corner.

Caleb’s uncertainty became a thing of the past; the boy giggled wildly with each sudden spin and buzz throughout the room.

The occupants of the entire family room lit up as they watched Jim with Caleb. Maria looked on in absolute delight; Carrie was close to asking for a turn herself; and Arty wished more than anything that he could be upstairs to see the expression on Patrick and Amy’s faces as they watched.



* * *



Patrick and Amy sat next to one another in their holding room, unable to take their eyes off the television. They watched in helpless horror as a psychopath raced around a room with their four-year-old son over his shoulder.

There was no sound on the television, but they could hear Jim’s hooting and their son’s faint giggles from below.

At one point Jim and Caleb went off camera, leaving the family room to go elsewhere. It was only seconds later before the couple realized that the sounds of the man and their child were becoming more distinct, and they were in fact, climbing the stairs towards the very room they were being held captive in.

They could hear Jim’s heavy footsteps pounding up the wooden stairs towards them. They could hear their son’s giggles rising. And before long, they could hear Jim’s voice right outside the bedroom door.

“What do you say, pilot Caleb? Should we venture inside?”

The excruciating irony the couple felt just then was surreal:

They did not want their son to enter the room. Did not want him to see his Mommy and Daddy battered and helpless. Did not want him to see that they could not protect him, could not save him from the boogeyman.

And yet it was only the boogeyman himself who had the ability to make that wish come true. That realization was an explosive punch to the sternum that stole their breath and gave them no other option but to sit and hope for a madman to obey their deepest wish.

“No!” Caleb’s little voice echoed, the sound of it making tears instantly pour from Amy’s eyes. “Downstairs! Go back downstairs!”

“You sure?” Jim asked, and Patrick was certain the man was grinning fangs with fire-red eyes at the door when he spoke.

“Yeah! Yeah!”

“Okay, pilot Caleb, you’re the boss. Hold on!”

The voices and thumps started to fade, and as they watched Jim and their son eventually reappear on the TV screen, husband and wife regretfully thanked the boogeyman.



* * *



They did another quick loop around the family room before Jim flew Caleb right up to his mother’s bookshelf. Jim stuck Caleb’s face close to a row of books. “There’s a secret camera in the bookshelf, pilot Caleb! Wave to the secret camera! Wave to the secret camera, pilot Caleb!”

And there was a secret camera. A small, portable camera that Arty had installed deep into the shelf earlier that day.

Caleb couldn’t see it. Nobody could see it. But it was there. And the little boy waved and smiled. Carrie jumped up onto the arm of the sofa, and, following her brother’s lead, gave a hearty wave and a smile into the “secret camera” as well.

“Kisses!” Jim grinned. “Blow kisses into the camera!”

Carrie immediately did, blowing several of them, posing like a movie star. Caleb balked.

“Come on, pal,” Jim said, “I’ll do one first.” Jim puckered up and brought his lips as close to the hidden lens as possible. Both kids then giggled as Jim added an exaggerated wink for the benefit of his audience above.

Caleb finally gave in and blew a kiss at the secret camera before giggling and turning away.



* * *



Upstairs, the silent movie Patrick and Amy were watching had turned the explosive punch to the sternum into a shotgun blast.