chose my biggest, sharpest knife and cut the chicken into strips and put the pieces in a gallon size Ziploc bag. I added a bottle of Jamaica Mistake and squished the bag up to get all the chicken pieces coated. Then I let the bag sit while I cut up the vegetables.
Manny sat at the dining room table watching every move I made, punching numbers on the cell phone and grunting when the call didn’t go through again. Shadow stared at him since he was sitting in a place where food magically appeared on the floor. If I were alone, he’d be sitting under the cutting board because sometimes food magically appears under that, too.
I went to the refrigerator and got out onions, bell peppers and mushrooms and cut the onions and peppers into strips.
The best way to cook the meat would be to grill it, but that involved another trip to the backyard. Since the barbecue grill was just outside the door I hoped he’d let me use it. The more things he observed me doing in a calm manner, the more he’d be taken off guard when I made my break. I shook the meat bag a few more times and headed for the back door. I was met with a gun to the side of my head and my heart did a little flip flop at how fast it appeared there.
“I’m just lighting the barbecue. You don’t want this cooked on the stove.
It just isn’t the same.”
He lowered the gun and watched me closely as I opened the back door. Shadow shot outside to sniff around. I lit the grill and called Shadow back in the house. A few minutes later, I scraped the grill and added a grate so the chicken strips wouldn’t fall through. I did a final squish of the bag and placed the chicken on the grill. I went inside and sautéed the onions, bell peppers and mushrooms. I flipped over the chicken and then set the table. Nothing fancy. When you live alone, fancy doesn’t seem worth the bother. I microwaved some tortillas so we could eat the chicken soft taco style. I brought in the meat and mixed it up with the veggies. I set the whole mess, still in the Texas skillet on the table. Manny dug in and I got us each a glass of Coke.
This is the way I usually ate. I fixed a big batch of something and then ate the leftovers for a week straight. It looked like I wouldn’t have to do that this time. Manny was definitely going to help out in that department.
“I never want to see another hot dog or bologna sandwich for as long as I live,” he said.
“I’m not much of a cook but I don’t think you’ll starve to death here. Only thing is, I only keep a couple days worth of food at any one time here.”
Manny looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. He was really getting into this meal. In fact he hardly noticed me as he ate. I made a mental note of that. I was hoping to get some information out of him, but I thought I was getting more information just watching him than if I talked to him, so I stayed quiet. He never set down the gun, but his focus was on nothing but the plate in front of him. I got up and went to the kitchen and pretended to look around for something. His eyes flicked up but his hands and mouth kept working on the food. I thought of making a run for it right then but something told me to hold off. Still, I was forming a plan for later. I fingered the keys in my pocket.
By the time dinner was over it was dark out. Shadow got his share of dinner, a teaspoon of people food in his bowl. There were two more failed attempts at the phone call, each followed by mutterings and cursing. There had been a plan and that plan wasn’t going smoothly right at the moment. I cleaned up the dishes and Shadow was ready for his evening run. I always went out with him in the evening to cool off and he went out every evening for a last patrol. He started the pacing and staring thing again. I ignored him until he tried it on Manny. After a while Manny got the idea and opened the back door. Shadow stood at the door and stared at me. “Come on sheep!” he seemed to be saying, “You know what you are supposed to be doing.” Well, I did. I knew I was supposed to be getting out of this house alive. I took Shadow out quickly and was waved back in again with the gun. Didn’t he ever put it down?
I sure wished I had a real name to go with the face. I’d like to know who I was dealing with, even if the name didn’t mean much to me. Manny, short for Manuel? Dark skin. Scraggly gray hair. Looked like his hair used to be black. Mexican? He didn’t look particularly Mexican. He just looked tanned. And unkempt. He wore an old undershirt with a torn and worn flannel shirt over it. Baggy faded jeans that were too long for him bunched up over scuffed black shoes. He looked like he’d stolen his clothes from the Goodwill drop off box and then worn them for a week straight.
As night settled in the stress level built up again. I could feel the tension rising. Manny was getting nervous. He poked me with the gun.
“Let’s go,” he said, “I need to find some stuff.”
We went out to the garage and he dug through the workbench until he came up with duct tape and a pocketknife.
“Lace your fingers together.”
He taped my fingers so they couldn’t move, then taped my wrists. We went back in the house and he shoved me to the floor. He brought my hands down to my knees and taped my hands and knees together and then my ankles. I wasn’t going anywhere. He made some more calls on the cell phone, finally getting through to somebody. I heard a one sided conversation.
“Oscar, where the fuck are you? I’ve been trying to get through all day…. So, you did it?… shit… yeah, I got a car and I got a hostage. Cute one, too…. It’s quiet here.” Long pause. “You better get outa there…. We can use my hostage and your car. It’ll be faster if we have to run. You did manage to get the keys… What do you mean you’re pinned down?… Shit! I could make a run for it without you. And you know I will if I have to… Two days. You have two days. I’m not waiting any longer than that and I’m only saying that because I got it good here. I’m all set.”
He hung up and almost threw the phone across the room. Instead he slugged the wall, sending sheetrock crumbling and knocking a picture off the wall. He threw the picture, missing my head by inches. He strode over, kicking me in the side and rolling me over so he could look me in the eyes. “Looks like you’re gonna be stuck with me for a long time. Things aren’t looking too good right now but things could change. Two days. Looks like you’ve got two days.” He cut off a strip of duct tape and put it over my mouth.
As the hours wore on I was glad for my training. I’d slept in worse places than this. Carpet was nice and comfy compared to foxholes and tents in the desert. I’d slept standing, sitting, hanging in trees. Only my thoughts kept me from sleeping now. Two days. I had to escape tomorrow. That’s it. That’s the plan, only half formed in my mind, but I did have options left to me. I didn’t know if I was willing to go down fighting. I wanted this to end peacefully with this guy behind bars, but the likelihood of the police strolling by was slim to nil. My mind was racing through all the possible outcomes until I felt like a rat in a maze, and then the maze became a haze and I dozed.
Morning dawned, but it was overcast. I couldn’t see out a window but I could tell there was a blanket of clouds out there because the jets from the Air Force base were flying under the cloud cover. The room was dim. If I were free, I would rejoice in a cloudy day. I would use the break from the sunshine to do my outside work. Shadow and I would run the agility course and go to the park or hike in the mountains nearby. Today I knew I had a day of tense waiting. And watching. Maybe the watching would keep it from being boring. Maybe it wouldn’t be boring because I’d be fighting for my life. Watching came first; watching for a break, no matter how small. I’d built up some trust. Now I needed to make that trust work for me.
Shadow was out of sorts.
