Thank You for Your Donation: Day Five

Barry’s coughing started last night. I think he’s finally fallen asleep because I can hear a soft snore to my right. I’m glad that he doesn’t snore like a bear in hibernation while we try to talk through our ideas.

“But has anyone tried to get out of their cuffs?” Niel asked.

The worry for stupid questions was out the window. I didn’t hear a single insulted scoff, as I was sure that each one of us tried. If someone broke free, they didn’t let anyone know. My watch battery was down to 25%, and none of our phones had come close enough to connect to anyone’s watches. I’m pretty sure Barry’s smartwatch already died. Any of our phones could still have enough power for an emergency call, if we could find them. 

“I can,” Kelsey said between gasps, “focus enough. To breathe.”

The landline phones are ringing off the hook, and those would work faster. I just feel like getting a hold of my phone would make everything easier. I could drop a pin for my family, and then call 9-1-1, and pray they get here before the man realizes. But as for right now, that’s a fantasy world. In reality, there are five of us remaining, and one of us is sick. 

“What do you expect?” April said, “You lost a lot of blood, and then he hasn’t given us any food for days. Even the killers in the serial killer TV shows give their prisoners food to keep them alive.”

I found that I couldn’t focus on an empty stomach. I wished that the ringing phone could hear our screams. Instead, the only person that ever listened to our screams was the man who took us. While April yelled for the man to hear, I didn’t know if he was even here. I didn’t hear the haunting sound of dress shoes nearby. 

“Don’t yell, April,” I said, feeling weak. A headache started to bloom in the back of my head. “We need to figure out who he is. Then he’ll let us go.”

“You don’t believe that, do you, Ben?” April asked. “The bad guys in the show always kill everyone anyway.” 

“This isn’t Hollywood, April,” I groaned.

“No, it’s reality, and you can tell me which is worse,” April shot back.

I chose not to respond. April was right. I think he just wants to give us the hope of survival so we continue to watch the torture. But I couldn’t let go of the hope that we might get out alive. If only one of us could escape. I heard a knock on the back door that echoed through the facility like the promise of a savior. Then I heard the clack of dress shoes. I don’t care if he kills me next.

“We’re in here! Help!” I yelled, but it didn’t come out much louder than the voice of a lunatic in a padded room. 

My throat and mouth were so dry that my body seemed to stop making saliva. If only I could get some water. The clack of the man’s shoes drew nearer before they stopped. I couldn’t see him, and I opened my mouth again to yell. A wad of fabric filled my mouth. I grunted and shifted in the donation bed. The man went to Niel next, and I watched the man shove folded white socks into Niel’s mouth. The sliver of light was bright enough to show the stark contrast between the dark background and the socks. We’d also been in the dark long enough that our eyes adjusted to see most details. My stomach lurched as I realized they were most likely the man’s socks. 

The man didn’t bother with the others. Barry and Kelsey could barely talk between the coughs and weakened state. The man took extra care to stay away from Barry. Did Barry catch the Rona? That wasn’t good if he did. We didn’t have much time before we all got sick. I watched the man now as he walked back through the maze of beds and stopped before the rear door. The knocks became pounds on the door. Quick, but methodic, the man dressed in some kind of outerwear that I couldn’t discern until the last piece. A large head covering that looked like it belonged with a Hazmat suit. The man seemed to turn back towards me as I tried to scream through the socks in my mouth before he left the donor floor.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.