How to Successfully Kidnap Strangers (8 page)

Harlan Anderson. He’d been a pain in Nick’s ass for four years now, since he started up Books I’d Like to Fuck. Harlan had been one of the original writers to submit a manuscript during BILF’s first month of open submissions. Harlan had also been the first writer Nick declined.

He still remembered Harlan’s novel submission. He was reminded of it every time Harlan wrote some shit about the press on his stupid blog. Harlan’s novel,
That’s What She Said
, was perhaps the dumbest goddamn book Nick had ever read. It was basically fifty thousand words written in free verse, one line with a planted innuendo and the following line always being, “THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!” It went on like that for fifty thousand motherfucking words. Like if scientists tried to create a spambot based off the mind of Michael Scott from
The Office
. Since then, Nick had published some definitely strange shit, but nothing as pitiful as Harlan Anderson’s self-proclaimed magnum opus.

Admittedly, the rejection letter had been a bit harsh, but this was back before Nick had any idea what the hell he was doing. It was his original intention to respond to every single manuscript with a long, personalized rejection. He never meant to be mean, but he was an asshole by nature. What kind of human being suggests to another human being they should toss their keyboard into the ocean?

In any case, that rejection had marked Harlan as an enemy for life. Once Nick began publishing actual titles, Harlan would somehow review them all—which he openly admitted to illegally downloading—and not once had he said anything positive.

The first book Harlan had reviewed was Nick’s own novel,
The Trampoline Incident
. Harlan bashed him for publishing his own writing under his publishing company, calling Nick a piece of shit, two-bit criminal who couldn’t cut it with normal writers, so he had to hide behind a faux company he invented. It had definitely hurt Nick, as it was the first review he’d ever received for any of his writing, anywhere. Maybe some of it hit home. Maybe Harlan had a point. But then the review ended with Harlan suggesting Nick toss his keyboard into the ocean, and he finally realized who this guy really was, and that anything he said was just bitter resentment, so fuck him.

And fuck him again for making Nick feel guilty for the kidnapping. The asshole should have known words have consequences. Sure, these consequences were a bit extreme, but this was reality—
everything
was extreme.

Nick wheeled his huge, classroom-sized whiteboard into the kitchen. The majority of the board was occupied with sloppy, schizophrenic scribblings of publication schedules, marketing plans, and upcoming local book festivals. Nick erased a grocery list at the top right corner and wrote, in big capital letters: KIDNAPPING PLAN.

“Okay,” he said, pacing in front of the board, “the way I see it, we only have a few options here. Because let’s face it, we are now kidnappers. All of us.”

Stephen groaned. Louise smiled.

“The moment we allowed Billy to bring those two into this apartment, we became accessories. This makes us just as involved as he is.”

“So, what’re our options?” Eliza asked.

“Okay, so, we could just let them go,” Nick said. “Maybe they won’t say anything to the police, but they probably will.”

On the board, he wrote: RELEASE THE HOSTAGES.

“Or we could bribe them into not talking, except none of us have any money.”

BRIBERY.

“Or, another option, we never let them go. We keep them forever, as our prisoners.”

LIFETIME IMPRISONMENT.

“Holy shit, that’s fucked up,” Eliza said.

Stephen buried his face in his hands.

Louise sat up straight. “I already suggested that, but nobody was down, man. I even thought we could use their bones as Halloween decorations. Smart, right?”

Nick nodded, knowing how insane they all sounded and not knowing what to do about it. Some days were crazier than other days, and today was definitely an ‘everything is batshit’ kind of day. Half of him felt like he was still asleep. None of this was real. His body moved on autopilot while his mind drifted to the clouds.

“I don’t know,” Nick said. “Maybe we could take them to Sergio’s uncle’s cabin. Hell.”

“And the other options?” Eliza asked.

“Well.” Nick paused a moment, not believing what he was about to say. “We could kill them.”

On the board, he wrote: MURDER.

Stephen vomited all over the table. Everybody screamed.

20. HEADS ARE GONNA ROLL

Lewis hadn’t intended
to murder his wife. Sure, he’d killed people in the past, no problem, but his wife was never supposed to become a victim. In fact, he loved his wife. She was the most beautiful woman on the planet. He would have done anything for her. But then she discovered the videos he’d saved on his laptop, and after that she found the severed heads in the basement, so yeah, obviously he had to kill her. Sometimes these things happened.

If he hadn’t come home from work early that day, he would probably be in prison right now. Helga would have undoubtedly called the police, if she’d been given a chance. But fate had other plans. Work ended early that day due to some bogus Ebola scare tactics puked out by the media, so Lewis drove home, thinking he’d surprise his wife in bed, make love to her, then take her out for a nice meal. Except when he came home, he couldn’t find her. He looked everywhere. She was gone. He went into his office—despite the fact that she knew she wasn’t allowed in there—and of course he didn’t find her there. But he did notice his laptop was powered on, and on the screen played one of his homemade snuff films.

He froze. As fast as a tree branch snapping, everything was ruined. The life he’d worked so hard to build was destroyed. Now he’d have to leave, get as far away as he could, and make a new life. He’d always expected this would happen, but not so soon. He needed more time to plan, more time to spend with his wife, whom he loved.

She wasn’t supposed to die now. She was never supposed to die.

He found her in the basement. She was going through the deep freezer he stored his deer meat in. All the deer meat was now on the floor, and she was standing above the freezer, staring at its other contents.

The heads.

Lewis thought about saying something, thought about apologizing. But it would have only made what he had to do that much more difficult. His life was already difficult enough, thank you.

He calmly tiptoed down the basement steps, walked up to his wife, and slit her throat. When the life had drained out of her and the tears had drained out of him, he collected one of his saws and proceeded to add a new, unexpected addition to his head collection.

Before he left, Lewis stored his heads in a duffle bag and hid the bag in the trunk of his car. He didn’t know how much distance he could gain before someone discovered his wife’s headless corpse, but he was willing to bet he’d at least make it across state lines, if not farther. His wife wasn’t exactly the most social type, plus she was unemployed, so there was no real reason to panic just yet. The only flaw in this plan was Helga’s obnoxious bitch of a mother, who talked to her on the phone at least once a day. After a few days of not answering her calls, she’d either send someone to the house or fly down herself. Then the shit would hit the fan.

Hopefully, Lewis would be in Mexico by then.

Of course, he hadn’t expected this slight kidnapping detour. This had definitely thrown him off his itinerary. He’d been driving for over two days and had only stopped to fall asleep in truck stop parking lots. He hadn’t eaten since he left home. His body was overheated, rotting, dying. So he got off the highway, thinking he’d stop for a burger or something. He doubted the police were after him yet. Helga’s headless corpse was still at home, being feasted on by insects. Only instead of a burger, he stumbled across some lunatic beating the shit out of another guy. In all honesty, he probably wouldn’t have even stopped if they hadn’t been right in the middle of the road. The burger joint was in sight, but he couldn’t fit his car around them, so he was left without a choice. He got out and grabbed the psycho off the fat guy, thinking how good it’d feel to decapitate the both of them. Except it didn’t come to that. The man had some kind of superhuman strength. Maybe it was drugs. Maybe it was just insanity. Lewis understood insanity. Insanity fueled humanity. In any case, Lewis was quickly overpowered, and soon he was on the ground next to the fat guy, getting his face punched in.

He kind of found it funny. This is what happened when you tried to be nice, when you tried to help someone else out. You got the shit kicked out of you. You got kidnapped.

Ah well. It wasn’t that big of a deal. These dumbasses clearly had no idea what they were doing. It was only a matter of time before they slipped up, and then he’d be back on his way to Mexico, his collection in the trunk a little heavier.

He only hoped his heads were okay. Those things were priceless.

21. HALLOWEEN DECORATIONS

S
o, let’s say
we kill them,” Nick said, already knowing it would never come to that. He’d rather go to prison than have to resort to murder, or allow any of his friends the same fate. Except maybe Billy. That fucker. Wherever he was hiding. But still, it was a fair option, and Nick felt he ought to let the fantasy play out so they could move on to serious ideas.

“How would we do it?” Louise asked.

Nick didn’t have an answer for that question, and after a few minutes of disturbing silence, nobody else did either. He sighed, relieved. He really didn’t want anybody to already have a murder plan. He didn’t doubt for a second that they could come up with some creative ways to kill and dispose of the hostages, but none of them were about to seriously consider the possibility. They were writers, not killers.

When Nick moved on to the next option, Stephen’s face returned to a somewhat normal color. It was clear he’d been on the verge of puking again, and everybody was relieved when it didn’t happen.

“Right, so we won’t kill them,” Nick said. “And, no offense, guys, but I highly doubt we’re capable of taking care of two grown men for the rest of our lives without anybody catching us, so that option is out, too. Which leaves us with just letting them go.”

“Should we ask for a ransom first?” Louise asked, and Stephen shook his head, disgusted. “What? How the fuck else are we ever gonna make bank if we don’t cash in on a couple of opportune hostages, right?”

“You’re crazy,” Stephen said. “I can’t do this anymore with you.”

“Whatever, dude.”

Nick cleared his throat. He didn’t have time for their petty shit. “A ransom would draw more attention from the police, don’t you think? We don’t really want that. The less attention, the better.”

“Is that true, though?” She leaned forward, excited again. “Think about it, guys. We could be fuckin’ famous. Screw this being poor, hustling bullshit. No more panhandling online for people to buy our books. We could be famous. Go on the run, rob some places, kidnap more people. We’d be motherfuckin’ legends.”

Stephen pushed back from the kitchen table and stood up. “Fuck this.”

“Sit down, man,” Nick said, irritated. He looked at Louise. “Maybe you’re game for the life on the run fate, but not all of us are quite ready.”

Eliza nodded. “Sorry, Louise. But I’d rather continue staying home all day in my pajamas, watching Netflix.”

Louise rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever. But just so you all know?” She pointed at Stephen. “This motherfucker and I held up a gas station before any of this kidnapping shit started. If we were alone, he’d totally be into this.”

“I would not. This isn’t who I am. And this isn’t who
you
are.”

“Whatever.” She lit a cigarette and nodded at Nick. “Continue, I guess.”

Nick waited for Stephen to sit back down, then he went on. “So, what we have to ask ourselves is this: if we let these people go, apologize, tell them Billy was high and didn’t know what he was doing, do we think they will be cool? Or will they run straight to the police?”

“Considering we’ve beaten them up a little, tied them up, and locked them in the closet, I’m thinking they won’t be so chill about the whole situation,” Eliza said.

“Maybe we should just ask them,” Stephen said.

Louise snorted. “Yeah, like they won’t say whatever we want to hear to get us to let them go. What’s to stop them from running to the pig-pen once they’re out the door?”

Stephen settled back in his chair, pale again. “Yeah, I guess we can’t really take them on their word.”

“Especially Harlan,” Nick said. “I don’t know about the other guy. I haven’t talked to him, but you guys have. How is he?”

“I think he said his name was Lewis. He’s all right,” Eliza said. “If we let him go, he’d probably just get in his car and drive home, grateful we didn’t kill him or whatever.”

“Do you guys not watch any
Law and Order
?” Louise asked, looking at them like they were all pitiful losers. “Billy stole that guy’s car in front of a public, crowded area. Places with cameras. Don’t you think the police have already recovered the license plate of the car and have obtained this dude’s identity? He goes home, they’re gonna be waiting for him, with lots and lots of questions. And he isn’t just gonna stay quiet. Not for nothin’.”

“What are you suggesting?” Nick asked.

“I was right,” Stephen said, trying to smile and failing. “We have to bribe them.”

Eliza nodded. “It makes sense to me. Give them something for their troubles, make all this fucked-up shit worth it.”

“None of us have any money, though,” Louise said. “I feel like we’ve been through this. I’m telling you guys, they would make sweet Halloween decorations.”

Eliza looked up at Nick, standing by his whiteboard. “What do we have in the publishing account?”

Embarrassed, he shrugged. “I don’t know, not much, if anything at all. I just paid royalties last week, so the account is pretty much wiped out.”

“Anything in the Paypal?”

“Maybe like twenty bucks, I don’t know. I’d have to check.”

“Twenty dollars isn’t going to mean shit to these two,” Louise said. “It’d be like pissing in their faces. Oh,
hey,
we could always piss in their faces.”