Tortured Dreams

Chapter Forty-Four

"What was that?" Michael asked after the room had settled down.

"Call the front desk and make sure Alejandro arranged to have me moved to a new room." I told him.

"Everything all right?" Michael had stopped typing.

"Our fearless leader has an issue, one that is going to be a problem giving his opinion on women." I looked at Lucas. Lucas nodded once.

"Just call them, Michael," Xavier agreed.

"Not until someone tells me what is going on."

"Alejandro isn't naturally that big, he's using steroids. I've encountered 'Roid Rage' once or twice before; it isn't normally a problem for me. Plus, he doesn't like women, especially women like me, women who think and talk and have opinions. So when we are together and he flies into a rage, I'm going to be the target of his abuse. I refuse to be his victim. He can battle that demon all on his own. He also has a drinking problem." I told Michael.

"Oh, yeah, I'll call the front desk," Michael picked up the phone in my room.

"On second thought, don't bother," Lucas grabbed my bag and started shoving my clothes into it. "Michael, you and Xavier are going to bunk up. I'll share with Ace."

"Great, kicking me out of my own room," Xavier pretended to sulk.

"At least for now." Lucas looked at him.

"I know he juiced not long ago, probably to keep himself awake while we investigated." Xavier shook his head. "One day, he's really going to lose it and someone is going to have to kill him."

"If we are taking bets, I put money on Malachi," I picked up the soda I was drinking and followed them all down the hall.

We entered Lucas's room. He tossed my bag down on the bed and took a seat at the table. I sat down on the bed. Watching Lucas and Xavier move around proved that sitting on the bed wasn't practical. The bed was springy and seemed to bounce each time I moved my head to follow them.

"Back to what you were saying." Xavier said, picking up his own duffle bag.

"Wow, this room looks a lot different than mine," I commented. The two double beds were arranged on one wall, with the TV and dresser across from it. There the similarity stopped. Their table was bigger. They had a mini-fridge and a microwave. Even their bathroom looked bigger and there was a small recliner. I moved from the bed, taking a seat in the chair. It fit like I was Goldilocks.

"Done?" Xavier asked, Michael unpacking his computer next to him.

"Yep, I'm good now." I relaxed a little. The room seemed safer suddenly.

"Now, what were you saying about the three days? Does it mean anything to you?" Lucas continued unabated.

"I don't know, it just seems like an odd length of time to keep anyone. Three days. Why keep someone three days if you aren't going to torture them? And our victims do not seem to have been physically tortured in the three days. Psychologically torturing them would work, but that makes death a release, not another form of torture."

"You don't think they are psychologically torturing them during those three days?" Xavier asked.

"Would you? Honestly? You want the full weight and horror of their death to weigh upon them. You show them the device or describe it and then wait three days. Ok, I can grasp that. But these are people. What do they do for the three days? Do they listen to their captives plead, beg and scream for three days? That seems more like torturing the torturer. A couple of hours of it, maybe, but three full days? Doesn't that seem extreme? By the end of the third day, the captives are just grateful that the wait is over and they can finally die. Also, that's a long time to leave someone in a Hanging Coffin. They aren't fool-proof, nothing is after three days. I can gross you out with some stories about what the human body can do to metal."

"You're talking about acid in urine and bacteria in feces," Xavier said.

"Not to mention bile," I agreed.

"The Hanging Coffins have to be cleaned after each event," Xavier countered.

"That's true, but how much acid can metal take? Iron begins to corrode fast. Start pouring stomach acid on it and it goes that much faster. Each of these coffins has now housed at least three women. I know I pee a lot in three days. If I was terrified for three days, it would be much worse. The reality of the situation, even in the Middle Ages, was that Hanging Coffins were meant to be displayed and the victim was left to be turned into something subhuman, but you certainly didn't walk under them."

"Stomach acid is a mild sulfuric acid," Xavier looked thoughtful.

"My point exactly. Sulfuric acid is hard on organic material and metals. Look at common household products that use it. Like..." I thought for a moment, "drain cleaner. It can strip the finish off of porcelain, ceramics and it corrodes metal. Add to it that sulfuric acid is one of the harder acids to neutralize. It takes a lot of other materials mixed with it to bring down the acidity. Still drain cleaner is more concentrated than stomach acid, but on raw iron..."

"And we know that they are raw iron," Michael hastily jumped into the conversation.

"Raw iron is porous." I reminded them.

"Easier to succumb to bacteria and acids," Xavier agreed.

"That becomes a risk factor for them. They have to know this or if not, they should have researched it better. There are stories of people getting stuck in Hanging Coffins and asphyxiating from the floor falling out of them."

"We've used iron for centuries," Michael countered.

"Yes, but in things. We moved out of the Iron Age for a reason. The tensile strength of iron is great, but it's corrode rate is terrible. It's porous, which means anything from weather to dirty air to human touch breaks it down just that much faster. Ten Hanging Coffins, made of raw iron is not only expensive but terribly impractical."

"You just run from detail to detail." Lucas smiled at me. "Why?"

"Because every time I think of one thing, another pops into my head."

"Trees for the forest," he mimicked.

"Pretty much," I stepped out to the balcony.

:1.0,"!_