Fun and Games, Chapter Four
The man took an old wooden umbrella stand that had been untouchd in the hallway for years and slammed it onto the woman's husband's legs. The woman screamed and, gently being let go by the companion, ran to her unconscious husband. She knelt down by her husband and hugged him tightly.
"I'm sorry that I hurt him," the man said. "But you must admit, you two weren't being very friendly."
The woman looked up at him with a mixture of contempt and fear.
The man addressed his companion. "Peter, help our sleeping host into the living room. I have to do something."
His companion, Peter, nodded. He grabbed the husband from under his arms and began to haul him into the nearby living room.
The red-haired woman started to follow after them. The man grabbed her by the elbow.
"You stay here," he told her, smirking. He pulled her along by the elbow into the kitchen.
"Where is your phone?" the man asked her.
She pointed to a cell phone underneath a dishrag. The man picked it up and went back into the hallway.
Delicately, he placed the phone onto the floor. He took the umbrella stand he had used to smash the husband's leg, held it high, and then sent it soaring down onto the phone. The cell phone easily smashed into pieces.
The red-haired woman let out a cry and bent to pick up the fragments of her phone.
"It's no use now," the man told her. "Let's join your husband and Tom in the living room."
The woman looked confused. "Who?" She asked.
The man ignored her question. He grabbed her elbow once again. "Let's join them in the living room," he repeated gruffly. He forced her into the living room.
On the couch lay the husband, a fleece blanket tucked over his legs. Peter sat calmly on the couch across from the husband, his legs crossed politely.
"Have a seat," the man instructed the red-haired woman.
She sat begrudgingly.
"Is he awake?" the man asked his companion, pointing his thumb in the general direction of the woman's husband, who seemed to be stirring. The man sat down on the couch, next to his companion. He sat with his legs widely open, a blatant display of dominance.
"Oh, yes," said the companion. "He's waking up."
"What now?" the man asked.
In his soft voice, Peter said, "We haven't properly introduced ourselves."
"Good point, Tom," the man said, getting off of the couch. He extended his hand to the now fully awake husband. "I'm Paul." The husband's hands did not move.
"I introduced myself," Paul said, sounding angry. "It's polite to introduce yourself. Now do it!" He struck the man's face once again, this time only as a simple slap.
"Charles Toney," the husband said, his hand pressed to his throbbing face.
"And you, ma'am?" Paul asked the woman.
Not wanting her family or herself injured further, she replied, "Victoria Toney."
"Good," Paul smiled. "As I said, I am Paul. This...," he pointed at Peter, "...is Peter. Where are your manners, Tubby? Come offer the man your hand."
Peter scurried off of the couch. He extended his hand to the husband, Charles Toney. Charles Toney shook it. Both he and Peter had learned that not doing as Paul said ended in pain.
Paul sighed contently and sat on the couch opposite Charles Toney. He leaned back onto the couch cushion. "Have a seat, Tom," Paul told Peter.
"But where are the children?" asked Peter.
"I haven't thought of that," Paul said. He sat up. "Where are the children you were with, ma'am?"
Victoria looked at him in fear. She did not want these two men to harm her children. She said nothing.
Paul repeated, "Where are they?" Everyone could sense his sudden anger.
Still, Victoria said nothing.
"Peter, help her out," Paul demanded.
Obediently, Peter walked to Victoria and grabbed her off of the couch.
"It's easier for you if you answer," Peter told her quietly. No response from her. "I'm sorry I have to do this."
Then he raised his hand and backhanded her. Hard. She fell onto the floor and began to sob.
Charles Toney tried to stand and help his wife, but he couldn't even sit up. His legs were probably both broken. Peter looked at the woman with a mixture of pity, regret, and calm on his face. Paul just rolled his eyes from where he sat watching the debacle on the couch.
"So much stress," Paul said, "just for a simple answer. This could have been avoided. All you have to do is answer."
Finally, the woman spoke; "Upstairs. They're both upstairs. Probably in their room, on the computer."
Paul smiled. "See? It wasn't that hard, was it?" The woman looked at him with disgust. He ignored the look. "Beavis, bring the rest of our hosts downstairs."
Peter nodded and left the living room.
The three in the living room sat in silence. Then, Charles Toney asked, "Why?"
"What do you mean?" Paul asked him, a light smile on his face.
"Why are you doing this?"
Paul did not answer for a moment. Then, slowly, he replied, "Why not?"
Charles Toney just looked down at the fleece blanket that covered his legs.
Minutes later, Peter came into the room, two red-haired children thrown over his shoulder. Both were unconscious. Peter threw their bodies onto the couch their parents were on.
Victoria leapt to her feet. She ran at Peter. He grabbed her easily and punched her in the lower stomach. She clutched at the spot he punched and doubled over onto the floor, gasping.
"What did you do to them?" Charles Toney asked.
"Don't worry about it," Peter said, his voice softer than normal. He sat down next to Paul.
Paul clapped his hands together in joy. "Okay, now we're all here," Paul said. "What time is it?" he asked Peter.
Peter looked at the watch on his wrist. "Almost six," he said.
"Okay. It's time to make a bet. We...," he ran his hand through the air, in the area he and Peter were in, "...bet that by six o'clock tomorrow morning, you'll...," he pointed in the direction of the four family members, "...be...," he ran a hand across his throat, "...gone."
"What?" Charles Toney asked, his brow crinkled in confusion.
Paul restated; "You bet that you'll be alive tomorrow at six o'clock and we bet that you'll be dead."
He let that sink in with the Toney family. "Okay, as they say on TV: Let the games begin!"