The previous Saturday
"What do you want from me?" asked the poor soul that would become another victim.
It seemed the crazy man ignored the question, "I'm so glad you could join me this evening. I'm sure we'll get along just fine." Shawn watched as his captor stared blankly at him before turning around and going through the door at the top of the stairs.
Two hours ago, or so he guessed, Shawn finished his shift at the local bowling alley and walked through the employee door to where his car was parked. That's the last thing he remembered. He woke up in what appeared to be a basement or storm cellar. The walls were made of cinder blocks and the floor barely held together it's cement foundation. There was a small window on one wall but it was certainly too small for him to fit through. He could see that it would soon be completely dark and was grateful the summer months held the evening light for a few more hours. It would be the only way he could tell what time it was.
The rest of the room was completely empty. The man entered just after he had gathered his surroundings and acted as if the two had been best friends for their entire lives. It was strange for Shawn. He didn't understand what was going on inside that guy's head.
Shawn spent the night curled up in one of the corners. At times he thought sleep took over, but mostly he was cold and uncomfortable. His thoughts were consumed by the crazy maniac he occassionally heard upstairs. What was going to happen?
The window eventually revealed the morning light and Shawn knew the old man would return soon. In the brighter light he saw the room a little better, but there was nothing to see anyways. He stood and stretched his body out, slowly walking the around. While he took the grand tour Shawn examined the small space for any escape. The window was out of the question and last night he heard the chorus of chains and locks being latched on the only escape. He had nothing to do but wait.
As the sunlight increased his stomach growled. It didn't really matter to him, though. Shawn wanted nothing but to get out as fast as he could. While he was thinking the familiar sounds of the chains echoed through the room. He quickly stood and backed into the furthest corner.
"Good morning, friend. Sleep well?" The old man descended the stairs and looked at Shawn. The smile on the man's face really creeped Shawn out. He saw the man wasn't quite as old as he thought, but was about 50 something. His hair had some grey in it, but it was mostly brown. He was taller than Shawn was, and a bit beefier. Suddenly he felt even more like he was never going to get out. "I thought maybe you'd be hungry and you needed a trip to the bathroom. I'll be waiting for you in the dining room." Then he turned and left again.
What's with this guy? He thought. Shawn waited for a minute or two and then noticed the door was wide open. Slowly, he crept up the stairs, but they creaked at each step. When he got to the door he noticed there wasn't much more light coming in from up there. The walls were dark and so far he saw no other way out. Quickly, Shawn learned this was a house. He doubted anyone actually lived there. He made his way down the only hall and found an open door. The bathroom. Pushing the door open didn't make him feel any better. The sink and toilet were covered in some kind of brown goo. He reluctantly felt the wall for a light switch. There was barely enough light to see his own hand in front of him after he shut the door.
After doing his business Shawn continued down the hall and found the dining room. Apparently this place consisted of the three rooms he had already been in. He could see no other door or window. How did the man get in and out? There was a table in the center of the room and two chairs. In one of the chairs was the man. "Sit, let's eat."
He sat, but only stared at the man, who began eating the pancakes in front of him. Clearly the food came from a restaurant. There was no way he cooked that stuff here. Shawn did his best to survey the room for something to take this guy out. It was the same as his prison. Nothing. There seemed to be no hope left for him now. As if someone had pushed a button in his brain a thought occurred to him. The chair. Could he really muster enough courage and strength to use the very chair he was sitting in to at least knock that guy out? I guess there was really no other way to find out.
"Please, God," he silently prayed, "if I'm meant to get out of here, then help me do this." Shawn waited for the old man to take a drink of his orange juice before making his move. He placed one hand on the pole supporting the back rest, quickly stood, and then tightly gripped the chair with both hands. He closed his eyes and swung the chair at his captor as hard as he could.