Basement Tape

The basement wasn’t finished, not really.

Ned flipped a switch. A single strip of fluorescent light hummed to life.

The man was strapped to a table in the center of the room. It was a stainless steel table, the kind used in professional kitchens or morgues.

There was a drain in the floor directly beneath it.

The man was thrashing. His eyes were bulging, fixed on Meerka. He was making noises behind the tape on his mouth. Begging noises.

Ned walked over and checked the straps. They were tight.

-This room was built for pigs, Ned said. The previous owner, he made his own sausages. Isn’t that incredible?

He looked at the drain.

-It is very easy to clean.

Meerka stood by the stairs, hunched over and looking at the ground. She was holding the banister with both hands, as if she were going back upstairs.

-Come here, Ned said.

She took a step toward him. Then another. Her legs were stiff.

She stopped at the table. She looked down at the man who had stolen her life.

-The knife, Ned said.

Meerka still had it. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the black switchblade. Her hand was shaking.

-Open it.

The man on the table screamed into the cloth. He shook his head violently.

-He is begging, Meerka whispered.

-He is bargaining, Ned corrected. It’s not the same. He’s got nothing to bargain with.

Ned moved behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders.

-You don't have to do this, Ned said. I can do it. I can make him disappear.

Meerka looked at the blade. She looked at the man’s eyes. She remembered the rain. She remembered the hunger.

-No, she said. He is mine.

-Good.

Ned guided her forward until her hip touched the cold steel of the table.

-Do not stab, Ned whispered in her ear. Stabbing is messy. Stabbing is angry.

He took her wrist. He guided the knife to the side of the man’s neck. Right below the jaw.

-The jugular is here. A single pull. Left to right.

The man froze. He stopped thrashing. He just stared.

-It is quick, Ned said. More than he deserves.

Meerka took a breath. The air tasted of bleach.

-Pull, Ned said.

Meerka’s hand tightened on the handle.

She pulled.

The blade was sharp. It met resistance but then gave way.

The blood spilled out fast, down the neck and the steel table, over the edge and into the drain.

The man jerked once. Twice. Then he went still.

Ned let go of her wrist.

-That’s it, he said.

Meerka stared at the blood on her hands. She stared at the empty eyes where her husband was.

She felt light.