Experimental Procedure, Page 2

to the east with a more direct north-to-south route. The freeway bypassed the little town, making the old highway inadequate for the busy people who would rather get where they were going than stop and enjoy a slice of Americana. The creaking of the passenger door echoed across the empty yard, the darkness of night slowly giving way to dawn.

  The drugs in the flask always made them cold. Frank kept the heat on in the car so they didn't get too cold and begin to shiver. He didn't do this out of the kindness of his own heart, but rather because he didn't want to get yelled at if the girl's body temperature was too low when he brought her in. If they were too cold, valuable time had to be wasted raising it up again in order to get blood drawn.

  When Frank slid his arms beneath Gail's body and bent over to lift her, he smelled the sweet musky scent of his own sweat mixed with the lingering smell of aging cigarette smoke. It was an oddly personal combination that made the front of his pants tighten. Frank hoped this one wouldn't work out.

  She wasn't light. He struggled a bit, jostling her in his arms as he shut the car door. He made his way across the parking lot to the backdoor of the dark building. After nearly dropping her once while fumbling with the key, Frank made it inside with the door closed and securely locked behind him.

  The kitchen was filled with the lingering scents of mold and old grease. A lone microwave sat beside the freezer on a wheeled cart. Neither of the men could cook, and so they'd stocked up on Banquet frozen dinners.

  The dining room beyond was in no better shape. The room was filled with broken chairs and dust-covered tables. The walls boasted yellowed pictures with cracked glass and crooked frames. Frank had claimed one corner of the room as his own with a beat up foam mattress and a sleeping bag; Steve preferred to stay downstairs near the girls, where Frank now carried Gail.

  Frank stopped in one of the rooms. All of the furniture in the building was old, and some trashed, but most was still usable. He laid Gail on the threadbare sheets of the double bed. Frank took his time stripping Gail of her clothes before moving to take her things back to Steve's office. The younger man brushed past Frank in the doorway so that he had to stand aside. Steve enjoyed doing those little things, so that Frank might never forget who was in charge.

  Steve stood by the bed for a long moment, watching the rise and fall of Gail's chest as she breathed. He could see where life had left its mark on her body, where time had been cruel and held nothing back. He didn't feel an attraction to her. In fact, he found more fault than he did perfection. But there wasn't a downright aversion at the mere sight of her as there had been with the ones before.

  The others had been withered and old with skin loose and spongy. Steve had found no use for them and discarded them, sending them back to his "assistant" almost immediately. Had the Frank taken more delight in them Steve would have begun to suspect that Frank had chosen them on purpose. But even Frank's perversions needed something more than those women could offer, apparently, for they never lasted him long. Frank tired of the games or the challenge—whichever it was Steve never asked—and the women were gone soon enough.

  The young and fresh that Steve would have preferred would have never survived what was intended for Gail. Steve had started out with such innocence and the miserable failure had quickly built up a rage inside of him. The old and worn out didn't last much longer. They seemed to give more easily than he'd first expected and this bewildering experience at least sated the anger.

  He found it was those such as the sleeping woman before him—those who had fought with life and survived, those who still had fight left within them—that did the best.

  He picked up one limp hand and then the other, trimming down her fingernails and crudely filing them until they would be of no use. He cut her hair, trimming it with no thought to appearance or fashion. Frank came in shortly after to sweep up the mess, carrying with him a bucket of scalding hot water that Steve used to scrub Gail. The paleness of her flesh quickly turned red beneath his attentions, the barest of frowns appearing at the corners of her mouth in her near comatose state.

  Steve inserted a needle into the flesh of her shoulder, leaving behind a line from which he removed several vials of blood. He pocketed the vials in case she was successful. Afterward, the line stayed, secured to the back of her shoulder with clear plastic tape where it would rarely been seen with a casual glance at her own body.

  With the room cleaned and the girl prepared, Steve gave the signal. Frank gathered her back up in his arms and followed Steve silently down the hallway toward the last room on the left. Nearly every room was the same except this one. It had recently-built stairs in the middle of the floor leading down into a tunnel. That tunnel extended under the highway and ended at another set of stairs on the other side.

  The stairs leading back up leaned visibly to the left.When the two men started their ascent, the boards protested with creaks and shakes with each step. Frank held tightly to Gail's naked body as if her thin frame would somehow save him from a fall. By the time they made it to the top, his arms and legs were shaking and his brow was covered in a thin sheen of perspiration.

  The door at the top of the staircase opened into the basement of the abandoned house across from the diner. Or, at least it looked abandoned from the outside.

  The sharp click of Steve's shoes followed by the dull shuffle of Frank's steps were the only sounds as they made their way across the white tile flooring. Everything, in fact, was tiled in white, even the walls. The furniture was black and there was a distinct lack of any sort of decoration throughout the entire house. Frank, of course, hadn't been consulted on the decor and the result was a mix of hospital and mortuary that downright gave him the creeps.

  Frank let his eyes travel down Gail's body, the only benefit of having to carry her around and a delight that he'd been robbed of in the darkness of the tunnel. Now that she was clean, she smelled so fresh and her skin was so soft. Frank licked his lips lightly, his tongue darting out between his thin lips as he dipped his head closer to her body to inhale more of her scent.

  "Knock it off."

  Frank winced at the annoyance in Steve's voice. He glanced upwards where the younger man was watching him.

  "Put her in there and go back to the diner," Steve said as he gestured toward an open doorway. He made no move to leave Frank alone with the girl.

  Frank did as he was told, careful to hide the scowl until his face was turned. Still, he took his time laying Gail out on the mattress. The bed in this room was of a higher quality than the one in the diner across the street. The sheets were as smooth as silk against his rough skin. Frank let his fingers linger a moment against the inside of Gail's thigh before he tore himself away and removed himself from the house.

  The partnership Steve had built with Frank was out of necessity, not friendship or trust; they had no history together, save for those few months shortly after they'd met. Frank would continue to follow him as long as Steve provided him the occasional plaything. Steve would put up with Frank for as long as he continued to be useful. And Steve was starting to wonder if Frank's usefulness had begun to wear out.

  When he heard the slam of the door, Steve checked his watch and began to walk around the room, probing his fingers in seemingly random places. He was, in fact, activating tiny hidden cameras; cameras that were tucked around the entire inside of the house and covered every single square inch of the interior.

  "You'll be waking up soon," he murmured to the unconscious figure, a liquid smile curling his lips. "Time to set the scene."

  In the upstairs hallway, Steve opened a closet door and pushed aside a stack of neatly folded towels to reveal a door. This opened to the attic. The immaculately clean space was filled with racks, on which were carefully organized boxes.

  Following his own system for filing, he selected a series of boxes for a blonde in Gail's size, early twenties. He moved the boxes downstairs and secured the attic door once again.

  Back in the bedroom, Steve unpacked the boxes. He p
ut clothes in the drawers and closet and tossed some in the hamper. To the bedside table he added a cell phone and several prescription bottles. To the counter beside the bathroom sink he added a toothbrush and a collection of makeup. And as a final touch, he left a few articles of clothing strewn about the floor.

  As he moved through the house he added a few more things to the living room and the kitchen, turning out the lights as he went. Satisfied, he carried all the empty boxes down to the basement and locked the door behind him.

  Gail's fingers twitched. Her body rolled over, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she slid across the sheets and found a cool place to nestle into.

  She could not remember what she had been dreaming, but she knew that whatever had woken her had done so too soon. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had such a restful nap nor the last time she'd felt so comfortable in her own bed. Contemplating staying in bed all night and relishing in the fragrance of clean sheets, her stomach growled. Apparently, staying in bed wasn't an option. Gail's mouth curved into a satisfied smile as she stretched out, her arms reaching above her head as she turned to glance at her alarm clock.

  But her eyes only met darkness, not the softly glowing green numbers that she was expecting.