Best Laid Plans

Carter Bannon closed the driver’s door of his ten-year old Toyota Corolla, cranked the engine and put the air conditioning on max.  As the car began to cool, he fished out his cellphone and dialed.  He put the phone on speaker, opened the notes app with his left hand as he pulled his laptop from the case on the passenger seat with his right.  He flipped open the laptop and began to transfer the notes he had jotted down on his phone app.

The phone call was answered on the third ring.  “Carter, did you find him?”

Carter was typing when he replied, “Hey, Tom.  Trooper Davis wasn’t real happy to talk to me.  Kind of blew me off, but he did say Hunter told him he was waiting on his girlfriend to come help him.”

“So, nothing new?” Tom asked distractedly.

“Nope,” Carter said.  “Just like the other two troopers.  All their stories matched what we read in the original police reports, and none of them added anything to their stories.”

Tom audibly sighed on his end of the line.  “This is a pointless assignment!  Six months ago, some detective goes missing and now my editor wants to do a follow up piece with no new follow up information!”

Carter stopped typing on the laptop.  “I’ll go talk to the DOT guy next.  Maybe he remembers something new.”

“Don’t bother,” Tom said dejectedly.  “I was given this assignment because I’m in timeout for that unflattering article I wrote about the new mayor.  This puff piece is part of my penance.  I have enough bullshit to cobble something together.  I can get it done by deadline tomorrow.  Unfortunately, I still have that piece on the double homicide in Brentwood and the rise in traffic fatalities on Beach Boulevard.”

“I can write it up for you, Tom,” Carter interrupted.  “I don’t mind.  Like you said, it’s a puff piece anyway, and it’s not like there’s any new information to print…”

After a brief pause, Tom replied, “Yeah, okay.  Thanks, Carter.  That would be great.”

Carter beamed and he pumped his fist.  “I’ll have it in your inbox by this time tomorrow.”

Tom disconnected the call from his end and Carter finished his notes on the laptop with a smile on his face.  Carter Bannon was a 20-year-old intern at the Times-Union, the local newspaper in Jacksonville, Florida.  He was in between his junior and senior year at the University of North Florida and majoring in journalism.  Carter had been interning at the Times-Union every summer since the end of his freshman year, and he knew he had to pad his resume because next year he would be trying to sell himself to some news outlets for a job.

Carter was working with Tom Dean, the Time-Union’s lead investigative reporter, this summer, and he had enjoyed his time with Tom.  Tom gave him much freer rein than any of his other mentors had in the past, and Tom had let Carter write several pieces that were printed in the paper.

Considering it was late July, Carter knew this was probably going to be his last assignment before classes started in mid-August, and that Tom was going to let him write it up was a nice parting gift.  The piece was a six-month follow up of a Jacksonville detective, Brian Hunter, that had disappeared in January of this year.  He was last seen by three separate state troopers and a DOT employee on the side of the road with a disabled SUV.

The funny thing is that Detective Hunter told two of the troopers that Triple A was on the way to assist him, and he told the third that his girlfriend was coming to help.  Subsequent investigations revealed that Triple A had never been contacted to respond to Detective Hunter’s location, and he did not have a girlfriend during the time he disappeared.  Even old girlfriends were interviewed by the detectives investigating the disappearance, and none of them were contacted by Brian Hunter anytime near the time in question.  

No one knew why Detective Hunter would give conflicting and false information regarding his disabled vehicle, but sometime between his last contact with anyone known to authorities, Trooper Davis, and later that night, the SUV was no longer parked on the shoulder of the interstate and vehicle and driver had not been seen since.

A mystery to be sure, but the case went cold quickly, the police suspended the investigation and life went on.  Six months later, the editor at the Times-Union wanted a piece updating the investigation.  Unfortunately, there were not many, if any, updates, but Carter did not mind.  He got a chance to write up another article for publication that would only pad his resume.

He put the car in gear, pulled out of the parking lot and made his way to the Department of Transportation yard several miles away.  He parked his Corolla near the small office building and pulled out his notebook.  Clarance Eugene Garvey was the DOT employee that was listed in the original police report, but other than he stopped briefly at Detective Hunter’s disabled SUV, there was no information about what had occurred – if anything.  The report only listed Mr. Garvey’s name and date of birth. February 29, 1996.  Carter smiled to himself noticing that Garvey was born on a leap year’s extra day and though how crazy that he had a birthday on his actual birthday every four years.

Carter locked up his old Toyota and made his way in the small, old building.  An older, obese man with a DOT work shirt and pants sat behind a desk eating a sandwich and looking at his iPad.  He looked up and said, “May I help you?”

Carter smiled, checked his notebook and said, “I sure hope so.  Are you Clarance Garvey?”

The big man shook his head.  “No.  You just missed him.  You might catch him in the yard before he leaves.”

Carter thanked the man and made his way into the heat outside.  He saw a row of full-size white pickup trucks with the DOT logo printed on the sides and back and adorn with yellow light bars on the roofs.  He walked along the parked trucks and looked for Mr. Garvey, while realizing he was not dressed appropriately for the Florida summer.  Button-down shirt, jeans and cowboy boots were too hot for this climate.  Carter thought he was in for a day in the air-conditioned office and did not dress appropriately for the field.

“Can I help you, mister?”

The voice had come out of nowhere and startled Carter.  He spun around and saw a thin man dressed in a yellow reflective safety jacket, stained work pants and dirty work boots standing a few feet behind him.

“You startled me,” Carter said impishly.  “I’m looking for Mr. Clarance Eugene Garvey.  Any idea where I can find him?”

The man looked Carter over and his gaze lingered on the boots on his feet.  Carter looked down and saw there was nothing on the ground and the man appeared to be looking at his footwear.

Carter cleared his throat and asked, “Any idea where I can find Mr. Garvey?”

The man looked up slowly and met Carter’s eyes.  “I’m Clarance Garvey.”  He then looked down at the boots again.

Carter looked at his boots as well and got a creepy feeling about this guy.  “You…ahh…you like my boots?”

“Yeah,” Garvey said slowly.  “They’re really nice.  Expensive I bet.”

Carter shifted uncomfortably.  “Ahh…yeah, but I can’t afford these.  They were a gift from my parents last Christmas.  I always wanted a pair.”

Garvey continued to stare and nodded.  “Tecovas, right?”

Shocked that Garvey knew the brand of boots he was wearing just by looking at them, Carter nodded and said, “Yeah.  Good eye.  Hey, Mr. Garvey, can I ask you a couple questions?”

Garvey finally took his gaze away from Carter’s Tecovas and looked at his face again.  “What can I do for you, young man?”

Happy to not be talking about his boots, Carter said, “I’m Carter Bannon.  I work for the Times-Union, and I’m following up on a news story from several months ago.  You were listed as a witness during the Detective Hunter disappearance, and I’d like to ask you a couple questions regarding that incident.”

Clarance Garvey stared at Carter with a deadpan expression.  “I remember that guy.  Cops interviewed me several times months ago, but I haven’t heard anything since then.  You’re a reporter?”

“Yes, sir,” Carter embellished.  “Can you tell me what happened that night?  The night you saw Detective Hunter?”

Garvey glanced at Carter’s brown Tecovas again, before looking back up and saying, “Not too much to tell.  I saw the SUV with the flashers on and stopped to render assistance.  Before I could do much, a state trooper stopped and told me to leave because he would handle it.”

Carter typed a few notes into his phone’s note app.  Without looking directly at Garvey, he asked, “So you didn’t have much interaction with Detective Hunter?”

Carter looked up and saw that Garvey was looking at his boots again.  He cleared his throat and Garvey slowly looked up at Carter’s face.  The deadpan look had been replaced with something else.  An expression that, in Carter’s opinion, conveyed longing.  Carter immediately became apprehensive.  This Garvey guy was giving him the creeps.

Garvey seemed to notice that Carter was eyeing him warily, and his demeanor slowly morphed back to deadpan.  Carter inadvertently swallowed and looked away.

“I just asked him if I could help,” Garvey said slowly.  “What was wrong with his Cherokee.  If I could contact someone for him.  Stuff like that.”

“I…I...see,” Carter stammered.

“He had nice boots too,” Garvey said with a grin.  “Not as nice as yours, but nice nonetheless…”

Carter had taken an involuntary step backward.  “Ah…okay, mister.  I…ah…I guess I’ve got enough…”

Clarance Garvey took two steps toward Carter.  “Do you have a card or something?  In case I remember some detail that’s slipped my mind…”

Carter almost tripped as he took two quick steps away from Garvey.  “Ah…no…no, sir…I…ah...don’t have a card…”

“Maybe we could…” Garvey started to say, but never got the chance to complete his thought.

Carter turned and walked away as quickly as he could without running.  He said over his shoulder, and glanced to see if Garvey was following, “Thanks again, Mr. Garvey.  I appreciate your time.”

Garvey was not following.  He was just standing there watching Carter leave with a mocking smile on his face.

Twenty minutes later, Carter was parked behind a McDonald’s down the road from the DOT yard.  After he about sprinted to his Corolla and sped out of the DOT lot, he drove to the fast food restaurant, parked in the back and called the detective who was assigned to the Hunter missing person case originally.  He wanted to ask about Clarance Garvey, and if he had ever been considered a suspect.  Unfortunately, the detective was not in the office, and Carter left his name and number with a secretary.

He had then searched all the data bases he could think of to find anything and everything on Clarance Eugene Garvey.  The man was a ghost.  Absolutely no social media accounts on any platform that Carter could think to look.  He pulled up property tax records but found nothing.  He was about to give up, when he thought about searching surrounding counties and finally got a hit.

Garvey owned property in an unincorporated area near Needmore, Georgia, in Echols County.  Google Earth showed a small residence surrounded by woods.  He decided that he needed to go out to Garvey’s place and have a look.  He put the address in his maps program and pulled out of the lot and into traffic.

Carter started to call Tom but stopped.  He knew for certain that Tom would tell him not to go.  He would say it was just a puff piece and to pass along the information to the police detective whenever he called back.  Carter put the phone down as he made his way toward the interstate.

Two hours later, Carter was in the outskirts of Needmore, Georgia.  Garvey’s property was a wooded area on a hill which was surrounded by cyclone fencing.  The main route into the property had a rollaway gate.  Carter circumnavigated the property and found no accessible areas to enter.  

“Mr. Garvey certainly enjoys his privacy,” Carter mumbled to himself.  

He looked at his watch and figured Garvey would be working for at least another five to six hours before returning home.  Add to that, Garvey would have to travel almost two hours, Carter assumed he had plenty of time to snoop around. He would be gone well before Garvey ever returned home.

Remembering the image of the property from Google Earth, the house was at the center of the property which he assumed was the top of this hill.  The entire area was surrounded by think Georgia pine trees.  Carter found an area off the main road to park his Corolla, so no one would notice it.  He grabbed his cellphone and crossed the street to the chain link fence.  

The top of the fence had ringlets if razor wire on top, to prevent anyone scaling the barricade.  He had not noticed the razor wire because of the low hanging pines which were covering the tops of the fence.

Carter was thinking there was no way he could get over the fence, when he saw an area to his left where some animal had dug under the barrier.  By the size of the indentation in the dirt, Carter assumed it was a dog or a boar.  He got down on his knees and studied the gap under the fence.  He surmised he could fit but he would definitely get dirty in the process.

“All this for a Pulitzer,” Carter said to himself and began wiggling his body under the fence.

Surprisingly, he made it to the other side easily with only the waistband of his jeans catching on the bottom of the fence.  He stood up, brushed himself off as best he could and began walking through the trees, uphill, toward the house.  The thick trees made terrain difficult to navigate, but Carter made decent time as he ascended the hill.  After thirty minutes of walking, the trees began to thin out slightly, and he could see a clearing ahead.

Carter continued his upward trek until he reached the clearing and could see the house.  He had emerged on the side of the structure.  It was an old, unkempt ranch style home.  The paint was pealing, several shutters were hanging loose or missing and the roof was in desperate need of reshingling.  

Carter was not sure if anyone was in the house, so he decided to walk the treeline and observe the structure to see if there were any signs of occupancy.  When he was in the rear of the home, Carter spied something in the woods.  He debated ignoring it but did not want to leave anything behind him that would give away his intrusion.

He weaved his way through the trees and entered a small clearing that was filled with several vehicles in disrepair.  They were covered with a military type of camouflage netting that ensured no one would see them from the air.  Carter began to look at the vehicles.  There were six in all, but there were several camo nets on the ground, and tire tracks, which led Carter to believe that other vehicles were here at one time.

All the cars were covered with pine needles and sap from the trees.  Garvey had apparently got these vehicles in here via a small pathway that led from the clearing and left them to rot.  Several had already been removed for one reason or another. He turned to leave this area, and make his way back to the house, when one of the vehicles caught his eye.  It was apparently an SUV, by the size and shape of the body under the netting.

Carter approached the vehicle and lifted the netting.  Under, he saw a gray Jeep Cherokee.  For some reason, he thought this was important but could not remember why.  He tried the front passenger door, and it was unlocked and opened with a little protest from the hinge that desperately needed some oil.

He maneuvered his way into the front passenger seat and looked around.  The interior was clean for the most part but showed signs of abandonment.  A musty smell, a layer of dust and one web in the area near the driver’s seat, showed no one had been in this sport utility vehicle in a while.  Carter opened the glovebox and pulled out a few sheets of paper.  The only other thing in the box was the owners’ manual, which he left there.

He started to look at the papers.  One was a receipt for having the oil changed at a Jiffy Lube nine months ago.  The second was a form letter about a recall for the vehicle that was two years old.  The third made Carter freeze as his breath caught in his throat.

The paper was a vehicle registration from the State of Florida.  The owner of the vehicle, this 2020 Jeep Cherokee, was Brian Hunter of Jacksonville.

“Holy shit…” Carter mumbled.  “Holy Shit!”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cellphone.  He tried to call Tom Dean but the call did not go through.  Carter pulled the phone from his ear and looked at the screen.  He had no signal.

“What the hell?”

He realized he was breathing very hard and almost hyperventilating.  He tried to calm himself as he weighed his options.

He knew he had to let someone know what he had found, and he had to do that sooner rather than later.  With no phone signal, he knew he should get back to his car, or anywhere closer to the road, so he would have a signal and could inform the authorities that a vehicle of a missing Jacksonville detective was hidden on Clarance Garvey’s property.  He thought for a fleeting moment to try and make entry into the house, to see if anyone needed help, but he quickly dismissed that idea.  He had to get the authorities involved immediately.

Carter extricated himself from the SUV after he took pictures of the SUV’s registration with his useless phone and replacing the papers back in the glovebox.  He looked back at the house, which he could see clearly from where he was standing, and consciously tried to slow his rapid breathing.  He turned and started to head in the general direction he thought he had entered the property at the fence line, when his right foot tripped on something and he heard a metallic tinging sound.

The pine needles littering the clearing erupted as Carter’s feet were violently pulled tightly together, and he was pulled viciously to the ground, landing on his back.  Before he realized what was happening, he was pulled across the ground and into the air by his now bound feet.  Carter slammed back first into the tree in which the snare trap had been set, knocking him unconscious.

The next cognizant thought that Carter Bannon had was how much his head hurt.  He had never experienced such an excruciating headache in all his 20 years.  He wanted to bring his hands up to massage his throbbing temples, when he realized he was in serious trouble.  His hands were in the small of his back, palm to palm like he was praying, secured by an extremely tight binding.  His ankles and just below his knees were similarly bound.

Carter’s eyes flew open, and he was greeted with only blackness.  He tried to yell for help, but his mouth was packed full of some kind of foul-tasting cloth and bands of what felt like tape around the lower area of his face efficiently gagging him.  He began to struggle against his bonds and realized he was laying on a cold concrete floor and all his clothing had been removed.  Carter was completely naked.

He tried to call out, but the only sounds the emanated from the gag were grunts and “Mmmmpphh!”.  

He struggled for a long time but to no avail and finally fatigue and a pounding skull forced him to stop.  He breathed heavily through his nose and tried to calm his thundering heart, as he tried to think about how he had come to this situation.  

Then the memories began to flood his system.  He had found Detective Hunter SUV and was going to the police, when something snatched him off the ground and then blackness.  He had apparently stepped into some kind of trap and been knocked out when he was slammed into a tree.  Now, he was bound tightly at the wrists, ankles and knees.  All his clothing was missing and he was gagged.  He could feel pressure all over his head and face and assumed he was wearing a tight hood.  By the way it allowed him to breath freely through his covered nose, Carter assumed it was made of nylon or some other thin, stretchy cloth.

Having no clue how long he had been unconscious or how he got into this position, he could only surmise that he had been found – most likely by Clarance Garvey.  And if it was Garvey who had found him and secured him in this manner, Carter knew he was in a life-or-death type danger.

Ignoring his searing head, he thrashed about in attempts to get free.  The fatigue forced him to cease his struggling quickly.  Soon he just laid on his side and contemplated what was to come.  The sound of metal sliding against metal caused Carter to jump in surprise, and he began struggling and yelling into the gag again.  Another loud screeching of metal on metal sounded and then the creaking of a door could be heard close to Carter’s head.

He heard someone’s steps echo in the room he was in and stop near him.  He was forced onto his bound feet and then placed in an over the shoulder carry.  He was walked out of the room and winded their way through an echo-ladened area for a minute or two.

The person carrying Carter stopped – he assumed it was Garvey but hoped like hell it was not – and placed him on his bound feet on another concrete floor.  He heard the rattle of what sounded like chains and something clipped onto the binding around his wrists.  Then the sound of a chain being winched, and his arms were pulled upward.  The chain continued to pull Carter’s arms upward until his heels were off the floor, he was bent forward at the waist and he was on his toes.  The pain in his wrists were rivaled by the burning now in his shoulders.

As he howled into the gag, the hood was yanked off.  The light in the room was extremely dim, so there was no adjusting discomfort for his eyes.  He looked at the man standing in front of him, and it was as he feared – Clarance Garvey.  He was still dressed in his work clothes and sported an impish grin.  Carter’s splitting headache was all but forgotten as fear and anxiety fought to overwhelm him.  

Then, Garvey spun on his heel and walked toward the near wall.  Carter followed him with his eyes and finally noticed parts of the room where he was bound strappado.  There were chains and ropes dangling from the ceiling.  The walls, which he could barely see because of the gloom, were adorned with items of torture hanging from pegs on the wall.

Carter looked at his legs and saw the white rope that was wrapped around his ankles and just below his knees.  The rope was applied almost artistically, where the coils were neatly wound and cinched in the center.  He could not see his hands but assumed they were secured with rope in the same fashion.

Garvey grabbed a riding crop and returned.  He walked behind Carter and without any indication struck him hard on the upper thighs.  Carter screamed into the gag in surprise and pain.  

Garvey returned to where Carter could see him and said, “I’m going to remove the gag and we are going to have a frank discussion.  If you lie to me – if I sense even the slightest bit of deception – I will beat your bottom with this crop until I’m physically bored with the act of doing it.  Do I make myself clear?”

Carter nodded his head in the affirmative.

Garvey pulled a pair of shears from his work pants and cut away the duct tape that was wrapped around Carter’s mouth.  He then removed Carter’s socks from his mouth and dropped them on the floor.  Carter could not believe those two socks had been able to fit in his mouth.

“Let me tell you what I know,” said Garvey as he pulled up a stool and sat in front of Carter.

“Please, mister,” stammered Carter.  “Please let me go.  I won’t tell…”

“Anyone,” Garvey interrupted.  “Yes, yes, yes.  I’ve heard that one before.  But, of course, you’d tell someone.  I wouldn’t blame you if you did.  I would if I were in your shoes…or boots should I say…”

“Mister, I…”

Interrupting Carter again, Garvey said, “You will only talk when I ask you a question.  Do you understand me?”

Carter nodded again.  “Yes, sir…”

Garvey smiled again.  “I thought you’d see it my way.  Anyway, where was I?  Oh, yes, here’s what I know for sure.  Your name is Carter Bannon and you are from New Jersey.  You are enrolled at the University of North Florida, about to start your senior year and majoring in journalism.  You are currently an intern at the Times-Union, not a reporter.  Am I dead on so far, Carter?”

Carter nodded again.  The shock evident on his face.

“You were researching for your reporter mentor guy on the six-month anniversary of a Jacksonville Police Department detective vanishing without a trace,” Garvey said matter-of-factly.  “You came to me because I was interviewed during the initial investigation and became suspicious of me for one reason or another.  Am I still on target, Carter?”

Carter barely nodded.

“You found my domicile through an internet search of my property tax records.  That’s well done, Carter.  You’ll make a fine report someday,” Garvey said cynically.  “You managed to get onto my property and located the hidden automobiles.  During your discovery, you realized one of the vehicles belonged to the missing detective.  You were about to go notify the authorities of your discovery, when you unfortunately stepped into one of the many snare traps I have set in and around that area.”

Forgetting the ground rules on his being allowed to speak, Carter asked, “How could you know all that?”

Garvey smiled proudly to himself.  “Young man, I discovered everything about you on social media.  You really should filter some things in your life.  Carter Bannon, you are an open book!”

“But you don’t have any social media accounts,” Carter said meekly.

Garvey leaned closer and said, “Of course I do, but none are registered under my actual name, silly boy!”

Carter’s head was swimming.  He had no idea what to do or say.  He heard himself say, “This can’t be happening…”

“Oh, it’s happening, kid,” Garvey said.  “It’s really happening.  I found out about how you found my home by going through your laptop.”

Carter’s head snapped toward Garvey’s face.

Garvey nodded.  “Yes, Carter, I found your car.  Rather easily I might add.  It’s currently parked in the clearing right next to Detective Hunter’s Cherokee.  I saw the picture of the SUV’s registration on your phone, which I recovered from the ground directly under you hanging and unconscious body.”

“I called the police already…” he mumbled in desperation.

Garvey shook his head.  “No, you didn’t.  That’s a lie.  I have a device which puts out a dampening field all over my property.  Cellular devices don’t work here.”

Then Garvey stood up and sauntered behind Carter.

“Where are you going?  What are you gonna…”

He never finished as the riding crop impacted with Carter’s naked butt cheek.  This was followed by nine more hard strikes. Garvey calmly walked back to the stool and sat.

“That was for lying about calling the police,” Garvey said.  “And I know you did not email or text anyone since you left me at the DOT yard this morning, because I searched your previous texts and call log on your phone.  You called the Jacksonville Police Department, but it was the number for the investigating detective’s desk, and the call was less than a minute.  The detective wasn’t in and you left a message.”

Garvey leaned in close to Carter’s face.  “No one knows that you are here, Carter.  Isn’t that correct?”

His ass still burning from the swats from the riding crop, Carter nodded almost imperceptibly.

Garvey’s smiled broadened as he leaned back.  “The truth will set you free, Carter.  Well, not free but you get my meaning. Anyway, I knew you were on my property because I have an extensive camera system and motion sensors in the woods which surround my residence.  I was on my way from Jacksonville almost the moment you crossed the fence.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Carter asked in a meek whimper.

“That depends,” Garvey said as he crossed his arms across his chest.  “I detest trespassers, but I need to know something.  Why did you come here and what did you tell the detective’s voicemail or secretary when you called?”

Carter quickly blurted,” I told him I was coming…”

Garvey wiggled the riding crop.  “Carter?  The truth, please…”

Carter fought the tears back, nodded and said, “I told him to call me back.  I left the message with a secretary.  I just wanted to ask if you were ever considered a suspect in the detective’s disappearance.”

Carter looked away from Garvey and at his neatly bound ankles.

“You’re very lucky, Carter,” Garvey said as he stood up and walked around Carter.  “My snare traps normally break a person’s ankles when they get caught like you, but your delicious boots saved you terrible injury.”

Carter just stared at his feet and tried to rein in his swirling emotions.

“Unfortunately, your boots were ruined.  The shaft – made from that stiff leather – prevented any serious injuries to your ankles but they were pretty torn up.  I had to unfortunately throw them out when I got you out of the snare.”

He squatted down so he could see Carter’s face and said, “Are you comfortable, Carter?”

Carter’s shoulders and wrists were on fire.  He shook his head side to side.

Garvey stood up and began working the chain which secured Carter in the strappado bondage position.  The chains began clanking as Carter’s arms began lowering.  The relief was immediate.  With Garvey’s assistance, Carter was disconnected from the chain and he stood in the middle of the dungeon.

Clarance Garvey reached down and picked up the sodden socks from the floor and held them up at Carter’s face.  “Open wide, please.”

Carter hesitated.

Garvey smiled.  “It’s not as if anyone will hear you holler for help, young Carter Bannon.  I just love having my toys gagged.  Now, please open wide.”

Carter obeyed and the two socks were crammed into his mouth.  Garvey then pulled a roll of silver duct tape from his work jacket and wound the sticky material around the lower portion of Carter’s head at least eight times.  He tore the tape free from the roll and smoothed out the gag over his face.  

Next, he helped Carter to the floor and squatted down next to him.  He pulled a piece of white rope from his cargo pocket in his work pants and quickly secured Carter’s feet to his wrists.  Once the hogtie was in place, Garvey said, “I have to return my work truck back now.  Your intrusion caused me to just leave without notifying anyone.  Once I return my work truck, I will immediately come back here so that I can enjoy my new toy.”

Carter moaned into the gag.  Garvey walked back to the wall and replaced the riding crop on the peg on the wall.  He started to shove the duct tape back in his jacket pocket but dropped it to the concrete floor.  He reached for it and shouldered several items hanging from the wall near the riding crop.  The clinking of chains echoed as he grabbed the roll of tape.  When he stood up, the sheers that were in his pants cargo pocket fell to the floor, but Garvey did not notice them.

Carter Bannon did!

He looked at the sharp industrial scissors and knew if Garvey left them there, and he could somehow get them in his hands, he might just have a way out of this nightmare.

Garvey walked away from the wall toward the opening of a dark hallway.  He stopped at looked back at Carter.

“I’ll be back in no more than four hours,” he said merrily.  “I would suggest you spend your time thinking about what’s in this room, what’s in store for you when I return and what your life has now become.”

Clarance Garvey turned on his heels and strolled out the opening.  His footsteps echoed away as Carter again looked at the sheers lying on the floor about 20 feet away from his hogtied form.  He attempted to wiggle his bound body toward the cutting tool and freedom, but the hogtie prevented him from moving more than a minute distance.  Plus, the strain and energy expended would wear him down if he kept up this course of action.

He reached his hands toward the rope that secure his bound wrists to his secured ankles.  At first, he could not locate any knot, but then his right index finger brushed against it.  He rolled to his side and tried to bend backward.  His effort rewarded him a severely aching back but he was able to grab the knot in his right hand.

After a long while of fiddling with the knot, it finally started to loosen.  Carter had no idea how long he had been at it, but he was able to untie the rope and his wrist were no longer attached to his ankles.  He looked around and spied the sheers.  He angled his body perpendicular toward the sheers and began rolling toward the wall.  He came to rest in an area he was positive the sheers were resting.

Carter looked and saw them.  They were right next to his rump.  He grabbed them, spun them around and forced the cutting blades between the rope around his wrists.  It took several attempts, but finally Carter felt the rope tightly encircling his wrists slacken and start to fall away.

He cried out in triumph into the gag and he wrestled his hands free of the restraint.  He sat up and used the sheers to cut away the ropes encircling his knees and ankles.  He cut away the tape wrapped around his lower face and removed the socks from his mouth.  For the first time since Carter Bannon had regained consciousness, he was free from his bondage.

He stood up and looked around the room.  The items hanging from the walls and the littering the surrounding area were things of a horrific hallucination, but he pushed that from his mind looked for some type – any type! – of clothing to put on, but there was nothing but implements of torture.  Figuring he would have to be naked for the time being, Carter went to the opening Garvey had walked through almost an hour earlier.  

Carter saw a dim hallway with two doors on the right side and one on the left.  All the doors were made of what appeared to be heavy wood which was steel reenforced.  There were two think metal slide locks on each door.  The door farthest down the hall on the left was ajar.  He walked quietly down the hall toward the open door and peered inside.  

It was a 12x12 room constructed like everything in this house of horrors.  Concrete floor, cinderblock walls and wooden railroad ties along the ceiling.  A single dim inset lightbulb cast a gloom on the empty room which only sported a bucket in the corner.  Carter surmised this had been the room he was in when he had woken up.  The other doors were cells as well, he surmised.

He wondered if anyone was locked behind those doors but decided to worry about escaping first.  He could get the police to come back here and free any other unlucky guests – or toys as he had been referred to by Garvey.

Ignoring a shutter that went down his spine, Carter continued down the hall to a small rectangular room.  There were two chairs, one looked like a very comfortable recliner and a stool, and a steel rollaway cell door at the far wall.  

And the steel door was still open!

Carter tentatively crept to the open steel rollaway door and peered beyond, his bare feet making no noise announcing his presence.  Past the open cell door was a wooden staircase.  He quietly stepped toward the foot of the stairs and looked up.  There was a wooden door at the top of the flight of stairs.  Carter listened intently for any noise from upstairs but heard nothing.  He looked around his surroundings, expecting to see Clarance Garvey bearing down on him, but saw nothing at all except the empty, dimly lit room past the open cell door.

He stepped on the first step.  It creaked under his weight, and he froze.  Still, no noise from upstairs.  Carter ascended the steps quickly, stopped at the door and listened.  Still, he could not hear anything.

Carter turned the knob, expecting it to be locked, but it clicked open.  He slowly swung the door open.  It creaked noisily but no one seemed to be around to hear it.  He stepped into a darkened, sparsely furnished living room.  All the lights in the house were off, adding to the idea that Garvey was not here.  He went to the window and saw it was nighttime. He saw that there were no vehicles in the driveway or situated out front.

Knowing from what Garvey had told him, there were cameras and motion sensors in the woods.  He knew once he stepped foot out of the house, it was only a matter of time before Garvey realized that he was free and attempting to escape.  He decided that he would stick to the well-worn dirt road leading to the main gate of the property.  He was sure there were cameras and such there too, but there probably would not be any snare traps.  Carter decided if he made it to the fence without any issues, he would scale the barrier naked if need be– razor wire and all – and damn the cuts and injuries.  He would gladly deal with lots of stitches than be in Garvey’s dungeon for a minute more!

Carter looked around the house for a landline phone but there was none.  He found the master bedroom, and it was just as spartan as the rest of the home.  A queen size bed, a dresser and a night stand with a lamp.  He opened the drawers and checked the closet and found Garvey’s limited wardrobe.  

Figuring naked beggars could not be choosers, Carter dressed in a pair of Garvey’s work pants and a dark sweatshirt.  He found a pair of short socks and tried to slide into pair of Garvey’s sneakers.  Unfortunately, Garvey have extremely tiny feet and the old Nikes would not fit.

“Fuck!” Carter mumbled as he tossed the small sneakers to the side.  He kept the socks on figuring that would be better than running on bare feet.  He went to the front door, opened it, stepped on to the porch and looked around.  It was dark and quiet, and, thankfully, there was no vehicle to be seen.  This told Carter that Garvey had done what he had said he was going to do.  He had to get his work truck back to the DOT yard in Jacksonville before anyone realized he was missing.  

He jogged as fast as his battered joints and muscles would allow.  His ankles were killing him.  He assumed the snare trap had caused at least mild sprains, but that was the least of his worries.  Carter would trade sprained ankles for escaping from Clarance Garvey every day!

The downward grade was not too severe and he figured he would reach the fence in about 15-20 minutes.  He alternated between a slow jog and a limping walk.  He constantly surveyed the dark woods to his right and left but saw nothing.  Carter took Garvey at his word and knew he was probably setting off some motion detector and/or being viewed on cameras, but he had at least an hour before his captor could get back.  Carter knew if he was lucky – and he was riding a lucky streak right now – he would get to the fence, get over it, flag down a passing motorist and contact the police before Garvey ever returned.

The cyclone fence loomed out of the darkness, and Carter audibly sighed in relief.  The worn dirt path was just wide enough for a vehicle, and it took Carter to the rollaway gate.  He stopped at the gate and looked for a gap in the razor wire.  Then he saw something on the ground about 20 feet to his left standing against the fence, near the treeline, that did not look natural.  Hoping it was something that would assist him in escaping, Carter limped over to investigate.

As he got closer, it took his mind a few seconds to process what he was looking at, and he stopped short in confusion.  Standing against the fence were his Tecovas boots.  The shafts were severely damaged in the area his ankles would normally be while being worn.  The snare trap had done a number on his expensive boots.  Garvey had not been exaggerating when he said the boots had probably saved him grievous injury, but what where they doing down here by the gate?  Then he noticed a red dot of light dancing in the middle of his chest.

Before he could process what he was seeing, Carter heard a pop, then a prick to his upper left side of his chest and the upper right thigh, followed by a loud, repeating, electrical static sound and searing agony flooded throughout his body.  He collapsed face first in the dirt and pine needles and began to convulse as the 50,000 volts from the Taser coursed throughout his body between where the probes had penetrated his skin.  The pain was excruciating and unrelenting, and Carter could not voluntarily make his body obey his mind’s commands.

That is when he felt someone straddle his lower back.  The electric discharge that flowed between the probe that had penetrated Carter’s left upper chest and his right upper thigh had caused involuntary spasming as well as insufferable pain as all the muscles between the probes tightened and constricted.  This caused Carter to be unable to direct his limbs to accomplish any fine or gross motor action.  He could not even scream because he had no air left in his lungs and was unable to take a breath.

The person on Carter’s lower back slowly and deliberately pulled his convulsing arms behind his back.  His hands were put palm to palm in the small of his back and then, above the electric static discharge from the Taser, he heard a zipping sound as his wrists were cinched tightly together.

The person spun around and grabbed Carter’s feet, placed them together, removed the dirty socks and applied another cable tie.  The zipping sound ended in Carter’s ankles firmly secured together just like his wrists.

The person spun back around and grabbed Carter by the hair and pulled upward.  As his head came off the ground, the filthy socks were forced into his mouth.  Then duct tape was quickly wound around his lower face completing the gag.  That is when the discharge from the Taser stopped and so did the pain.

Carter just laid still on the ground, breathing hard through his nose, and trying no process what had just happened.  That is when a nylon hood was pulled over his head, and he was plunged into utter blackness.  He tried to yell for help, but the socks, which were caked in dirt and pine straw, completely filled his mouth.  The only sounds that emanated from Carter were grunts and the occasional “Mmmpphh…”.

The man got up from Carter’s back and walked around the bound soon to be college senior.  Carter pulled reflexively at his wrists and ankles, but the thick, plastic cable ties were forcibly torqued down and he could not get free.  Carter was rolled onto his back, and he could feel the Taser probes yanked free.

“Won’t be needing those anymore, will we?” the voice of Clarance Eugene Garvey said.

Garvey knelt next to Carter and started cutting away the work pants.  In a few seconds, Carter was again naked from the waist down. Then Garvey started on the sweatshirt.

“I always liked this sweatshirt, Carter,” Garvey said pleasantly.  “You’ll have to suffer a little extra for this atrocity.”

When the sweatshirt was finally cut away, Carter was forced to his feet.  He was placed in an over the shoulder carry and they began traveling back up the hill – back toward Garvey’s house.  Carter began to buck but was unceremoniously slammed to the ground.  

He lay on the hard Georgia clay and pine needles when Garvey said, “We can do this the hard way or the easy way.  Or should I say, the painful way or not painful way.  Your choice.  Either way, you will end up with me in my home again tonight.  What will it be?”

Carter was finally able to start breathing again and unknowingly nodded.  He was picked up and placed in an over the shoulder carry once more, as the two continued their trek up the hill.

During their travels, Carter tried to remain calm as he slowly pulled at the bonds around his wrists.  Unfortunately for him, like the rope that was on him just an hour or so ago, the cable ties were not coming off without the assistance of those sheers.

Garvey was silent most of the walk, but finally said as they entered his house, “I bet you thought you were free, didn’t you Carter?”

Carter moaned.

“I love playing with my toys,” Garvey said.  “I love giving you hope and then dashing that hope against the hard shores of reality.”

They began descending the steps to the dungeon.

“As if I’d leave a cutting instrument somewhere near so you could get yourself free,” Garvey said with a chuckle in his voice.

At the bottom of the steps, they paused as the cell door was rolled shut with a loud metallic clang.

“Or like I would leave the steel door, which blockades my fun place from my living space, wide open,” Garvey continued.  “I’ve been doing this for a long time and no one has ever escaped.  A close call or two, but never an escape.  Not like you, young Master Carter Bannon, will be the first!”

They walked through the hallway with Garvey’s footfalls echoing off the walls for at least a full minute.  Then they stopped, and Carter was gingerly pulled off Garvey’s shoulder and on to his feet.  He was angled in a certain direction before the hood was pulled off.

Garvey moved to Carter’s left side and gestured with his right hand.  Carter saw they were standing in a room that had shelving along each wall.  The shelves were at least six feet long, appeared to be made of sturdy wood and steel reenforced and had a wrapped package on each one.  There were nine on each wall, and each one had a package wrapped in thick plastic.

Carter was confused at what he was looking at, when Garvey pointed to the package directly in front of them.

“This is who you came to see, Carter.  Say hello.”

Carter looked at Garvey with a mix of fear and confusion in his eyes.

Garvey smiled and shrugged.  He walked to the package on the middle shelf on the wall they were facing.  He bent over and kissed the package and said, “Detective Hunter, I’d like to introduce you to young Master Carter Bannon.  He came all the way from Jacksonville to interview you for his news story.”

Realization flooded Carter’s mind as his eyes flew open wide.  The packages – all the packages – were human bodies wrapped in some kind of tarpaulin.  He screamed into the gag, lost his balance and fell hard to the ground.  His head impacted with the concrete and he saw a burst of white in his vision.  He maintained consciousness but barely.

Garvey picked up his new toy and placed him in an over the shoulder carry yet again.  They walked out of the morgue and down several hallways until they entered the cell with the open door.  Carter was laid down on the cold concrete and the nylon hood was reapplied.

Clarance Garvey lovingly stroked Carter’s hooded head and said, “I’ll let you rest, Carter.  I’ll be back tomorrow after work so we can start our play in earnest.  Sleep well, my sweet, sweet boy.  I can’t wait until tomorrow evening.”

Carter heard the cell door slam loudly shut, the two locks noisily engage just before he lost consciousness.