Chapter 03a: Sounds of Madness

3:09 am 12/27/2009

Jamie Anderson's head was pounding as she opened her bleary eyes. She woke up to darkness, an odd earthy smell, and a piece of hair tickling the tip of her nose. She sneezed and batted away the offending strand, before rubbing her eyes and trying to clear the sleep away. Arching her back, vaguely aware of the dull ache in her lower body, she extended her arms horizontally above her head, and cringed as she knocked into a rough wall.

She frowned, shaking her head she curiously stretched her fingertips out to explore what she'd knocked into... rough panels that felt strangely like wood. Her bed wasn't next to any wooden wall. She specifically remembered it being in the middle of her room, it matched her décor better. The positioning had taken days to decide. It most definitely wouldn't have been moved after a mistaken night of illegal underage drinking, and a few other scandalous activities Jamie knew she'd want to forget soon enough.  She brought her hands down to feel the soft plush cushions under her and her brows drew together. It felt like her bed.

She moved to sit up, but was immediately forced back due to her head slamming into something that felt similar to the panels she brushed against before. Her head was already hurting, but the extra knock with some blood made it worse. She was never going to drink again. It would be her one and only time of trying to be a wannabe wild girl with some semblance of a partying social life.

Drinking was bad.

She took a deep breath, her cheeks puffing out as she slowly let out the air before reaching above her to feel what she'd correctly assumed were wooden panels. Only, the one above her was rough with tons of lines down it; almost like scratch marks. Right next to those marks, now directly above her, were two round rubber grips.

Were they plugging something?

The thought was interrupted as burning pain shot through her index finger. She inhaled sharply, letting a curse trail off her lips as she brought the hurt finger closer to her face, hoping to see the wooden sliver lodged beneath her fingernail.

Trying to get a better look, she shifted. It wasn't a big position change, but her thighs went with the movement and the sharp ache that had been there previously, coerced between her thighs again. She cringed, dropping her uninjured hand between her legs to try and dull the pain, but gasped. She didn't expect the area to be cold and damp.

Hesitantly, she lifted her fingers to her face and sniffed. The metallic smell of blood had her gag reflex about to go into overdrive. She quickly swiped the wetness off on her shirt. Reaching both her hands upwards she went to apply a little more pressure to whatever it was that was above her. She had to get out of this thing and her arms quivered from the effort. When it wouldn't budge, she pulled away.

Clearly shoulder strength alone wasn't going to do it. She slid down against the cushions, her shirt riding further up her midriff the more she went down. She managed to bend her knees enough so that the tops of her kneecaps knocked into the wood panels above her, and pushed, hoping the additional application of pressure would do the job.

When that failed, her hands dropped to her sides, clenching into tight fists. She glared angrily at the door and gritted her teeth in frustration. Punching forward with both arms, she let her knuckles ram into the board. Her muscles quivered while she grunted at the resistance.

"The fuck?" She mumbled, feeling like she was about to cross the borderline to hysteria. She tried again, squealing with effort, hoping to loosen whatever was holding the thing down. All the while wondering what the hell was going on. It didn't move an inch. Her nostrils flared with anger and a hint of fear. Her friends had taken this joke way too far now.

"What's the big idea?" she said and waited in silence. She punched the wood again when no one responded. "Guys, come on, this isn't funny. Where am I? Get me out of here. This smell is gonna make me yack!" It was an eye watering stench of rotting meat that someone tried covering up with bleach and the nauseating sweetness of one of those cheap pine tree scents found in gas stations.  "Man, it's so gross. I'm really sick guys. This hangover is killer."

"There's a lighter in your pocket."

Jamie jerked in surprise as the static screeching of a dark voice sounded directly by her ear. Quickly, she reached over and grabbed the cold device where the voice had come from. She fingered the talking piece, feeling the rough holes of the speaker before depressing the button she found on the side.  "What is this, a walkie-talkie?" She snorted, trying to find her inner sarcasm.

"Creative isn't it," the gritty disguised male voice responded.

She drew in a deep, shaky breath as she rapidly blinked her blue eyes, blew out, took another breath, and repeated before responding. "Who is this? Is this a late Christmas present or something? Am I in a trunk? I know! You're taking me to Colorado. I've always wanted to go there. I knew Mom and Dad would cave eventually." She paused to swallow and lick her dry, peeling lips.  "I get it... so can I get out now?"

"You aren't in a trunk and you'll never go to Colorado."

She sighed, trying to be a good sport and play with the obviously horrible prank. "Never is the wrong word."

A tinkle of laughter crackled over the com. "In this case never is a very right word. You'll never go on another drinking binge, you'll never lose your virginity-oh wait I already took that-you'll never see your parents, hell, you'll never see daylight again. Actually, you won't really be doing much of anything."

Jamie tensed and tried to ignore the comment about her virginity as burning pain ignited between her thighs again at her subtle stiffening movement.  It wasn't true. This had to be a stupid joke. The corner of her mouth rose in an attempt at a chuckle. "Ha, ha, very funny," she said with a light teasing lilt. "Seriously, let me out of the trunk now."

"There is no trunk."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, while managing to contain her annoyance. "Really, it's not funny anymore. Let me out."

"Hmm," came the reply and Jamie found herself trying to place the voice. That little, noncommittal noise sounded familiar.

"Do I know you? Harley, are you behind this?"

"You don't know me, but I know you and unfortunately... Harley's in the same position you're in."

"Is this some type of senior prank? There's still another semester, ya know? I mean this would be kind of early."

She heard the voice sigh in irritation. "As I said before Jamie, there's a lighter in your pocket. Take it out, switch it on. You'll need it for my instructions."

The word 'instructions' came out and she felt the twinge of panic slip away as it dawned on her what was really going on. Jamie had always been academically ambitious. She'd wanted to join a sorority once she'd gotten into college. She'd started looking her junior year of high school, like most college oriented students. Now that she was a senior, she'd been able to narrow it down to three, but she knew that two out of three had rumors of dangerous initiations and one had accepted her.

"My sorority initiation," she said, and breathed with relief. "Lucky I'm not claustrophobic... I'll pass this test with flying colors."

"No you stupid bitch! Get the fucking lighter."

Her eyes squeezed shut at the shout and she slowly felt her body start to shake with fear, her lower lip trembling as she tried to hold the tears in. The shift in the tone of voice had happened instantly. It had gone from playful to hostile and deranged. She got the feeling that maybe this wasn't a prank or initiation.

"Please, I'm really scared now." She pleaded, her voice trembling.

When it seemed he wasn't going to answer she decided to do what he'd asked and she reached into her jeans pocket and pulled the lighter out. She was trembling so much now that she fumbled twice before flicking it on. The tiny light the flame emitted wasn't enough to see much, so she brought it up to her face, and dropped it down to see what she'd been laying on. It was red velvet that also lined up the sides of the enclosed space she was occupying.  She couldn't bend down, so she curved her upper body. Her shoulders knocked into the side of the cushioned wall almost instantly, her arm stretching as far as it would go. Her thumb released the button on the lighter and darkness filled her sight again.

There was no way. Absolutely no way.

Letting out a frantic squealing growl, she flicked the lighter on again. She followed the red velvet lining down. Her hand may as well have been the center of an earthquake with how much she was trembling. She was in a coffin.

A wave of dizziness blurred her vision. "Th-this is a horrible sorority initiation. I could die from a lack of oxygen!"

"That's the plan."

She gritted her teeth. She could practically hear the shrug. She let out an impatient growl. "Well, I don't want to join this sorority. So let me out damn it."

"Look straight up."

She instantly brought the light in front of her, but before she could see anything the heat burned her thumb and she dropped it against her stomach. Scrambling to retrieve it she quickly clamped her fingers around it, rubbing the hot metal against her shirt to cool it off before lighting it again. When she lifted it again, she saw the two rubber circles she'd felt earlier, directly in front of her arms.

"I suppose I like to give the impression of being a good sport, but really you won't get out. The minute you pull the tab on those circles, dirt will pile in. The best you could do is stick your arms through to the push the dirt away, but the holes are big enough that it'll just go around. Plus, I put jagged pieces of glass just slightly above those plugs."

She was blinking rapidly now, shaking her head furiously. She could feel her heart beat pounding in her throat.

"The idea is to give you an option. You can choose two different ways to die. Now, if you wait it out and die slowly, nourishment will be supplied through a hole on your left. It will only be enough to keep you alive an extra two weeks, unless you ration. Of course, your oxygen will be gone way before that."

Was this real?

Saliva pooled in her mouth as she rapidly tried to swallow over the lump in her throat. When she couldn't, she reached up with her free hand and clawed at her throat, gasping for air. Tears accumulated in the corner of her eyes, blinding her from the flickering orange glow of the lighter, before spilling down the sides of her face.

"Keep breathing like that and your oxygen won't last but a few minutes."

She dropped the lighter, but this time she was paralyzed, frozen like a frightened baby.

"Being the fuckin' dumb blonde you are, you're probably thinking right about know if this is real. I'll answer. Yes. It's real. Would you like me to refresh your memory?" The question was rhetorical. "You went to a party outside of town, got a drink, then walked into someone, and dropped your cute little purse. That someone helped you pick it up. You smiled at that someone. Chatted him up real good, but failed to notice the drug that had been slipped into your drink as you knocked it back."

Her eyes widened. "No." It was more a gust of escaped air forming a word then a whisper. It was all she could manage as she struggled with her burning lungs to breathe.

No.

No, no, no, no. It was a pleading mantra. This couldn't be happening to her. Not to her!

"If it makes you feel any better your friend Harley Calhoun fell for the same thing. Oh what materialistic females will do for a guy dressed in expensive clothing... little whore's are so predictable."

"No, y-you were nice. This isn't real." She cried out, shaking her head in denial, trying to mentally dodge the familiarity of the images he described. He really had been so nice... and handsome.

"Harley must have been drugged before. Her system cleaned it out quicker than yours. She was definitely no virgin either, but you were a good girl, weren't you, Jamie?"

That lump lodged in her throat seemed to rise and the sour taste of vomit clung to the back of her tongue. She gagged, barely managing to swallow the chunky puke.  The realization of why there was pain between her legs was dawning on her. This pain seemed to over power the pain in her head.

She'd been waiting for the right person...

"No. Please stop this. It's not funny anymore. Stop, stop, please just stop," she said with a pathetic whimper as her voice quivered with emotion.

"Harley was a lot more verbal than you."

Panicked though she was, Jamie still managed to catch the context. "Was?"

"She was a fighter when she realized I'd buried her alive. Broke my damn walkie-talkie," he said it as if the very idea of her breaking it was absurd. "I even had to re-dig her out so that I could make her pay for that. That walkie-talkie was the real deal, expensive high tech shit. The cunt broke it to pieces. I didn't want to have to explain to my boss why it was missing, but she just didn't cooperate."

"You dug her up?"

"Yeah."

"You let her go?"

"No. I just sewed her lips shut while she was awake. Hard as fuck to hold her down and do that. I had to tie her up and what a great position that was, got me real hot. I did her again, after sewing her lips shut. Then I untied her, and dropped her back in, kicking and trying to scream. The threads started tearing through the flesh of her lips. It was awesome, some real Hostel shit. She thought she could push her arms through the holes and dig out. She was wrong."

He talked like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"You're a disgusting pervert! Get me out of here. Of course, she isn't dead. This is going too far."

He didn't say anything for at least two minutes, but when he did speak Jamie knew.  "Have a good death princess. I just hope you scream more."

The finality in his tone made her realize that this was not a joke. That she wasn't foggy and disoriented because of a hard night of drinking. That she wasn't involved in a sorority prank. She'd been drugged, robbed of her virginity, and was buried alive.

Alive.

The scream erupted from her lips and she started punching the wooden top to the coffin, not caring that the skin on her knuckles cracked and bled.  Ignoring the pain, she continued screaming until her voice went raw. She continued her weakening punches, and scratching on the already marked coffin. And when she could no longer punch from the weakness that had taken over her arms, she ripped at the red sidings frantically with her fingertips, searching for a weak point in the structure.

"Help me! Somebody, please help me." She shouted between heaves.

Gasping for breath, she reached for the rubber tabs, and yanked down. Dirt instantly poured inside and she frantically shoved her arms through, screaming when she felt the glass slicing deeper the more she pushed her arms up. Ignoring the pain, she tried desperately to push the damp dirt to the side. It just wouldn't stop. She tried to push her whole body against the door, but to no avail.

"No, no." She choked, but continued, "Please help me! I'll do anything you want me to. Don't do this!"

"Even the used to be virgin offers to do dirty deeds. Naughty. I was so hoping you wouldn't pull the stops," he said.

No longer able to hold it in, she spewed the chunks of last night's dinner and drink. The projectile vomit bounced against the top of the coffin so swiftly that she didn't have time to turn her head away. The rancid smell filled the tiny area and splashed against the top of the coffin, rebounding back into her mouth, on her face, and into her eyes. And she couldn't stop, she tried to turn her head, but the dirt and vomit were everywhere now.

She couldn't breathe.

"Are you choking? You fucking puked, didn't you? Come on, not another one! I hate cleaning that shit up. Hey, say something." The voice demanded with such intense ferocity.

Only she couldn't say anything. Speech was no longer an option. All she could do was gasp for breath that she couldn't get because chunks of whatever she'd eaten the night before were lodged in her throat and covering her nose.

She couldn't breathe. She was choking.

"Jamie? Jamie Anderson?" The voice called.

She couldn't answer. There were no more gasps.

The man sighed, dropping the black walkie-talkie onto his desk with a clunk. Disgusted at the way things turned out. Most of them had choked on their own vomit and only a handful had actually fought. It was rather upsetting.

"How boring; death by vomit? Come on. At least Harley went down kicking. Jamie?"

When he heard the slight gurgling, her death was confirmed.  "Fuck me."

She was the last. He'd finished with the blondes, the redheads and miscellaneous colored hair, like black, pink and so forth. The only color he still needed to do was the brunettes. He would get another one or two in sixth months. This time though he'd have to go a few towns over. He'd gotten lazy and gone only one town over from his own. He'd always had two rules, no local and no surrounding.

He had to be careful.