The Laughterhouse by Paul Cleave

Author:Paul Cleave [Cleave, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery, Thriller
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2012-08-21T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY

“Tick tock,” Caleb says.

“Please . . .”

“Tick. And . . .” Caleb says, then looks down at his watch, counts off a few beats in his head, “. . . tock. Time’s up. It’s been two minutes.”

“No, no,” Stanton says.

“Which one?”

“I can’t.”

“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this,” Caleb says, and it’s true. “So be it.”

He picks up his knife. He walks over to Katy. He has to get it done. If he holds back, if he lets the doubts creep in, then he may not do what needs to be done. He has no room left for humanity, all he has room for is the plan, and if he pulls back now it’s not going to happen. He has to focus on that. He looks at Katy. He can’t think of her as Katy Kitten. He has to look at her as a tool. But God how she reminds him of his own daughter, the same way they . . .

Stop it! Shit like that is only going to make it harder!

He moves toward Melanie instead.

Munchkin Mel. The same thing, really. . . .

“Please, please don’t,” Stanton says. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I am, I really am.”

“It doesn’t help.”

“Don’t do this! Fuck, fuck, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this!”

He crouches down over Melanie. “Choose somebody, Doctor, make it as painless as possible.”

“I can’t,” Stanton screams. “Don’t you see that? If it were you, if you’d had three children and had to decide, you couldn’t have done it either,” he says, and his words are quick and hopeful, as if there is enough logic in the idea to make Caleb stop doing this.

And it is a good point. But Caleb isn’t here to debate good points. He’s here to make Stanton suffer.

“Choose,” he says.

“It’s impossible.”

“I agree. It’s impossible, but you still have to choose. One dies now, or all three die now. Focus on that and it becomes less impossible.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe. It still doesn’t change the fact that if you don’t give me a name in the next five seconds you’re going to start seeing a lot of blood.”

“I—”

“One,” Caleb says.

“Wait—”

“Two,” he says, and he remembers giving his daughter similar countdowns, only he’d give her till the count of three to tidy up whatever mess she had just made or he’d put her in time-out. He’s giving Stanton two extra seconds. He’s being generous.

“Octavia. I choose Octavia.”

Caleb feels his stomach drop and his throat tighten. He straightens up and stares at Stanton and slowly shakes his head. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or disgusted, but I’m certainly surprised.”

“Fuck you.”

“Why don’t you like her?”

“I didn’t say that,” Stanton says, looking down.

“Yes you did. You wouldn’t have decided so quickly.” Caleb lifts his hands into the air, the knife catching the light coming through the dirty windows and sending a white spot across the wall like a shooting star. “You still had three seconds left. See, I think you knew all along who you were going to choose.

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