Vicarious Joe by Avery Blake

Author:Avery Blake [Blake, Avery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sterling & Stone
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The scene resolved into a dark room. It stretched out in front of him. Narrow and long. Like a gun range. Details emerged, and that’s exactly what it was. A long range where targets were lost in shadow.

He stood with his hip pressed against an empty table. A bright light made a blooming circle of white in the center of the tabletop. The targets at the end of the range fluttered.

Vincent cleared his throat, and the sound came from overhead. Like he was coming through speakers in the ceiling. “I gotta get it tuned. Hang on.”

Gary’s vision wavered in and out of focus. The room brightened. Darkened. Then it snapped into reality.

He gasped as the range became real. Took a step back that jostled the table. Its legs squealed across the pitted concrete floor. Gary put his fist between his teeth and stared.

Vincent laughed. “It looks good, right? We recorded this at a place down on Waverly. Used to be a gun club for white supremacists. They went the way of the dinosaur, and we got a good setting for the Joe Show. Here we go.”

Like the space in front of him had never been empty, Isabella appeared in a chair about eight feet away. She looked up and saw him. Her eyes widened. Then she lunged forward, her teeth peeled back in anger.

Gary flinched away, but ropes around her belly and shoulder held her to the chair. It scraped on the floor like the table had. A piercing squeal that stabbed his ears.

“Let me go, asshole!”

Her voice was as penetrating as the squeaking chair legs. Gary winced and took another step back.

“I said, let me go, Gary, you piece of shit! You think you’ll get your kicks on me? Think again, you freak.”

He looked up at the ceiling. “That‘s a little loud, man. And why is she here, anyway?”

“My bad. How’s this?”

Gary looked back down, and Isabella struggled against the ropes like before, but this time a leather band covered her mouth. A stream of spit truckled from underneath. He swallowed and looked away. “I don’t know about this. I thought …”

“You thought what? What do you think people really pay for?”

Gary shrugged. Looked at Isabella from the corners of his eyes. “What’s wrong with something like the zipline again?”

Vincent laughed, and the speakers filled with a pop of sound as if he had slapped his leg. “Come the fuck on, man! I gotta tune the feed to your frequency. This is what they want, so this is what we use.”

“Who’s they?”

“I told you. Investors. Alternative Lives called me and Kenneth with an idea. Well, not really them, but kind of a branch of Alternative Lives. Some dudes that work at the edges of FDA scrutiny. American dudes, if you know what I mean.”

Gary turned away from Isabella thrashing against the ropes. Her jaw muscles had bulged like she’d been trying to chew through the gag. “No, Vincent. I don’t know what you mean.”

Vincent’s sigh was like a crackle of static.

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