Tied Up, Part 2

It was slow progress, but it was somewhat steady. Namie followed Izaya’s lead, pushing where he pulled and sliding where he did so. Soon the time came for them to leave the room’s only cone of light and plunge into the rat-infested blackness. Namie locked up, petrified.

“You know,” Izaya grunted, a hint of his old grin in his voice, “you’d think that someone who spent her entire career in a laboratory would be a little less scared of rats.”

“Field mice are one thing,” Namie retorted, snapping her head sideways to sort of glare at him. “I happen to know the details of every lethal virus those creatures are carrying. And let me tell you something, mister fearless- they aren’t pretty!”  

Izaya gave up the argument but wasn’t willing to sit still. Eventually, Namie relented and helped him scoot away from the suspended lamp. The darkness was something of a comfort, actually. She could hear the rats scuttling around them but she couldn’t see a thing- just the pale cables of rope pinning her arms to her sides. Namie whimpered to herself as a pair of scaly feet brushed her leg.

Suddenly, Izaya stopped moving. Namie tried to turn around, about to ask what was wrong when he gasped sharply.

“Izaya?” Worry heightened the pitch of her voice.

“I’m fine,” he told her quietly, “that was a piece of glass.”

Namie frowned, puzzled. There was broken glass on the floor? Izaya must have stepped on it, but how did it slice through his shoes…?

“Are you not wearing shoes?” Namie wondered.

Izaya sighed.

“They were gone when I woke up. Isogi must have checked me for weapons before he tied us together.”

“And your shoes are weapons…?”

Izaya grunted and Namie felt his elbow jab her spine. It wasn’t particularly painful but it did surprise her. Moments later she felt his fingers depositing a glass shard in her palm. It was slick with blood.

“I keep a spare blade in one of the soles.”

Namie wiggled her toes. They’d let her keep her flats, deeming them apparently harmless. She didn’t have much time to dwell on that thought, though, because she could feel something tugging on her sleeve. The fabric tore easily, alarming Namie considerably.

“Izaya-!”

“I know, I know,” he growled, drawing ragged breaths, “I’ve got two in my lap right now.”

“Well, do something!” She insisted, trying desperately to shake her numb arm.

“Namie, give me your shoe.”

“What?”

“They didn’t take yours, right?”

A squeal bit the air as Namie kicked a rat away from her thigh.

“No, I have them.”

“Give me one.”

With some difficulty, Namie managed to slip off one shoe and place it in her empty hand. She blindly put it on the floor and nudged it over to Izaya’s part of the rope. As soon as he had it, the room launched into a cacophony of slams and squeals.

Izaya was smashing the rats’ heads with the heel of her shoe.

Namie followed his example, removing her other shoe and swinging as far as she could with her stunted range. After a minute or so, everything returned to silence.

“Are you alright?” She asked breathlessly.

“Y-yeah,” he nodded in the dark, “I’ve got a few bites, though.”

Then it was back to work. As they scooted along the floor, Izaya explained that Isogi had widely underestimated him. For one thing, Isogi believed that being in the dark would confuse and demoralize Izaya, slowing if not preventing escape. On the contrary, Izaya knew the layout of this particular warehouse by heart. He wasn’t one to do half-assed research; he knew everything about Isogi’s gang and their whereabouts before ever agreeing to meet them in the first place. Secondly, Isogi was unaware of Namie’s prowess as a doctor. His intention was to beat Izaya into immobility, rendering Namie a defenseless target. He didn’t count on Namie being able to hold her own as well as being able to keep Izaya’s head clear.

They were quiet for a while after that. Slowly inching across the floor, one foot, then the other foot, then the other foot, then slide. Each movement was a struggle against the taut ropes, but after a while Namie felt them giving a little.

“Hey…” She began, scanning the black for beady red eyes, “…what exactly happened after they, um…while I was out?”

“Not much,” Izaya inhaled shakily, taking another step. “Four of them came at me with blunt objects. I think I got at least two with my switchblade, but somebody nailed me at the door.”

“The door? So you were going to leave me there?”

“I figured they were after me; they just knocked you out to protect their identities.”

Namie snorted, “Obviously not the case.”

“I came to in a car, blindfolded. The blindfold was pointless, though, I’d already seen Isogi’s face. I knew where they were taking me.”

“Did they bring us to this room immediately?”

“No. At least, not me. I was brought to Isogi’s ‘office’, where we enjoyed a brief temper tantrum. When he was done mutilating my face, he brought me here. I was barely conscious for most of it- I don’t even remember how I got here- but I remember seeing you lying there and thinking…”

Namie almost stopped crawling. Izaya shook himself and resumed his story. The delirium must be setting in, Namie thought.

“Well after that, he had two of his men come in and prop us up into sitting positions. Isogi was monologuing at this point, so I tuned him out. It annoys me when humans do that.”

“Speak for yourself.” Namie muttered under her breath.

“And then they left. I was in too much pain to move for quite some time. I think I slept for a bit. Not entirely certain, but I figure we were in here for almost an hour by the time you woke up.”

Izaya halted, jerking Namie back some. The air felt different in this part of the room, wetter somehow.

“This is it,” Izaya said, “this is the exit.”

“Great. Now how do we open it without using our arms?”

Izaya sighed and leaned against her, inciting irritation.

“Okay, I’ve been thinking about this. We-“

Pain lanced through Namie’s calf and she cried aloud, bolting upright. Her skull collided with Izaya’s, knocking him forward- though that was her last problem right now.

Namie swung blindly with her shoe, frantically aiming for the animal whose jaw was buried in her leg. She could feel it clawing its way through her muscle, trying to breach the bone. The pain was unbearable.

Finally, she got it. With a final stomp, she shattered the rodent’s spine and it collapsed, its head thumping to the cement beside her calf.

“What was that?” Izaya asked.

“B-bastard got my leg,” Namie moaned, relaxing her muscles. Tears streamed her cheeks, both from the fright of the situation and the intense burning of the wound.

“Namie. We can use the rat.”

“What?” She panted, almost too tired to be confused.

“Think about it. It’s got sharp teeth and its saliva would help slicken the ropes.”

“That’s…that’s too disgusting.”

“Well, then you’re not going to like this part at all.” Izaya continued, his tone weirdly apologetic, “you’re going to have to break free, Namie. I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, suspicious. She didn’t like this foreign guilt in his voice.  

“My arm is broken.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Take the rat and close its jaw around the top layer of cable, alright?”

“Uh, OK.”

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Namie had performed enough dissections in her days to be able to properly manipulate an animal. She pried open the creature’s mouth and rat drool drizzled onto the rope, dampening it considerably. The smell was atrocious. Namie wondered faintly if she’d ever be able to get it out of her hair.

She opened and shut the rat’s mouth, using its hooked incisors as a saw and its tongue as a lubricant when the rope went dry. None of it seemed to have any effect.

“This isn’t working, Izaya.”

“Just keep trying.” He sounded very, very tired.

She sawed a little longer and noticed with satisfaction that some of the rope’s outer fibers had frayed. At this point, she was running out of rat saliva. It was then she remembered the glass in her hand- she’d dropped it when the rat bit her. Namie used the edge of the glass on the weakened strand of rope and significantly cut into it.

“I’ve cut it!” She informed Izaya excitedly.

“Good job.” He murmured.

Namie sliced into the next layer of cable with renewed vigor. She first wet as much as she could with the drying rat tongue and then rubbed back and forth with the glass as though she were serving a loaf of bread. The shard stung her palms and blood soon flowed from her hands, but Namie couldn’t care less. The second cable came free with a beautiful snap- she could practically taste freedom. Now that her arms moved with ease, her actions were more pronounced. She tried hard not to nudge Izaya much, but didn’t take much notice when she did. He didn’t protest any of it, so it probably didn’t hurt.

Finally, the third layer split. Namie got to her knees and turned around, facing Izaya’s back with a tremendous smile. However, the moment she removed her weight from his own, the informant toppled backwards. Namie caught him in her arms, gasping as his head rebounded off her shoulder heavily.

“Izaya!”

“Uh…?” He groaned, his eyes unfocused.

His skin was so pale she could see it even in the darkness. It wasn’t much to go on, but coupled with her sense of touch it was enough to understand where he was.

“Hey!” She slapped his cheeks with her bleeding hands. When that didn’t work, she pushed below his shoulder blades and hoisted him back into a sitting position, “Come on, wake up!”

“Namie?” He asked hoarsely, rasping out a cough.

“I’m here, I’m here.” She assured him, “Let’s stand up now.”

“…the hinges…”

“What?”

Izaya coughed, “the door…it’s too loud…”

Namie bit her lip. He had an excellent point. There wasn’t even any need for a lock on the door because it wouldn’t open without a horrible, ear-splitting noise. Namie glanced her blood soaked hands, but decided against it- she knew the horrors of tetanus.

“Rat blood…”

Not a bad idea. Namie picked up the rat and slit its stomach with the glass. There was just enough blood in the creature to coat the door’s hinges, but blood wasn’t oil. There’d still be some sound when the door opened.

“Alright, it’s done. Ready to stand up?”

“Y-yeah…”

Namie found his arm and draped it across her neck, giving him some sorely needed support. Izaya’s opposite arm hung uselessly at his side. Slowly, with many grunts and clenched breaths, the two made it to their feet. They almost fell down just as quickly, as Namie’s leg was badly gnawed and not ready to carry both bodies. Izaya himself nearly lost consciousness again, with the pain in his ribs completely numbing the rest of his senses.  

“You’re okay,” Namie whispered, panting and propping Izaya up, pressing his chest with her red, sticky hand. “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Izaya couldn’t form words. He groaned and grit his teeth and leaned deeply on Namie as they attempted to escape the warehouse. Through much effort, they succeeded in cracking open the door. Namie yanked on it with as much force as she could muster and it left a gap about three feet wide. Not enough for two people.

Izaya’s entire body was trembling against her own. His shoulders were heaving and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Namie drew him closer and tried to coax him through the exit, all the while murmuring encouragement.

“It’s okay,” he was nodding and stumbling forward. “it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Once he was through, the door began to swing shut again. Namie slipped through the two-foot clearance and sank to one knee in the dirt. She wasn’t sure how much farther she could go on that leg.

Izaya kneeled beside her, his head very close to the ground. He was vomiting.

“Shh,” she rubbed his back and he coughed and coughed. “Shh, it’s okay.”

When he was done, he lay mute for a few minutes. Namie couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t feeling too wonderful herself.

“Y-you…you need a weapon.” He croaked, his voice as wobbly as his balance.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a guard,” Izaya explained, clearing his throat and trying to sit up. He didn’t make it, “There’s a guy watching the warehouse exit. He’ll be here any second.”

“Okay,” Namie confirmed and took his arms, easing him upright. She dragged him back until he could rest against the warehouse door.

Now that they were outside, she could see a little better. A single electric lamp hung from the building’s side, illuminating a few feet around the door. Namie studied Izaya’s face in its orangish glow.

The word mutilated had not been unnecessarily used earlier. One of his eyes had swelled shut, flecks of blood trapped in the folds of skin. A long gash split the side of his head, explaining why his hair and neck were so damp. Most of his wounds appeared to have crusted over by now. He reeked of blood and sweat, though Namie didn’t fare any better. Not a single inch of flesh on his face was healthily colored.

“N-Namie,” he wheezed, shutting his eyes and letting his head fall limp against the wall, “Find s-something. Now.”

“Okay.” She sniffed, her vision blurring. Why was her throat closing up? Why did she want to cry so badly? Why did it hurt so much to see him this way?