Free The Cage by Brian Keene Page A

nodded again, feigning understanding and hoping to placate the madman.
    Simon prodded him with the gun. “Let’s go. You know the way.”
    Yes, Jeff thought. I sure do. How many times have I walked through this warehouse and out into the store? A thousand? A million? Every time I go to the bathroom or take a lunch break or make a sale and come back here to get the item for the customer, I go through that door.
    He’d never paused to consider it. Never thought about such a trivial act. But now, faced with the knowledge that this could very well be his last time doing so, it was all that Jeff could think about. His feet were no longer asleep, but now they felt heavy—weighted with sixty-pound bags of cement. He stopped, but Simon pushed harder with the gun. Jeff began walking again, past rows of televisions and stereos and speakers and microwaves. The door loomed before him. The sign overtop of it read “EXIT” in bright red block letters.
    But this is not an exit, he thought. This is an entrance. An entrance into the store.
    Exit. Entrance. Maybe it’s the same thing, depending on your perspective.
    Jesus fucking Christ, I’m really going to die, aren’t I?
    April…I’m so sorry, hon. I should have contacted you. I should have said what I’ve wanted to say. I love you. I never stopped loving you…
    He halted again, and when Simon urged him forward, Jeff resisted by spreading his feet and locking his knees.
    “Move.”
    “I want to know something first.” Jeff had to shout above the noise.
    “Speak. But you try anything, and I’ll put a bullet through both of your kneecaps.”
    “What happens when we go through the door?”
    Simon was silent. For a moment, Jeff thought that maybe the madman had answered his question and he just hadn’t heard it. But then Simon spoke.
    “We’re opening the door.”
    “I know that. I watched you take the others through it. I’m asking you what happens after we go through the door.”
    “You misunderstand me. I said that we’re opening a door. I wasn’t talking about this door. Now move.”
    “Blow me.”
    Simon frowned.
    Jeff grinned. “What happened to your lip? Was it Scott? Did he deck your ass? And where’s your sunglasses? You got punched, didn’t you motherfucker?”
    Glowering, Simon shoved Jeff hard.
    Jeff stumbled forward, nearly falling. “Hey! Motherfucker…”
    “I said move! Open that door or I’ll open your belly. Your choice. Makes no difference to me.”
    Jeff made the remaining twelve paces to the exit, his brief surge of anger and bravado overcome once more by fear. Simon followed along closely behind him. The strange signal grew louder with each step. Jeff noticed that its tone had changed again. The chimes were still there, but they were mere background noise now. The dominant sound was a deep, rumbling hum—constant and unbroken, accompanied by wave after wave of crackling static, buzzing like a swarm of monstrous, angry bees. He felt it rumble in his chest.
    “What is that?” he shouted. “Where’s it coming from?”
    Although he wasn’t turned around to face Simon, Jeff could tell that the intruder was grinning. He could hear it in Simon’s voice.
    “It’s Shtar. Open the door and I’ll show you.”
    Jeff stretched his arm towards the door. It seemed to take forever. He placed his palm against the cool wood, and felt the vibrations running through it.
    “Fuck around quotient zero…”
    With a final, futile sigh of resignation, he pushed the door open and stepped through. The sound hit him with its full fury. Jeff felt as if he’d been struck. Disoriented, he paused again, but Simon shoved him forward. Jeff glanced around the store in shock, trying to process what he was seeing.
    Every television and audio component in the store had been turned on. The signal blasted from a hundred different sources and speakers. All of the television screens showed the same image—a constantly-shifting sea of black and white speckled static.