I saw the memories when he got them back, a parade across his face, nothing pretty. He put his palms over his eyes, and pushed hard. “What is this place?”

“A house. I don’t know. Isolated.”

“I heard a woman.”

“I know.”

“She was screaming.”

“You’re all right, man. Take it easy.”

He blinked at me, bloodshot. “Is there water?”

I shook my head.

“What’s that about?”

He meant my fingertips, torn and bloodied. I pointed at the place where sharp-edged bolts secured steel mesh to the steel frame. “A tool kit might have been better.”

There was blood on metal, dried black.

Chance stared for five good seconds, then closed his eyes for so long I thought he’d checked out or fallen back asleep. When he spoke, they were still closed. “I don’t know what to say to you. How can you even look at me?”

“Just take it easy.”

Chance shook his head. “I called you. He told me to do it, and that’s what I did.”

“How about we worry about this cage and all that scary shit out there. How about that?”

“He can kill me. I don’t care.”

“He had a knife at your neck. I’d have made the call, too.”

“I don’t believe that.”

He said it softly, but was looking at me, at least. I slid across the cage, and leaned against the same wall. “So that’s it? You’re officially a pussy? Got a membership card and everything?”

“Don’t joke.”

His mouth was open, his eyes glazed. If he had reserves left, I couldn’t see them. “Chance, buddy. Listen…”

I got no further than that. The outside door swung open, and our kidnapper stepped inside. He had a revolver in one hand, and a wild look on his face, red-eyed and swollen, like he might fly apart.

“Back the fuck up! Back up!” He pointed with the gun. “You! Come here! Not you. The little one.” I started to rise. He thumbed the hammer. “I said back the fuck up! You! Now!”

He unlocked the cage, and Chance stepped out like he didn’t care, or couldn’t. His eyes were down, both hands at his sides. The little man locked the cage, and up close like that, I saw more of the crazy in his face. Something had changed. He was off the rails. He pushed the barrel into Chance’s chest, backed him away from the cage.

“Hey!” I rattled the door. “Hey, asshole!”

“Shut up. It’s ruined.”

“The hell are you doing?”

“I don’t want them!” He shoved with the gun. “Anger. Regret.” He swung the barrel into Chance’s face. The blow staggered him; he bled. “I don’t deserve to feel those things! I don’t want to carry them!”

He hit Chance again.

I said, “Shit! Shit!”