Oscar nodded, “Yep.” He popped the last sound.
This was not good. Edmonds thought to make me weak and delirious so that when he finally paraded me, it would be as a broken man. The problem with that was that there was too much at stake. Lives lost in pursuit of this one goal. If I didn’t have the mental wherewithal to stand trial and expose my father, then it was all for naught.
“How long has it been since your brother was here?” I asked.
“One month,” he answered, scratching at his nose.
A rat the size of Blackbeard scurried over his outstretched legs, and he didn’t flinch. Didn’t even notice as it searched in vain for crumbs that were nonexistent.
“We’ve been in this cell for two months.” I clarified.
“Yep.” That pop again.
I searched my mind, trying to account for the days and came up blank. There was no recollection of much time in between Oliver Bailey leaving and now.
Heels on cursed stone emitted in between shouts and pleas from unlucky souls, and I wondered if this was a hallucination as well. Oscar sat straight and edged towards the bars of our cage.
Not a hallucination then.
“Oliver?” he rasped.
“Not quite, Mr. Bailey,” Edmonds said as he stood in front of us, arms folded carefully behind his back.
I estimated him to be in his late thirties, young enough that ambition clouded his judgment, but old enough to play the game well. From the way my mind stumbled over details, it was a fair judge that he played more than well.
“Please, this is torture, let us out,” Oscar begged.
I refused. It was as simple as that. Let my mind break, and my schemes go to waste, but I would not get on my knees for any man.
Stubborn to the end, aye, Bash?
I stilled. That was Billy’s voice, as clear as the two men in this room. I was falling deeper into the madness.
Not such a bad thing, my boy. As long as you don’t talk back, you’re still all right.
God, I missed him.
Would I have done it all if I knew he was the price at the end of it? The fog in my brain wouldn’t let me answer one way or the other.
“Well, Mr. Bailey, it is your lucky day. Somehow, and if you have any thoughts to the how of it, please feel free to share, your family, despite losing their business, is still wealthy enough to deal in bribery.”
I knew the answer to this. It was in a carefully scrawled script against parchment.
Her.
Rose.
I grunted in frustration as I fought for the memory.
“You aren’t allowed to die. I forbid it.” The memory blurred, and I balled my dirt-caked hands into fists.
“Did they buy our way out of here?” Oscar said with too much hope.
The answer flitted across my mind, and I grabbed it.
“P.S.: I looted the last eleven years of your spoils since you weren’t using them. See you soon, Rose.”
Rose. She was always the answer.
