by Brandon Enns
***
Young Tanner Pearson drove down a dirt road, the sound of rocks chipping away at the undercarriage. Kyle Morrow sat in the front passenger seat while Rodney was wedged between Steven and Bart Reider. Flying down the gravel road, the gang was bored, reckless, and looking to Rodney for inspiration. A case of beer was tightly packed in the middle. Each already had a beer in hand except for Rodney.
"Slow down, jack-ass," said Steven.
"Settle down, sweetie. It's called being a skilled driver." Tanner looked at himself in the rearview mirror.
"Test your skills when there aren't four other lives at stake," replied Steven.
Kyle shouted from the back seat, "Hey, what the hell happened to you last night?"
Pearson's arrogant smile found a way to expand, titillating
details hanging on loose lips.
Kyle followed up, "Don't tell me she stole your flower?"
"Shut up. She wasn't my first and you know that."
"So you banged then?"
"Come on. All about execution, boys."
Bart chimed in, "Two minutes in heaven with Tanner Pearson. Lucky girl."
"Okay, Bart. Just cause I didn't get caught by my parents pulling it."
Bart's face reddened. "That didn't happen."
"Yeah..." Tanner appeared to enjoy the embarrassed look on his friend's face.
"Hey, Rodney. Would you like a beer, buddy?" Tanner asked with fraudulent kindness.
Rodney looked nervous, agitated maybe. "I—I don't—"
"Come on, Rodney. Have a beer with your buddies," Kyle encouraged.
"Beer isn't good for me. It's got too much foam."
"Trust me. It's really good. Do you like root beer?"
Kyle flashed a wry smile at Steven in the back, who wasn't impressed with the situation.
"You're an idiot, Kyle."
"What jumped up your ass today, Stevie? Didn't get enough reading in?"
"God knows you didn't."
"Just try a sip of mine. Look." Bart took a sip and offered it to Rodney. "Mmmm. Refreshing."
Rodney looked around uneasy. He ran his hands through his hair and pulled at it lightly.
Steven leaned forward and whispered to Pearson, "Can we just take the retard home?"
"No, we can't. He's partying with us. Ain't that right, Rodney?" said Kyle.
"Yeah," answered Rodney, uneasy.
"And you’re gonna drink some beer with us, right Rodney?"
"Yeah, that's right."
Bart patted Rodney on the back, and Kyle grabbed a bottle of beer from the case and cracked it, handing it over to Rodney. He shifted nervously, looking down at the foam rising halfway up the neck of the bottle. "I shouldn't."
"Relax man. It's just like grape pop. The Crush kind."
"Like it?"
"Yeah, buddy."
Rodney took a big gulp. The car went silent while Rodney let his palate relay to his brain. After a long pause, a large smirk slid across Rodney's face. Everyone cheered as Rodney took another gulp.
"You like it, Rodney?" asked Kyle.
"Yeah, it's good. I like this." The entire car was laughing at Rodney's pleasantly perplexed face, admiring the bottle of beer in his hands.
"You're taking me home?" asked Rodney.
"What? Oh. Yeah, we'll take you home. Just taking a detour."
"Home for supper?"
"Yes, home for supper."
Rodney took a final gulp of his beer and held on to it. Bart snatched it and handed it to Kyle in the front seat. Kyle rolled down the window and Tanner pulled to the shoulder of the road. As they approached a road sign, Kyle rose in his seat and fired the bottle at the sign, missing it.
"One more miss and we're switching spots," Bart said.
"Yeah, yeah I know the rules."
"So. Rodney. You ever been with a girl before?"
Bart cracked another beer and handed it to Rodney. He hesitated before taking another large gulp.
"Mrs. Stacey helps me with my math."
Pearson couldn't get enough of it. "Not like that, Rod. Like with with."
Rodney looked over to Steven for assistance on what to say.
"Quit being a dick," Steven defended.
"Just wanna know if our boy Rodney here has had any pussy before," said Tanner.
Steven blew up, "I said knock it off!"
"Calm down. Have you Rodney? Had any pussy?"
Rodney shook his head as he peeled at the Molson label on his beer.
"Rodney?" Kyle took over.
"I don't—I don't know."
"You guys don't know the first thing about girls. Rodney is like fourteen. What had you accomplished at fourteen?"
"Oh, I accomplished plenty," bragged Tanner.
"I'd hardly call Rachel Huber an accomplishment."
"More than you can say."
Silence grabbed hold of the car, so Bart killed it. "You better drink up, buddy. Need ammunition for Peyton Manning up there."
"Hey, don't joke. That's accurate."
Rodney took another chug from the beer and smiled, the intoxication beginning to run its course.
"Quick, hurry, Rodney!" Kyle encouraged.
Rodney tipped the beer back and Bart pressed his finger to
the bottom of the bottle to keep him going. Rodney chugged frantically until the end, he choked and spit a little bit up, the beer foaming out the top, spilling everywhere.
"Hey, come on!" Pearson scowled, looking back at the spilled mess.
After working his way through a fit of coughs, "I choked," said Rodney.
"That's all right, man. It's all good," said Bart.
"It's all good!" Rodney exclaimed. Bart and Rodney high-fived. Rodney was proud again.
Bart handed the bottle up to Kyle, who rolled down the window again. Tanner pulled over to the shoulder, the Mustang providing a floating sensation over the road as Kyle backhanded a firm toss, smashing it into the sign. He flexed his arm, proudly showing off his leather football jacket. Tanner pressed on the brakes relatively hard as he almost missed his turnoff.
They pulled up to a convenience store at Pike Lake Provincial Park. The boys liked to go there to fish off the docks from time to time, or just drink and look for stupid shit to do. The store had fireworks, which was a bonus, and with the newcomer, they were clearly craving some theatrics.
Rodney wouldn’t stop staring out the window.
Tanner got out of the car. "I'll be right back."
"Get enough," said Kyle.
"Enough what?" Steven said with weary disgust.
"Fireworks, of course."
Steven shook his head.
"Wow, Steve. We should have brought Pearson's dad instead of you. You're one huge bummer. Have a beer. And while you're at it, grab my good friend Rodney one too."
Rodney reached into the case and took one for himself. He cracked the top off awkwardly and then belched. Kyle had a snide look. "This kid is going places."
Tanner got back into the car, and they drove away. After a winding turn, they drove up a steep hill.
Everyone piled out of the car and took a stick of fireworks. They each lit one up and started shooting them over the cliff and onto the water. Rodney looked skyward and staggered to his left a little and caught himself. He proceeded to take another gulp of his beer and adjusted his glasses.
Eli watched from the bottom of the hill as the fireworks lit up the sky. If there wasn't still daylight they would have been much more beautiful.
It was pointless foolishness, and he didn't understand it. Why couldn't they have just left him be? Why did people behave this way? Supposed notable people. Reputable. Academics. Athletics.
Why?
***
Eli stepped back over to Steven whose face was stained with tears. He ran his fingers over the stubble part of his head where he had shaved. He liked to touch different surfaces. He went back and forth, comparing between the soft silky hair, and Steven woke and began crying.
"Please let me live. I'll do whatever you want."
"You misunderstand. I'm deciding on whether I should put you in the oven alive or not."
"No! Please!"
Eli's internal fire raged on alongside his oven.
21
Brian lay on his back breathing heavily. He rolled to his side and watched Susan's shaky legs make their way into the bathroom. "You joining me?" she called out.
"Be right in."
He heard the nozzle start, and steam soon followed. Still catching his wind back, he lifted his cell phone off his nightstand and turned it back on. He was expecting a text from Jennifer but instead, his inbox showed two voicemails.
He held the phone to his ear, preparing for bad news.
What he heard was bad. He listened carefully to every word she said, and as soon as the last message ended, he jumped out of bed and dressed quickly.
***
The elevator moved down to her bi-level and she stared at the caged beast, jaws unhinged waiting for her to step in. She grasped the cold steel with trembling hands.
After a deep and shaky breath, Jennifer stepped in, closed the doors, and accepted her fate. She pressed the down button, and it turned gears, sending her into the depths of hell. Huh, no elevator music...you've lost it, you moron.
The doors opened with a grinding screech at the end, the sound biting at her ears. His dungeon was a massive pit of darkness, the far end in the left corner illuminated by fire. Lying in front of the flames was a body strapped to a metal table. Steven.
Two quick steps out of the metal contraption and into the land of perilousness. He could have been anywhere in that
basement, hiding in the dark, gun drawn on her. Not gun. Blunt-force trauma. Baseball bat. Maybe he had a hammer too.
Each step she took toward the fiery pit grew more cautious than the last. A full body shiver tightened muscles around her knotted back. She shook hard enough that sweat sloshed around in her shirt. She felt heavy. A yell stopped her dead in her tracks. "Just let me go!" Steven cried out, not knowing that Jennifer had joined the party.
Just go for him. Move your damn legs and get him out of here. Don't think, just do.
A horrid scent kissed her nose. It smelled of rotting dead animal and burned hair. It reminded her of her time spent in a small town, one of her friends taking her to a taxidermy to get his Elk mounted.
She placed her hand to her nose and her slow footsteps guided her into the unknown. Okay, Jennifer just—
She was tackled to the ground with jarring force, her back cracking on the cold cement, her gun flying into the air, the enclosed basement electrified with booming gunfire. All she could hear was ringing.
He was on top of her, breathing so hard that his chest heaved back and forth from her face. A growling grunt expelled from his throat. She tilted her head back and looked up at Eli Baker. The Satanist.
He struck her in the face with the butt end of a baseball bat. Jennifer used her free arm to elbow him in the stomach as hard as she could, but it was no use as he held the bat up to her throat and pushed down, choking her. She could feel her throat closing in on itself, crushing under the applied pressure that increased by the second.
She kicked her feet and grabbed his arms; she was running out of oxygen. Her throat was on fire as she choked, trying so desperately to stay awake. Somehow.
I'm going to die.
His grip loosened slightly. He whispered through a strained voice, "You aren't a part of the equation. I'm sorry." His pressure increased again, constricting tighter than before. She was trying to fight it, but the black was seeping into her eyesight. She heard another whisper. "You shouldn't be here."
Just as her mind accepted nothingness, her heart kicked. She saw something spelled out in her mind. The letters were neon pink, the word written in italics. With a tightening of her abdominals, she swung her legs up into the air in front of Eli's face and pummeled him, extending her legs against his neck, laying him flat out on his back. She gained access to his hand, applied the grip she was taught in her training, and twisted with full force. He yelped as she fractured his wrist, a distinct pop sounding out.
Eli broke free and jumped on her back as she scrambled to pick up her gun, exposing herself. He pinned her hand against the cement and gained ground position again. Mounting her from behind, he leaned in and bit her hand, taking a chunk of flesh. The pain that her mind managed to register was unlike anything she had ever felt and yet it didn't deter her.
Without a wasted nanosecond, Jennifer headbutted Eli in the face, knocking him back. Eli surged back and grabbed hold of her boot, dragging her away from the gun, but with one hard kick of her other leg, she booted the gun across the basement floor. As Eli dragged her, Jennifer reached over and applied all of her strength into a pressure point in his hand. He was forced to let go, and she spun around to his backside
digging her fingers under his collarbone and bringing him to his knees.
The baseball bat laid on the floor between them. She lunged for it. In one fluid motion, she picked up the bat, planted, and transitioned all her force into a swing, connecting with Eli. THUD. She clocked him in the arm, sending him hard to the ground. Void of reason, Jennifer hesitated and didn't strike again. Eli scrambled to his feet and sprinted for the gun across the room. There was no second hesitation as she sprinted to the elevator and attempted to close the doors while Eli reached for the gun.
Pulse pounding, hand pouring blood, the doors remained open while Eli scooped up the pistol. He didn't fire at helpless Jennifer. With the gun at his side, he simply watched her. He watched her the same way he had back in the field a year ago. The doors closed and the elevator sprang upward.
22
Jennifer's Glock 19 was in her car, which was parked across the road. The lengthy driveway continued on for eternity, blending with open fields of white. Her sprint was hitching with painful strides. Her boots were so damn heavy, and she could hardly stay upright. She was moving slowly. It felt like a bad dream. The wind blew strongly against her.
Escape was not her intent. Jennifer's hand was spurting blood with each pump of her heart. She didn't want to look at it. The first aid kit had gauze and bandages along with some peroxide to clean the wound. Her winter gloves were also in the car; not that they'd be much use for operating a gun.
What am I doing? Your car. Keep moving.
Jennifer's mind tumbled and her feet stopped working.
What happened?
She looked at the blood flowing out of her hand in small spurts, spraying rhythmically. She turned back to the house, her line of sight following a trail of her own blood and boot prints leading all the way around the house. Jennifer lifted each heavy foot until stumbling her way back into a clumsy sprint toward the road.
As she passed Eli's parked truck, a bullet whizzed by her head. If he had shown mercy in the basement, it was short lived.
A second shot fired but she wasn't hit. Move your feet!
She ran, the wind still strong against her face. A strange splattering sound stopped Jennifer in her tracks. A punch to her stomach began to burn. She dropped to one knee and
looked down at her midsection. I've been shot. The sharp pain stole her breath. She was unable to move. Jennifer glanced back at the monster, gun calmly at his side again.
Jennifer dropped low to the snow and army crawled to her left in an attempt to use Eli's truck as protection. She could get out of plain view. She could survive.
A bullet hit the ground beside Jennifer, splashing snow in her face. She wiped away the cold slush, wanting to cry out from the chaos around her. She looked back one more time to find his gun raised. Another shot sounded off, and she closed her eyes expecting another burst of agony, but instead more snow flew. Get up!
When Jennifer popped up to her feet, her back screamed, buckling her knees. She hobbled to Eli's new half-ton truck and darted to h
er left—behind the back end—as a bullet smashed into the truck. She settled for a moment and examined her new wound. She didn't think it hit anything major, but it was difficult to say. Life was still flowing within her as she had plenty of energy to move. Two more gunshots fired off against the truck, one shattering the glass.
Would he have kept the keys in his truck?
Jennifer crept slowly along the passenger side and reached for the door handle. It was locked. She didn't know how long she'd last with her wounds, but there was no way she could get to her car out in the open like that. She'd be target practice. The bush to her right was the only option. If she could avoid getting shot again on the way inside, she could try and elude him through the trees before traveling south back toward the road. Or will he just wait for me on the road?
"What is it you want, Eli?" she yelled. "I know there's a reason. You're doing what you think you need to do. You
have to, right? You're doing what you have to do...but what you have to do might not be right! You're a smart guy, Eli. You're a man of perspective. Take a step away from it. Put yourself in my shoes. Just do that for a second...You don't have to do this!" Her voice sounded hollow through the gelid air. Jennifer awaited a response but didn't receive one.
Another bullet into the truck jolted her to life. She bolted from the truck, ignoring the hotness in her midsection.
Fifty feet.
More shots cracked, but none seemed to land in her general direction, no whizzing near her head, only the sounds of blasts. Upon entering the bush, a large snowbank presented itself and Jennifer dove over it, as if snow was going to protect her from a speeding bullet. Instantly realizing her ridiculous maneuver, she fell into a crawl in the snow and dirt, shots still sounding off, not colliding with anything around her.
She staggered through the trees without looking back. Branches struck her face, pine needles poked, and the wind stung her cheeks. She ran for a long time. There was no more gunfire along the way.