by Jim Goforth
"Do you think he's just gonna come right to Corey's house?"
"Well he might. I wouldn't put it past him. Like I said he's crazy, apparently more so than ever before."
"Surely he'd lay low for a bit. Even a dumbass isn't gonna come straight to Corey's house and demand his van back, or whatever. Taking a car isn't like killing somebody, what if he thinks we've gone to the cops about his body bag? That'd be incentive for him to stay away, at least for a little while."
"I guess," Lee said, but he didn't sound certain.
"Look," Blaise spoke up, her first contribution to the debate since Lee revealed his secret. "Honestly, let him come. If he wants to come right up to Corey's house, let him. We'll be there, we'll be waiting. He doesn't stand a chance. I'd rather go back and fix him up right now."
"We can't do that," Corey said. "My fingerprints are all over the van, not to mention that freakin' body bag. If we kill Haskell, or whatever, I'm gonna get done for it!"
"Shit, we'll throw him in the lake. Or bring him with us."
"To my house? That's the best idea yet," Corey scoffed sarcastically.
"We'll just have to hope he doesn't decide to pay a visit," Melissa said. "And well if he does...we'll worry about that when, and if it happens."
"Oh he'll come," Lee muttered. "He won't take this lying down."
"Maybe Raven and the Plebs will get him," Britt piped up. "If they ever get to this side of the lake."
"Maybe they will," Melissa raised her eyebrows. It was obviously a thought which hadn't occurred to her.
CHAPTER 19
Abruptly they were at the highway, the dirt track turning into tarred road for the final section before it ceased and the blacktop emerged.
At this hour of the morning traffic on the highway would be minimal to zero, bar the occasional trucker and other varieties of miscreants.
Blaise didn't even bother to indicate; she turned the wheel sharply and hauled the van to the left onto the road.
The sudden change in road was unbelievable and there were collective sighs of relief from the congregation in the back.
After the arduous bumpy journey of the dirt track exiting the lake, the flat blacktop of the highway was heaven to travel on, smooth sailing.
"How'd you know to go left?" Asked Corey stupidly.
"Town's left isn't it?" Blaise winked at him.
"Oh so you do go into town then?"
"We've been known to. We're not totally self-sufficient. Ain't like we raise cattle or grow wheat for food."
"Of course." Corey lapsed into an uneasy silence.
He should have been enjoying this journey, wedged in the envious spot between two delectable women with a host more in the back, especially now the rollercoaster ride along the worn dirt road turned into the cruise of the highway.
But he wasn't.
His brain was racing along with a twisted tangled conglomeration of chaotic thoughts, moving faster than the van which was saying something considering Blaise was driving well above the speed limit.
He thought about suggesting she slow it down a fraction and dismissed that notion.
When it came to rules on anything Blaise seemed to have elected to never read the book and probably never had any plans to.
To try and get his mind stable and away from the nightmare paths it kept persisting in following, he slumped back in his seat and eavesdropped on the various conversations in the back of the van.
Serena was predictably quiet, Britt was predictably lamenting about feeling unwell while the remainder of the women were discussing the likelihood of Raven's crew and the Plebs somehow making it across to Haskell's side of the lake.
Caroline and Jess concurred that they wouldn't make it, Rachel believed they would.
Corey heard nothing from Desiree, but he could hear Tasha speaking to Lee, attempting to allay his fears.
"Don't worry about this guy Lee, we won't let anything happen to you," she was saying to which Lee responded with a taciturn grunt.
"I mean he can't possibly be so stupid as to just follow us to Corey's house."
"Maybe not immediately," Lee said. "But he'll come. He is stupid, but he's cunning too, like a rat. He'll rally his boys and they'll work out a plan."
"As for killing this other guy," Tasha changed tact. "I know you didn't plan it, and to be honest it sounds like he deserved to die. Besides, we've killed plenty of people who deserved it too. Well, mostly Melissa, Blaise and Desi."
"Tasha!" Desiree blasted.
Melissa caught Tasha's eye in the rearview and lanced her with a look so cold it could have frozen the Sahara desert into a tundra of ice.
"You better think of the words you say before they come out of your mouth Tash," she warned.
"Just trying to make Lee feel better."
"Telling him we're killers is probably not going to do the trick."
Corey wasn't so much slumped in his seat now as sitting bolt upright, staring in the rearview trying to catch Desiree's eye, hoping to see something in her expression to refute the wild claims made by Tasha.
The expression of tortured consternation mirrored on her visage seemed to suggest otherwise, that is, Tasha wasn't fabricating.
He captured her haunted eyes for a fleeting second and then she looked away, pain on her face.
Corey's heart thumped wildly and erratically.
"So are you?" Asked Lee bluntly, his question directed at Melissa.
"What?"
"Are you killers then?"
"Never mind Tasha and her big mouth. We aren't going to kill you at any rate."
"Hardly answers the question."
"Forget the question," Blaise said with amusement in her voice. "Or we'll have to renege on Melissa's response right there and...kill you of course."
"Blaise!" Melissa blasted as Corey managed to catch Desiree's eyes again.
Shaking her head with despair Desiree broke eye contact and stared downwards.
"Just joking," Blaise defended her odd sense of humour.
"Not real funny."
Corey observed that Lee had fallen silent and evidently wasn't going to proceed with his line of questioning.
Corey guessed that Tasha's irregular attempt to cheer Lee up or make him feel better about things, instead, probably had a reverse effect.
If they were travelling in the van with a trio of killers, maybe more then perhaps, they were no better off here than back in the woods with the Plebs on their tail or on the banks of the lake antagonising Errol Haskell.
"Hey, don't stress guys," Melissa said. "We'll tell you everything about us once we get to Corey's. Trust me; we're not going to kill you. No harm is going to come to anybody in this van if we all stick together okay?"
"I don't think Desi would let anyone kill Corey, and Tash you're looking out for Lee right?" Blaise said.
"Yep," Tasha replied while Desiree locked eyes with Corey again and raised a faint smile.
She looked desperately as if she wanted to talk, as if she had so much to say to him, but here and now wasn't the time or the place.
With Tasha's words ringing ominously in his ears he got the sinking feeling that he really wasn't going to like what she had to say when they did reach the place and had the time.
"Let's play some music," Blaise suggested. "Corey, turn on the radio."
One hand steadying the shotgun on his lap, Corey reached down and switched on the radio, a discordant blast of white noise filling the van.
Obviously Haskell wasn't big on listening to the stereo while he drove; the station indicator was stuck between two stations.
He was probably too busy keeping his ears open for police sirens Corey thought as he twiddled the knob until he hit something resembling music, the chaotic outro of some guitar laden alternative tune.
"Yeah, that'll do," Blaise enthused as the song ended, replaced by the sinister strains of another, this one Corey was familiar with.
Rob Zombie, 'Demon Speeding', a song spookily remini
scent of the situation they were currently in with Blaise at the wheel, demon speeding down the highway.
As the thickly wooded trees lining the highway began to thin and disperse, indicating they were closing in on the outskirts of town, Corey noticed that a pinkish hue was beginning to creep into the black skies, lightening them.
Obviously the sun was preparing to rise up over the horizon, meaning that it was dawn, and soon the black of the night skies would abdicate in favour of the day.
Corey was somewhat relieved to see the sunglow tempering the horizon with brighter colour, he'd almost been fearful that he was going to be doomed to dwell in darkness for eternity, never privy to another sunrise.
It sure felt that way; the night had been a long one, an arduous unlit expedition of terror.
He was surprised at how wide awake he was.
It wasn't only he who was fully functional in the land of the waking, they all were.
Considering dawn had broken and the lot of them had been wide awake throughout the entire duration of the night, it was a wonder that none of them were yet exhibiting any signs of fatigue.
Come complete sunup though, Corey was willing to bet that eyes would be drooping, heads hanging, mouths cracking wide yawns.
Fear, anger, adrenalin, the whole congregation inside this borrowed van had been running on these things through the night and drifting off to sleep, becoming tired, letting guards down, had simply not been viable options.
Corey supposed his body must still have these various sources of ignition charging through it for he still didn't feel tired in the slightest.
He was too wired, too amped by fear, his mind racing far too quick to shut down completely and allow him to sleep.
Maybe once his head hit the heaven of a soft pillow he would be out like a light, but right now he couldn't even contemplate attempting to doze off.
He and Lee, and formerly Tim were quite used to keeping late or odd hours, but as a general rule on these occasions they were bolstered by the inebriating effects of alcohol, intoxicated until dawn to the point where sleep was often impossible unless they happened to go beyond that point and pass out in a drunken stupor.
In this instance any effects of alcohol had long since departed, or appeared to have done so, and it was the adrenalin buzz of fear, never mind the freight train of jumbled thoughts keeping Corey's eyes glaringly open.
With the jigsaw puzzle of cogitations already cluttering his brain, thoughts, fears, doubts, possibilities, scenarios, Corey didn't particularly want to dwell on what it was Desiree might have to tell him.
Nonetheless, niggling little gremlins taunted him, managing to work their slippery way into his already crowded mind to add to the stressful environment creating itself there.
He tried to tune it all out and concentrate on something clear and simple, like the thundering music issuing from Errol Haskell's speakers.
There wasn't too much joy or solace to be found there either, Rob Zombie's sinister tale repeatedly blasted lines involving darkness, the mouth of madness, and of course the demon speeding.
Blaise on the other hand seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the thumping driving music.
With her window rolled down, one elbow propped on the sill, steering one handed like a trucker on a long trek she tapped her thigh with the other hand, smiling blissfully.
Melissa had her window rolled down too and puffed nonchalantly on a cigarette, her eyes hooded and unreadable.
All those in the back were quiet, or maybe Corey just couldn’t hear them any more courtesy of the volume of the radio.
The sky above continued to lighten as the sun carried on with its ascent, the dark of the evening gradually being replaced.
The trees lining the highway were being replaced too, becoming sparser as they entered the city limits.
Houses and residential areas popped up on either side and they were no longer alone on the road.
Other vehicles, the majority on the other side passed by, departing the city headed for parts unknown.
"You directing me Corey?" Asked Blaise.
"Yeah. You've got a little while to go on this stretch yet."
"Are we there yet, are we there yet?" Someone asked from the back.
"Until the car stops it's probably safe to assume that we aren't," Melissa replied dryly, flicking her dead cigarette butt out the window.
Corey watched the scenery flash by, houses, bus shelters, businesses.
This was his town, but at the moment it felt strangely alien.
It felt as if he'd been away on a very long holiday or maybe even moved away for a year or so and upon returning things seemed so very different.
Things were different. On any other occasion Tim Hayworth would have been with them.
They probably wouldn't be driving a van belonging to one of their mortal enemies loaded with gun toting girls.
Yep, things were different. Very different. And not about to revert to normality any time soon.
A police cruiser suddenly raced past them on the other side, capturing Corey's attention.
It didn't have its roof light flashing and he couldn’t hear any evidence of sirens, but it sure seemed to be in a hurry.
Immediately Corey thought of where they'd come from.
"You see that cop?" He asked of Melissa.
"Sure did. You think he's headed for the lake?"
"Maybe."
Inwardly Corey was wondering if the cop was on the trail of Errol Haskell.
That would actually be a blessing in disguise he surmised, taking the threat of Haskell right out of the equation.
Even if his and Desiree's fingerprints were on the bag it wouldn't really matter since his weren't on police file anywhere.
He couldn't speak for Desiree, but he was pretty sure the police had a lengthy file on Haskell.
Here's a guy well known to authorities out at the lake in the early hours of the morning with a bag full of dismembered body parts.
Run some missing person reports, identify the dismembered corpse etc etc.
Case closed.
Corey could barely suppress a laugh at the ludicrous notion of Haskell hunched over the spilled bag, cursing and trying vainly to scoop the mess back inside the bag just as the speeding police cruiser pulls up and pins him in the headlights.
That was a scenario Corey was happy to run with.
He'd like to believe that the cop car was headed in that direction and was going to discover the unsavoury Haskell up to no good.
So that's what he believed, feeling much better about the whole situation.
Lost in his fanciful recreations of the next ten minutes or so for Errol Haskell he almost forgot he was supposed to be directing Blaise.
"Shit! Next right Blaise!"
"What?" Blaise turned down the radio.
"Take the next turn on your right."
"Sure thing."
Once again Blaise failed to indicate, hauling the van into an impressive sudden turn which had wails of protest issuing from the back.
Corey wondered where she'd gotten her licence, decided she probably hadn't and prayed that the cop hadn't pulled a U turn and was sitting on their tail right now.
"Left at the next street," he continued to direct. "Might not hurt to indicate either."
"Hey when you drive you can indicate. Other than that let me do the driving."
"Whatever. Just hope that cop isn't behind up."
Blaise tapped the rearview mirror.
There was nobody driving behind them, police or otherwise.
"Left again," Corey navigated. "And the number thirty four is me."
"Swanky neighbourhood." Melissa commented.
There was no sarcasm in the tone of her voice, rather an impressed inflection for her statement was true.
The area they were currently driving in was indeed as she termed it, a 'swanky neighbourhood'.
Most of the houses, though a better descriptive phrase for them may have been palaces, w
ere impossibly huge, towering three and four story dwellings set way back from the street with long, long driveways one almost needed to catch a bus along.
Many were plainly visible from the street with neat closely trimmed lawns, while the majority were shielded behind ornate hedges, fences or various garden shrubbery.
Some boasted elaborate and meticulously architectured gardens with fancy birdbaths, statues and water features, some had bare front lawns maybe because the spectacular features were hidden around the back.
None of them had any less than a two car garage; some of them were equipped with two door garages on either side of the abode.
Still more houses obviously didn't have enough garages and car spaces for they boasted the affluent likes of Mercedes, BMWs, Alfa Romeos, Peugeots and more parked in twos and threes in various driveways.
Not one house wasn’t laden with stickers and warning signs advising potential housebreakers that this residence was under 24 hour video surveillance or was safeguarded by all manner of electronic alarm wizardry.
One particular mansion encircled comprehensively by a towering wrought iron fence with a camera on the gate bore all the standard warnings as well as a large black lettering on red background sign advising all comers to 'Beware of Guard Dogs'.
Blaise then turned the volume level of the radio right down to a faint hum in the background and she'd also eased her foot way back off the accelerator, dropping the speed of the car considerably as she gazed around, taking in the surroundings.
"Wow," she whistled in a suitably impressed fashion. "Rich folksville. You own one of these behemoths do you Corey?
"Yeah," Corey replied, for it was true.
The passing of both his parents left him the only child, in fact the only surviving member of the Somerset clan, the sole beneficiary in their respective wills.
Corey's father had been reasonably well off, but his mother, daughter of a very rich pair of tycoons, had been extremely affluent. Hence for Carson Somerset, marrying into that family was a wise step towards an extremely comfortable future for any children.
Corey, the single child born of that union, was therefore quite a wealthy young man indeed, but it wasn't as though he didn't need the money.