And…
Bang
A flash of light. The last thing Drake sees. His body falls sideways into a crevice of the couch. And Josephine is left unsoiled. Untampered. Virgin. Maybe scuffed but still undefiled.
Lucius is left with an unquenchable guttural pain. A pain he’s trying to bar down, “I wanna snap his neck!” He’s roaring. Roaring until he scares birds from a forest of trees surrounding her property. His anger trembles over his body, reminding himself, “Breathe… Lucius… breathe,” he hyperventilates. “You gotta calm down.” His knees hit flooring over the rug, “Calm down. You’re gonna rip him in half, if you don’t calm down.” A few moments and he’s rocking, reminding himself he hasn’t killed anyone… yet.
Everything’s still okay. No rules have been broken. No evidence. As long as I don’t kill him, he reminded himself. As long as I don’t kill him. I can’t have his blood on my hands.
A few more minutes pass, before Lucius raises himself up, and takes one look at the scene. His lip curls beneath teeth, grabbing Drake’s hair, “Get off of her,” throwing Drake’s limp body away from a victim’s space.
Lucius forces himself not to look where he’s thrown the man. Simply pacing. His vision is waxing and waning in and out of walls, chanting, anything to keep impulses from taking over. What he wants to do and what he ought to do has melded together. Rules appear obsolete at this moment, so he chants until orders start to make sense.
Kill the viper. Rid the house of this piece of… evil. Protect Josephine. Josephine. Josephine, he thinks, She has no idea. She doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know I’m here. He glances toward the sofa, “She thinks I’m gone. Her father’s a fairytale by now. She trusts everyone. Her friends, Drake, and me. She trusts me. She wouldn’t trust a murderer. They’d blame her for his death. Both of their blood would be on my hands.” Several deep breaths and, “I’m calmer now.”
A quiet living room guided by the sound of a grandfather clock helps. He breathes in the scene from a semi-balanced mind. Her body’s molested, knocked out by an evil concoction of date rape drugs. Lucius is drowning from the situation. He couldn’t simply allow events to run their course. “I had to. Someday she’ll know that I had to.” A conundrum of faded lines blur in his mission. Who am I? Confusion disperses slowly, reminding him of duty. Reminding him of rules. “What am I,” and glances down at a lump of flesh in the shape of a man, knocked out by an unforeseen force. “I’m not him. This isn’t me. I’m smarter than this. I’m not falling for this,” realizing where the temptation has blossomed. “Mangoram bastards. This is what they’ve planned,” sealing his eyes, “The rules protect her, even when it doesn’t make sense, the rules protect her.” A tear rides his cheek and inhales, allowing his mind to awaken alternatives. Alternatives he can initiate amongst a broken situation. “There’s always another way, as long as I follow the rules,” nodding, “As long as they don’t know it’s me… and I don’t kill him,” glaring at a worthless bundle on the ground, “and I’m still blameless before I talked to her father. I can do this. I’ll give him a choice.”
Lucius exhales, nodding several times. “I feel better,” and sits beside Josephine. “I’m okay, little momma,” patting her hip, “You’re okay. I won’t let him hurt you.” He rests his arm over her, staring while the grandfather clock sings a tune. A quieted mind finally huffs a laugh, “I almost fell for it.” He moans relief, “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay. I didn’t break the rules. I’m still a good boy.”
◆◆◆
He gazes over her resting body. Gentle hands pull her ripped panties up and taps his finger over the seam. Material rebinds together, “Like it never happened.” He resituates her legs, pulling her skirt to modesty. “Baby, let me get you some pajamas to wear.” He gets up, purposefully not looking at trash currently lying on the floor. But kicks Drake like a pebble as he passes by. “Oops. Didn’t see you there.”
He opens the laundry room, searching through neatly folded material on a shelf. A pair of long camo pajamas rises a smile. He rubs his cheeks with the pattern. “Perfect.”
He slides camo over her legs, “Remember these,” tightening a drawstring around her waist? “You forced me to wear them,” and takes her skirt off, making her comfortable. Completely modest. “It’s…” catching his emotion and swallowing it down so he can talk, “It’s when I started calling you momma… remember that? Little momma? You were so bossy that night. You scared me a little.” He brushes her cheek, “I love how you fuss at me. Telling me what to do… what to wear,” gazing at peacock feathers, “every moment was exciting. Without even trying. I wish I could hear you getting on to me again. Especially, right now.” He kisses healing over her forehead and whispers, “That’ll restore your body enough to push the drugs out. But,” hitching a brow, “I want you to have a hangover. I never want you to drink with…” and signals back without looking, “that devil ever again.”
Lucius wraps her in his arms and slides on the rest of the pajamas. “I’m putting this over your shirt, baby. Gonna be chilly tonight,” and cradles her a few moments longer. “I haven’t held you like this in a while.” He pauses, “I miss you. I know it sends a chill through the air when I’m missing you so badly.”
Suddenly, a thought enters his mind.
“Oh, yeah. That’s right. It’s gonna be chilly tonight.” He floats her body gently to lie back down and presses off the balls of his feet. “Cowboys like camping when it’s nippy out,” flicking brows. He reaches for a throw blanket, and bundles it around her. “I’ll get you another quilt when I’m done taking trash out for you.” He tucks material around her and blows her a kiss.
When he pivots back,
Drake lies square in his sight, “Now… your turn,” snarling, “Let’s go camping.” Lucius grabs Drake’s feet, dragging him out through the back door. Leo presses his paws a few paces behind them. His tail swings high in the air. Lucius opens the back door, “You gonna patrol with me tonight, buddy,” swaying his arm with civility toward a fluffy cream-color, “Go ahead.”
Lucius walks over the threshold and Drake’s head thumps a step down on patio concrete. Using his telekinetic mind, Lucius shuts the door behind him. He re-gathers Drake’s feet and goes for a stroll.
“I’m not sorry to say…” nonchalantly gathering twigs and dew… maybe… levitating them into his path. Nothing he would openly incriminate himself over if asked. “I’m gonna immensely enjoy what’s about to happen to you, Drake. You always have a choice. Everyone chooses. For instance,” clumping through a couple mushy steps of mud, “… you chose to be a cowboy. A homeless rebel, gleaning hospitality from generous folk. I, on the other hand, chose to be a non-murderous, duty driven, redemptive sort of soul. But I will say, If I ever had a sinister laugh, it would be tonight,” allowing Drake’s head to drag through clumps, sticks, and rocks. A doozy of a jagged line wherever Lucius discovers debris of the open field.
“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret about me. You don’t know me, so… let me introduce myself,” and yanks his gaze over. “What’s that over there? I’m gonna investigate,” and travels over a fire ant pile in the distance. He takes a detour, merely visiting wildlife, allowing what’s natural to happen. “I feel like taking my time here for some reason.” His tread slows down. “It is, what it is.” Drake’s body disturbs a mound of soil. A mound that was asleep. Now, angry. Disturbed ground moves unsurprisingly to do what fire ants usually do… leaving their mark.
“As I was saying, before we picked up those hitchhikers a moment ago. I’m a soldier. I know what you are. I’ve known from the beginning.” He glances back, “I wasn’t always a soldier, Drake…” and trolleys over a few other bumps toward the barn. “I was an assassin. Before that…” he stops, gazing down with boiling eyes, “… a commander of a powerful army. You have no idea what I could do with a single thought.”
Lucius regains his previous traveling pace, “For reasons you’re not worthy of hearing, I cho
se to join the war.” He drops Drake’s feet and hunches over. Inches from Drake’s face, “A war, you’re too stupid to see you’re a pawn in.”
And
Lucius gestures broadly with an index to mimic Drake’s earlier claim, “What was that you told her at the bar? You have something on your face,” and flicks a few fire ants from his cheek. “Got some of them for you. Ain’t I nice?” The shadow of the barn door grazes over Drake’s body and Lucius closes the barn door behind them.
Lucius rearranges items in the barn, clearing out a space. He glimpses down at Drake and continues venting, “You see, I joined the war because I never liked someone coming in and claiming conquest over what’s mine. I still don’t. But you, you show up,” biting his lip, “… and try and consecrate my future bride!” He swallows a shout. Calm down, he tells himself. “Anyway. That doesn’t sit well with me. Not at all, seeing you over her was nearly the last mistake you ever made. I’ve erased people for less. She’s off-limits.” He takes a deep breath, “I’m actually being nice by this,” and Lucius takes a small step back, stroking his chin. “Let me tell you what I’m gonna do. You see when I know I can’t break rules, and someone like you shows up who apparently can, I look for anybody willing to fix my problem. Without payment. Someone stupid enough to do things I can’t. I mean… since you’re already doing a bang-up job for someone else for free.” Barn supplies pile away from the center. “You can be really stupid. I mean… I need someone really useful.” And winks at Drake, “Obviously, someone like you.”
Lucius opens barn doors with a couple steps over cedar, “I know there’s a line. I’m not technically crossing it. I give people choices. And, you’re not my assignment,” floating a hand in front of him, “I can’t stop a self-inflicted suicide. It’s all on you at this point.”
◆◆◆
Lucius picks through foliage, gathering his smile with a bouquet of poison sumac, poison oak, along with some sprouting cactus. “I hope you like flowers for your romantic evening under the stars there, Drake.” He sniffs fanning foliage under his nose, “None of these blossoms bother me. I wear a shield over my entire armor.” He taps his gear, sending blue and turquoise ripples over his body, “If you’re gonna wage war on another guy’s woman, you need actual protection… not this primitive, under the radar stuff you have. Pocket knives are toothpicks in this war.”
Drake’s clothes are ripped off, “Oops,” Lucius said, “ironic justice isn’t it? If they ask, and I’m sure they won’t, I was merely covering you up with what I could find. I’ll simply say, ‘poor guy. I found him stark naked, so I dressed him.’ I’m simply helping a fella out. Right? Welcome to my form of southern hospitality.” He slaps up Drake’s hand for a quick wobble and drops it over cactus, “How’s that for a handshake?” He snatches a pile of worn material from beside Drake and throws articles of clothing high in the air. They hang like ornaments on a tree, dangling across cedar branches. Lucius glances back, “Isn’t that how you like your clothes? Thrown way up like the banister earlier?” He shrugs, “Nothing but the best southern hospitality from me.” Lucius drops his knitted bouquet over Drake’s pelvic.
Plop
“Boy, it must be cold. Your body’s retreating into a nub. Much smaller than it was earlier.” Somehow the statement makes his foot press harder. Greenery sticks in place by cacti needles and thorns. “That should warm ‘em up a bit for ya. And you’re covered to boot.”
He exits the barn again, “Be right back. Not finished. Time for a grand finale.” Lucius walks the trail quickly, until… “Those are perfect. Time for some landscaping.”
Large beams of trees are ripped from the ground. He snaps them with two hands. Trunks are broken over his knee, making poles. He carts dozens of them into the barn, resting them like a tepee over Drake. Like a perfectly placed wooden prison. As he stacks them, one by one, he comments, “I’m actually levitating these to protect you. See what a nice guy I am?” He finally sets the last hairline triggered pole and smiles down at Drake in the middle, “But even I can’t over use my power on this property,” and telekinetically let’s go. “Don’t screw with this, Drake. This is your only warning.” Lucius cups his hand near his ear, “What’s that,” broadening his expression, “you can’t hear me?” His lips curl like sniffing something rotten, “Not my fault,” shrugging, “You were warned. Josephine hears me, I don’t know why you can’t. Maybe you’re just a suicidal, inebriated, crack headed, moron with delusional self-inflicted ideations. But that’s just my opinion.”
Lucius stands against the barn opening. A smile of admiring his handiwork stretches across his face, “I love it.” He spins around, walking toward her house, “Enjoy your campout, Romeo,” and shivers half a moment, “Gonna be a cold one for ya. Been missing her really bad already, then you pulled your stunt tonight. Now, I miss her all the more… thanks to you.”
Leo follows close behind and Lucius swings an invitation inside, “Come on in, buddy. Thanks for joining me tonight.”
Meow
“Well said, Leo. He does have it coming.”
◆◆◆
Hungover. Head throbbing. Sticky sap covered skin is stuck together. A naked man lies, barely draped with greenery. Drake wakes with chattering teeth, dull lips, and numb toes. He rubs clumps of dirt mixed with rocks covering his hair, “Headache.” A tad of laryngitis is setting in. Natural morning breezes through barn slats and he’s reaching for his bedroom fan. “Frick’n freezing in here. Bitch needs to turn up the thermostat.” He’s blinded by cold packed eyelashes as numb fingers tap across wooden slats,
but
no fan
or bedside table.
His eyes slowly open. And no mattress. “Where’s the house?” Greeted by foggy breath. Birds chirp with morning rays outside as he sits up, scooting his half-frozen butt cheeks against sawdust and cedar with a few pieces of loose corn feed. “I’m outside!”
Maybe a minute, but more like half a second before he realizes.
Cactus.
Sharp spines scream silently through his skin. Pain rises quickly to a level ten. His instincts kick in on him with a pull, “The fuuu… ahh,” he screamed, trying to loosen organic needles from his groin. “What the…” hyperventilating. He stumbles sideways to his feet. But stops when noticing
the beams.
The beams threatening to topple over on him. He holds his leafy green garment in place with hands a little more tender than before. Just barely over his shriveled pearls from the cold. He studies a wooden balancing act, and realizes there’s a dead man’s switch lording above him. “What the hell happened?” He’s scared to move, his neck barely twists over with a search for, “Where’s my clothes?”
Wafting material in the distance waves at him, blowing against pine needles. His tightening lip shakes into a snarl, “Some asshole has got it coming.”
And
wonderment sets in. Josephine was knocked out. Given a date rape concoction and probably still unconscious on the couch. Nothing adds up… but… his position sinks in slowly. “How did they do this,” yanking his head. “They must know I’m here,” searching for gun barrels, cameras… his boss. His shaking worsens, “Come on guys. I’ll get you your money. I’m working on it,” but nothing.
No response of chuckling.
“This isn’t like them.” His mind whirls trying to figure it out, If not them…
He waits, until hands feel nothing, toes have turned purple, and breath less foggy than three minutes earlier. “I’m freezing out here. Obviously not them,” and hollers out, “Jojo!” Laryngitis breaks his scream, “Josephine! Help me!” He blows his hardest breath with his fingers tucked beneath his lip, whistling, and completely stuck in place with only a vague SOS calling through early morning wilderness.
Lucius snuggles behind Josephine on a warm couch, smiling with the background music of faint whistles. “I’m loving this so much right now.” He strokes his chin, “I wonder if he’s found out what leaves are hol
ding his covering together?” He nubs his nose like a kiss one last time before getting up. “I wonder if he’s learning anything? Maybe he shouldn’t have drugged you last night? You might not awaken for a while.”
◆◆◆
Twenty minutes. High-pitched shrilling ensues with desperate whistling. Tough for a girl to sleep through. Josephine moans, pulling a couch pillow over her head, “Drake,” barely uttered before she realizes she’s on the couch. How did I get here? She’s too tired to concentrate on the how of last night, and more annoyed by her shrieking alarm clock, whistling across a banging head. “Drake,” hollering louder for someone upstairs in his room. Not helping her headache and lowers her voice, “Turn it down. Your television is too loud.”
No response from upstairs but the whistling persists… from outside.
She’s awake enough to realize the sounds aren’t coming from normal areas of the house. She gathers to her feet and looks out the back window, “What’s going on out there?”
“Dadgummit. She’s awake,” Lucius whispered as he leaned over the loft. “Guess I’ll watch the show.”
She grabs house shoes beside the door, sliding feet into fluffy cotton and catches an unbalanced waddle with the doorframe. She’s left rubbing her temple, “My head… hurts,” and balances herself. “I feel sick,” opening the back door with the light of morning stinging her eyes, “Maybe I’m dead. I feel dead.” Cold air brushes her face. “Burr,” grabbing a jacket. Josephine folds her arms with a stretching yawn, strolling toward the barn, “Hello?”
“Jojo,” a relieved voice answered, exercising in place to stay warm. “Yes. It’s me, Drake. Hurry. I’m freezing to death.”
“Drake,” confusion only worsens when she opens the barn door with a gasp.
“Please, call the fire department? I’m stuck in here!”
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