by Travis Pasch
CHAPTER TWENTY
Insanity
Zale's thin fingers glide greasily through his curly hair in an ill attempt to calm his nerves. He knows spending the night at Jade's complex would force him into an awkward power struggle where he would have no choice but to succumb to her wishes. Leaving town tomorrow without seeing her would be nothing short of a miracle. He wants to live comfortably for a change, this lifestyle is starting to weigh on him. His car floats into a gas station on the way home. He feels lucky beyond belief to find the restroom unlocked and outside. The mineral rich water scrapes harshly against his knuckles and forehead, he uses the pain to think. He pauses for a moment, staring himself down in the mirror, his eyes have aged terribly since moving here. Nearly every second of tonight took him by surprise. Azelia's ideals lined up near perfectly with his and to his surprise Jade hadn't contacted him at all. He was inches from telling her about Jade tonight, he can't believe he was almost that stupid.
Thinking about her slams an idea into his head, Jade would never expect him to stay at the site where Azelia killed Clint. He's more than sure there will be a few spots open, and more importantly, he can snoop around and see if the cops found out anything yet. The thousandth moment of doubt creeps into his thoughts, is Azelia serious about running away with him? Or has he served his purpose and now she's just trying to get rid of him? One way or the other, he'll know tomorrow. Another thought pops up, it's a terrifying one, nagging incessantly, will Jade hunt him down to the ends of the earth? He weighs the merit of telling her the truth about leaving, it doesn't take him long to realize the dreadfulness of the idea. Running as fast as possible from the evil, without looking back, seems the best option. He leaves the restroom with a clean body but a tainted mind. He peels out on his way to the campsite.
He arrives shortly. No attendant sits in the green booth instead a sign reads: "Pay in the morning if you arrive after eight p.m." He rumbles slowly through the winding roads leading to the tent sites. His choice of campsites is a wide open lot far from the road. He parks his car and climbs into the back of his cavernous vehicle. The farthest thing from his mind is sleep, but he knows he needs the energy if he's going to take flight tomorrow.
As he lays in his makeshift bed in the back of his wagon he lets his thoughts drift back to Azelia. As usual they disobey and sadly return to Jade. No matter how hard he tries he can't find the willpower to say no to her insane requests. He prays when the moment comes he can make the right choice, when it really matters. After hours of staring at the ceiling his eyes finally obey him and close, letting the darkness overtake his brain...
The hero picks himself off the floor of the dusty building, the weak wood creaks and groans against his power. The ancient wood smells of oak. He tries to dust himself off, it's a pointless venture in such a place, even the air is covered in years of unabated dust. The sun blasts its setting rays through the decrepit windows of the small one-story house. He can't remember why he was lying on such a dirty floor, the only thing he does know is that he needs to get out of here as soon as possible. He puts his ten gallon hat back on and turns for the door. An apparition materializes from the shadows and stops him dead in his tracks. The creature is some dark shadowy form of himself. He stands stunned, staring into his own reflective eyes, the clothes and hat are a perfect match.
"Who the hell are you?" he asks.
"Don't I look familiar?" the mirror image asks.
"This can't be real," the hero says.
"Why not? Why's it so hard to believe we're one in the same? Friend," the mirror image responds, taking a menacing step forward.
"You're not real, this is just a dream."
"What makes you more real than me?"
"I must be losing my mind..." the hero stumbles.
"I think you lost your mind long ago ranger. I'm just a manifestation of your madness," the image says with a smoke filled laugh. Without warning the mirror image's hand spans for its revolver. The hero's reactions kick in so fast he doesn't even register the shot he fires. The image falls to the ground, his fingertips on his gun, no blood comes from the wound, only thick smoke. The image laughs hardily from its compromising position, the laugh brings up all the more smoke.
"If only... if you could've realized what's going on, you might've had a chance," the mirror image expels through hacking coughs. He smiles as our hero kneels down next to him.
"If I was the worst of your problems, you'd have had too easy a life," he adds before pulling the hero close, his breath smells so strongly of smoke it hurts his eyes. After a short coughing fit passes it continues. "Just remember... if I go, so do you."
"You ain't' real, what difference does it make what happens to you?" the hero says.
"How you know you ain't just a figment of my imagination, not the other way round?" the image warns and laughs a deep throaty laugh. The hero tries to reel away but it pulls him even closer. Without warning another shot rings out followed by blood, and plenty of it. The hero's blood spills into his dense duster coat. The image disappears and he's left alone in the room, holding a hot gun to his own stomach. He tries to slow the blood with his hands but quickly realizes it's a vain attempt. The pain forces him into an instant numbness. The lowering sun brings a smile to his cracked lips, at least his end will be in the sight of something beautiful. His blood makes a small warm pool underneath him, keeping him comfortable against the growing cold. He doesn't feel like thinking about what the image said to him. He just wants to die in peace, and what a way to go, surviving everything but himself.
__________
The airport security had kicked him out hours ago. They cited some idiotic rule, saying he can't put a loaded and registered gun in his checked baggage. John ignored the minor setback and started driving, at least twenty hours have fallen since he started. He knows that little witch did this to his son, she just couldn't stand him coming back home and leaving her in ruin. She stole him away once, and now, she's taken him away for good. He can almost taste the revenge on his pockmarked tongue. He took his 1978 Corvette out of storage for this trip; if he's going to kill someone, he better do it in style. The only luggage littering the pristine interior is one small duffel bag. Getting kicked off the plane was a blessing in disguise, four more pistols and a multitude of homemade torture devices populate the bag.
He isn't sure just how much she made Clint suffer, so to be safe, he brought along a few tools. He's more than certain he can use them all well enough to make her end a miserable one. The night is unseasonably cool but the wind feels great on his face and it reminds him of when he, Clint, and his late wife would go on road trips. They used to go anywhere and everywhere on a whim's notice. He misses those days more than he can express, they were about as wonderful and simple as possible in this complicated world of hate. He swerves past a car in the left lane only going fifteen miles above the speed limit. The speed raises his spirits, he knows it's bringing him closer to his one and only goal...kill the bitch.
___________
A loud bang awakens Zale from sleep. He checks his stomach for a gaping gun wound, it all seems intact. A fist beats on his window, rhythmically destroying his sanity; he hopes the fragile window doesn't break against the battery. He covered up his windows last night out of habit. As quietly as possible he pulls aside the sheet closest to him. His heart sinks faster than a rock in still water; Jade's face is staring in at him. He hoped it was anyone else, even the cops coming to question him, anyone but her. Her appearance drops his chances of leaving to basically zero. Her presence can mean only one thing. He starts to sweat profusely, after only a couple of seconds of perspiration he's drenched. He wonders if he can just drive away and leave her here. He knows that won't really change anything, if she can find him here she could find him anywhere. He resigns himself to his fate and slowly gets out of his car. Maybe, just maybe he can convince her to let him leave, he truly doubts that outcome.
"You and your little girlfriend looked awfully comfortable last nigh
t," she says before he's out of the car. He freezes, unsure how to respond. "You looked so close, you convinced me to give you another task," she adds.
"Thanks... I guess," he says and notices just how diminished her angelic glow has become. Her ugliness is all too apparent without that beautiful glow. Why did he get Azelia wrapped up in this mess? Merely having Jade aware of your presence is a death sentence.
"How long have you been following me?" he asks more forcefully than he's ever asked her anything.
"Ooh, someone's getting feisty. If I'd known you would've been this grumpy I woulda' just killed you instead of waking you up," she says flashing him her gun.
"You're right... I'm sorry," he utters, his worst fear is manifesting itself.
"Aren't you going to ask what I want you to do?"
"Of course, what great task have you come up with for me?" he asks. His hands fidget involuntarily and his eyes cast themselves to the ground when confronted with her harsh gaze.
"I want you to kill your new girlfriend. What's her name again?" she asks with a widening smile. Zale's head snaps up and he blinks his eyes at her, his jaw reaching for the floor.
__________
The look of disbelief on his face gives no small amount of joy to Jade. She has him one way or the other now. Can he really say no? If he does, she can kill him on the spot. His feet and mouth are frozen; his hands continue their incessant fidgeting. The slight breeze leftover from the night helps break the awkward silence as the large trees whistle gently. Again she smiles and reaches her hand out to him.
"Come with me, we're each other's destinies now. Finally we can be one vessel, stronger than ever before. We've been struggling for power for far too long. There's no point in fighting it anymore," she says, grabbing his hand. He still hasn't moved but doesn't resist either. She continues, "Take the gun and finish things for good. It can all be over, just let me take control. It'll be so easy for you. We'll be together in harmony forever."
"Maybe you're right, I think I finally understand," he says and walks with her to her car. Her smile is now bigger than seems humanly possible, all her teeth gleam white and the corners of her lips touch the corners of her eyes. She pulls the keys from the small yet fashionable purse she carries and opens her car. Her car is so much newer than his it looks to be something from the far future instead of this year's model. She sits him down in the passenger seat and pats his head like you would to a small child.
"I'm even going to give you the weapon to use, I wouldn't want your gun to be tainted with such bad memories. All you have to do is pull the trigger. Redemption and paradise await that one small pull," she says and opens her glove box. The large pistol inside looks more like an assault rifle than a side arm.
"You want me to use that?" he squeaks.
"Of course, what's wrong with it?" she asks, using her other hand to hold tight to her pistol.
"Nothing, nothing at all. It's perfect," he says taking it from her just like a baby takes a bottle. Her manic smile returns at his acceptance. Without warning the cannon goes off, exploding through her stomach, she's blown back through the open door by the power of the weapon. The purse holding her gun goes flying off in the opposite direction. Blood pools so fast underneath her she can only guess at the size of the exit wound, maybe the size of a basketball?
The only thought populating her failing brain is revenge, she must get her gun. How could this have happened? As she painfully crawls through the dirt Zale kicks her purse away, taking no risks.
"How could you do this? You're only a figment of my imagination. I control you, I own you," she says, each word brings up more metallic tasting blood into her mouth. The taste of metal is so overwhelming she would be throwing up if she had a stomach left to do it with. Zale stares her down, his eyes betray the fact that he's finally realizing the truth.
"I invented you. You're nothing without me. I needed another side to survive... How could you turn on me?" she asks before deciding to not to talk anymore. She plans to let the reaper take her peacefully, he doesn't let that happen.
__________
He grabs her by her shirt and yanks her face close to his. "You invented me? You're nothing but a figment of my mind, I'm the one who's in control!" he yells at her. Instead of blood spilling out of her giant wound smoke billows in its place. She laughs at him and hacks up even more smoke.
"You think...You're in control? We would've died long ago. It was me, it was all me," she struggles.
"All you did was kill people. I would've never done those awful things," he cries, slapping himself in the face. He waits a few seconds for the world to shift and his reality to change but nothing happens. He's still just sitting there holding a dying woman.
"If you're the one in control, then you killed them, not me," she laughs.
"No... no," he whimpers
"We killed dozens upon dozens."
"Shut up!"
"Yes Sir!" she mocks.
"Please... please, just tell me the truth," he demands through gritted teeth.
"You can believe whatever you want. Obviously, you're more real than me. I'm dying and yet here you stand, my killer in shining armor," she says and laughs again hacking up more smoke. The noise of people yelling in the distance is slowly growing closer. He can't think of anything else to say, he must make his own truth from the situation. Long before his mind is made up to get moving she's cold and dead in his hands. The cold snaps him into reality and he pushes her onto the ground and hurries to his car. He remembers her purse with the gun and grabs it before jumping into his car. He slams the accelerator harder than his car can take and the wheels spin out, sending gravel flying in every direction.
His mind is a blur of thoughts as the beautiful scenery of the campsite flies by him. He only slows down slightly when he passes the row of police cars sitting near the entrance. Luckily his site was far enough away from the blockade that they most likely didn't hear the gunshot. Once he's out on the main road he jams the gas pedal once again and tries to make sense of the morning. He had done what was necessary. He killed Jade so he could escape this awful place. How could he not see her for what she was earlier? Why was he so blind? Was she a part of him or some odd alien sent to destroy his true self? He shakes his head and tries not to think about the possibilities. Either way, he's done frightening things and has no choice but to run. He picks up his phone to call Azelia. He did what he had to and that is all that matters.
__________
The vibrating phone against Azelia's leg makes her jump. She's been on edge all morning, every time she turns a corner she imagines a police barricade waiting for her. She tentatively peeks at the calling number; it could always be a nosy detective. She lets out a sigh of relief when she sees it's just Zale.
"Hey, what's up?" she asks, while jaunting from work to her car as fast as she can without breaking into a full run.
"Ready to go, what about you?" he spurts.
"Yeah, just got my check. Did you take care of what you needed?" she asks as she reaches her car.
"Sort of, I'll tell you about it later. But I really think we should leave as soon as we can."
"Cool, where you wanna' meet?"
"Let's go to the pizza shop. I'll be there in fifteen minutes," he says and hangs up the phone. She's only a few minutes from there and her stomach forces her to use the spare time to grab a fast food breakfast.
She orders a massive breakfast and nearly polishes it off in the early morning heat by the time she arrives at the designated parking lot. Paranoia wouldn't begin to describe her fears this morning, and she swears the car sitting in the lot opposite her has been following her for the past hour. The car is rare yet unbelievably familiar to her, Clint's dad had one just like it. Everything about it screams danger, despite the worry she tries to convince herself it's merely coincidence. She eyes her car clock, hoping Zale will arrive on time and goes back to finishing her meal. She keeps a wandering eye on the car the whole time.
She rubs her stomach, more than content, and checks the clock again after the meal is fully demolished; he's late. The trash occupying her passenger side plagues her thoughts and she bends down to clean it. Millions of tiny pieces of glass rain down on her bent head. A giant meaty hand blasts through the weak window and reaches down, yanking her entire body up by the hair.
"I know what you did to Clint!" a gruff voice yells into her face, an abundance of hot spit splatters against her red cheeks.
"What're you talking about!" she yells, trying to thrash away from the hand. The man's grip is far too powerful for her to escape.
"Look me in the eye and say that! You killed him!" he yells at her. She turns her eyes up to her assailant and nearly faints.
"John?" she utters in disbelief. "How... how did you find me?" she says momentarily stopping her struggle.
"You think it was hard? You still worked at the same shitty place as when you first came here and you're driving the same car. Not to mention your ratty hair cut hasn't changed," he seethes and drags her out of the car, raking her over the jagged remains of her window. Blood instantly becomes an integral part of the disturbing scene. She tries with all her remaining strength to resist him, he's so much stronger than her she puts up less of a fight than a sack of grain. He's laughs with a childish glee every inch he manages to drag her closer to his car.
__________
John's revenge is so close he can nearly grasp its ghastly tendrils of hope. He drags Azelia's kicking form across the rough pavement, trying his damnedest to make every inch they travel hurt.
"Just you wait girly, just you wait," he says before singing in a doo-wop style, "Just you wait, I'm gonna rip, I'm gonna tear, I'm go..." his song is cut short. His giant frame is slammed to the ground so hard a couple of his rotting teeth make a run for it down the street and he loses his grip on her. She spins away from him and runs. The amount of blood spilling into his mouth doesn't seem to be at all coming from Azelia like it should. He tries to prop himself up with his left arm but only succeeds in smashing his bruised face back onto the street.
He looks quizzically at his useless arm and realizes half of his shoulder seems to have run away with his missing teeth. He tries to grab the object of his vengeance through the pool of his own blood but she's too far away. She is running, running to another man. Through the slow reddening of his eyes he sees the puny man grab her up in his arms. How could she do this to Clint? Go from such a truly great man to such a disgusting worm. Then it all makes sense, she didn't have the guts to kill, she must have gotten this little lackey to do it for her. He vows to not only to kill her, but him as well now. He tries to save the image of the two in his mind but something keeps pulling him away from his thoughts. The sounds of the busy world slowly fade away and he lets his thoughts drift to Clint as the blackness slowly overcomes him.
_________
"Do I need to take you to the hospital?" Zale asks the bleeding Azelia, resting in the seat next to him. Luckily she's wearing jeans and two t-shirts so the glass was stopped from lacerating her completely. He feels inconsiderate for thinking it but he wishes he would have put down a towel for her; he hates to see his precious car being stained.
"I don't think that would be a good idea, besides I'm not hurt too bad."
"You sure?"
"Looks worse than it feels. I might wanna clean myself up in a little, you mind?"
"Of course not. You want me to stop here?" he questions, rubbing her leg while trying to avoid hurting her or cutting himself on the glass stuck in her pants.
"It can wait. Did you kill him?" she asks. She leans her pounding head back and closes her eyes.
"I hope so. Who was that?"
"Clint's dad," she answers and slowly nods into sleep. Zale shrugs, nothing seems to faze him any longer. He drives with joy in his heart out of the city that has caused him and Azelia so much trouble. He looks at her sleeping form, he knows she is his salvation. The silent ride gives him plenty time to think back on the past six months, the more he thinks about what's transpired the more he realizes he is crazy. The thought only makes him smile.
Epilogue
The dust blowing across Zale’s porch, brought by the warm desert wind, only brings thoughts of peace and tranquility. He rocks with Azelia nestled against him in the swinging chair hung on their small yet immaculate front porch. The house they’ve been staying in the last year is a true heaven, nothing but them and the desert. The old Victorian house would be considered small by most, but it’s more than big enough for the two of them.
Zale rubs her pregnant stomach with glee. He never thought in a million years that he would be a father, but now that the idea has presented itself, he couldn’t be happier.
“Want another lemonade?” she asks.
“Sure,” he answers smiling up at her. Azelia nods and disappears inside. He looks around and has only one thought:
“Paradise.”
__________
The groaning floor reminds her for the thousandth time that her newfound life is a swinging pendulum from utter joy to destitution and paranoia. Lemonade splashes over the barely full glass as she sets it down painfully on the counter. She tries to quell her shaking hand to no avail, the baby kicking in her stomach forces her into a form of docile submission. She takes a deep breath and refills Zale’s glass with the blistering cold liquid from the refrigerator. The sickly blue of the walls is but an extension of her own depression. She uses her wobbly arms to stabilize herself. The heat is going to make her pass out any minute. She thrusts her head into the freezer. She wonders how long she can keep this act up, she uses the idea of the baby to give her the necessary resolve. She pulls a small pouch from her bra and opens it carefully.
“You get lost in there?” Zale calls from the porch. She fumbles the pouch. Her heart almost explodes through her mouth. She recompenses herself quickly and the small amounts of arsenic slip easily from the little pouch into its drink.
“Coming honey!” she calls back. Trying her best to speedily clean up the spilled lemonade and poison.
“How many times do I have to tell you? I hate when you call me that!” he yells.
“Sorry… I’m so sorry. Zale you know I only call you that because I love you,” she stumbles but manages to hand him the glass with arsenic.
“That’s even worse! You know my name… say it.”
“Please, please… just don’t hurt the baby,” she whimpers.
“It’s simple, just say it,” Zale says
“Jade…” she whispers. He throws the drink into the sink and reaches for a knife.
“You want a lemon in yours?” he questions. His knife expertly cuts the fruit into four equal slices. She lies in a heap on the ground, unable to control herself any longer. Her sobbing forces him to turn to her. “Oh my God! What happened? Are you all right?”
“I… uh…” she stutters and tries to grasp his new personality and her shifting reality.
“Your delusions are getting worse by the day, let me go get your pills…”