Eidolon Avenue

by Winn, Jonathan

  He dragged her behind him, her eyes never leaving the building as her heels dug into the concrete. “No. Who are all these people? I can’t, I can’t, don’t make me, I can’t,” she said as she fought.

  He stopped.

  Under the awning outside the corner store, she stood. The blonde in the sun dress. She stared forward, down the street, and then turned, her eyes not on him, but on the building, the windows, the top where the rain hit the roof.

  It made his skin crawl.

  Moving quickly, he pushed Freckles into the empty hall, slamming the door behind them. “No, it’s too crowded.” She wrestled away from him. “There are too many people. I don’t like it. Let me go.” She scrambled back to the door. “It’s going to eat me. I hear it. It’s breathing.”

  “There’s no one here.” He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her to the stairs. “You’re coming in.”

  She suddenly gasped and grew tense, her arms reaching to the walls, her legs stretching out in front, her neck bending back to rest on his shoulder as her jaw clenched. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.” And then she grew limp.

  So, step by step, he carried her up to his apartment. Setting her down in the hall while he fished the keys out of his pocket, she leaned against the wall, quiet and still, her breathing shallow, her eyes fixed to the ceiling above.

  He hip checked the door open and, taking her hand, led her into the apartment.

  She stood, her eyes above him, to the walls, the ceiling, as he unbuttoned her rain coat and dragged it away from her shoulders. “Who are they?” she said.

  “Huh?” He threw her coat in the hall. “Who? That’s just Brody. Relax.”

  “Who?”

  “Brody. Brody!” He watched her. “My bud Brody. He’s cool. That is who you’re talking about, right?”

  “Fuck, dude, you tapping the bottom of the gene pool now?” Brody said with a laugh from the bedroom door.

  “Shut up!” he said.

  “What?” Freckles pushed back against the wall. “I’m confused. Who’s—”

  “Ignore him.” He pulled closer. “He’s nobody.”

  She shook her head. “No, there’s a lot of . . . I don’t know.” Her breath grew ragged. “There’s more than one. I don’t like them. Their eyes, they’re dark. Like people, but not people. And their fingers are like scary claws. And the smell, they smell, it’s—” Her cheeks blushed as she fought for breath, her chest rising and falling in quick jerks. “I don’t . . . I don’t like it.”

  “I’m telling you, man,” Brody said. “She’s fucking loony tunes.”

  “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, ignoring Brody. He cradled her face in his hands. “Relax. You’re okay. We’re just getting out of the rain for a minute, alright?”

  “I can smell that thing. Can’t you smell that thing?” Her eyes rolled back in her head as her chin titled up. “Oh my god, Mom, Mom? Help! This is wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong—”

  “Yo!” He gripped her face tighter. “Hey! What’s wrong?” He gave her a quick, violent shake. “Freak! Yo! Answer me!”

  “It won’t . . . stop . . . breathing.” She screwed her eyes shut and started to cry.

  “That’s you.” She shook her head. “You’re the one breathing, okay?” He stopped her. “You need to settle down. You’re fine.” He lifted the umbrella. “You want this back? Here you go. See? I promised. Take it.”

  She opened her eyes, her cheeks stained with tears. She ignored the umbrella.

  “You can’t leave.” She sniffled. “It won’t let you.”

  “You said I looked like a prince, remember? Remember that?” He forced a smile. “Wanna kiss a prince?”

  She shook her head. “I want to leave.”

  “Aw, c’mon.” He moved closer, pressing his body against hers. “Just one kiss? When have you ever gotten to kiss a prince? One time shot, right here.” A smile. “Yeah?”

  Another shake of the head, this one slower, more careful, her eyes on him. She started to cry again, her nose leaking thick streams of snot, her shoulders rising as she hiccupped and sobbed.

  “Shhh, shhh, shhh.” He traced a tear with his thumb, rubbing it into her cheek. “Relax. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She caught her breath, her tear-filled eyes watching him. “You lie.”

  ***

  Taking a break from the impossible act of stuffing fat dead Freckles in the laundry bag, Colton headed back to the kitchen for another swig of water.

  “You gonna cut her down, man?” Brody called out from the bedroom. “Slice the blubber off her ass?”

  “Do you not see the packing boxes, shit head?” The knife was a good idea, but every damn thing he owned was balled up in bubble wrap, crammed in a box and taped up tight. “Can’t get to shit, man. Besides, I don’t have time.”

  “Riiiiiiight. They’re throwing your broke ass out, ain’t that right, loser?”

  “Fuck you.” He opened the fridge and, the cap unscrewed and the bottle to his lips, turned to find Unnecessary in the chair in the living room.

  Outside, the heavens opened with a flash of lightning and a thunderous crack, the rain smacking the window with a sudden ferocity.

  Unnecessary sat with her legs open, the sundress wrinkled around her hips, her hands dangling at her sides. “That’s right. I moved her to the chair earlier. She’d fallen.” He stopped, searching for the memory of gathering her from the floor and lifting her and placing her there, in the chair. “That’s right, right, man?”

  No response from the bedroom.

  He looked at her. Her head had snapped to the side, the jagged edge of the broken bone threatening to poke through the flesh. A trickle of blood, a thin faint pink, had seeped through to wander down her shoulder and onto her chest.

  “I gotta move her in with the others.”

  Still no response.

  “I almost don’t want to move her.” He came near. His hand reached out to stroke her face, the fingers moving lower, tracing the lips, the chin, the neck, and lower still, to slip beneath the thin cotton and lay flat against the gentle slope of her breast.

  He caressed a large nipple. “Yo, Brody! You see these, man? Fuckin’ weird nips. Huge monster big and shit. Like the buttons on one of my old cashmere coats or something. They’re freaky.”

  His bro refused to answer. Fucker probably dialing his plug for more weed or something.

  He closed his eyes, thinking how the sight of those large nips had made his throat tighten and his stomach clench. He released the flat nub of flesh, his palm rubbing the skin instead. If he didn’t have the disastrous mess that was Freckles and the lingering disappointment that was Teeth to attend to, he’d lay Unnecessary flat, shove a pillow under her ass, force her hips open and take her again.

  He felt a stirring. A longing for release, for attention. I could take her quickly, he thought. Before she’s too cold and her body sighs clouds of disgusting gas and her skin pulls tight and grey.

  Lightning flashed and another deep rumble of thunder rolled through the sky to shake the room.

  He glanced toward the window. The rain was falling so thick he couldn’t see outside; his view a distorted waterfall rushing over the pane. The reality of what waited beyond hidden by this sudden, almost violent torrent of brief chaos.

  I need to focus, he thought. Freckles and Teeth waited.

  He turned back and took his hand away. Unnecessary’s head had swiveled while he was looking away, her eyes finding him. Cold and dead and lifeless, they stared, unblinking. He smiled, wondering what she saw. Was it dark? Was it empty? Was her spirit trapped somewhere, standing near, enraged and resentful?

  “I hope so, you stupid bitch.” He paused. “What is it with me and these stupid bitches, man?” He turned, looking for Brody.

  Right. Dude was scoring a blunt.

  Asshole.

  “What-the-fuck-ever,” he said as he turned to grab the baseball bat from the corner. “I got work to do.” An
d, swinging it over his shoulder, he walked to the bedroom.

  Unnecessary’s head swiveled to follow him.

  ***

  “Two hours, Freckles.” Still too frozen to move, the corpse of Freckles laid on the floor.

  Weeks ago, she’d died.

  Reaching down, he spread her legs apart. He slammed the bat down on the dead girl’s knee. It broke with a crack.

  “You’re hurting me!” she’d screamed weeks ago as he pulled her from the door and thrown her on the ground.

  “Had I waited just two hours . . . ” He paused, kneeling down to move the shattered joint, forcing it into a cleaner break that would bend and fold. “None of this would have been necessary.” He stood, focusing on the other knee.

  Brody sat near the window rolling a joint from his new bag of weed.

  “You good, Brody?” he asked as he held the bat.

  His friend sparked it up. “I will be, man.”

  Dead Freckles at his feet, he gripped the bat.

  Brody inhaled, holding it in. “This was the slow chick, right?” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Where the fuck have you been, man?” he said.

  “Short bus doesn’t do it for me,” he said, exhaling a cloud of blue.

  “Fucker.” Colton lifted the bat.

  Brody put the joint back to his lips. “So, you gonna do this or what?”

  “Please don’t.” She’d tried to crawl away weeks ago, her knees pushing against the floor as he’d grabbed her ankles. “Stop!” He’d dragged her back.

  The bat bouncing back with a deep thunk, the second knee snapped with a jarring pop.

  “Nice!” Brody said with a chuckle.

  “Don’t,” she cried weeks ago as he’d forced her on her back. His hands pawed at her clothes. Fabric ripping. Seams tearing. Buttons popping. “Stop!” Her large breasts exposed, she tried to cover them with her hands. “You’re not supposed to . . . I don’t want to—” He punched her quiet, his fist falling one, two, three, four, five times. Her nose had split, blood cascading down her lips, her cheeks, into her mouth.

  Crouching next to the body, he tested the second knee. Although broken, it was still stiff, the joint refusing to budge. He stood, the bat lifted high.

  “Help.” Weeks ago, her hands pushed against her bloodied nose, her palms dripping red. “I’m bleeding.” She struggled to turn over onto her stomach, her lips smeared crimson. “I can’t breathe.”

  “Don’t be a pussy, man,” his bro said.

  The bat fell. The corpse’s knee split. He reached down.

  “Ow, ow, ow,” she’d said as he grabbed her hair and lifted her off the ground. “Come with me,” he said. He dragged her into the bedroom, her rain boots stumbling across the floor, and thrown her against the freezer. Her face hit the metal, her front teeth popping loose as she fell to the floor.

  Bending and folding, the broken bone moved, the flesh tearing where the shattered knee peeked through.

  “Ow,” she said, her hand to her mouth, her palm discovering fresh blood where nuggets of white used to be. She cried again. “My teeth.”

  He grabbed her by the hair and lifted her to her feet. Pushed her against the deep freezer. “Open it.”

  He bent the knees, out and in, out and in. Yeah, nice and easy.

  “It gonna fit?” Brody said, looking at the bag.

  “Yeah, I think so.” He reached up, testing the arm. It moved, the shoulder rotating, the elbow bending. “It’ll be fine.”

  “Still . . . ”

  “I’m on it,” he said.

  “Fuck, yeah!” Brody said.

  “No.” She’d stood in front of the hulking white of the freezer, her clothes torn, her large breasts dangling, her pudgy stomach exposed, her flesh smeared with blood. Her words bubbling and wet with running red, the sound awkward as her tongue discovered the missing teeth. “Why?”

  Catching his breath, he lifted the bat.

  “Just open it,” he’d said to her.

  “I don’t want to.” She stepped back. “What’s in there?”

  He reached forward and, working the latch, lifted the lid. “You tell me.”

  “Dumb as shit slow chick,” he said. The bat fell.

  “A doll?” She glanced in to see the bent, broken body of Tits. “A really big doll? She’s naked. Why is she naked?”

  Missing the shoulder, the bat bounced off the front of Freckle’s head with a crack. “ ‘Why is she naked?’” he said, mocking her.

  “Why do you have a nasty doll?” She’d turned away. “That’s weird.”

  He grabbed her by the neck. “Look again.” He forced her to turn back. She screwed her eyes shut. He smacked the back of her head with his hand. “Open your eyes.”

  The shoulder snapped as the bat slammed into it.

  “Bottom of the fucking gene pool, my friend,” Brody said. He sat, his back to the wall.

  He bent over to test it. Yanked the arm up and wrenched it to the side. Easy-peasy. No resistance. Yep, broken. He stepped over the body, his feet on either side, straddling it.

  “I mean, c’mon.” Brody crossed his ankles, his legs stretched out.

  “What do you see?” He gripped her hair in his fist. “Tell me.”

  “It looks like a girl,” she said. “Sleeping. She’s sleeping. I don’t know.”

  “Going for those easy pickings.” Brody adjusted his crotch in his jeans and then folded his hands in his lap.

  “No, no, you’re right.” He moved behind her. “She’s a girl. And her eyes are closed.” He still clutched a fistful of her hair. “What else do you see?”

  He looked down at the body.

  Weeks ago, she shook her head. “No.”

  “Tell me.” He punched her. She cried again. “Is she pretty?” Holding her steady, he reached low to undo his belt buckle.

  She hiccupped, her sobs catching in her throat as she gripped his fist, trying to take it out of her hair.

  “Is she pretty?” he asked again, his voice dropping to a thick whisper. She shook her head.

  “Seriously, dude, short bus,” Brody said with a laugh.

  “No. She’s not,” she’d said as large bubbles of snot ran down her lips and dripped onto her chin. “She’s too white. She’s sort of blue. And her boobs don’t look right.”

  “Really?” He unzipped his zipper and stood behind her, her hair gripped in his fist. “How? Tell me. How do her boobs look? What’s wrong with them?”

  He caught his breath, the dead Freckles waiting between his feet.

  Weeks ago, she fought. He clutched her hair tighter. She gasped. “Ow!”

  “Do you know her?” His pants open, he pressed close behind her, smelling her hair, her neck. Pulled her head back so he could drag his cheek and lips and nose through the blood staining her face. “Do you?” She paused, silent. He tightened his grip. “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t know dolls. Dolls aren’t real.” She inhaled sharply, the snot sucked back into her nose. “I can’t breathe. Ow. That hurts.” Her hand returned to the fist in her hair.

  “Is she a doll?” He smiled, his free hand caressing the hardness in his briefs. “Are you sure she’s a doll?”

  Now, on Eidolon, he stood, straddling the dead Freckles,

  “Do it—” Brody said.

  lifting the bat high—

  “Do it—”

  and aiming for her second shoulder.

  “DO IT—” Brody said, his shout shattering the quiet of the room.

  “Ow. Stop.” She’d gasped as he snapped her head forward. Her eyes fell on Tits laying in the freezer, naked and pale and wounded. “What else would she be? This is a freezer. It’s dangerous. It’s not a toy.”

  The bat fell, bouncing off the collar bone with a sharp crack.

  “Nice!” His bro clapped his hands.

  He lifted it again.

  “If the lid closes, you can’t breathe, so you shouldn’t put people in—” She’d started to move, then,
weeks ago. Her feet turning to walk, to flee. Her hands pushing against the freezer, backing away. Her panic growing, she turned and pushed against him. “Let me go. Let me out. I have to go. My tutor, my mom—”

  He grabbed her and forced her back to face the freezer. “Do you want to go in there? Huh? Do you?”

  She was hyperventilating by then. Her breath difficult to catch, her fingers pushing the freezer away or wrestling with the fist in her hair or still trying to cover her breasts. “I want to go home. I want to go—”

  “Look at her. Watch her.” His knees forced her legs apart, a sharp blow with the elbow making her arch her back, his pants pushed around his knees as he shovedhimself deep while pinning her against the freezer. He ignored her scream and how she stood on her tippy-toes as if moving away from the sudden pain of the unexpected invasion. Ignored how she went silent as she fought for breath while he roughly pounded, skin slapping skin. Had finished quickly, his teeth sinking into the meat of her shoulder as he pushed deep one final time, and held still, the feel of her flesh in his mouth, the fold of her skin in his teeth, the taste of her blood on his tongue.

  He slammed the bat down on the second shoulder.

  “You took her, man.” His back still against the wall, his friend shrugged.

  And then again.

  “Owned that fucking bitch.” Brody’s hand reached low to adjust his crotch again.

  And again.

  “Just a nobody who meant nothing.” A smile on his bro’s handsome face.

  “Will you be my princess?” he’d said as he hoisted her, still alive and wounded and panicked, into the freezer, her limbs flailing as she awkwardly tumbled with a thump face-first onto Tits. She gulped and gasped, her hands pushing away the dead girl as she scrambled to her knees and tried to turn over. To lift and rise and stand and escape as she found her breath, found her voice and found her scream.

  “Shhhhhh, you need to cool down,” he said as he dropped the lid with a

  click.

  ***

  He’d waited until Freckles grew quiet in the freezer. He checked his watch. Ten minutes. Damn. New record, he thought. And then he left, heading to the bathroom to wash Freckle’s blood from his hands, his face, his dick.