The First Culling

by Michael Eicherly

  Cindy answers the door. She’s not the same Cindy as before. He’s been watching her. She looks much older now. More mature, more, well, you know, attractive. It’s weird in a good way, he thinks. She looks twenty now. What happened? Her hair is longer, it’s highlighted blonde, no glasses, her eyes a bright green. She wears low-cut jeans, a tank top, and dark eye makeup. What the heck, her upper body has grown, seems overnight.

  “Can I help you?” asks Cindy.

  “I’m Detective Santos. Blackhawk Police. There has been a death in this neighborhood. I need to talk to you both.” Cindy looks at him as if God punched her in the stomach. Her voice tightens.

  “We’ll ok, well who, what, where?” The Detective looks her over and raises his eyebrows.

  “Am I going to stand out here all day?” Linda walks to the front door.

  “Cindy, what’s going on here?” asks Linda.

  “Hello, ma’am, good afternoon. I’m Detective Santos, I’m here to ask a few questions about the death of Cindy’s friend, Tara. Tara Jacobs.” Cindy’s face now turns white.

  “She was here Friday night,” Says Santos.

  “Yes, we heard. I’m sorry, please come in,” says Linda. “Cindy, stop being so rude.” She nudges her daughter on her arm.

  Detective Santos follows Linda and Cindy to the living room. Linda and Cindy sit on the couch by the bay window. Detective Santos takes an old antique chair. Grandma’s chair.

  “Fine chair, comfortable,” says Santos. “Oh, you don’t mind if I sit, do you?” Detective Santos looks at Cindy. Cindy nods yes. Detective Santos looks around the home.

  “Nice place you got here. Been here long?” he asks.

  “What happened?” asks Linda.

  “Did Tara Jacobs sleep here last night?” the Detective asks.

  “Yeah, why?” replies Cindy. Detective Santos looks over Cindy for a moment. He knows she’s being a smartass. Detective Santos was taught “A smartass is a mule with half a brain.”

  “Your friend was found early this morning. She’s dead,” replies Santos.

  “Is this a sick joke? No way, impossible. When we woke—”

  “Who?” asks Santos.

  “Me and Rachel. Rachel was here last night.” Santos looks over Cindy again.

  “Yeah, I know,” replies Santos.

  “She left last night,” says Cindy. “That’s all we know.”

  “What time?” asks Santos. “I said what time!” Santos exclaims. Santos gathers his thoughts for a moment, then calms down. He knows what happened. He feels it in the house. Kind of like a bad card name. Everyone is bluffing.

  “3:00 am,” says Cindy. Detective Santos takes out his pad and takes note. Detective Santos looks over Cindy then sighs. Then observes Linda. Linda appears to be in bit of a daze. And awfully nervous. Looks as if she’s in a Morphine movie, thinks Santos.

  “Why are you here?” Asks Linda. Do you think my daughter is involved? Is this a sick joke?"

  “I’m afraid this is no joke,” replies Santos.

  Cindy breaks down and begins to cry. She places her hands in her face.

  “Oh honey, I’m so sorry,” Linda says to Cindy. “Tara was like a sister to Cindy. She ate and slept here all the time.” Linda shakes her head, appearing to wake from her trance.

  “I’m sorry, Detective Santos, right? Now what’s going on round here? I was miles away.” Says Linda.

  Detective Santos grins and shakes his head in disapproval. He writes in his note pad.

  "We know there are no signs of burglary, or forced entry. The rear sliding glass door was open, the side gate open, no footprints anywhere. Inside and out. No dirt, not even in the biggest storm of the last century could wash away evidence. No perpetrator blood, no footstool, no human hand marks on the body or eyes, no sexual entries.

  Detective Santos leans towards Linda. That is what’s going on round here. “I think is was someone she knew.” He looks at Cindy as she nestles her head in her mother’s breast. “What concerns me the most is Tara’s neighbor next door has a German Shepherd.” Not just any Shepard but trained by Orange County Sheriff. “Not a sound, a wince, a cry from the 125-pound beast. Not a peep all night.”

  “Oh Lord,” says Linda. She places her hands over her mouth.

  “No way, not Tara. She wouldn’t do this to herself. Someone had to do it. We’re best friends. I’ve known her since we moved here.”

  “I know this. I found her Diary in her nightstand.” Cindy’s face turns beet red.

  “This is why I am here.” Says Santos.

  Detective Santos reaches for a handkerchief and hands it to Cindy.

  “Here. Cindy, did Tara say anything at all before she left? Did she mention a boyfriend? Somebody she met online? Did she receive or make any calls that seemed unordinary?”

  “She doesn’t have a boyfriend, just guys she says who are friends. If something was wrong, or somebody was stalking her, someone bothering her, she would have told my brother. Steven would have kicked his ass.” Cindy begins to frantically cry.

  Detective Santos writes in his black book?

  “I understand this is hard of you.”Says Santos. I tell you what, I’ll come back in a few days. Wait until things calm a bit. There will be a few more questions. Is that ok with you, Cindy?" Cindy nods yes.

  “Is your husband home?” Linda’s face expression changes to that of anger and discord.

  “No, he went to a sports bar with one his friends this morning.”

  “At what time?”

  “Aw, come on now. You think my husband is involved with this?”

  Santos interrupts, “No, ma’am, I’m not implying anything. It was a question, is all. In time, the whole neighborhood will be questioned. And you sure there were no calls last night?”

  Linda holds Cindy while rocking her like a baby. She glares at the detective. This is her house! she thinks. Her family, her husband. How dare this Mexican sit in my house and question my daughter this way? How dare he questions this family’s honor and integrity?

  “My daughter has no other information,” Says Linda. “You already see she’s suffering. So, what’s the problem here? She didn’t kill her, you know that. Tara left and that’s all we know. Now please, give us some time alone.”

  Detective Santos sighs and nods with approval. His work is done here. Now he knows what’s going on. What to do. Who to follow? What neighbors to visit. Yeah visits, my little visits. I like visiting, he thinks to himself.

  “Ok, I understand. I’ll be back in a few days,” replies Santos. He gets up from the chair and heads out the front door quickly. Linda follows. The detective exits the door.

  “Thank you for your time,” says Detective Santos.

  Linda shuts the door with force, then walks back to Cindy.

  "Sweetie, are you ok? Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll find out who did this. Every one of them, sweetie.

  Detective Santos stands outside the door and listens. “Every one of those evil sons of bitches.” Linda gets up from the couch and looks at Cindy laying in a fetal position. “I’ll get you a Coca Cola.” Says Linda. “And some Ding Dong’s.”

  Chapter Ten

  Cindy walks down her neighborhood street. She’s headed home after a long walk in the community park. The whole time, she tries to figure out the death of Tara. In the distance, she thought she saw Detective Santos watching from a car.

  She walks and hears sounds of sirens in the distance. Neighborhood dogs cry and bark, and the cold fall ocean breeze sets in.

  Cindy thinks of the sleepovers, the late breakfast with her parents, the laughter, the tears, the stories, the boys, the bad grades. Most of all, the dreams they shared together. Cindy places her head down and begins to cry.

  She walks to her driveway and sees a black BMW Convertible in the driveway. Cindy smiles and thinks, Perfect. Her big sister is here. She’ll make things all right. She always has and always will.

  Kelly is 23 years of age and eldest of th
e kids. She is tall, slender, good body, dark hair and size C breast. She’s always been very popular. Especially with her ex-surfer boyfriend who rides the waves on the north side of Huntington Beach pier. She likes wearing expensive, designer jeans, heels, tank tops, and leather jackets. Kelly is a senior at UC San Diego. She is home on a surprise visit. Or needs more money.

  “So, how is she taking it?” asks Kelly. Frank and Linda are sitting at the dining area table. Linda drinks a cup of tea out of her favorite white and blue china cup. Frank sits as usual drinking a Beck’s Beer. It’s surprising to Linda that Kelly is also drinking Frank’s beer. She at her wonder, worry and concern.

  “Well, we discussed her seeing a psychiatrist. It’s hopeless. All she does after school is lock herself in her bedroom. She spends most of her time listening to ‘Bauhaus’ and the ‘Rolling Stones.’ She doesn’t go to church anymore. She shows no interest in school activities; Nothing. We can’t figure things out.”

  As Linda speaks, Cindy stands around the corner facing the doorway. She won’t let Mom and Dad spoil the reunion. She won’t let Mom and Dad destroy the last love of her life. She won’t. Mom and Dad, don’t say it, don’t think it, Cindy. Stay away from me, or I’ll kick your ass. Kelly is here. All pain is lost. Excited, Cindy runs into the dining area. She jumps on her big sister’s lap.

  “Hey there, my little sis, what’s up?”

  Cindy gives Kelly a big hug and kisses her on the cheek. Cindy starts tearing as Kelly rocks her back and forth to console with every movement.

  “Oh, how I missed you.” Says Kelly.

  Kelly looks over her parents, disgruntled and concerned.

  Grandma sits in her chair, blue robe holding her cane. Distorted hair and loving smile.

  "Mom told me what happened to Tara, I’m so sorry. I know how close you were. Is there anything I can do?’

  “There’s really nothing to say. I’m tired. Mind if I go upstairs?”

  “Sweetie, aren’t you hungry?”

  “Nah, I just need rest. I don’t feel like talking right now. Good night, Dad.”

  “Good night, small fry.”

  “Good night, Mom,” says Cindy.

  “Good night, honey,” says Linda.

  “Hey, good seeing you,” says Kelly.

  Cindy looks at Kelly and smiles. She runs upstairs. Only sound heard is the pitter-patter of her footsteps. Kelly looks at Frank and Linda, and sighs. She takes a drink of beer and sets down her bottle. She studies the bubbles as they slide down the bottle’s interior. She looks at Frank.

  “Dad, what’s going on?”

  Cindy walks through her bedroom door. She stops, sighs, and grabs a picture of her, Tara, and Rachel from the bookshelf. The picture is of them cheering for the Blackhawk Pop Warner football team. She lays on her bed rubbing her finger over Tara’s face, gets up and heads towards her private bathroom. Cindy shuts the door, then strips down to her panties and t-shirt. She looks in the mirror and speaks to herself. “Man. Check me out. I grew overnight. Finally! Wait until Timmy gets a look at these. The little shit.”

  Cindy pulls her hair back and washes her face. She again, thinks about Tara and the night before. She remembers the three of them, hands on; the homemade pentagram, and laughing hysterically. Cindy brushes her teeth thinking about Old Man Harris, and other deities they called on out of Grandma’s black book from Ireland.

  The lights flicker in the bathroom. She hears a voice in the bathroom. It speaks to her ever so softly.

  “Kill yourself, Cindy.” Cindy turns around quickly as goosebumps appear on her arms. Cindy shakes her head and continues her bedtime routine. Cindy looks in the mirror, admiring her eyes, then puckers her lips.

  “I’m so damn tired,” she says. Cindy has not been sleeping well. She usually wakes every three hours throughout the night.

  “Cindy, it’s not your fault I’m dead.” It’s Tara’s voice again. This time a bit louder.

  Cindy looks away from the bathroom mirror and opens her bedroom door. She looks around quickly, as a book falls by itself to the carpet floor. This doesn’t bother Cindy. It’s happened many times before. Cindy shakes off the episode and continues brushing her teeth. She hears Tara’s voice again. This time louder and a bit deeper. The tone sound’s almost inhuman and brings chills throughout her whole body.

  “Cindy!” She whimpers and turns to her right. She thought she felt something grab her arm.

  “What the hell?” The bathroom lights flicker then dim once. Cindy pays no attention. It’s not an unusual occurrence. She just thinks how tired she is. So much is now happened. It will all be over soon, she thinks.

  Cindy uses mouthwash. She swishes around in her mouth for a few seconds, leans over, and spits. As she spits out the mouthwash, an apparition appears behind Cindy. It’s Tara’s dead body. Her arms reaching out. Cindy stands upright, and the apparition vanishes. She wipes her mouth, then the lights flicker again. “Cheap ass house,” she says to herself. A sudden feeling of despair and panic overcomes her now. Her heart begins to beat faster, and she feels faint. The door on the bathroom knocks four times loudly. The door swings open quickly by itself. Cindy jumps and yells aloud. “Gosh darn it! What the heck!” Cindy exclaims.

  “Honey, what’s wrong. Why are you screaming?” asks Linda.

  “Because you scared the shit out of me. Can’t I have a little privacy in my bathroom? Gosh.”

  “Young girl, watch that tone with me. It gets old fast. I’m just checking on you. Thought you might be hungry.”

  “No!” Cindy says in a rude tone to Linda. “What I really want is to be alone and sleep. I’m just… I can’t explain now. Things are bit screwed up right now. Mom. I’m not in the mood for really anything right now. No offense, I just want to be alone.” Cindy’s voice is a bit cold and distant. Linda curiously looks her daughter with a pseudo smile.

  “Ok, well, Dad and I will be downstairs if you need us, hun. Ok?”

  “Fair enough. Ok then,” replies Cindy.

  “Ok,” says Linda.

  “Ok then,” Cindy replies sarcastically. Linda stands in the doorway staring at Cindy.

  “Mother, for God’s sake, leave!” Cindy Exclaims.

  Linda leaves the bathroom and softly shuts the bedroom door. She slowly walks downstairs as Cindy waits until the coast is clear.

  Cindy exits her bathroom and picks up the book that fell off her bookshelf. It’s a book Tara gave her on her birthday last year. The book is ‘This Present Darkness.’ Cindy admires the book and places it properly back on her shelf. She looks at the cheerleading picture again and thinks of all the good times they all have had together.

  Cindy turns quickly to her right and sees the Angel Ouija board sticking halfway out from under her bed. She neatly stored it under her bed earlier. Why is it out now? she thinks, it wasn’t out when I walked in the room. Cindy grabs the board and sits atop her bed. She runs her hand over the symbols as she notices the hairs on her arm starting to tingle. Cindy looks at the cheerleading pictures again, then looks out the window. The fall afternoon wind begins to blow from ashore.

  Cindy speaks aloud to the Angel Ouija, “Haven’t you caused enough trouble? Thought I put you away already. You need to stop this. Yes, now I said it, stop it now, or else.” Cindy places the Ouija board back under her bed. She looks at her reflection in the mirrored wardrobe and smiles. Behind her, the bathroom door opens very slowly, then closes quickly. Cindy places her hand over her mouth then chuckles wickedly.

  It now gets dark at 5:00 pm. Cindy’s always liked the dark. Especially when it rains, especially when the wind blows, especially when it gets cold. So cold, the heater is on. The noise in the background puts her to sleep. Tells her stories of her youth, places her in a dream world. A world away from all the crap at home. The crap at school. Timmy, oh, Timmy. You’ll get yours, Timmy, this I promise, you’ll get yours.

  Cindy turns off her bedroom light. Tonight, she’ll keep the night-light on. Tonight, she will l
isten to Heart. ‘Dog and Butterfly, Mistral Wind.’ Yes, that’s my favorite song, she thinks. She and Tara used to lay in bed together listening to it. The times when they were supposed to be doing homework and studying. The times they learned to kiss. Lights off, the serenity of the night-light, candles and of course the calming of the music.

  The wind begins to holler outside. The force of the wind makes her window shake. Startled but not afraid, she reaches at her nightstand, and turns out the light. She takes out a lighter and lights a candle. Her favorite candle. Cinnamon, Pumpkin Spice. I like that smell, she thinks. This smell always helps me sleep. Cindy’s eyes begin to feel a bit heavy. The wind outside her window is familiar again. Sounds kind of like people. People that speak in her dreams. Cindy looks around her room as she lays on her right side. Her window rattles with the wind, as a tree branch scrapes her window. It looks to her as if a large arm and pointed finger is trying unlatch the window. Cindy has a large ugly circus clown that sits in a white rocking chair. She stares at its face as the candle-light changes its expressions. She looks at her assortment of stuffed animals that sit atop her dresser. Her closet mirrored wardrobe door. She looks at herself as the music begins to climax, then the bathroom door. She watches open and close ever so slowly. The movement of the door sooths her, is familiar to her. She is not scared.

  The tree branch antagonizes Cindy as it tries to open her window and get her. Cindy likes this feeling. She likes everything about this night, except Tara. She misses Tara, and wishes she was with her. The perfect night she thinks. Cindy now falls asleep. The record ends and automatically shuts off. The candle continues to dance as she falls into a deep sleep.

  Cindy is at Tara’s funeral. Everyone has left. She is alone on her knees looking at Tara’s gravesite. The grave-diggers lower Tara in the ground, as she asks for some time alone. It begins to rain over Cindy’s black umbrella. She’s draped in a black dress with black shawl over her head. She wears Ray-Ban sunglasses and rose-pink lipstick. All the guests mentioned how fashionable she looked. How she’s growing into a fine young woman. What a bunch of shallow assholes, she thins to herself.