The Ripper of Blossom Valley

by S D Christopher

  Before we got to California, I thought Nevada was the worst place on Earth. Reno was bad enough, its slums sitting right beside its shiny lights, a mini-Vegas from hell. But the surrounding towns were even worse, nothing but junkies and meth-heads. I even helped a few cross over, losers that they were. They were lost in their own little worlds, needles and pipes scattered all around them. One even begged me to let her live to see her son again, like she deserved that. He certainly wouldn't have wanted to see her, not like that. She'd never get clean, and we both knew it. It was all I could do to keep Jess from tearing her arm off and beating her with it.

  We moved from trailer park to trailer park, since we couldn't afford no motel or nothing fancy like that. And we only slipped away at night. That was Jess' idea, to keep the rest of the junkies from IDing us. She's pretty smart for a girl who can suck a golf ball through a garden hose. Once we'd freed enough of the junkies of most of the cash they'd been using to slowly kill themselves, my baby was all fixed up, and we got the hell out of dodge. So yeah, Cali's not as bad as that, I guess, at least not where we wound up. Worst we see around here is Mary Jane, and that ain't so bad. Still, there's plenty else about this joint I don't like.

  "Alright, Will. I'm ready. Let's do this." Is he...serious? I thought the rack was just a dumb joke.

  "Woohoo, Lance! You really doin' this?" Great, now she's excited about this shit, too. That's all she needed, was a partner in crime.

  "Yup, sis, you convinced me. I'm ready to try my hand at ridin' those sweet waves. I guess deep down, I always wanted to be a Beach Boy." He plops his stupid surfboard on the side of his hog and starts to tie it down.

  "You mean, like...a fag?"

  "Will! I think only one of the Beach Boys was gay. You don't listen to his Scrooge ass, brother. You and I can hit the surf, while he mopes on the beach, or finds Ms. Pac-Man in the arcade." So what if I like Ms. Pac-Man? It's like a connection to my childhood, the little bit that I had.

  "Shut up. Let's go," is all I can manage to say, though, as I shake my head, hop on, and speed off. I can feel their eyes burn into the back of my skull. Fuck 'em.

  Not too far after the entrance to 17, they catch up to me. I look over to Jess and nod, my olive branch of an apology. She blows me a kiss and keeps pace, Lance bringing up the rear. This is the only place I truly feel at peace, climbing hills, taking dangerous curves at full speed, catching the expressions of moronic drivers and passengers in the cars we leave in our dust. We're long gone by the time they can mouth their obscenities or flip us the bird.

  As we approach the bottom of the mountain, my sense of freedom slowly turns to dread. More cars, more roads, more people, more "civilization," more clutter. I really gotta tell Jess we should go back to Arizona. Other than the clusterfuck that was Phoenix, the rest of it was a rider's dream.

  We make it to the beachfront area and find parking for our bikes on the pier. Jess and Lance untie their boards and talk about going to the surf shop before hitting the water. I spot some beach volleyballers, a buncha jocks and plastics. We head to the bathrooms so they can get changed. "Meet back here in like two hours?" Jess asks, surely hoping I won't cut it down to an hour or less. I just nod, and off they run, Jess in her skintight wetsuit, which gets my juices flowing, and Lance in his dumbass Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts. He looks like the damn fool that he is.

  I watch the jocks and plastics jump around, kicking up sand, making a shit ton of noise, and generally being annoying. There's a ton of 'em out here today, more than usual. They even got themselves a DJ and people keeping score on an electronic board, like it's a real sport or something. There's even people watching, cheering them on. This is so stupid. The only interesting part is all the chicks wearing tiny bikinis. So many attention whores. Maybe later I'll smell death on one of them, if they're lucky.

  Disgusted, I head to the boardwalk. The only smells here are of grease from the rides, and all the fried food. Fried everything: Oreos, Twinkies, candy bars, even peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Lance loves this shit, but I find it disgusting. The looks on their faces when I said I hated all this novelty fried food, Jess went and outright accused me of not being a real Southerner.

  Hearing the screams, I look up at the roller coaster. I always thought it was strange for people to want to be in danger, but not really. I heard someone call it "safe dangerous" one time, and I thought he was a fuckin' moron, cuz that don't make no kinda sense. You either want danger, or you don't. Grow a pair and go skydiving or swim with sharks or something. Anything else is just bullshit posturing.

  Sometimes these things do go wrong, though. Either the cars get stuck, or they derail. Sometimes people get hurt or even die. It's rare, though, and I ain't never been lucky enough to be around when that happens. Then maybe I could help a whole bunch of folks cross over. I stand here for a few minutes, to soak in the fake screams, but nothing interesting happens, so I keep walking.

  Damn Jess, I hate that she knows me so well. I find myself in the arcade, looking for Ms. Pac-Man. I stop at Donkey Kong, and consider playing that instead, just to spite her. But I move on; I never liked any of them stupid Mario games. It's so hard to even find any good games. Everything's shoot 'em ups, racing games, or those claws that are rigged to be just too weak to actually grab and hold onto anything. Another damn scam this place insists on calling "fun."

  Finally, I find what I'm looking for. I drop in a couple of quarters (it used to cost one, goddamnit), and off I go gobbling up dots, fruit, and ghosts. I can usually get to the banana level without losing a life, but today, some little shit is standing beside me, watching, distracting me. When I first notice him, I miss a turn and run right into Blinky.

  "Aw, too bad." Little fucker can't be more than ten. Shouldn't he be gawking at someone playing Dance Dance Revolution? I roll my eyes, shake my head, and try to ignore him, but he doesn't take the hint. I get on a roll and clear the next two boards easy. "Nice!" is the most interesting thing he can think to say. I don't even acknowledge him this time.

  Once the game speeds up, and I struggle to stay away from the damn ghosts, he pipes up again, "Oh. Look out! ...Right, go right!" I don't, because who can focus with all that damn chatter? I quickly lose my last two lives thanks to more of his inane commentary. I turn to him, hoping my sneer will make him curl up into a little Sonic ball and roll away. It doesn't.

  "Are you done playing, mister? I'd like a turn, if you are, please."

  I reach into my pocket full of quarters, grab as large a handful as I can, and plunk them down on the console, eyes on the little snot the whole time. I grab two of them and drop them into the slot. I turn to start my new game, but the puny turd completely missed the point.

  "Oh...can I have next, then?"

  Good God, kids are so stupid. Before I press Start, I turn back to him, expecting to crush his dreams. But before I can, I get my first good look at him. I didn’t notice the cast on his leg before, or the crutch. And his mullet with the spiky front is just like the one I used to have when I was about his age.

  I step aside and motion for him to take my place. "Really, mister? "

  "Go on, before I change my mind." Dammit, Will, why ya gotta be so soft sometimes?

  I start to walk away, but he calls back. "Mister, you forgot the rest of your quarters. "

  "Keep ‘em, kid. " You need ‘em more than me.

  It takes an eternity for two hours to pass. I stand impatiently by the bathrooms near the pier, starting to pace when it's clear that Jess and dipshit are gonna be more than a few minutes late. I mutter to myself that I'm fixin’ to kick Lance's ass when they get back, if he wasn't stupid enough to get himself drowned. I barely take notice of the mother who pulls her son along as they walk by, or others who give me a wide berth. Let 'em all think I'm crazy. My whole life people thought that, and I’ve proved time and time again how much smarter I am than all of 'em.

  Just like them dumb cops I seen on the TV. They tell women not to let strangers into
their homes late at night, like that's a thing ya gotta tell people, cuz they're stupid idiots. I'm sure, now, that some of the women I've helped cross over got to the point where they needed my help for exactly that reason. They let some psycho into their house, he took advantage of them, and left them for dead, left them for me to clean up their mess. Well, ok, Lance is the "cleaner," technically, but let's not split hairs.

  "Holy shit, sis, you didn't tell me the water was so damn cold!" Speak of the dumbass.

  "Why you think I got a wetsuit, silly?"

  "Yeah, I guess I shoulda bought one in that surf shop like ya said. Maybe on the way out...oh boy. He got that look again, sis."

  Oh, so I have a look now.

  "Hey, Will. Sorry, we lost track of time."

  "You don't say."

  "Ah, come on, darlin’, it was Lance's first time out there. You shoulda seen him, he done good!"

  I turn to Lance, waiting to hear how good he thinks he done. Instead, he sheepishly makes an excuse to leave. "I gotta go to my ride, grab some dry clothes to change inta." And with that, he slinks away.

  "You shouldn't be so hard on him. He--" I step in and kiss her. That wetsuit had me wanting to jump her bones since we got here. She gives in for a second, then pulls away. "Careful, Will. I don't want Lance findin’ out about us."

  "You kiddin’? He ain't the brightest, and besides, if he ain't figured it by now, he ain't gonna. He's probably still wonderin' why Larry don't come 'round no more."

  Jess elbows me; guess I touched a nerve. "I'm still pissed off at you for that, ya know. You're lucky I didn't tear your arm off after that shit you pulled."

  So dramatic. "What? That guy was the whole reason you had us move out to this place, and surprise, he turned out to be a tool, just like I said."

  She dips her head a bit. "Yeah, I know, he was kind of an ass. He just sounded so different. I thought maybe Cali had changed him."

  "Places don't change people, cuz. People change on their own, or other people make ‘em."

  "...This place. You don't like it here, do ya, Will?"

  "It don't take no rocket scientist to pick up on that, no. I mean, the rides are nice, but we could have that in Arizona, too, and without all the damn granola heads and mass of humanity. Everyone's so on top of each other here."

  I can see her struggling with this. "Ain't no beach in Arizona, no ocean, either. Just colored rocks, craters, and a big gash in the ground. Besides, Lance and I love it here. Don't take this away from us, Will. Please. We're finally happy, more than we been in a long time."

  All I can do is nod my head and walk away. No point in causing a scene here. As I head back to my hog and wait for them, I can't help but think of what she said back there. Lucky she didn't tear my arm off. She ain't never said that to me before. I wonder if her thirst is growing. Now that I finally let her get a good taste of it over the last few months with those women, maybe she wants to up her game and try out a guy. I hope it ain't me. On the one hand, it's pretty reckless, and means Lance has more tracks to clean up before he can leave. On the other hand, I want her to push her limits and see what she's capable of. Might come in handy at some point. Also, it's sexy as fuck. Must be for her, too, since we go at it like bunnies afterwards.

  Later that night, after our glorious ride back over the mountain, we send Lance out to pick up some food, and I join her in the shower. She's clearly in the mood to make up, too. Afterwards, we lie in bed, and she hits me with this.

  "Will...what's it feel like? I mean, really. You always talk about what you do, but not how it makes you feel." Great, so now I hafta talk about my feelings. I wish there was another home I could make an excuse to gotta go to.

  "Why you askin' this now, after all this time?"

  "I dunno...I guess...I admit, I’m surprised at how I get a little thrill outta finally tearing that last strand of muscle or whatever off. It's like, a feeling of accomplishment. I just wonder, if I ever need to do it with someone's head, while they were still alive...what would it do to me?"

  "Geez, Jess, you make it sound like I get off on it. Alright, fine, you wanna know how it is, I'll tell ya. It don't make me feel good, if that's what you were expectin'. But it don't make me feel bad, neither. The smell, it calls to me, tells me that they're ready. They want it, help gettin' to the other side. I'm doin' them a favor. They're struggling to find their way. They can't do it themselves. They're too weak. I don't mean mentally, though some of them are. I mean, their bodies are failing, but don't wanna let go. They're clingin', cuz they don't know the great things that're comin'."

  Her eyes are fixed on mine, gripped by my explanation, apparently. I instinctively pull her closer, maybe out of fear that she'll run away once I tell her. "They're not victims, Jess, that's what ya gotta remember. And I ain't no cold-blooded killer. I got this...I dunno, connection, I guess...with the afterlife. The scents that I pick up on, it's death or whatever, leading me to people in need. The longer they stay, the more they suffer. I can feel it when I help them pass over. They're at peace, fulfilled. And it gives me this feeling of..."

  "What, Will?"

  "You're gonna think it's dumb."

  She lays her hand on my chest. "No, go on."

  "The best word I can think of is salvation. Like, I done some good thing, paying the universe back for some of the bad things I done. Not like I saved them, most of them ain't gonna be saved. But a few...it's why I leave some of them the way I do."

  She's delicate about this point. "Yeah, I never understood why you seem to take extra care with some of 'em, folding their clothes and putting them in weird spots, closing their eyes, covering up their chest or hips with a sheet. I thought it was like some kind of ritual, but it seemed too, I dunno, solemn to you, to ask about it."

  "I dunno if I can explain it proper...I treat each of them the way they deserve to be treated. Whatever I'm sensing...it tells me how they lived their life, and how they should enter the next one."

  Jess nods, in sudden understanding. "That's why you don't ask me to do it sometimes."

  "Yeah, it would be...unhonorable, or whatever. Like, whatever this is, it tells me to use what I got to help them the proper way." She looks at me in a way she ain't done before. "Told ya you'd think it was dumb."

  Instead, she throws her arms around me and squeezes me tight. I thought I could read Jess like a book, but every once in awhile, she can still surprise me. Maybe she ain't a monster, neither.

  Our embrace is cut short when we hear Lance's hog outside. We dress quickly, long before he finally makes it in with our Carl's Jr. "Sheesh, them tellers are dumber here than at the Piggly Wiggly back home. I'm glad I checked the order before I drove off. It's like I always say, cuz: they fuck you at the drive-thru."

  "You're lucky ya did. If ya came back without my chicken sandwich again, your ass'd be too sore to saddle up and go back there for it. And they ain't tellers, stupid. That's at banks."

  "Will! How many times I gotta ask you not to call him that? It ain't nice, 'specially since he just went and got us food."

  "Aw, it's alright sis. Takes one ta know one, they say." Whatever. I just shake my head and grab my food from the bag. He notices the wet towels hanging over the bathroom door. "Hey, you guys both showered while I was gone? How y'all take such quick showers? I weren't even out that long. Me, I like to take my time." I shoot Jess a look. She mouths "Don't." And she don't want me calling him stupid. I could probably throw her down on the table right now and take her, and he'd still be clueless.

  After dinner, we fall into our usual ritual of sitting on the couch with the TV on, flipping through dozens of channels of nothing good. Lance always wants to stop on these stupid reality game shows, especially the ones where they hafta go somewhere they never been and find their way around to find clues or some shit. He says it makes them all cultured or whatever. I just think it makes 'em look like a buncha idiots.

  We pass by one infomercial where some guy's working out on a bench with some s
tretchy cords, and Lance asks me how I like the gym I go to. "It's alright, why?"

  "You been beefing up pretty good, thought maybe next time you went, I'd tag along. Maybe I could get ripped, too."

  I snicker. "Like I'd let anyone at the Y see me hangin' 'round with your dumb ass?"

  Jess gives him a once over. "No, Will, I think it'd be good for him. A good surfer has to have a lean, toned body." I shoot her a look, and she just smiles.

  "Yeah, Will Power, I wouldn't get in the way or nothin'. Hey! We could spot each other if ya want."

  "You really trust me to grab the bar if it comes crashing down on your chest?"

  He ponders this for a moment. "Maybe I could use the pool or take one of them spinner classes instead." We're all silent for a bit, thankfully, until dipshit opens his mouth again. Why does he hate comfortable silences so damn much? "Hey Will, it's been awhile since ya done someone. That sniffer of yours still workin'?"

  Great, so now it's time to spew the lie I been rehearsing in my head for weeks. "Eh, guess no one's been ready to bite it lately." Truth is, I've taken care of business on my own a few times over the past month. Sometimes, Jess has been working and I was at the gym, so I didn't want to circle back just to pick up his dumb ass. Other times I was working, or didn't want Jess ripping arms and legs off that day. As I learned over the years, a version of the truth helps the lie. "I've smelt it a few times while I was at work, but it's always gone before I get there, or I can't leave without my stupid boss knowing." I can feel Jess' eyes on me, examining.

  "Aw, that's too bad, cuz. Those last couple were fun to clean up. The one dude, with his little rat dog yappin', that was hilarious! And that last lady, before that, she sure was a looker." Now it's Lance she's staring lasers at, but he don't even notice. "That was a great idea you had, Will, only rippin' arms off the ladies. Harder for them dumb cops to link ya to the rest. Still, been awhile since we got to help ya out. I reckon it's more fun than surfin', even. Will, ya gotta the feed the beast, bruh!"