After The Flesh

by Colin Gallant

  Freddy returned to school a faithful and loving boyfriend. To my knowledge he did not once cheat on Tina. Twice he drove to Hanna and rented a motel room on the outskirts of town. They spent the day there until their limbs ached and even rising for a glass of water became an ordeal. At night Freddy stayed at her parents’ house. He slept in her father’s den on the first floor. Her parents were not dumb but they were proper.

  On the return to school there was some talk of them getting a place together but it never happened. Tina’s father liked to imagine his daughter – his only child – was still a virgin. She refused to spoil it for him just yet.

  Tina declared a major in psychology and Freddy took his sociology. He minored in psych because it only made sense to him. I had all but given up on a formal education by this time. In our first year I had posted a 2.1 to Freddy’s 3.9. It was disgusting.

  -

  One Sunday morning I was reading the paper, mostly just skimming the headlines. The words were not making sense to me – the smaller print of the articles was a blur to my tired eyes. Days had passed since last I slept.

  I made myself toast but it tasted like cardboard and the coffee might as well have been mud. Freddy had enjoyed a busy week. Twice he disappeared for half the night. Two or three days before I found a dried crust of blood in the shower but instead of confronting him, I got a bottle of bleach and scoured the whole bathroom.

  There was a point to my reading but, in my state, I kept forgetting exactly what it was. My coffee was cold but I drank it anyway. The toast was just sitting there. It would get stale and go to waste but I did not care. I heard bedsprings creaking, the gasps and moans of coitus. Tina was over. Still it did not affect me. Nothing seemed to.

  The articles were nonsensical, the headlines barely legible. Money was being invested in the Tar Sands – now called the Oil Sands it seemed; a P.R. scheme meant to bolster confidence in their development. Honda was unveiling their first gas-electric prototype. International news was bleak. Desert Storm was over but a second Gulf War was not far in the future.

  These stood out somehow. Bill Clinton was on the front page again and the Republicans were at his throat calling for blood, again. For the life of me I could not figure out why. I just wanted to sleep. But sleep would give Freddy his break.

  Then a headline struck and all thoughts of my fatigue were gone. Even my fatigue itself seemed to melt away. Cattle Deaths Resume After Four Month Hiatus. Instantly my mind was honed razor sharp. I started reading.

  Someone was killing livestock in the ranchlands southwest of Calgary. The animals were being killed quickly and cleanly. The carcasses were unmolested. No meat was being harvested. The police had no suspect and no one could find any motive beyond paranoid speculation.

  I nearly cried out for joy. He was not killing people. There was no body count for me to be losing sleep over. It was cows – only cows. My relief was absolute.

  “Yeah, I’m a sick fuck,” Freddy said from just over my shoulder. I jumped and cringed, waiting as I did for the knife that would kill me. It would not hurt, I recall thinking. There would just be a sense of pressure and then … warmth. I would be able to close my eyes.

  Freddy merely strolled around the kitchen table and sat down across from me. He was naked, still as bare as the day he was born. I noticed fresh scratches on his chest and on his back from Tina’s nails. “It’s repugnant, I know,” he whispered to me. “It’s not as good as the real thing.” He pulled my plate of forgotten toast across the table and sipped my coffee. He grimaced. “We gotta get an espresso maker.”

  I waited. The paper was forgotten, folded neatly on the table in front of me. I couldn’t recall doing that.

  “It’s the blood,” Freddy said in the same low whisper. “I need it. I know it’s not the same but I still need it. It’s like a TV dinner instead of a home-cooked meal.” He seemed embarrassed; the teenage boy caught with his mother’s Chatelaine in the bathroom. I let him be. Maybe he would stop. Then again maybe he would return to the real thing.

  I heard motion in the hallway and Tina emerged just as naked as he was. She was just as plucked bare as he was. My presence didn’t bother her in the slightest and I found myself growing both embarrassed and aroused at the same time.

  “Mmm, grub.” She helped herself to a section of toast and sat down beside him.

  The musk of recent sex clung to them like perfume – it clung especially to her. I knew she was his girl. I was painfully aware of it but I couldn’t help but gape.

  “Did I hurt you, sweetie?” Tina reached out and touched one of his scratches, a livid thing with tiny blood blooms running from his collar bone nearly to his naval.

  Freddy kissed her hand. “A little. But I got you back.”

  Tina breathed laughter and cupped her breast. I noticed the purpling half-crescents above and below the nipple, bite marks nearly hard enough to draw blood. She sighed and massaged her nipple with the side of a thumb. “You said you’d kiss it better.”

  Freddy did just that. Oblivious to my presence, he leaned over to her and took her nipple in his mouth. It grew erect between his teeth as his tongue flicked in and out. From across the table I could see his erection unfurling.

  I rose and fled. I was embarrassed for both of them and disgusted with myself. My own erection was firm and throbbing in my pajama bottoms. My disgust lingered but it did not stop me. They made love on the kitchen while I stood in the hallway and watched. I did masturbate. I won’t deny that I did. I stayed angry at myself the whole time but it did not stop me. Not for the first time I found myself wishing our lives were reversed. I was not merely jealous. I truly wanted to be Freddy.

  -

  Freddy’s disturbing little secret was revealed to me. I could relax my vigil and I did. But I did not abandon it. I did not follow when he went for his evening cruises and when he returned to perform his perverse ritual in blood, I let him and left him alone to do it. On occasion I even took the trash out, throwing it into a dumpster a block away each time. But when he went out into the city or around campus, I did follow him – when I could. I’m sure he knew I was doing it but he made no effort to elude me. Like in our youth – and now in our kitchen – it was as if I was not even there. He still stalked but it only went so far. He seemed to have a thing for brunettes even if he rarely dated them. Myself, I seemed to be drawn to blondes – one in particular.

  Despite myself I began to obsess about Tina Armstrong and her wantonness. I watched her when she was around, following her with my eyes. Those moments when I was alone, I made love to her in my mind. I wanted her but I knew she was out of my reach. Damn, did I want her! Part of me hoped she would notice me if just once and come to me in the night while Freddy slept. I knew it would be dangerous for her and for me but I didn’t care. Not then anyway.

  It was Angie Cross, my first and so far, my only lover, who took my mind off Tina for good. She came back into our lives that fall and our lives would forever be altered.

  -

  Tina met Angie at the gym shortly after school started. They were in the steam room together and Tina was bragging about Freddy. It didn’t take Angie long to put two and two together and realize Tina’s Freddy and her old Freddy were one and the same.

  Angie had not changed. She was still quite pretty. Her injury had healed and she was again both fit and active. She was also just as free-spirited. Just as it had for Tina and Freddy, university life was only broadening her horizons.

  They decided to surprise Freddy. Angie came over to our apartment that Friday evening for a reunion with her old flame. Tina, proud and grinning like a child bringing home a stray puppy, stood in the front entrance while they stared at each other – Angie with a flirtatious challenge and Freddy in shock. She was the last girl he wanted to see again.

  Angie Cross repulsed him. To him she was filthy, a whore, something lower than a dog. At least a dog could be faithful to its master. He chose to kneecap her because she had slept with me. Before
me her cheating never bothered him. After me he would not stand for it again. He said in no way, no how, would he ever sleep with her again.

  They did have a pleasant evening. Angie got a little drunk and Tina took advantage of it. She let her hands roam all over Freddy’s ex while he watched. Freddy did not involve himself. He allowed Tina to have her fun but he could not. He was not even aroused watching them make out. A finger strayed to his eye and he rubbed gently. Only later did I discover what he was thinking.

  Angie went home just before midnight, swaying on her feet. That was another thing that had not changed – her consumption of alcohol. She kissed both of them at the door and Freddy let her. He let her hands wander over him even when she found his groin through his jeans.

  “This thing is magical,” Angie laughed. She turned to Tina and kissed her again. “I hope you know that.”

  “Mmm-hmm!” Tina giggled against her mouth. “And it’s all mine.”

  Freddy kept his expression neutral, just slightly amused. He was feigning indigestion, a bad taco at lunch. But he could not stop the blood surging into his penis beneath her hand. She disgusted him but he could not help himself.

  “But I’m a good girl,” Tina added. “My mommy always taught me to share my toys.”

  Angie laughed. She had yet to release Freddy from her grip. “We’re gonna have to schedule another play-date then. Hopefully someone’s tummy’ll be feeling better.”

  A few more pleasantries were exchanged, more low-wit double entendre and light petting. Another round of kisses followed. Angie said her good-byes and slipped out into the hallway, using the wall for balance.

  “She always drink so much?” Tina murmured once the door was shut.

  Freddy nodded. “She never could stop at one.” He was still thinking. That idea was nearly fully formed. It would not take long to implement.

  He killed Angie Cross on November 12, 1995. He did it right, he did it real. He did it just the way he wanted to. When he did it his plan was absolutely perfect.

  -

  I was seeing her again at least once a week and I knew I was not her only lover. She had her own supply of condoms and the number in the box rarely jived with my previous visit. She had others but I didn’t care.

  At first Freddy didn’t seem to mind either. He encouraged me. He told me he had no interest in her and it was true. He told Tina that she might have something and they shouldn’t risk it. He said there were plenty of others out there and Angie wasn’t worth the risk.

  I don’t want to say I dated Angie because I didn’t. I went over and I slept with her and then I left. That was it. She was good with it. She was fine. I would call her and invite myself over if she was available and I would go to her. Angie would often be just a little bit tipsy. We would have sex and then I would leave. I would feel satisfied and for a short while I would feel as though I was part of the world again.

  But Freddy had his plan. He had a purpose. He wanted to kill two birds with one stone – if you’ll pardon the expression. I think he knew he was going to kill her the moment she walked through our front door. No one could know it was him of course. No one but me and it was important that I knew. And as I said, his plan was perfect.

  Weeks before, Freddy had encouraged me to follow his lead. He let me use his creams and even his razor to go completely hairless. He explained that the feeling of sex is amplified and somehow it can last much longer. That was important to me considering my extremely short carnal resume. I don’t know about stamina but I have to admit he was probably right about then sensation thing. Every touch was amplified. Even just wearing boxers became a nearly erotic experience.

  We even adopted the same hairstyle, a military cut with stubble on the sides and a quarter inch or less of fuzz on the dome. It was Tim Irwin’s hairstyle. Despite needing weekly maintenance, I did find it a time-saver over my previous dangling locks. I never suspected anything was amiss. I never suspected this was all part of the plan.

  On the eleventh of November, Remembrance Day, Freddy bought some Rohypnol from an engineering student and picked up roses for Tina. The twelfth was an important date. It was their three-quarters anniversary – nine months and still going strong. They planned a nice dinner – Freddy was going to cook – and a nicer evening to follow.

  I went to the library and later to Angie’s. When I came home the apartment was dark and quiet. Their dinner dishes were washed and put away. Tina’s flowers were in a vase on the kitchen table. I went to bed, assuming they had as well. I noticed the bottle but I didn’t think anything of it. It was empty and washed out, standing upside down in the sink to drain. I knew neither of them drank but my mind was still on Angie. It would be for a long time.

  Freddy left me in the dark and I knew nothing about what had happened until the paper came out on the morning of the fourteenth. The front page was dedicated to the story. There was a full six-page supplement as well. This predated the growing gang violence of the next decade. This predated the average Calgarian’s – the average Canadian’s – awareness of random violence. Angie Cross became the face of a new age.

  Angie had lived alone in a basement suite. She had few friends before her death but many after it. The police released very few details about her death but it was officially described as both brutal and vicious.

  She was found on the afternoon of the thirteenth by a male friend who was concerned after she failed to show for a lunch date and would not answer her phone. Her car was outside. The lights were on inside. He called the police after seeing an overturned chair through the living room window and then tried to shoulder the door open. The front door was locked from within with the safety chain. The police found no signs of forced entry on any of the windows although there were plenty of signs of violence within.

  Freddy appeared as I finished reading the supplement. I was horrified. I felt shocked, stunned, hurt and betrayed. So many conflicting feelings swirled inside me I could not keep track. My mind blanked and my whole existence shrank to the sheet of newsprint in front of me.

  It was suspected that she died on the night of the twelfth. The killer had shut off the furnace in her suite so an exact time of death could not be pinpointed. A timeline of events placed her home alone early on the evening of the twelfth. The last people to see her alive were her study partners. She left them to go home at just after six.

  But I saw her after seven. She was alive when I left at nine.

  “You used a condom I hope,” Freddy started. “She was a whore you know.”

  He said it so casually I could not respond.

  “Don’t worry,” he continued, “even if you didn’t, I made sure there was no evidence. It’s a good thing you shaved. It made my job easier.”

  Freddy got the roofies for Tina. They ate their dinner and drank a little champagne. They were having such a good time she didn’t notice the second glass. By the time the third was poured she was oblivious.

  Tina passed out shortly after eight. Freddy cleaned up and went to Angie’s. He was outside while I was in with her. He waited for me to finish. Freddy knew I would leave. He had been doing his own surveillance and I never suspected a thing. He was quite proud of that.

  Freddy was welcomed in and he wasted no time. Angie was drunk or she was getting there. She usually was when I saw her. She had been a bit of a drinker since probably her mid-teens. She started drinking more after her accident and never slowed down again. There would have been AA meetings in her future. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about that.

  A smile on his face, Freddy slugged her with the heel of his palm. Tim Irwin had showed him that. The SAS threw a punch like that – if you broke a knuckle it was pretty difficult to use a firearm. Freddy hit her like that so he wouldn’t have to explain a broken knuckle or even a split one. He couldn’t afford a split knuckle here. He couldn’t bleed a single drop.

  Angie went down hard, her wide ‘O’ of a mouth trailing a thin line of crimson. The smile never left his face. Sh
e drew in a breath, ready to scream of cry out. Likely she was too stunned to do anything more than draw that breath. She tried crawling away but he stopped her with a kick, hard, to the ribs.

  Freddy hunkered over her and took hold of her hair. He slammed her head into the floor. It was poured cement and only lightly padded with a thin, utility grade carpet. The hollow thock her skull made on the floor widened his smile. To him it was a good sound, a happy sound. I’m sure Angie would disagree.

  Angie was moaning, not really conscious as he dragged her into the bedroom. He closed the blinds and turned on the lights because he wanted to be able to see. I took comfort – small comfort – in knowing she was barely aware when he set into her. He took his time. I can only imagine. I don’t want to imagine.

  In the end Freddy opened her throat with a knife from the kitchen and took her blood. He left the knife in the sink under two inches of straight bleach. He laundered the bed sheets with more bleach. There would be no trace of him found there.