After The Flesh

by Colin Gallant

  Freddy put off the visit until late August. He didn’t tell his mother. She would offer to come with him and he knew she didn’t want to. Every reminder of John was gone. Even the house was gone.

  Maggie sold it after the wedding and moved into a brand-new bungalow with Tim in a new subdivision just northeast of town. She never went back for anything. The car was gone. The house was gone. John’s tools, his clothing and his keepsakes. Even the furniture was gone. Anything he had touched was gone – given away, sold or burned. Nothing remained except the grave.

  For Freddy’s mother even that little reminder of his existence was probably too much. I could understand her need to move on, get a fresh start, but to go so far as to eliminate every trace of the man seemed almost too much.

  Freddy went to the grave. It was a Wednesday. Cool. The deep, bruised blue of storm clouds hung low over the mountains to the west. He could smell moisture in the air. Already summer was winding down. It was disheartening. In a month there would be snow. There would be cold. Deep cold. Another year’s obligation was nearly on him. It didn’t seem to hold the same thrill it used to. It had grown mundane. But it was still necessary.

  John’s headstone was a simple affair – a flat slab of grey granite flecked with grains of quartz with his name and his dates lacking even the briefest of epitaphs. The stone was flush with the ground, the new trend. It was easy enough to read, but low enough so the groundskeeper could simply roll over it with the lawnmower and not have to trim. It had still cost enough to make Freddy cringe. In retrospect they should have had him cremated. Freddy now thought they should have mixed his ashes with a quart of malt liquor and poured them down the toilet. It was what the man deserved.

  Freddy looked at the little gravestone and sighed. Seeing it made him angry. The rage – John’s rage – wanted to ruin the thing. He wished for a sledge hammer so that he might smash it to gravel. But seeing it made him think of killing the man. He could recall the feel of the knife in his hands, the taste of his father’s blood on his lips. The way he looked, the surprise in his eyes – it had been divine. John had been his Goliath. Everything after had grown simple and easy. There was no challenge any more, no hurdles. It was more than that but, without those, the reward was minimal as well.

  But another year remained. One more year of the plan. Freddy didn’t like what Jack Frost had become to him. I don’t believe he was looking forward to his sacrifices this year, or he wanted to change them. Stuck as he was, Freddy was just unsatisfied and he could not understand why.

  He sighed again and hung his head. He was at a crossroads. It was more than just his need to evolve; it was finding he had no purpose. Since killing his father, he had merely been treading water. These others, the women and girls he had been with and those he had sacrificed were suddenly quite meaningless to him.

  “It’s your fault,” he whispered to his father’s bones. “It’s all your fault. You made me.” Freddy chuckled. He was feeling whimsical. It was uncommon enough to make him self-conscious. “Are you down there, waiting for me to join you? Waiting to get me back for putting a knife in you?” He grinned. “Or are you just hiding in the smoke, afraid of what else I can do to you?”

  Freddy looked around. A bent old woman in a black overcoat was standing over her own grave on the crest of a low rise. She was shouting distance away and had her back to him. Other than her, Freddy had the cemetery to himself.

  His bladder was heavy. Freddy unzipped and paused. He turned his head and watched the old woman. Just the thrill of what he was doing likely made his penis semi-erect. This was an evil thing, a foul thing, an unspeakable thing. He liked that.

  Freddy urinated on his father’s headstone. He watched the old woman the whole time and wished she would see what he was doing. The wet stone glistened and steamed in the cool air. Another twist of the knife. It felt good.

  He shook off and zipped up. Freddy hawked and spat on the grass. “Seeya later, Dad.” He left and did not look back. He never went back there again.

  That summer in Prince William Falls gave Freddy closure. He set his past adrift. He knew he would be able to find it again if he needed it. It would not be the same. It couldn’t be. But threads of it could never change. His greatest revelation came in discovering he could not hold onto it. To Freddy the past was an anchor rather than a sail.

  Closing off that part of him quelled the rage. The rage was a gift from his father. It always had been. That was another revelation. Freddy enjoyed the rage as his father had. It was raw. It was pure. But it was without focus. Unlike his father Freddy didn’t need the rage. Rage gave John Cartwright control but it was the control of a schoolyard bully and only death taught him how fragile such control could be. Freddy was no bully. He was a lover of sorts, one who dealt from the shadows. The shadows were like the truth. The shadows kept him safe.

  -

  Freddy had time to think that summer. He thought quite a bit about his life and his future. He couldn’t see himself not killing, not sacrificing. But it had lost its edge. Like masturbating to the same old dog-eared magazine. He needed one more year – two more semesters – and then he could consider something else, something better. The four-year plan needed to run its course. The killer the police sought would seem to graduate and move on. But not too far.

  He knew the cop was going to be a problem. Not a week after he began his master’s program Freddy noticed the car. It was usually parked just down the street from his house or outside the Starbucks where he and a handful of classmates went to study, shoot the breeze or compare conquests.

  Freddy let it ride. He knew he could deal with the cop if it came to that. Until then he would let it ride. For a time, he didn’t even think about killing. He had other diversions. Sobeleski could stew in the cold.

  Freddy wasn’t cold. Hardly. The parties had begun. They were special parties with a very exclusive guest list. Alcohol and appetizers were served but people didn’t eat or drink all that much. And it didn’t really matter what they wore to the parties. They didn’t keep it on for long.

  -

  The parties were Tina’s brainchild. She hatched it with the help of a few close friends. These friends were all like-minded and they each had friends of their own. The guest list eventually contained thirty names – fifteen men and fifteen women. Tina had other names to add but Freddy was the first one she thought of.

  Tina didn’t want to out and out call them orgies but whatever name she came up with it amounted to the same thing. She had help with most of the planning but once the guest list was established there was very little left to plan. She came up with the themes all on her own.

  There was Toga night and Caveman night. She had planned a Disco night and a Victorian night. Her personal favorite was the Cowboys and Indians night. The men dressed up as Indians and the women were the cowboys – complete with cap-firing six-guns and bootblack mustaches. The themes helped; a fair number of invitees were pretty new to the scene. During the first party they mingled a little but eventually separated like kids at a junior high dance. The whole plan was moments from bust before it had even begun.

  Tina was nearly in tears. She was distraught. Freddy found her in the kitchen compulsively popping peanut M&M’s into her mouth. The first party was the Toga night and both of them were in bed sheets and sandals and little else.

  “What’s up?” Freddy asked her. He picked a yellow M&M and examined it for a moment before eating it.

  “I’m an idiot – that’s what’s up.” She replied. “This party was a stupid idea.”

  “No, you’re not and no, it isn’t.”

  Tina ignored him. “They knew what kind of fucking party this was supposed to be. What the hell is the problem?”

  Freddy smiled. He found another yellow M&M. The yellow ones were his favorite. “They don’t really believe it,” he explained and crushed the shell between his front teeth and moved the dish out of her reach before she could finish them all. He took her hand. “I can’t
really speak for the women but I know what the guys are thinking.”

  Tina met his gaze. His touch comforted her. It always had.

  “The guys are all fifteen again. We’re not really sure what to do. They want this to happen but they don’t really believe it’s going to. Everyone’s afraid to make the first move. Whoever makes the first move is gonna be the center of attention.”

  “So?”

  Freddy sighed. He moved the dish back and Tina resumed munching. He had a few more candies himself. “Every guy thinks he has a small dick for one. I bet most of the guys have already slept with one or two of the girls here but that doesn’t matter tonight.”

  “Yeah,” Tina nodded. “The chicks all think they’re fat or they have flabby tits.” She released a short self-mocking bark of laughter. “Either we turn off the lights or we call it off.”

  “Nope,” Freddy shook his head. “I want the lights on and neither of us wants to call it off. Right? We just gotta get things going.”

  That old mischievous glimmer crept back into her eyes. “And what do you suggest?”

  Freddy grinned and winked.

  She shook her head. “That’s too obvious.”

  “Okay.” He thought for a second. Two or three of the women at the party had joined him and Tina at one point during their relationship. Claire Simmins was the first name he thought of. Freddy liked Claire from the start. “I’m gonna go back out there and sit down with the boys…” Freddy outlined his plan and watched her grow more and more excited. By the end the M&M’s were forgotten and she was nodding emphatically. He gave her a quick kiss and turned to leave.

  “Freddy,” she called him back.

  He paused by the door.

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Freddy favored her with a head-cocked look of mock confusion. A smirk played across his lips. “You actually thought I was gonna miss this?”

  Tina laughed. She ran to him and kissed him soundly. “Just save some for me.”

  “Promise,” he said. She was nude beneath the bed sheet as he was. The slight fabric might as well have not been there. “Scout’s honor. Five minutes, dear – no longer.” He pressed his groin against her. “I’m already getting hard.”

  “Fucking tease.” Tina shoved him through the door. The delight was clear in her eyes.

  The five minutes ticked by quickly. Freddy found an unoccupied armchair in the living room and sat down. The chair was central in the living room and dining room combo and everyone would have a decent view. Murmured conversations floated around him and he tried to listen. He was trying to keep his attention off Tina as she whispered to Claire. He had not spoken to Claire in months but the handful of times they were together had been good. He was looking forward to this. Freddy met her eyes and tried to smile with only his own. She bit her lip and nodded to something Tina was saying. Freddy knew she was game.

  The murmurs continued. Clustered around one end of the dining room table, three or four guys wearing nearly identical red-striped white bed sheets were discussing the steady decline of the Batman movie franchise. Freddy actually found their conversation slightly more appealing than the group clustered in front of him. They were discussing the weather, the latest news from the Middle East and what Canadian life would be like without a Liberal government.

  Freddy threaded his way into their conversation and tried to keep his eyes off Claire. He couldn’t wait to have her. It had been too long. She was frowning but nodding as well. She glanced his way and smiled at him. The frown returned a moment later but with less strength. Claire didn’t want to be the center of attention either but she was willing to compromise.

  “We’ve seen an end to deficit-spending and the creation of a balanced budget,” one guy was saying. Freddy thought his name was Paul – or Peter maybe. He had played football in his first year or two until his marks scored him an academic scholarship. Freddy recalled he was fairly smart. His opinions were typically well thought out and well-informed. This time he sounded like a drunk in a bar.

  “Deficit-spending created by whom?” Freddy asked. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Tina and Claire working their way through the crowded room. They had their hands linked and their expressions were wanton.

  Paul – or Peter – glanced over at him. “The past is the past. Can you hold a current administration accountable for mistakes of their predecessors?”

  “If they’re feeding from the same trough, yeah,” one of the girls said. She was short, voluptuous with long, nearly jet-black, straight hair that seemed to glisten like it was still wet. Her skin tone was almost Mediterranean, not quite Persian – something in between. She could be Greek or Turkish. Armenian maybe. Freddy liked the look of her and he quickly decided he wanted to have her as well.

  “Name one prime minister who’s left office without being wealthier than when he went in?” Freddy challenged. “You can’t. It’s the system – not the people in it.”

  “What do we do about it?” The girl asked. Her eyes on him made his blood boil. They were nearly as black as her hair, but it was the black of an oil slick, glistening with all the hues of a rainbow. A moment later they were the green of grass in the spring. The black was only a trick of the light or of her mood. The way she looked at him made Freddy think she actually wanted him to tell her and they would do it.

  Freddy smiled at her as fiercely as he knew how and saw her flinch back slightly. He liked that too. “We burn the motherfuckers out and build on the ashes,” he told her.

  Freddy could say no more. The girls had reached him. Tina pulled him back in the chair while Claire went to her knees in front of him, her hands under the hem of his Toga.

  “You win!” Claire announced to a growing audience. She flipped back the sheet to expose his hardening penis.

  Freddy laughed loudly, boisterously. Heads had begun to turn. This was exactly what the crowd was waiting for. “What do I win?” He asked the eager-seeming brunette between his knees.

  Claire took his erection in her hands, her mouth wide and theatrical. She was playing a part and she was overplaying it to an extreme. Eyes were on them. Expressions were incredulous. She paused just before starting in on him and tittered a little giggle. “Me!” she declared in a tone that could have come straight out of the pages of Aldous Huxley. She went down.

  Tina ran her nails through his hair, across his cheeks and down his chest. She quickly moved onto Claire and removed the junk jewelry clasp holding her makeshift Toga in place. Her bed sheet whispered away unnoticed and she was left completely naked.

  Claire didn’t seem to notice or care about her exposure. She continued with Freddy. Only when Tina came around behind her and forced her pelvis to twist upwards did she pause. Only for a moment. Tina went to work on Claire. The chain had begun.

  Peter – it was Peter – was treated to a perfect vantage of Tina’s hindquarters, arched and just concealed beneath the loose sheet of her costume. He hesitated. A sharp look from Tina followed. “Don’t just stare at it!” She snapped. He hesitated no longer.

  The enthusiasm of these initial four spread like wildfire through the room. Few people abstained. Few were spectators. No one stuck to their comfort zones and introductions were typically held mid-act. This is what Tina wanted. Happiness. A purity not known in two thousand years. It wasn't evil or a sin – even I knew that. It was something too pure for sin to touch. I know the church would say otherwise. But what would God say?

  Freddy had Claire but he did not come. He had Tina and another whose name he never heard. Still he did not come. He could do that, just not come. If he wanted to, he could be done twenty seconds or he could hold out for hours. He was good to go four times but he was saving himself. He wanted the Armenian girl with the rainbow-black, grass-green eyes. He sought her out but she was occupied. Wherever she went hands grasped for her. No one knew what the rules were at first but seemed obvious one really couldn’t say no. Short of dehydration or exhaustion there was no valid exc
use. Because of this and because he was seen as the first and the freest, he never reached his Armenian girl. But there were others.

  The parties were held every month – sometimes twice. Freddy put in a hot tub and became a primary host. It worked because he was the only one on the list who owned. Everyone else was getting evicted with each passing month. But having better than two dozen people fornicating in your house, no matter how neat they try to be, is a messy business with one hell of a cleanup. Claire often stayed to help him. She shared his views on cleanliness and he welcomed the company. Freddy didn’t mind the mess. He was someone who actually enjoyed cleaning up. He liked playing host and the mess was nothing for him. He also liked Claire’s company while he did it. And with her it was about the company, not the sex. Just her being in the room, not speaking; just her presence gave him that … something.

  Claire was different than Tina. Tina was wonderful, glorious and beautiful. She was also anal and meticulous. She was someone who required attention. Freddy was willing to give it while they were dating. Claire was very easy to relate to after Tina. She was a tidy person but she was laid back, easy-going. She was typically ready to follow Freddy’s lead. He liked that. Tina had often set the mood. Sometimes Freddy wanted to. What they were for each other became not friends with benefits, but more simply, beneficial friends.

  -

  Jack Frost was not gone, but killing became secondary that year. He found most of his relief at the parties. It was like high school all over again. He did not give up his hobby but it became less of an obsession. If not for the four-year plan I think the campus would have been safe that year – or at least safer.

  The four-year plan needed to be followed. Like the doors locked from within, the four-year plan was a cover. It was smoke and mirrors. Freddy knew it was vital for his freedom in years to come. You see, Freddy never had any intention of getting caught. They say that about some killers, that their subconscious – or unconscious if you prefer – leads them to incarceration because at some level they know what they are doing is wrong.