by Keith LaHue
"Thanks, mom," he took off for the guest room.
His dad was just finishing his meatloaf when Davey came in.
"Hi, dad!"
"And how are you, my favorite son?"
"Dad I'm your only son."
"I know, I know. Now come here." Davey came over to him and sat in the chair by the bed. "I need you to get something from the model for me, I saw the very last time I was down there that it needed some new paint. It's the tiny car, a limousine that's parked at the Chinese Theater in Hollywood, remember? I know we didn't make many cars because they're so small we can hardly see them, but I need that limo. That and some gloss black paint, and a brush and some thinner. Can you do that?"
"Sure dad, do you want it right now?"
"Yes, go get it. I'm ready to work on it. Can you bring the tray to the kitchen on the way?"
"Sure dad," Davey grabbed the tray, balancing it so as not to drop the dishes, and brought them to the kitchen. To his surprise, Mr. Hawkins was there.
"Davey, Mr. Hawkins and I have some grown-up talk, can you leave us?"
"Sure, dad needs something from the basement. I was just going to get it." He didn't wait for a response, he left. He knew he could hear every word the two would say from over by the laundry machines in his mom's one area of the basement.
He ran down the stairs, and then sat at his listening post. His mom was telling Mr. Hawkins about how they should go over to Karl's, and "get to the bottom of this" she told him everything that he had told her, and that she was certain that Stenger had killed his wife, and that the two of them had to do it in order to keep Karl safe. Mr. Hawkins wanted to know when she wanted the two of them to go over. She said Saturday when the "shitbag" was off work at the dump. His mother had cussed for the first time in her life! He didn't know she knew words like that. Mr. Hawkins left, and he heard the rattle of dishes.
He still had to get the car from the model. He moved over to it, and as usual, took a picture of the Great Wall on his phone. He'd done this almost every day. They were almost done! He wondered if they would start building Beijing when they were done with it. Of course, they didn't have the materials. Wait a minute. They didn't have materials for the Wall either. At least not as much as they would have needed to get this far. He puzzled over this. When the Wall was done, he was going to show the pictures to his mom and dad, and show them once and for all that the people of Pangaea were alive, and could do things without them.
He had to look for the limo. Strange, it wasn't at the theater, which was the last place he'd seen it. Of course, it was tiny. Hardly more than a small speck in the city of Hollywood. He knew on some level that Hollywood was a part of the city of Los Angeles, but he still thought of the whole thing as Hollywood. It was what the little sign in the hill said after all.
He found the little car in the downtown area, where the few skyscrapers of the city were. It took some dexterity to move it without knocking any of the buildings over, but he managed. He gathered the brush and paint and stuff and headed upstairs to the guest room. Funny, the little car didn't look like it needed paint.
He brought them into the guest room and set them on the table near his dad. His dad told him to run along, but nor before he got one more thing. He needed one of the candles from the dining room and a lighter. There was a lighter near the fireplace he said. Davey went and fetched it, and then his dad asked him if he was up to some cards. Davey smiled and said, "You bet." Since they hadn't any time with the model, cards had taken their place.
26
Randy Stenger hated his boss, and he liked days when he could just sit in the shack and drink, while the population of this side of Indianapolis disposed of all their worthless shit. He picked through it on a daily basis before he closed up and went home. Most days he found something worth saving. He was a saver.
Right now he was thinking of the little girl tied up in the basement of his house. It got him excited just to think of it. Maybe he'd bring his fag son down there so he could take turns on the two of them. But the little fag was a crier. He cried every time he had fucked him in the ass. He had originally figured that his little queer boy of a son would like it. He didn't care anymore. The little girl cried all the time, so he kept her gagged. He fucked her in a variety of positions, and orifices. Stuff his piece of shit dead wife wouldn't do. Except for that one time, the final time, when she'd been dead. Then he'd fucked her every way he'd always wanted to fuck her. Her being dead made it better. Maybe when the little girl died (and she would die) he'd continue fucking her until she started to rot.
All this thought of fucking was making him horny. He looked out the little window of the shack and saw only one car, and no people, so what the fuck? Might as well get off. He unzipped and pulled his cock out. He was almost ready to come when the fucking door flew open!
Al Granderson, Stenger's boss was standing there stunned. A woman with a little old style tube TV was standing there with her mouth open. Stenger tried for recovery and stuffed his still hard cock back into his pants but it was too late.
Granderson grabbed the TV from the woman and told her he was sorry, so sorry that this had happened. She yelled as she left that she was going to the police. Granderson grabbed Stenger by the collar and the yelling started.
"What in holy hell do you think you were doing? You crazy fuck. I knew about the booze, but this? You're jerking off in here? You're obviously fired, but stay here." He took out his cell phone and dialed 911. He asked for the cops and told them what had happened. They said they'd dispatch a car to the location right away and was the woman that had witnessed this also still around to give a statement as well? He replied that the shocked woman had left, but he knew her and gave her name as Norma Smyth. She was a regular, but he didn't know exactly where she lived. They said they'd be right there.
Old TV's and computers and stuff had to be handled specially. They were one of the few things that Stenger had to be hands-on with. His boss just looked at him and waited for the cops to show.
Not one but two cars showed up in just a few minutes. Stenger said nothing while his boss told them the story. They asked if the door had been closed when Stenger had been jerking off. His boss replied yes, but that wasn't the point. He'd exposed himself to a customer. The cops said that technically, he hadn't broken any law. Granderson asked them if they were shitting him. He'd been jerking off on the job. They said that he was in a private area of the dump. A customer normally would have knocked. Granderson said that the fucking door normally would have been open. The cops said that there was really nothing they could do. Granderson went on for another twenty minutes before giving up. The cops left, Stenger had said nothing the entire time.
"You're fired pervert. Don't even show up here to dump your garbage. I don't ever want to see you again, got it?”
"Well fuck you too!" hooted Stenger. Finally, he was free of this fucking place. Granderson and the rest of them could go fuck themselves. As a coup de gras he picked up the little TV that had been left and threw it in the general garbage, which was not where it belonged. The picture tube imploded on impact, sending shards of glass flying.
"You sick twisted fuck. You'd better hope to God that I don't see you when I'm not working."
"I'll be in to pick up my paycheck shithead. You still owe me for two and a half weeks."
"Get out of my sight. I don't owe you a thing. See you in court on that one asshole."
Stenger got in his beat up old Ford and took off, squealing the tires as he went. More than anything now he just wanted to get fucked up. And maybe have a little play time with the nameless girl he had tied up in his basement.
It had been remarkably easy to abduct her. The little girl had been wandering the isles of the local discount store on her own. There was no sign of a parent or older sibling. He'd just told her that her mother was outside looking for her. It was a gamble, he didn't know for sure if she'd even come there with her mother, but apparently, she had. He followed her out, telling h
er she shouldn't be wandering around alone; you never knew who was out there. Jesus, she was stupid.
Once he'd lured her outside, the little shit had started yelling for her mom. Stenger had told her to shut up; she was around the side of the building, looking for her. The dumbass kid followed him right into the trap. He grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth with his hand. He had to get her into his car, preferably unconscious. There a piece of broken cinderblock near the side of the building. He managed to grab it; and clocked her one with it, silencing her. He opened the back door of his car and put her in. Man, she was bleeding. He thought for a minute he had killed her, not that he'd give a fuck if he had. A minute or so passed, and she moaned. He got in the car and headed for home. Easy as pie. He was gonna have some fun with her tonight.
He got her into the basement while his son was still in school. That little shit didn't have the balls to tell anyone anything, so he wasn't worried about the eventuality of him finding her. He had free reign of the house while he was at work. Not that the little girl with no name was in his possession, he raped her several times, hell, he even got her to give him a halfway decent blow job. He taught her.
Now he was out of work. He knew the little girl would die soon if he didn't get her some help. She was bleeding all the time from where he had raped her, and the wound on her head where he'd hit her was starting to fester. There's been an article in the paper, and of course an Amber alert, but no one had seen him so what the fuck. Once she died, he'd just bury her. His original plan for when she died was to hide her body in the mountains of rubble at the dump. He'd do that after the police had searched the dump. Given the fact that he’d just been fired, that wasn’t possible. Over the years, there had been more than a few bodies, discovered thereafter murders, mostly adults, but one kid too. He didn't know if the findings had led to an arrest. Truth be told, most crimes went unsolved.
But they'd be hyper-vigilant about a little girl. Now that he wasn't working at the dump (not that he gave a shit) he'd have to find somewhere to dump the little girl when she died. And she would die. He'd see to it that she'd never lived to tell anyone the things he had done to her. His son was in a state of perpetual terror, so he'd never tell either. He was too scared of his own father. Killing his wife had been the best thing he'd ever done.
Now that nosey bitch from child protective services had come around. He'd have to think of some way to deal with it. Maybe he could make his worthless son clean the place up. Stenger was always careful not to hit him in places that could be seen. And of course, they'd never examined him where he did hurt him. He knew Karl was afraid of him, that was part of what made it so fun.
27
Alone in his room, Dave Sr. took the little limousine in his left hand, so he could gesticulate over it with his right. He hadn't needed the paint and brush. They were just a snow job for Davey's sake. Now it was late, and his wife had gone to bed, but not after keeping him informed on what was up with Karl, and the plan she had to go over there with Richard Hawkins, the next door neighbor. Dave had given his approval, telling her to be sure and take her cell phone in case she had to call the cops. Dave too, thought that Stenger had killed his wife - most of the town did - and he wanted that sick fucker in jail. If he was hurting a kid, he wouldn't last long in prison. And that suited Dave just fine.
His wife had left him, he could hear through the floor that she'd gone to bed after her bath. He held the little car in his left hand, and waved his right over it, pronouncing the incantation of the modified protection spell onto the car model. The little car glowed blue as he spoke. Then he added the delay to the spell. All in all, while it was fairly straightforward, it was a complex spell, there were only about a million things that could go wrong.
He was a good wizard, he wouldn't screw this up. Once he was finished, he added a touch of black paint to the car, so Davey, who was inquisitive, would see that he had done something to it. He'd told Davey to come and see him in the morning so he could replace the limousine. The spell was set to go off at midnight the following night. If all went well, it would put an end to the madness that had taken control of his creation. He needed this to go right. If the little ones started crossing over from one area to another, not even he was sure what would happen. It was possible the entire spell would twist, and create who knew what. All bets were off if that happened.
His work done, he turned out the light and waited for sleep to come.
The following morning, Davey had slipped into his dad's room while he was still asleep. He shook him gently awake and asked him if the work on the car was done. In his half-sleep, his father had said yes, and to place the car back in the part of the model it had come from, the truncated version of Los Angeles they'd made. He told him to put it in front of the Chinese Theater, it was where it had originally been located, before things had gone awry, and started moving around by themselves.
Davey took the little car - it was really tiny - and slipped it into the front pocket of his blue jeans. He had forgotten about the hole in the pocket. He never had much coin money, it took a couple of bucks to buy lunch at school, and he had a small coin holder for the little change. He told his dad he'd put it back right away.
He never felt it slip from his pocket on his way down to the basement. Once he reached for it and found it had gone through the hole, he panicked. Retracing his steps, he looked everywhere he had been for the tiny car. He went over and over it, and still didn't find it. It was just a little car, would his dad really miss it when he got better and began work on the model again? He was scared to tell him. His father had always been kind of weird about the model, and often didn't let Davey play with it by himself. Now he'd gone and screwed something up. For the first time ever! It was such a little thing though. What would he tell his dad? He had never lied to his father before. His father knew this and as a result, trusted him implicitly. Now he'd screwed up the model, his worst fear come true. He'd have to lie.
He took one more look around without finding the car. He headed back upstairs and went directly to the kitchen where his mom was making breakfast. He ate hurriedly, and avoided his dad's room afterward, making a bee-line for the door, and off to school. He wanted to avoid telling the inevitable lie to his dad, who would doubtlessly ask. He'd have to deal with it when he got home.
He pondered all day about what to say to him. It haunted him all day in school, fortunately, he had a lot of work to do at school, it being Friday, math was particularly hard, and it took everything he had to focus on the task at hand.
At recess he spotted Karl, sulking over by the jungle gym. It was almost cold enough that the teachers would keep them inside the gym for recess, but not quite. Karl looked lonely, so he went to him. They had been friends once, and Davey hoped they would be again. He could sense the hurt in the little boy, all of the pain he must have had to endure after the death of his mother.
"Hey Karl, want to come over and play after school?"
Karl looked startled, his painful memory of last night's abuse fresh in his mind. His dad had told him that he had lost his job, so that meant Davey was going to have to pick up some slack at home. He wanted him to start cleaning the house up when he got home from school. They would do it together he said, which really meant that he would do it alone while his father stood over him and watched.
"I don't want to play with you. Fag." He sneered at Davey. Inside it was killing him. Davey had been one of the few friends he had. Now he was forbidden to have anyone over or to go to anyone else's house. It was all because of that girl in the basement. Karl knew that little girl would be dead soon if she didn't get help. He wanted to help her and had been sneaking her pieces of pizza. They each took one of the two slices a night his dad allowed him. He gave her water too. She was hurt and she was going to die. It was his father's fault, and just like when he had killed his mom, he wouldn't get caught. He hated his father. So he showed his hate to Davey, the one last friend he had.
"Sorry!" said D
avey. "I just thought you looked lonely and maybe I could come over, and we could play. You know I could come over before your dad got home and he would never know, it would be a secret...."
"Stay the fuck away from me you little shit."
Davey was shocked at the language and stepped back. He'd go find someone else. Besides, he'd really wanted to play with him only as a reason to avoid his dad. He'd have to face him, and tell his first (well maybe not the first) lie he'd ever told him. There'd be hell to pay if he got caught.
The rest of the school day went by way too fast for him. When he got home, he put on his best show and told his dad the limousine was back in front of the Chinese Theater, just like he'd asked. His dad looked visibly relieved. Was there something about that little car his dad wasn't telling him?
When Karl Stenger got home, his dad had cuffed him one and told him to get started on the dishes. No pizza tonight unless he cleaned up this fucking mess. Karl hated that he no longer had his afternoons to himself. In truth, he had wanted to play with Davey. But he couldn't risk doing anything after school that would involve anyone he knew coming into contact with his dad.
He spent three hours in the kitchen. He heard the little girl cry out once. She must have slipped her gag. His father had run downstairs as fast as he could. He was already drunk. He heard him hit the girl once, then silence. He'd shut her up again. When he came back upstairs he had looked in the kitchen. Karl noticed that his dad's fly was unzipped. He guessed that he'd done that dirty thing with the girl again.
He cleaned until the kitchen looked like it did when his mother had been alive. He'd scrubbed every dish in the house, and hauled out several bags of trash. He was putting the trash in the back of the car, so his dad could drop it off at the dump when his dad showed up out of nowhere and grabbed him by his hair, yanking it back. His neck hurt like hell. Maybe this would be the day that his dad killed him.