“I’m almost sold. Just give me a few weeks.”
“Sure.” Josephine patted Kelly on the shoulder. “Did you tell Frank where you're going?” She got up and signaled Kelly to follow her.
“No.” Kelly shook her head, rising from the couch. “He doesn't seem to care. He’s very busy with his work.”
They walked out onto the terrace.
“Is he going to ask where your father went? Is he a curious type?” Josephine lit a cigarette. “If Frank asks, tell him George went hiking with a buddy.”
“Alright. But I doubt Frank gives a rat’s ass about the old fart. He’ll be glad to have him out of the house.”
“He’s definitely taking a shit,” said Josephine. “Or he simply forgot about us.”
Half a minute later, the door swung open and revealed a smiling George.
“Lades, I'm ready,” he declared. “Let's go see the mountains.”
They headed for the car. George wrapped his arm around Kelly’s shoulders and said, “I’m so happy we’re spending this time together, sweetheart. I haven’t hiked in years.” He kissed Kelly on the cheek and then turned his face to Josephine. “You should consider quitting, Josephine. I’m sure you don’t want to die of lung cancer.”
“I'm doing my best, George,” replied Josephine, getting in the front passenger seat. “I’m in a great shape, and I’m not planning to croak any time soon.” She took a deep puff and put the cigarette out. “You will love those mountains. It will be an unforgettable experience, I promise.” She exchanged glances with Kelly, who was starting the engine.
When the Expedition pulled away from the curb, George said, “I wonder how Jane is doing without me. I wish she came with me.”
“I wish so, too, Dad,” said Kelly.
“I hope she’s not missing me too much,” said George.
“She’ll be fine,” Josephine remarked. “I bet she’s enjoying her alone time.”
“Besides, she's got a hundred friends,” Kelly added. “She's having a good time, Dad. And she’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, when you get back home.”
“Women do need a break from their husbands every once in a while. And husbands need a break, too. Enjoy your break, George,” said Josephine.
‘It's a bat,’ that man said. ‘It’s just a damn bat. Leave it there, George. Let's go.’
‘I’m coming.’
Josephine touched Kelly's hand; they exchanged glances again.
“Where's the food?” asked George. “We're going to get hungry there real soon.”
“Graham and Albert are waiting for us in Salamanca. They have a lot of food with them,” answered Josephine. “I asked them to take care of this.”
“I'm already hungry,” said George, rubbing his stomach. Josephine stole a glance at George's face and winced slightly. The old man's wrinkly mug disgusted her.
“It’s only an hour away, Dad,” said Kelly. “If it gets too bad, we’ll find a diner on a highway, okay?”
“Here.” Josephine opened her purse and fished out a Snickers chocolate bar. “I bought it for myself, but I’ll let you have it if you’d like.” She handed the bar to George.
“Next time I’ll get Jane to go with us.” The old man ripped open the chocolate bar wrapper and starting eating.
“Watch those dentures, George.” Josephine giggled. “The nougat in those bars is very sticky.”
“I sure will.” George nodded with a smile.
At a quarter past noon, they arrived in Salamanca. As they crossed the bridge over the Allegheny River, George asked how far the motel was where Graham and Albert were waiting. By the way, Ron had volunteered to stay at home with Tony; someone had to mind the store, you know.
“It’s further down Interstate 86,” Josephine explained. “Just six or seven miles from the mountains.”
“Very good.” George leaned forward to Josephine's seat, making her smell his rotten breath. “When do you plan to go back to Buffalo?”
“Early in the morning, Dad,” replied Kelly.
2.
They arrived at their final destination around half past three.
“Is this the hotel?” George sounded surprised. “Is it some sort of bed and breakfast joint?”
No, it was neither a hotel, nor a bed and breakfast.
The last ten minutes of the drive, Josephine had been stealing glances at the old man’s face and reflecting on the old age. She loathed the changes caused by aging; there was nothing pretty about an old person’s face. A man in his late sixties was a caricature of himself at thirty, and the same was true for women as well. Deep ugly wrinkles covered every square inch of George’s face, his hair was white and scarce, his teeth were crooked and grey. The wrinkles were disgusting; Josephine's heart skipped a beat when she imagined herself at George’s age: her face and body all creased up, her skin blemished with bizarre blotches, her toothless gums hiding behind her pursed colorless lips. She would look pitiful. Plus, don’t forget the frequent body malfunctions that came with age.
“They wanted to stay close to the mountains,” said Kelly. “It’s a fine place, Dad.”
Yes, this farmhouse was a great find. Josephine had spent half September looking for a secure venue for their final encounter with George. The ideal place was supposed to meet two requirements: first, it had to offer a spacious garage or a barn, and second, the nearest neighbor had to be at least a mile away.
“We’re having a family reunion,” she told the prospective lessors on the phone. “And we need a really quiet location.”
In this farmhouse, which was located five miles west of the gorgeous Allegheny State Park, they could be confident that no one would hear George's screams, which were unavoidable since they were not going to drug the man up. Josephine’s place, on the other hand, didn’t provide such peace of mind. By the way, they hoped the old man would squeal like a stuck pig because that would mean they were not going too easy on him.
“It’s been a while since I stretched my legs,” said George, getting out of the Blazer. “I’m so glad you dragged me out of the city.”
Her forehead glistening with sweat, Josephine took George by the elbow, and they headed for the farmhouse. For the hundredth time, she thought about Tony’s brother and that stupid stunt of his. Nico was a real idiot, there could be no denying it. Bats are so damn small; they don't stand a chance against a beast like a three ton Dodge Ram truck moving at seventy miles an hour.
Dumb show-off. There’s a lesson for you, kids: vanity gets you burned.
“Do you remember your friend Earl Bayley from Jamestown?” asked Josephine when they were halfway from the house.
“It doesn’t look like a hotel,” commented George, looking at the building. “Earl Bayley?” He turned his face to Josephine. “How do you know him? Of course I remember Earl. I’m not that senile.” He snickered.
“You saw him a couple of months ago, right?” said Josephine. “Do you remember that?”
Visibly puzzled, George knitted his brows and nodded.
“Yeah, I went to Jamestown to visit him in August,” he answered. “He is an old friend of mine. We had a great time, by the way. Do you know him?”
Josephine noted to herself with relish that George had absolutely no idea what a nightmare was awaiting him. There he was, an old gullible fool thinking they were about to go hiking in the mountains, picturing himself eating, telling jokes, and enjoying the fresh air. Expecting to be back in Buffalo tomorrow morning, happy and rejuvenated. The old man was calm and carefree. Dumb fuck.
‘It's a bat. It’s just a damn bat. Leave it there, George. Let's go.’
Josephine shivered, hit by a sudden gust of cold wind. The autumn had been getting a firmer grip of the weather, bringing lower temperatures and cloudy skies.
“You drove to Jamestown in your Dodge Ram truck, didn’t you?” said Josephine, climbing up the porch.
“Yes, I did. I love my truck. It goes everywhere.”
George was old. Josephine heaved a sigh.
He was old and fragile. He would die too quickly. Had he been in his forties, they would have had a lot more fun with him. They would have let their imaginations go wild with this fucker.
“Is it your friend’s place?” George asked, observing Josephine open the front door. “Come on, somebody tell me. I can honestly say I’m intrigued.”
“Excellent guess, Dad,” said Kelly. “So you remember visiting Earl two months ago? Great!”
“Is it some kind of surprise party?” said George. “Is Earl here? Come on, girls, tell me already.”
They went inside the house, and Josephine locked the front door. Albert and Ron had already taken care of the windows: they had shut them all and had also lowered the shades.
“Do you remember going on joyrides with Earl two months ago?” asked Josephine. “There was at least one joyride. Do you remember that, George?”
George nodded.
“I sure do. As I said, I love my truck. Earl and I drove all over the place last summer. Why are you asking?”
He glanced around in search of Graham and Albert.
“Do you remember going to Chautauqua Lake with Earl?” asked Josephine.
“Yeah, we went there fishing. I love that place. It’s got walleye, bass, perch, musky, you name it.”
“Do you remember taking Route 394 on the way back from the lake?”
“I don’t remember every road we took, but one of them could very well have been Route 394. I hardly use maps anymore. I just go wherever my GPS tells me to go.”
“You have a great memory, Dad,” remarked Kelly. “I almost forgot you went to visit Earl.”
“So what are we doing here?” asked George. “Where’s everybody?”
Josephine put her hand on his right shoulder and said, “We have a little surprise for you, George. Let's go to the garage.”
She was looking George in the eye. Those pigment spots scattered all over his face were revolting. He must have a rotten breath, too. Pitiful man. Pathetic murderer. He didn’t seem to be physically fit to last the thirty minutes that they required to do all the things they had planned for him.
He had taken so easy that collision with a bat. Fucking moron.
“Graham and Al are waiting for us in the garage, Dad,” said Kelly. “They have a very spacious garage here.”
“Garage? Okay.” George stared at his daughter with curiosity. “Are we going to grab something to eat before leaving? What’s the plan?”
“Our plan for today is to have fun, George.” Josephine smiled. “I'll explain everything to you in a minute.”
George shrugged his shoulders and followed Josephine to the garage.
“What is this for?” he asked with a chuckle when he saw a six-foot long folding utility table that sat in an inflatable kiddie pool in the middle of the garage. “In the mood for swimming today?” He gave Josephine an inquiring look.
He didn’t ask any questions about the plastic sheet they had thrown on the garage floor in order to keep things clean and leave no evidence that could hang them.
“Calm down, George,” said Albert, stepping behind George and pressing a chloroform-soaked linen napkin to his face. “It's vengeance.”
He winked at Josephine, grabbed a tight hold of George, and carried him to the table.
“He should wake up in fifteen minutes,” said Josephine, watching Albert lay the old man on the table.
Graham rose from the wicker chair and said, “I wonder how much torture he can take before croaking. I hope he doesn’t die in the first ten minutes.”
“He seems to be in an okay shape,” Albert remarked. “I’d say he’ll last at least fifteen minutes.”
“A sixty seven year old guy can have a heart attack even from a minor stress,” Josephine said in a disappointed voice. “I'm afraid he won’t last five minutes if we’re too hard on him.” She frowned.
Kelly picked up a Craftsman electric drill from the counter, switched it on, and poked the table with the whirring drill bit, spraying a pinch of sawdust into the air. Then she rubbed the shallow hole bored by the Craftsman with her finger and said, “I like this drill. I’m going to play with it.”
“We’ve got three more drills here.” Graham brandished another drill over his shoulder. “Everyone can have a drill.”
“I’d like to work on him with this.” Albert gently stroked the glass bottle with sulphuric acid he was clutching in his hand. “I’ll do his legs first.”
“Keep the acid from dripping into the pool. I don’t want any holes in it.” Josephine warned him. “And please don’t burn his eyes. I want George to see what’s happening to him.”
“You want him to watch his own daughter killing him?” asked Graham. “That’s so sick, Josie.”
Josephine flashed a broad grin.
“We have to make sure to keep him alive until he understands why we’re killing him,” said Graham. “I’m afraid it will take him a while to understand that.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Kelly agreed. “He must be really confused right now.”
“We'll explain it to him properly.” Josephine cracked a smile. “He remembers his trip to Jamestown, he remembers going to the lake. He’ll remember what he did. He’ll understand.”
“Josie, I doubt he remembers hitting a bat,” said Albert. “There are tons of roadkill every year; people take it like it’s nothing.” He opened the laptop he had brought from Buffalo and clicked on the Skype icon.
“We’ll see,” Josephine replied with an air of nonchalance. “Maybe it’s not that important after all. We'll have a great time regardless whether he remembers the bat, or not, right?” She exchanged glances with Albert, Kelly, and Graham.
“Oh yeah.” Albert rubbed his hands together. A moment later he announced, “They are on.” He pointed at the webcam window where they could see Ron and Tony sitting next to each other and patiently waiting for the show to start. “Hi, Tony!”
“Hi, Al.” Tony waved to him and made the okay sign. “Hi, everyone.”
Then George woke up. Eight minutes before he came to consciousness, they had undressed him to his underwear and tied him to the table with nylon ropes so that he wouldn't be able to either push, or kick, or jump off the table.
“Wakey wakey, Dad,” said Kelly, bringing the buzzing drill to his chest. “How are you doing? Sleep well?” She burst out laughing and turned to the rest of the gang. “Let's cut off his dick. It’s got to be very painful, I reckon.”
“He’s going to pass out or even die right away,” Graham objected. “Let Al sprinkle some acid on him first. It will hurt him like hell, but he’ll stay conscious. Get to work, Al.” He pointed to George’s legs.
“Alright,” Albert said cheerfully and started pouring the acid on the old man’s hips. George uttered a piercing cry, his arms twitching wildly, his leg muscles tensed. The skin affected by the acid was blistering and growing dark brown.
“Maybe we should have tied him to a chair,” Kelly said, pushing the drill bit into George’s left heel. “He might choke on his own vomit, you know.”
“Let’s watch his mouth then.” Albert poured some acid around George's navel.
“What are you—,” the old man screamed, making an incredible effort to free his arms and legs, thin white smoke wafting up from his acid-burned skin.
“Damn, it’s working so fast,” said Graham. “It looks awesome. Give him a little more, Al.” He thrust the drill bit into George's right shoulder, narrowing his eyes as blood began to leak out of the wound. He relaxed his eyelids when he realized there was not enough pressure for the blood to splatter on his face. George was wriggling like a caterpillar dropped into a crowd of hungry ants.
“Don't burn the ropes, please,” Josephine warned Albert, drilling a hole in George's left knee. “That acid is strong shit.”
“Take a knitting needle, Al. Make a few holes in this fucker,” said Kelly, who had just finished boring through her father’s right foot.
“Kelly, please—” Geo
rge failed to finish the phrase, overwhelmed by a coughing fit, after which he resumed bawling.
“Are you sure we won’t have any unexpected guests here?” Graham asked Josephine. “This fellow’s so fucking loud.”
Josephine shook her head and said, “It's a really quiet place. The nearest house is two miles away. But just in case, go outside and stand on the lookout, will you?”
“Sure thing.” Graham put his drill on the counter and left the garage.
“You’re doing an excellent job there, guys,” Tony’s voice came out the laptop speakers. “Keep it up.”
“Thanks, Tony,” replied Josephine.
She bent over George's face, her lips puckered. The old man's howling had begun to nauseate her.
“George, do you remember what happened when you and Earl were driving home from the lake?” she asked. When she saw George’s lips move, she raised her right hand, saying, “Guys, let's take a quick break. I want to listen to what George has to say.”
“You think he finally remembered Nico?” said Albert, pulling the knitting needle out of George's thigh.
When all the drills had been taken out of the old man’s body, Josephine asked, “Do you remember what happened on Route 394?”
“What is this all about?” George cried out. “Please stop it!”
He resumed shrieking with pain; his attempts to break free from the ties had gotten weaker: he put every bit of energy he had into straining his muscles, but the vigor was gone from his movements. His limbs were shivering, his body was glistening with sweat, whose musky smell was noticeable now.
“Seems like he's going to croak soon,” remarked Ron. “Hurry up, guys.”
“George, do you remember that bat on Route 394?” Josephine handed her drill to Albert. “After fishing at the lake, you and Earl took Route 394 to get to the highway. Do you remember it?”
“Please stop, Josephine. Kelly, please ask them to stop,” moaned George.
“Are you fucking deaf?” shouted Josephine. “George, I asked you a question. I don’t want to repeat it again. Do you remember driving on Route 394 two months ago?”
“Yes,” the old man blared. “Yes, I remember.”
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