“Well if something happens to Wesley, I’ll keep you in mind. See ya later.” Junior walked out holding his head high. It would all work out for him very soon. Across the parking lot he spied a very familiar red Mustang at the gas pumps. Wesley was washing his windshield, ignoring Junior. When he walked around the edge of the lot, he could hear Wesley laughing. A couple in the back seat was laughing as well. He just knew they were laughing at him. Wesley wasn’t looking in his direction but he knew he must have said something to make them laugh. Junior hurried away trying to suppress his anger. Walking helped, and the further he got the calmer he became. Then from behind him he heard the Mustang coming. He couldn’t stop himself from turning to look. As they passed, he could see that Wesley was still laughing. They made eye contact for long second. And he nodded at him as he drove by, unaware of the effect his slight civility had on Junior. He drove on without giving Junior another thought. His new comedy tape they were listening to had been entertaining them all morning.
But from his perspective, the nod was obviously confirmation. That, yes we are laughing at you. And he knew it was Wesley’s fault that they were laughing, it had to be! An odd sensation began to swirl around inside him fueling a rush of emotions. Beads of sweat formed on his upper lip and forehead. His temples began to throb steadily harder with increasing severity. It was clear to him now what needed to be done, what had to be done. It was time to deal with Wesley. Time to make sure he doesn’t keep Celeste away from him anymore.
***
Just a minute past eleven p.m. Wesley pulled the emergency brake off and let his Mustang coast downhill out of his driveway. He wanted to get well away from the house before starting the engine, a little trick he had used several times before successfully. Once away, he cruised nonchalantly around the twisted roadway trying not to attract any attention. Tonight he wanted to slink away into the night. To runaway and keep on running, and he wasn’t coming back. But first he had to stop at the parking spot. Some called it “Lovers Lane.” Some called it “Lookout Point.” Mostly it was a teen party spot. He killed his lights before turning onto the dirt road making sure not to stir up much dust. Being Sunday night, the lot was deserted. He pulled into his favorite spot and shut it down, no lights or radio. He just sat in the dark waiting.
Junior was waiting too. He had waited for many nights. And tonight his prey was being delivered on a red steel platter. His perch was so close he could smell the exhaust. Misty rain started to fall and it felt cool to his bare skin. He had come out tonight wearing only jeans and shoes. Strapped to his side was a World War II German bayonet with a twelve-inch long blade. It had a double edge four inches to the tip. Kept sharp as a razor, it was a perfect skinning tool for deer. And it was always Marty’s favorite. With deft his hunter’s skill, he crept silently behind the car. Put his cheek up to the bumper. To feel the cold of the metal, and to listen to Wesley fidget. He only listened for a brief minute before standing up, holding the bayonet with the blade hidden in the shadow of his forearm. He took the end of the handle and raked it across the trunk of Wesley’s car producing a loud screech. It instantly got his attention. He vaulted out of the car and rounded the bumper ready to fight.
“What the hell’s going on?” He stopped cold when he saw Junior standing there. Something in his eyes gave Wesley a start, rattling his nerve. “Wh...What do you want Junior?”
“I just wanted to get a close look at your new car.” Junior looked down at the deep scratch he had just dug. When Wesley saw it, he regained his nerve and stepped toward Junior. But before he could plant his foot firmly on the ground Junior brought the knife up slashing upward across his chest. Split his chin to the bone and slit his nose. Wesley reeled slightly, trying to defend. But before another heartbeat pulsed Junior brought the blade back down. Straight into his chest. The blade drove deep through the collar bone, slicing into the jugular vein as it forced its way deep into his lung. It came back out just as easily. So he plunged it back into Wesley’s chest again. Blood splashed onto Junior’s face and ran down into his mouth. The taste only made him want more. He stabbed again and again feverishly before finally allowing the mangled corpse to fall to the ground. Blood and gore poured out the eviscerated chest. Junior crouched over him, high on the thrill of the kill.
“Who’s the ugly freak boy now?” His voice barely above a whisper, the scene completely quiet as even the animals knew to stay away tonight. Then he leaned over and bit a chunk out of Wesley’s cheek. “You’re really ugly now, freak boy.” The blood gushed down his chin as he enjoyed his treat. The intoxicating effect temporarily caused him to drop his guard.
He didn’t hear the bicycle pull up and stop. Didn’t hear the small footsteps approach. He didn’t snap out of his trance until a girl screamed. She had already turned to run when Junior uncoiled his legs and leapt onto her. He grabbed her curly hair with his left hand and pulled her back off her feet. He then brought the knife around in an arc, stabbing her between the breasts piercing her heart. The force of the blow was so intense that it broke the breastbone, burying an inch of the hilt in the bone. The other end of the blade stuck into the ground beneath her, pinning her down. It was just a few seconds before Junior’s high gave way to reality. And to his horror he recognized that the curly blond hair belonged to Celeste.
She looked up at him in shock, her face twisted with agony. Then in an instant, she was gone. Her pale green eyes still locked on Junior in a haunting stare. The rain began to fall heavier and the drops looked like tears rolling off her cheeks.
“This was not supposed to happen like this! What are you doing here?” His voice was low and guttural. Junior threw himself into the dirt and started pitching a fit. Flailing his arms and grinding his teeth. He was ready to scream out loud. But a familiar voice in his head told him to stop, to look around at what he’d done. He immediately gained composure. It was as if he had simply flipped a switch from panic to calm. Crouched on all fours in the muddy road, his black hair hung down in his eyes like a rabid feral dog. His mind raced over what just happened. The answers came easy after the fact. Of course Wesley and Celeste would meet here. It was a great place to make out; only a fool would have missed that. And Celeste only lived half a mile away, an easy trip on a bicycle. How could he have been so careless, how could he have let things get out of control. Now there was a big mess to clean up. Something else Junior hadn’t thought about until now. He was in a trance of indecision. The little part of him that still hung onto reality was screaming for him to act. With the remaining fragments of his mind lost in delirium.
A pair of headlights turned down the hill toward Junior, casting long shadows as it came in his direction. Moving with the speed of a gazelle, he dragged Celeste into the bushes next to the car. Then pulled Wesley on the blind side of it just as the other car passed. It continued on for a dozen yards before pulling to the side and turning off the engine. Only a few minutes passed before the windows began to fog up. The radio played softly, blacking out the rest of the world. Junior watched until he was satisfied they were too occupied to notice him, long enough to think of a plan.
The back seat was just big enough for Wesley’s long body. And he easily moved Celeste to the passenger seat. Strapping her in place and tying her hair back to the headrest to hold her head up. He popped the trunk before going for the bicycle and found a couple suitcases. The bike had one with it as well. They were set to run away together. Junior felt betrayed when he realized the purpose for their meeting. He felt a little less mad at himself for killing her. After all, she was going to run away from him anyway. The bike fit better in the trunk but the bags had to go in the backseat with Wesley. All his activity took less than two minutes. The only thing the couple in the next car saw was the Mustang’s tail lights heading away, with a bicycle hanging out of the trunk. He put on Wesley’s high school jacket to make it look natural. Everything had to be right. The mud on his shoes made the pedals slippery so when he pulled on the paved road he almost choked
it down. But in the panic of the moment he over compensated and burned a rubber streak thirty feet long. Turning out every dog for two miles. A river of sweat ran down his neck. His senses were finely tuned to every sound, light or landmark. His mind raced like a computer. Celeste’s hand had already gone cold when Junior reached for it. He wanted to pretend for a moment that they were on a date. A set of headlights popped out of the rain headed his way. As they approached, The driver tooted the horn and waved. So Junior held up Celeste’s hand and waved in reply.
“So much for not being seen. I gotta get off the road somewhere, gotta think.” He squeezed her hand and moved closer to her face as he spoke. “What do you think Babe? Know any really good hiding places close by?” He nudged her with his shoulder. “C’mon, you and Wesley probably had a hundred places to make out!” His own words made him angry. He nudged her again only harder. But this time she slumped down in the seat. Her hair pulled her neck tight, turning her face toward Junior. Her open-eyed stare froze him in mid chuckle. His beautiful girlfriend now pale and cold, staring at him, blaming him. The first tinge of guilt sliced into his conscience and he started to cry. “It’s not my fault! You shouldn’t have been there.” For a second he let go off the wheel, reaching out to embrace her. The car ran onto the shoulder shaking Junior out of his mania. Big bushes scraped the passenger side door, knocking the rear view mirror crooked before he regained control. His mood more somber now. He had made enough bad moves tonight and it was time to get a grip. Another car passed them before he reached his turn. He cut his lights and slowed to a crawl, making sure no saw him turn onto the gravel road.
No one really knew how old it was, but it wound around the ridge from the outer suburbs of Bontonville, to the state road seven miles away. Steep slopes made it a true mountain road, twisty, hilly and aptly called the “Old ridge road.” It also ran adjacent to the Baumann property. On a dark tight curve was a streambed Junior was looking for. So he turned off the road into the rough. The small sporty car bumped loudly down a short slope dumping into a rocky stream. Then he turned uphill and forced his way through the bramble, knocking down bushes and slinging rocks. Not far ahead was the back road that cut through his farm, one of several homemade access roads used in the reefer farming days. Once there it was smooth sailing for a mile. The battered car charged ahead, bounding over the landscape at Juniors insistence. His goal wasn’t far now. The old mine had a large-covered shaft. Covered with wood just like the air-shaft.
Steam began to blow from under the hood as he pulled past the entrance to the mine. A little further up the path turned back on itself and turned sharply uphill toward the shaft. There was a huge flat clearing around the opening, now heavily overgrown with shrubs and weeds. He stopped when he finally reached the clearing, taking a moment to clear his head before the next bit. It was time to dump the car. For a moment he thought about saying goodbye to Celeste, but he couldn’t force himself to look at her again. The image of her dead eyes was still vivid in his mind. Just outside he found a suitable branch to wedge onto the gas pedal. He made several adjustments to it until it was set. Not too fast, so he could steer it onto the cover and jump off. Once he had the car moving he aimed it at a big tree on the other side and jumped out of the way. The rolling wreck rolled straight into the wood cover and into the tree with a loud crunch. Steam poured out in earnest, and the car choked out but remained solidly atop the old moss-covered lumber. Junior stood aghast at the sight. Total silence surrounded him. His temples began to pound making him stagger forward a few steps. In a fit of rage he ran across the wood and pounded on the car, hammering his fists on the glass till his knuckles bled. Then he heard a loud snap, below him he felt a sharp thump. The wood was cracking up. His instincts drove him toward the nearest edge at an inhuman speed. Leaping with all his might as he felt the wood collapse. He managed to find solid ground in time to see the cover give way under the weight of the car. One, two, three… he counted, waiting for the crash, five, six… a huge splash echoed up through the chasm.
His relief was enormous. He laid in the dirt, in the rain, a happy man. It was finally done, almost. He still had to retrieve his dirt bike. Junior sat up and began to study all that just happened.
“I can’t do this again….not without a good plan. I know what went wrong tonight…I didn’t think everything through. Next time I won’t make a move without a real good plan.” And there would most certainly be a next time, he had tasted fresh blood and he liked it. The sheer joy he felt as he sliced up Wesley was exhilarating. Never again would he get caught so unprepared. With proper planning he could control every minute of the next one. The rain started pouring suddenly and lightning flashed warning of a coming storm. Junior jogged off toward his bike. Ready to put the finishing touches on this hellish night.
The sun had just started to rise before he could fetch his bike and get home. Another ten minutes to dump his muddy clothes in the barn and sneak back in. When Ellen woke up, she found him fast asleep in his room. Never aware that he had ever left.
She was packed and ready to go to the clinic for three weeks, more if necessary. Her first appointment wasn’t until one p.m. So she let him sleep, deciding instead to fix a country breakfast. The smell of bacon frying stirred Junior into joining her in the kitchen. For the next two hours they ate and talked and ate some more. Ten minutes after ten the phone rang. It was Rosa from the Sheriff’s office with today’s issue of the gossip gazette. It seems the Reverend Groome’s sainted son Wesley had eloped with Celeste Ray last night. They both packed bags and left notes explaining why.
“Wesley had a full scholarship in Tennessee this fall, and they just took off! And that Celeste …was two months pregnant. She was only fifteen, Juniors age.” Rosa filled her in on all the details. Not missing a single clue to the story of the year.
“You don’t think so do you? You know how stories get started.” Ellen motioned for Junior to listen in on the other phone in the bedroom.
“Oh I know so. Her mother broke down when she talked to Clyde this morning. Celeste told her she was pregnant and it started a big fight, she swore she was gonna run away, that happened two days ago.” Rosa cupped the phone with her hand for a second, handling another call before quickly returning. “Anyway, Reverend Groomes is about to have a fit. He wants to call out the Army and search the state. He swears that the she-devil tricked his son into running off. And that she was fibbing just to embarrass his family.”
“What a nice guy, I’d want to run away too.”
“Oh he’s been crying foul play all day. But there were five witnesses that saw the car with them in it. Heading out of town at about midnight last night. Celeste waved at one couple. Her bicycle was even hanging out of the trunk. She went everywhere on that bicycle.” She cupped the handset again and when she came back. “Listen hon’ I need to do some work...good luck at the clinic. We’ll all be praying for you.”
“Bye bye, I’ll call you later when they give me a chance.” Ellen put the phone down and moved back over to the table mulling the news over in her head. Junior put his phone away slowly. The news was especially interesting to him. Fortune had smiled on him; he couldn’t have imagined a story any better. Even with all his blunders it turned out perfect. The rain will have washed the mountain clean before anyone realizes they’re not coming back. No one will search the area for a long time, if ever. Once Ellen checked in, he would have plenty of time to retrace his steps and remove any clues. Plenty of time to camouflage the open shaft way.
It seemed to him as though he was meant to kill them. The way the event just fell together made him feel confident, superior. His insides were burning in an exhilarating rush. Every hair on his body seemed to be dancing. He licked the sweat off his upper lip as he looked in the mirror. He liked killing, and he wanted to do it again. But even though he was safe, he realized it was only by a narrow margin. He would not let this experience go to waste. The circumstances would have to be under complete control before he would k
ill again. Luck had played a greater hand this time but he could not rely on luck ever again, he would have to be smart.
And he was.
Chapter 8
In the weeks that followed Bontonville was abuzz with gossip. The story of the missing couple spread like a virus through several counties. Not a single trace had turned up anywhere. There was talk of foul play, but only idle rumors. Several people had come forward to give statements about seeing them that night. Since they both left a note there was nothing to do but wait, wait and hope.
The little mountainside town was also getting very busy, very quickly. Just after the interstate was completed, Bontonville became an instant hit with travelers. It had beautiful scenery and luckily lay midway between two large interchanges. A perfect place to stop and rest. Within the first two weeks local businesses were scrambling to expand. Anyone with property near there was either selling or making plans to build. And that included Junior.
The Baumann property lay one half mile from the Interstate. And “Ellen’s Place” was in a perfect location. It was easy to find and conveniently situated next to a shortcut popular with the truckers.
While Ellen was away at the detox center, the store remained closed. But she and Junior had talked at length about turning it into a restaurant and store. It seemed like a great way for her to keep busy and to stay away from any more bad habits. She wanted to start a new life in earnest. And Junior couldn’t be happier.
He had kept busy while she was in treatment. Drawing out plans for their new business, meeting with contractors. And retracing his tracks through the hills to completely remove any evidence of the murders. Most days he took the time to get away to his favorite perch on a hillside, a secluded spot where he could see most of Bontonville. The new highway skirted his vista and added a new element to the scenery. It was his place to think and plan his future. And he had plans for many things, including more killing.
The Final Shortcut Page 10