The Final Shortcut

by G. Bernard Ray

  The chamber exploded backward sending fire and brass shards back into his face. The dirt jammed in the barrel caused the bullet to split it wide open. Both men hit the ground, neither sure if they were alive or dead. Clyde’s face was splattered with dirt and he felt the stinging in his eyes as he crawled away. Most of the blast had erupted into Junior’s chest and face. Shrapnel cut him deep across the cheek. The rifle fell so hard across the crown of his left foot that it drew blood. The shock of his failure drove him to his knees and he cried out in anguish. He rolled on the ground shrieking like a wounded animal, his cries echoing through the cavern.

  Clyde stumbled to his feet, not sure if he was injured. His ears throbbed from the explosion and he felt disoriented. Junior’s tracks were barely visible in the dim light, but enough that he could hopefully follow them back to safety. They led him to the light switch, which he immediately turned on. But when he did Junior’s screeching stopped. And when he turned around he saw Junior on all fours at the end of the van, staring directly at him. They both moved at the same time. Clyde ran down the tunnel still following the footprints and Junior jumped up only to fall down again. He could feel the bones in his injured foot cracking and he howled again louder than before. Clyde didn’t bother to look back. He just ran as fast as he could until he came to a junction with tracks going in every direction. The sight of which made him feel very despondent, and he realized his error. Wherever he tried to hide, Junior knew the way better than him. His heart pounded and his breath came in loud gasps. He tried to calm down and listen for Junior, but he couldn’t. In all his professional life he had never been so terrified. But he had an inner strength that couldn’t be bested. And his innate sense of survival drove him on. He studied the tracks and made a choice, driving on deeper into the mine. Correct or not he was not going to stand still and make it easier for Junior.

  The overhead lights seemed to go on forever, the magnitude of Junior’s effort amazed him. It all seemed so fantastic that he could have done all this in secret. He came to another opening and slowed down expecting the worst. But what he found was far worse than he could ever imagine. The skeletons were all looking at him. Their forlorn faces a testament to Junior’s savagery. He stood in the archway dumbfounded. the blood rushed from his face and he thought he would pass out. There was a mound of dirt and a large rock nearby so he sat down to rest. Sweat poured from his brow and his body ached all over. As he surveyed the ghastly display in front of him he found himself praying under his breath. The longer he sat there the more unsettling it was. How could a boy he helped raise have done all this.

  There was a noise in the tunnel and he jumped to his feet. The only way out was the way he came in and he could hear Junior panting just a few feet away. He ran across the room and hid in the shadows just before Junior came limping in. Searching the ground with a large flashlight he found it easy to follow Clyde’s tracks to the rock and beyond. His foot was bleeding and he dragged it behind him as he walked, in his other hand was a machete. Clyde knew he only had a second before Junior was upon him and he frantically looked for a way to escape. Then he saw the shotgun in a skeleton’s hands. But it was over ten feet away and directly in front of Junior. He squatted down and scooped up a hand full of dirt as Junior crept ever closer.

  “I know you’re there, you found my prizes but you’ll never tell anybody.” Junior raised the machete and lunged forward. Clyde threw the dirt in his eyes and charged full force into his chest knocking him hard on his ass. The impact took his breath away but he managed to hobble over to Taipei’s skeleton. Laboring to breath he moved too slowly, he was certain Junior was about to strike. He snatched the shotgun and the skeleton came with it. The bony hands so securely wired it would take a wire cutter to free them. Clyde tried to wrest the shotgun free only to get tangled and fall, knocking several other skeletons off their perch. In a frenzied blast of energy he thrashed and kicked until the weapon came free. With two arms up to the elbow, still hung from the stock. When he whipped around he found Junior crouched on his knees, grasping his ribcage and struggling to breath.

  He stared down at Junior, finger on the trigger. Stared hard into his empty eyes and waited. The pain on Junior’s face was apparent. It occurred to him that the shotgun might not be loaded, a fact that Junior would know. Sweat ran down his back, his arm throbbed in unison with his raging heart. But he couldn’t move, he was frightened beyond explanation.

  “Why Junior? Why did you kill all these people?” Clyde punctuated his words with authority, but Junior didn’t respond. “Talk to me boy, you tell me why you did this.” He walked slowly to the side out of the bone pile and kept his eyes on his target. Junior turned his slightly but he only moaned. “ANSWER ME!”

  Junior jerked his head around and looked at Clyde with confusion in his eyes. “You talking to me again Daddy?”

  “You just answer the question, why did you kill all…”

  “I had to take care of Mama.”

  “What? Explain yourself.” Clyde wanted to keep the upper hand so he kept moving around him as he talked. Junior stopped following him with his head. He just looked off in the distance and kept talking.

  “Like you told me, I had to take care of Mama, and the restaurant. I kept everything working good….” his voice faded out. “Just like you said.”

  Clyde was failing fast. He wouldn’t be able to stand this tension for much longer. Fatigue was making his joints ache and his mind cloud up. “What do you mean?”

  Junior’s expression changed and he glared at him now with a renewed ferocity, “You ain’t my Daddy.” The words sent chills down Clyde’s spine. In an instant he understood what Junior had been thinking. Only now it was too late.

  As fast as he could he pulled the shotgun down and fumbled for lever to crack the old double barrel in half, frantic to see if it was loaded. Junior lurched forward and cried out in pain, but he continued on. Fudd’s skeleton lie right next to Junior, his pistol still in his hands. He smashed the arm bones, wrenched it free, and spun to face Clyde.

  Finding two shells filling the barrel he snapped it shut and brought it up to bear on his target. Fudd’s fingers were still wrapped around the handle of the pistol, but it didn’t keep Junior from finding the trigger. Clyde didn’t wait or issue any warnings. He pulled the left trigger and emptied a twelve-gauge shell into Junior’s arm and shoulder. The pistol dropped to the ground along with two off his fingers. Junior grabbed his wrist and screamed even louder than before. Blood poured from several punctures quickly drenching his shirt. But he didn’t stay down. He struggled to his feet and started taking baby steps toward the interior of the chamber.

  “Stay down Junior! You better stay down!”

  He ignored Clyde and slowly stumbled down the row of skeletons. “What do I do now Daddy. Talk to me Daddy.”

  Clyde walked up behind Junior and retrieved the flashlight, shining it on Junior and beyond. “Get down Junior!”

  “Why won’t you talk to me now Daddy, I need your help. I don’t know what to do now.” Half stumbling, half walking he passed all the victims only to stop and flop in front of the last one. “Talk to me Daddy. I need you now, talk to me. What do I do….”

  Clyde stood in shock at the sight of an all too familiar hat on the last skeleton. Faded and decrepit, but he still recognized Marty’s favorite cap. The sight of Junior pleading with his long dead father to talk to him was too much. He dropped the shotgun to the ground and stepped backward. Lost his footing and sat down hard in the dirt. A noise in the tunnel startled him but he couldn’t move. Two flashlights flooded the doorway followed by two FBI agents. The first agent grabbed his radio and called for help.

  “I found him…them. Down the second tunnel to the right.”

  “Thank God….” The relief flooded over him and he felt like crying.

  “Talk to me Daddy…” Junior’s words got weaker as he lay face down in the dirt, his hand on Marty’s foot.

  “Sheriff are you ok? Help is
on the way, are you hurt?” Mike squatted down next to him and reached for his radio again.

  “I don’t think so, but he is.” Clyde pointed weakly at Junior and laid down flat to rest. The horrendous crimes portrayed here were too much to absorb and he thought his heart would burst. Mike handed him a bottle of water and smiled reassuringly. His radio was buzzing with chatter, it sounded like the whole county was on its way. And it would take every able body to sort out this mess.

  Marty had disappeared over twenty years before, but he never left home. But knowing that it was finally over gave Clyde strength and he began to feel calmer. He could see the agents staring in disbelief at the scene. One of them fell to his knees and threw up. Ramone came running in and stopped in mid stride, his hand went to his mouth and his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. No one spoke a word. It was all too fantastic for words. Junior’s muttering was barely audible. He was still alive but failing fast. Ramone walked over to him and tried to treat his wounds. Three pellets had punctured his shoulder area but the bulk of the shot had torn gapping holes in his arm. All he could do was tie off his arm and apply pressure to the other wounds. His radio blared again and he motioned at Mike to go lead the EMT’s in.

  It was finally over. Long endless hours of investigation had netted him nothing of use. Only by chance had he found the real criminal. It would seem that fate had led him here.

  ***

  Clyde sat on the tailgate of the ambulance smoking a big cigar. Dozens of FBI and other law enforcement personnel had converged on the lost mine. He watched as body after body were carried out and placed in a large panel van. Several men in suits stood around talking, they kept looking back at him and then looking away. He knew they must think he was a terrible policeman, the pseudo father of the state’s worst serial killer ever. All he could do was watch and wait, stunned. They were all staying off the radio now in an attempt to keep the press out. And he was sure it was a story that would be heard around the world, one that would never be forgotten in his hometown.

  One of the suits grabbed his phone and motioned for the others to follow him and they jogged into the mine. Ramone walked out slowly and stopped outside to take a breath. The look of sheer horror on his face made Clyde’s skin crawl again, he knew something was up.

  “What is it?” He asked earnestly, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

  “We found something….” Ramone held his hand over his mouth and made a gurgling noise. He sat down on the tailgate next to him. “Do you have another cigar?” Clyde handed him one from his shirt pocket and waited in horror for the news. “We found out how he disposed of the bodies, well the flesh anyway.” He paused and lit the cigar, his hands trembling.

  “What do you mean?”

  “His apartment has every modern comfort, a stock of weapons, tools and toys. A fully stocked workshop and….” he took another drag on his smoke before continuing, his face ashen white. “He also has a meat packing set-up.”

  “What are you saying? Y..you don‘t think he….” Clyde swallowed hard not wanting to hear the words he was thinking.

  “We have to wait until forensics can investigate but…I found this next to the grinder.” Ramone opened his hand and showed Clyde a man’s ring that was bent and scarred, like it had got caught in a machine. He gasped and his heart skipped a beat, his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out. The EMT’s ran to help him and pushed Ramone away, shortly after they slammed the doors and drove away with sirens blasting. Ramone looked down at the ground and prayed to himself, hoping beyond hope that this ghastly tale was truly over.

  Epilogue

  C

  lyde stood in the front yard of his home, a for sale sign was posted next to the street. He had already resigned from the police force and had packed most of his personal belongings in a rented truck. In the last few days had seen a flurry of news people and investigators. He had retold his story so much that he was sick of hearing it. Countless travelers had eaten at Ellen’s and had unknowingly tasted human flesh in a variety of sausages and hamburgers. Over twenty skeletons had been recovered from the mine along with a red mustang and two teenage lovers. Undoubtedly the first in a long string of murders. Their bodies recovered from the bottom of a deep pit and the tattered remains of a buckskin jacket bearing the name Celeste. Their long unsolved disappearance had finally been solved. Their families finally had closure.

  Ellen’s restaurant was also for sale though it was certain that no one would be anxious to buy it. Graffiti covered the windows and several of them had been broken out. Enraged and sickened people had taken out their angst on the building. All across the state the news had spread quickly. Even international agencies carried the story to all points of the compass. There had never been a story like this and because of it Bontonville would forever have a legacy of horror, death, and cannibalism.

  Ellen put her house on the market and with the help of the local bank her estate would be disposed of. The monies would continue to provide for her welfare and for Junior. He was recovering in a prison ward in the county hospital and would be sent to a private institution, for the rest of his life. It was only a matter of paperwork and a quick trial to make it legal. There wasn’t a doubt to anyone that he was completely insane. He talked freely of his actions to the investigators. Outlining the construction of his secret home and providing details of each murder, acting very proud of his accomplishments. He was gleeful to tell how he had outwitted so many investigators for so many years. In his mind he was a celebrity, for the first time in his life people wanted to talk to him, wanted to know his story.

  Rosa pulled up in front of Clyde’s house and walked over to him with tears in her eyes. She put her arms around him and gave him a long hug before stepping back to wipe her eyes. “Won’t you reconsider, you could just take a leave of absence until…”

  “No, I would never be able to face anyone around here again. I helped raise Junior after Marty disap…died. No one would ever trust me again, and I…I just can’t stay here any longer. I’ve got to get away and start over somewhere else. Ellen and I are going to move somewhere down south, maybe on the beach, and try to put it all behind us.” Clyde hung his head and sobbed quietly. “Besides the doctor told me that my heart was getting weak and I need a change, maybe I’ll buy a fishing boat or a bar.”

  She hugged him again, “If you ever feel like talking I’m here for you, you’re the best Sheriff we’ve ever had, despite what you think.” They stood holding each other for a moment before she turned and walked back to her car. Agent Hitchcock drove up with Ellen and they both got out, Rose and Ellen embraced and Ramone walked over to Clyde. They all stood in silence. The past few days had been a tremendous strain for them all. Ramone grabbed Clyde’s hand and gave him a firm handshake.

  “I hate that we had to meet under these circumstances, I believe we could be friends in a different situation. You will let me know where you settle won’t you?” Clyde nodded his head and mustered a faint smile.

  “I’m very glad you came along when you did, there’s no telling how long this would have gone on….”

  A car full of teenagers drove by and shouted obscenities at them before speeding off. Ramone grabbed his radio to call in their tag number but Clyde stopped him. “Don’t, just let them go. I can’t blame them for feeling hatred for us. After all they probably ate…” the words choked in his throat and his face twisted with pain. “This town will never be the same, neither will I. We’ll find a quiet place where no one knows us and try to live a normal life. I was close to retirement anyhow.”

  A large moving van pulled up and turned to back in the driveway. Rosa immediately took the initiative and talked to the driver. She would handle their affairs here and make sure that both their homes were packed with care. Everything would be in storage at the moving company until they called for it. The group stood in silence. Ellen ambled up to Clyde and took his hand, her face stained with tears. Without another word they parted company eac
h climbed in their vehicles to leave. As they pulled away from the curb Clyde took one last glance in the rearview mirror at his home. His only hope was that someday he would be able to forget all about Bontonville and his family home. But he was sure that he would forever be haunted by his life in the mountains.

  The End