Disturbia (The 13th)

by Tabatha Manuel

  Sal grabbed his head. It was too loud. His ear drums throbbed and were about to burst. He walked pass the security desk holding his head and squinting his eyes. Stop, stop, stop. Whoever was responsible for this ruckus deserved to die. He would surely take pleasure in mutilating them. Pleasure...sheer pleasure.

  Muffled by the music, one of his old co-workers, Rodney, said, “I'm gonna take ten,” as he stood up and headed towards the front of the building. Sal assumed he was going into the lounge room. He ducked behind one of the unfinished cars in the corner and made a plan to sneak pass the line and into Raymond's office without catching anyone's attention.

  And he was successful.

  “What the fuck you doing in here,” Raymond yelled as he jumped to his feet from behind the desk. The Playboy he was enjoying fell to the ground and so did his trousers that were unzipped from his jacking off to Miss July's tits.

  “Turn the fucking music down so that I can hear you...you fucking prick,” Sal yelled.

  “What are you talking about, there's no music,” Raymond replied. “That's it, I tried to end this peacefully, but I see we have to get the cops involved.” This time he was calm. Seeing security belittle Sal and choke him up and toss him out like last week's spaghetti earlier gave Raymond more confidence than he had before. He picked up the receiver on his desk phone and pushed 9-1-... All of a sudden, Sal leaped from the entrance way, falling on top of Raymond. Raymond's eyes grew wide in fear as they both paused and stared deep into each other eyes. Without notice and with the greatest craving he's ever had, Sal opened wide and his teeth plunged into Raymond's face with a tight gripping force that tore through his flesh like a meat cleaver to a fresh pack of lamb.

  “Good job Sally boy,” the voice said. “Now hurry and go ...there's more work to do.”

  He glanced at the clock on the wall. It read 10:15 pm.

  “She should be home any minute from the bar. Her shift is almost over. Why don't you greet her at the door,” it said.

  The music continued to blast... but getting louder and louder by the minute as he stepped out the backdoor unbeknownst to anyone. Sweat drenched his body making him feel sticky and exhausted. Frustrated at how hot it still was at this time of night, he tugged on his t-shirt. He pulled a second time. Finally he yanked harder and ripped the t-shirt in half tearing it from his wet body and letting it fall to the city pavement. He felt strong. Untouchable. Invisible. He needed more candy, so he reached into his pocket to retrieve it. As it dissolved onto his tongue, he began walking on his three-mile journey to Susan. He hummed the tune that he had finally gotten use to, as the music followed him.

  ***

  The neighborhood was dark and empty. The block had about twenty houses, and only five were occupied. He knew this would be easy. No one would even notice, or care for that matter, what was about to happen to unsuspecting Susan. And besides, everyone on the block thought she was boogie anyways. You could tell that she didn't belong there and it was only a matter of time before she pulled herself up from her own bootstraps or a streak of good luck would come her way, giving her an out.

  Sal strolled down the street with his hands in his pockets and bopping his head back and forth. From time to time he would stop and dance to the disco in his head, but he tried to remain focused despite his racing heart and the heat that was burning a hole through his flesh. He licked his lips and suddenly his stomach growled. He always knew Raymond was a fruity son of a bitch, but he never suspected he would have tasted like one. As he wiped his mouth, he noticed the liquid around it. Raymond's blood. He wanted it off. He didn't want it mixed with Susan's. He wanted her fresh without any interference.

  Over to the left, a fire hydrant was spraying water high in the sky. The neighborhood kids had a water party earlier at the expense of the city fire department and tax payers. But at least it was put to good use. Like Sal, most of the residents in the area couldn't afford air conditioning and it was the only way for them to get relief from the hell like temperatures. Sal walked over to it and let the water beat against his face and bare chest washing away Raymond's remains. It felt good. He was ready for more.

  There it was. Her tiny, ranch, painted white with cheap aluminum siding and weeds growing in the front yard. He had only seen it once before when she first moved in when he showed up unannounced begging for her to take him back. After she threatened to call the cops to remove him from the broken property, he never went back. Little did he know at the time, the cops wouldn’t have come anyways. They hardly ever did in this neighborhood, especially for domestic disputes.

  She'll be surprised, he thought, and then laughed to himself. He refrained from jumping in the middle of the street to practice some long lost dance moves. The bass had turned up and he really wanted to groove. He felt a rumble in his stomach as he knelt down on the side of the house. He blended in with the darkness. The broken street lights worked in his favor.

  Honey's Bar & Grille had been extremely busy that night. Susan couldn't wait to get home, shower, and jump in her bed. She was still stressed about the conversation she had earlier with Sal. Even though she no longer wanted to be in a relationship with him, she still felt sorry for him and sincerely wanted only the best for him. She had heard rumors from friends and family that he was drinking incessantly and depression was getting the best of him. She knew that, unlike him, her situation was only temporary and as soon as she finished taking her night classes, she would use her certificate to become a court reporter and bring in a better income to get her life back on track. Susan regretted wasting all that time being a housewife and tending to Sal's every need while he climbed the corporate ladder. It wasn't the layoff or the drinking that was the last straw for her. It was his selfishness and lack of interest in her dreams to better herself as a woman. He just wanted his dinner cooked, his laundry cleaned, and her in skimpy lingerie the minute he was in the mood. She had had enough from him.

  She removed her white dish towel from her apron and used it to wipe small beads of sweat from her forehead. The memory of when she could just leave work and jump in her truck entered her mind, followed by the mental picture of when she saw the repo man pulling it away from the grocery store parking lot. She took in a deep breath. Thank goodness the bus ride home was only ten minutes.

  She grabbed her coat, clocked out, and rushed to the bus stop so that she would be the first on and even more importantly, the first off. To her surprise it was empty. Any other time, the filthy thing would have been filled with bums, prostitutes, and runaways this late at night. She outstretched her legs in the back row and closed her eyes. She pictured his face. Memories of long ago entered her mind and if she was to be honest with herself – she did kind of miss him. Her deep caring nature began to get the best of her; she decided she would call him one more time tonight - just to reach out to him. Make one more attempt to help him out of his depression. She reached in her brown bag. It wasn't there. Shit. She had left her phone. It was her only means to the outside world. There's no way she could stay in that house with no open lines of communication with anyone, or more importantly, without any way to call the police in case someone tried to break in while she was at home alone.

  I must have left it near the time sheets when I clocked out, she thought to herself. Quickly, she stood, and then pulled the cord to alert the driver that she needed to get off. She would have to wait at least 15 minutes for the other bus to arrive and take her back to the bar to get her phone. It was a hassle and damn how she didn't feel like it, but the fear of sleeping in that house alone, in that neighborhood without a phone, was unbearable to think about.

  ***

  Sal was getting restless. There was too much music and too much heat to continue to wait. Slut must have gone home with someone for the night, he thought. She was probably cheating on me the entire time.

  “We'll get her later tonight,” the voice said. “We have more work to do.”

  By the time he got back to his apartment, he looked more li
ke he had taken a dip in the pool instead of walking. Sweat poured from the top of his head like he had a sprinkler on top. The humidity seemed to be getting worse and the heat would not let up. He stepped in the front lobby and tried to catch his breath. He was tired and about ready to call it a night. The voice had stopped and the music was mellowing out. A part of him was happy. He had had enough. Pain struck his head like bolts of lightning, but at least his hunger pangs had subdued.

  Hunched over and dragging his feet, he maneuvered towards the elevator to head upstairs for his cot. As soon as he pushed the up button, he heard a whisper, “Look behind you.”

  “But I'm tired,” Sal whispered back. “Please, please let me...”

  “You wimpy son of a bitch,” it yelled. “You could never be like David Robinson. He had balls,” it laughed. “Go home, go home you little pussy.” Laughs echoed in his ears. Suddenly, the music. Bass loud enough to blow out a stadium rung thunder throughout his body.

  All of a sudden he growled a loud, “Ahhgggrrr,” and turned around and marched towards the door where he had seen a faint light shimmering through the crack in the bottom of the door in the room to the left of the entrance way. He knew he was in there. Abruptly, he banged his body on the door and instantly blasted it to the floor.

  “What the hell,” Ben, the single middle-aged landlord, yelled. He jumped up from his desk where he was peeling an apple. He hated fruit, and it was a struggle to eat it, but due to his doctor’s order to lose forty pounds, he thought he had better start tonight. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  “Paying you your rent,” Sal said licking his lips and combing his fingers through his hair.

  “Do it, do it you wimpy son of a bitch,” the voice said.

  Sal looked up and around him searching for the voice. “I am you fucking cock sucker, shut the fuck up,” he yelled.

  “Who are you talking to?” Ben asked in a whisper. He had starting shaking. Fear stung him like a needle inserted in his ass.

  But before he could even compose another thought, Sal jolted on top of him biting at his chest until he had ripped through his flab tearing off a quarter size of his heart.

  Without notice he heard a loud gasp of air and then, “Oh my God.” He looked up and saw Lucy. She was standing there with her usual rollers glued to her head in a floral nightgown. Either she had slept in most of the day due to her high blood pressure medicine and was just now checking her mail or her nosy ass had heard the commotion and decided to pry as usual. Either way, this was Lucy's unlucky day.

  “Get her,” it whispered.

  Sal grabbed Ben's apple peeling knife and aimed it straight at Lucy. Within a split second and before she could even let out the beginning shriek of a scream, the sharp blade pierced through her wrinkled forehead, knocking her to the floor where she remained motionless with only the movement of a running streak of blood down the middle of her face.

  He was tired. And full. Satisfied even.

  “You still have work to do,” the voice said.

  And he knew it was right. But he didn't have the energy to respond. He figured he would lie down for a couple of minutes before heading back out to Susan's house. He figured that after closing his eyes for a few moments that he would be refreshed and ready to take her on.

  ***

  Exhausted, Susan exited the bus and walked down the dark street. She heard distant voices of people on their porches and the faint sounds of music from parked cars and others driving down the streets. The dope dealers stayed active in this neighborhood until the wee hours of the morning. She couldn't wait to leave this hell hole and escape to the peaceful comfort of the suburbs. In due time. This too shall pass, she thought to herself. She gripped the small can of mace she had bought at Wal-Mart last week in her hand. It was in ready spray position and she was not afraid to use it.

  After showering and putting on her silk cami that she wore hundreds of times for Sal, she thought about it. One more time, she thought. Just to be sure.

  Sal jolted forward awakened out of a deep sleep. Startled at the sound of his cell ringing. No one hardly ever called him, especially this late.

  “Hello,” he said in a mellow tone.

  “It's me,” her soft voice whispered. “I’m just checking on you Sal. Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine.”

  The sound of his voice touched a soft and familiar spot within her. She didn't want to admit it, but she missed him. Maybe she was wrong for leaving him like that. Or maybe she wasn't. But at least she owed it to herself to be a friend to him. “I would like to meet up with you, I think we should talk.”

  He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Could she want him back? Does she miss him? The thoughts raced through his mind and he almost felt a split second of pleasure, but it was rapidly overtaken by the throbbing pain throughout his head. His brain felt like it was on fire. “I think so too,” he said. “Tomorrow...”

  “Tomorrow's fine,” she said with a smile in her voice. She felt a bit of relief mixed with excitement in the pit of her stomach. “Okay, I'm sorry if I woke you. We'll talk in the morning.”

  After he put down the phone he sat at the edge of the cot. Images started to play in his mind of the most horrific dream he had ever had in his entire life of him killing his boss, his landlord, and his irritating ass neighbor Lucy. Drops of sweat rolled down the sides of his cheeks and he went into the bathroom and splashed his face with cold water. What a day, he thought as he stared at himself in the mirror. He was relieved that it had all been a horrible nightmare.

  All of a sudden, the sound of police sirens shattered his moment of peace.

  “Sal Chambers,” the voice over the speaker announced. “Come out with your hands up.”

  Holding his breath and wide eyed, he ran to the front of the apartment.

  His heart jumped as he heard banging on the door.

  Was it just a dream? Please tell me it's not true. It was all a dream. Please tell me. He continued to plead with himself. His thoughts raced faster than a kangaroo trying to save itself from being a lion's dinner as he tried to decipher through the day's events - or what he thought to had only been a dream. Suddenly, his attention geared to the bloody trail leading to the window near his cot. It ended near his dingy, blood-stained jeans on the floor. He stood there for second. The sounds of sirens, knocking, and the speaker calling his name muffled in the background. Had it all been a dream? And, if so, from what point? Had he awaken at all today? Or was he still sleeping even at this very moment? The grogginess in his head stalled his ability think.

  Slowly, he reached for his jeans and dug into the pockets. Out he pulled the red and black wrapper with the number six on it. He dropped to his knees. It hadn't been a dream - although he barely remembered anything all.

  All of a sudden, the door burst open and he was tackled to the ground.

  Saturday, July 14, 2012 7:00 am

  Miguel looked up at the sun filling the sky as he opened the front door to the store. He was in a better mood than he had been in months. Yesterday's totals were great and a wave of optimism moved through his body.

  “Again...naw this is too good to be true,” he said to himself.

  Another package. Just like yesterday without a return sender. Just sitting there. Now that is weird, he thought. He knew for a fact that mail didn't run on Saturdays. That had been stopped due to government cutbacks. Still yet, a smile flashed across his face. He didn't care who the hell was sending it. As long as it sold out like it did yesterday, he was happy. The kids loved it, and he would continue putting it on display as long as they were buying...he was selling. Besides, it wasn't illegal. After all, it was as harmless as candy.

  The End.

  Dear Readers,

  Thank you for reading DISTURBIA. If you enjoyed DISTURBIA, I would appreciate it if you would help others enjoy this book, too. Lend it. This e-book is lending-enabled, so please, share it with a friend. Recommend it. Please help other reader
s find this book by recommending it to friends, readers’ groups and discussion boards. Review it. Please tell other readers why you liked this book by reviewing it on Amazon. If you do write a review, please send it to me in an email at tmanuel@ameritech.net. I’d like to gift you a copy of my next book as a way of thanking you.

  Tabatha Manuel

  Coming Summer 2012…

  Snatched (a Jordan Crimson novel)

  Other Books by Tabatha Manuel

  "Dying to Find Jordan - The Stranger Within"

  "Poison in the Shadows" a Jordan Crimson novel (Crimson Murder)

  "RED – Deadly Shades of Passion"

  “101 PR & Marketing Tips to Grow Your Business in a Recession”

  Available on Amazon in print & kindle formats