by Mark Allen
“Are you sure he’s—?” Holly started to ask.
“Don’t even say it,” Kevin warned, shooting her a look.
He dropped the Jeep into Reverse and backed up, breathing a sigh of relief that driving through the sign-in station and pinning his nemesis against a tree hadn’t crippled the vehicle’s mechanics. One headlight seemed to be out, but that was it. Boss slid off the Jeep and fell lifelessly to the dirt, landing face-first on the still-churning blade of his own chainsaw. The remaining headlight illuminated the grisly tableau as the steel teeth ripped into the mutant’s throat, jaw, and palate before shredding through the brain and tearing his head in two.
“That looked like it hurt,” Kevin said as gore spackled the windshield in a chunky mess. He swung the Jeep around and turned on the wipers. The blades whisked away the meatier bits and a few squirts of wiper fluid sluiced away the bloody smears.
The tires sprayed gravel all over Boss’ corpse as they drove away. As they headed for the highway in the hopes of putting this hell behind them for good, the first rays of the rising sun peeked over the mountains.
******
Being older and smaller than his offspring, Bill had not even bothered trying to keep up when Boss and Mongus started hunting their escaped prisoners. When his last son died from a chainsaw lobotomy, Bill didn’t even know it because he was three miles back at the Wainwright lodge, suffering from a churning stomach.
He paused and leaned against a pine tree, doubled over in pain as a blast of wet gas sputtered from his backside. The painful fart was loud enough to scare birds into flight and set the squirrels to chattering in alarm. He looked at the outhouse and shook his head. “Knew I shouldn’t have eaten that liver.”
Clutching his stomach, he hobbled across the trail to the outhouse, yanked open the door, dropped his pants with the speed that comes from being desperate not to soil your drawers, and perched his ass over the toilet hole.
He was completely unaware that inside that hole, Mr. Brown was hanging upside down. As Bill loudly voided his bowels, the strange spider crept closer and closer, venom glistening on its unnaturally oversized fangs. Those fangs were deadly pins and Bill’s soft butt-cheeks looked like the perfect pincushion.
Oblivious to the danger, Bill yelped, “Oh God!” as he continued the evacuation process, then muttered, “You’d think I ate Chinese or something.”
Mr. Brown edged closer, enlarged fangs jutting forward to strike and puncture. The target was close. So close…
The spider pounced forward, slashing with its fangs…
…just as Bill stood up.
Mr. Brown missed by less than a hair.
The spider retreated as Bill stood and wiped, then pulled up his pants and hurried out of the outhouse.
Had he looked back, he would have seen Mr. Brown peering at him over the edge of the toilet hole, all six eyes brimming with an eerie intelligence.
Chapter 11
Homecoming
By the time Kevin and Holly passed the “Welcome to Vesper Falls” sign, the Jeep was making a strange knocking noise and steam hissed out from under the battered hood. Apparently smashing through the sign-in station and ramming into a tree had done more damage than he initially thought. He would have to drop it off at Twin D Automotive in Saranac Lake to get the engine repaired, followed by some bodywork at Wayne Darrah Auto Body. Assuming, of course, that they had not gone out of business while he was locked up.
But that would have to wait for another day. He knew eventually they would have to go to the police, the hospital, answer a million questions … but not yet. On the drive down from Scar Lake, he and Holly had agreed that before they dealt with investigations and interrogations and evaluations and the inevitable media circus, they wanted some time to themselves, a few quiet moments to catch their breaths. They wanted hot food and hotter showers and a whole lot of sleep in warm beds with clean sheets.
They also wanted to confront Holly’s father.
Kevin glanced over at the pastor’s daughter. Holly was asleep, slumped down in the seat, her head leaning against the window. He had tried talking to her about how she felt about the horrible things her father had done, but she had remained stubbornly silent. They had agreed to face Pastor Wainwright together, but Kevin had no idea how she would react when the time came. The only thing she had said was, “There’s been enough death already.”
Kevin almost agreed with her. Almost.
Just one more person needed to die.
The sun was cresting over Kate Mountain as they rolled into Vesper Falls. Less than a minute later, Kevin turned into the driveway of his dad’s house for the first time in over three years.
Your dead dad’s house, a nasty inner voice reminded him as he drove up the long gravel driveway that threaded between two large pine trees before coming to a stop in front of the three-car garage. He turned off the Jeep as the first tears streamed down his cheeks.
He had finally come home, but he was too late.
His father was dead.
His mother was dead.
He was alone.
He brushed away the tears and turned his head to look at Holly.
Maybe not all alone.
Holly stirred, realizing the Jeep was no longer moving. She glanced around, then noticed his tears. “Hey,” she said, genuine warmth and concern in her voice. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.
She unfastened her seat belt. “It’s going to be all right,” she said. “Come on, let’s go inside.” She reached over and gently touched his cheek. “Things will get better. I promise.”
Kevin looked into her eyes and she looked back. The moment stretched between them. Finally Kevin said, “We should go inside and take a shower.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh really?”
He immediately blushed. “Sorry, I … I didn’t mean … we both should take … no, wait … I mean, we both need…” He sighed and gave up. “You know what I meant.”
She smiled at him. “Yes, I know what you meant. Just enjoying watching you sweat.”
He smiled back, relieved, and then exited the Jeep. Steam still hissed out from under the chainsaw-scarred hood and clumps of dry gore clotted the metal. He shook his head and walked up onto the front porch, Holly following close behind.
Vesper Falls was not the kind of town where you usually locked your doors … unless you had been the victim of a violent home invasion that had left a wife and mother dead. Kevin retrieved the spare key from the hidden compartment behind the “Welcome to the Colters” sign hanging next to the door. Once he and Holly were inside, he locked the door behind them. Given everything he had been through, he suspected he would be locking doors for the rest of his life.
He showed Holly to the master bedroom and pointed toward one of the dressers. “Dad never got rid of mom’s clothes, so you can probably find what you need in there.”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” she asked with a smirk.
Kevin looked at the filthy rags and replied, “Nothing that some gasoline and a match won’t cure.”
He took her into the master bath and showed her where to find the towels, shampoo, and soap. “It’s all yours,” he said. “I’ll use the shower next to the guest room.” He closed the bathroom door behind him as he left.
Holly spent a full half-hour in the shower. She had never been one to lie to herself, so she didn’t even try to deny the fact that part of her wished Kevin was in here with her. But as the hot water rinsed away the grime and revealed her scarred, abused, semi-emaciated body—not to mention the angry stub of her missing arm—Holly was suddenly glad she was showering solo. She might have been pretty once, but not anymore.
She washed her hair four times and used a whole bar of soap to scrub her body, scouring her skin until it glowed pink. It was a bit difficult with just one arm, but she managed. She made a conscious effort to remind herself that it could always be worse—the c
annibal mutants could have cut off both her arms. So as she took her first hot shower in years, she tried to count her blessings rather than tally up her afflictions. She also tried not to think about Kevin in the other shower, tried not to imagine the water streaming over his hard muscles.
What in the world is wrong with me? she wondered. You’d think after everything I’ve been through, romance would be the last thing on my mind. Besides, he wants to kill my father.
She abruptly reached out and turned the shower faucet all the way to “Cold.” She stood under the freezing spray until she was shivering and the fires of attraction had been, if not fully extinguished, at least doused into smoldering embers.
She climbed out of the shower, dried off, and then rummaged through Trisha Colter’s drawers until she found a pair of underwear. She ignored the skimpy, lacey ones and selected panties that were functional rather than frilly. Sliding them on felt absolutely magical. After dressing in rags for so many years, she had forgotten how comfortable it was to wear good, clean cotton.
She went back into the bathroom and found a toothbrush still sealed in its original package tucked into the back corner of the medicine cabinet, hiding behind a bottle of prescription sleeping pills. Looked like Jack Colter had trouble getting some rest.
Not anymore.
She instantly regretted the morbid thought.
She squeezed some Colgate onto the toothbrush and scrubbed her teeth clean. The bristles made her gums bleed and when she spit into the sink, the white paste was funneled with red. She managed to get the top off the mouthwash bottle and swished some around in her mouth. The antiseptic burned and made her eyes water, but it was a good, cleansing burn.
She found a hairbrush in a drawer and started working through the snarls. She’d gotten some of them out in the shower, using half a bottle of conditioner in the process, but she needed a brush to finish the job. Took her nearly ten minutes—and more than a few winces at some particularly nasty clumps—but she got the job done, her still-damp hair falling smooth and tangle-free down over her shoulders.
Back in the bedroom, Holly picked out a simple white t-shirt and a pair of low-rise jeans. Apparently Trisha had been a few inches taller, so she had to roll up the cuffs. The waist was a little loose, but not too bad, and she really didn’t feel like struggling one-handed with a belt.
Before donning the t-shirt, Holly picked out a pink bra and slipped her arm through it. It hung off her shoulder, useless. She realized that putting a bra on when you only had one arm was going to be a real problem. She stood in front of the mirror and tried a dozen times a dozen different ways, but no luck. Finally, she hurled the garment across the room in exasperation.
“Damn it!” she yelled.
She stood there for a moment in front of the mirror, trembling, staring at herself, at her scarred, abused body. She struggled with everything she had to fight down the rage and self-pity that wanted to consume her.
She lost.
“Fuck you!” The scream just suddenly burst out of her. “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” She slumped against the wall and wept. Not because she wanted to, but because she couldn’t help it. She needed a release and something deep down inside that she couldn’t control was going to make sure she got it whether she liked it or not.
She pushed away from the wall and stumbled out of the bathroom, falling face down on the bed and crying into a pillow that smelled of cologne and whiskey.
Footsteps pounded as Kevin raced into the bedroom. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Holly kept her face pressed into the pillow so her words were muffled when she answered, “Nothing. Everything.”
“Uh, that doesn’t exactly clear things up.”
Still not looking at him, she said, “Those bastards made me ugly.” She paused for a moment, then added, “And now I can’t even wear a bra, thanks to them.” Another pause, followed by: “Damn them. Damn them straight to fucking hell.”
Kevin walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. He ran his eyes over her naked back, following the curve of her spine all the way down to where it disappeared into her jeans. Sure, her skin was scarred, but he still found it tantalizing. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but decided that might not be the best course of action right now. “You’re not ugly,” he said. “And you will wear a bra again.”
She turned over to look at him, covering her breasts with her arm. “How?”
How is exactly right, Kevin thought. As in, how the hell am I having a conversation about brassieres with a girl I hardly know who just happens to be topless right now?
What he needed right now was a cold shower.
“Sport bras,” he said. “No straps to deal with. Just pull it over your head and there you go. I’m sure you can manage even with only one arm.”
Holly smirked at him. “Look at you, a bra expert. I didn’t know they taught that kind of stuff in juvie.”
Kevin felt himself blushing. “We were allowed to get Victoria’s Secret catalogs.”
“Bet they were popular in an all-male facility.”
“You have no idea.”
She smiled at him. “Thanks for trying to help. By the way, you’re cute when you blush.”
Kevin was starting to discover that he really liked to see her smile. The lines of hardship etched in her face faded to almost nothing when she smiled, defining her natural prettiness with extra depth. Free from captivity and freshly cleaned, her true grace and beauty shone through. Kevin found himself unable to take his eyes off her. He also found himself not wanting to.
She must have suddenly become aware of his intense stare, because she jumped off the bed, snatched up the t-shirt, and awkwardly pulled it over her head before turning to face him. He saw that she was turning red.
He gave her a roguish grin. “By the way, you’re cute when you blush.”
“Jerk.” But she smiled when she said it and then asked, “Now what?”
“Now I guess we find something to eat, and then…” His voice trailed off and his grin faded as he looked away from her, not wanting to meet her eyes as he finished his thought. “And then we go pay your dad a visit.”
There was a long silence. When Kevin finally dared to meet her gaze again, he saw that she was staring at him intently. “Kevin,” she said. “I need to ask you something.”
“Okay.” He dreaded her next words.
She took a deep breath and then asked, “Do you have any frozen pizza?”
Kevin blinked at her. “Really? Pizza? That’s what you want to talk about?”
“I don’t want to talk about my father.”
He stared at her for a moment, then said, “Fair enough. My dad wasn’t big on cooking so I’m sure we have pizza in the freezer. Let’s go check it out.”
******
An hour later, they sat on the couch watching a rerun of M.A.S.H. and munching on DiGiorno’s pizza, washing it down with Diet Mountain Dew. A bag of Cool Ranch Doritos on the coffee table in front of them completed the meal.
“I used to hate Diet Dew,” Holly said, “but now I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever drank.” She picked up another piece of pizza and began gnawing on it. It was her third slice. Skinny as she was, Kevin figured he should probably let her eat the whole thing.
“Yeah, not sure why Dad only had diet soda,” he said. “It’s not like he needed to worry about his weight.” He bit into his piece of pizza, chewed, and swallowed before adding, “You can tell he was a drunk though. Nothing but vodka, whisky, rum, tequila, and something called Rumple Minze in the house.” He let out an exaggerated, longsuffering sigh. “All I wanted was a Miller Lite.”
“What’s Rumple Minze?” asked Holly.
“One hundred proof peppermint schnapps.”
“We should try some.”
Kevin shook his head. “Screw that. I’m not about to dump hundred proof alcohol into this mouth.” He used his tongue to gingerly probe the cuts. “Eating pizza is hard enough. If I had my way, I’d be s
ucking oatmeal through a straw.”
“Don’t be a sissy. Do a shot with me.”
“Did you just call me a sissy?”
“No, I told you not to be one. Come on, Kevin, I really want to try it.”
Kevin shook his head in resignation. “Jeez, you sound like an alcoholic. Fine, I’ll go get it.” He went back into the kitchen and returned with a bottle filled with clear liquid and two shot glasses. He wondered when the last time the glasses had been used. His father had been more of a straight-from-the-bottle kind of guy.
As he poured, Holly said, “I’ve never actually done a shot, but from what I understand, they go down the back of your throat. So if you don’t want it to burn all those cuts in your mouth, throw it to the back of your throat and swallow at the same time.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “Now you sound like a porn queen.”
Blushing, she reached for her glass. “And you sound like a pervert. Now drink!”
“Cheers.”
They both tossed back the shots. Neither of them really knew what they were doing. Kevin’s shot got caught in his throat. He began coughing loudly and stood up, doubled over.
Holly laughed and gave him a few whacks on the back. “Amateur,” she teased.
When the coughing fit finally stopped, Kevin said, “See, I told you that shit ain’t for me.”
Holly grabbed the bottle and poured them each another. “One more. Do it right this time.”
“Okay.” Without waiting for her, he picked up his shot and slammed it back like a professional. He then set down his empty glass and said, “Your turn.”
Holly tossed it back. Apparently her first go-round had been beginner’s luck, because this time she started coughing even worse than Kevin had. He slid over and patted her on the back. “Now who’s the amateur?” he chuckled.
She leaned over until the coughing spell passed. When she sat back up and turned to him, their faces were kissing close.