[Gina Mazzio RN 01.0 - 03.0] Bone Set

by JJ Lamb

  Back and forth, back and forth, he paced around the table. He had to get out of here. Had to leave right now. Her red hair was so soft, her skin like fine porcelain – clean and white.

  ”About time,” Father shouted as he came into the room. “Put your ass on that stool, you miserable piece of shit.”

  Eddie’s legs turned to water; he meekly sat on the stainless steel stool.

  “You always think you’ll walk out of here before it happens, don’t you?” Father said. “Are you going to be that stupid forever? When’s it going to sink into that infantile brain that whether you’re here or not, you’re just as guilty?”

  Eddie was silent, a numbness creeping across his head like the delicate legs of a spider closing in on its prey.

  “You always were a pussy, a scaredy-cat kid. Afraid of your own shadow.”

  Eddie wanted to hide, but there was no place to go. The usual inventory of hanging beef carcasses were gone, processed, and out of sight. Even the pitted plank floor, usually covered with a layer of blood-soaked sawdust, was swept clean.

  He turned to Megan Ann—her face was expressionless; she was as limp as Raggedy Ann.

  He didn’t want to do this. He hadn’t ever wanted to do any of it. Father made him bring them. Made him a murderer. Made him a monster.

  “I’m sorry, Megan Ann,” Eddie whispered in her ear.

  “Stop blathering over her. Everyone dies. Everyone! Think about it, you idiot! No, don’t turn your head away or try to wrack that pea brain of yours until it comes up with something pleasant to hide the truth.

  “THINK!” Jacob yelled.

  “From the tiniest mite, which you don’t give a rat’s ass about, to the farthest star, which doesn’t even exist for you except in books, everything dies. It’s the moments before that should concern you, you miserable slug.”

  He leveled a large, bony finger at Eddie. “You! You, too, will die!”

  Eddie tried to think, needed to act. But all he saw was Father – a black cloud of ugly reality circling the table.

  “Get her clothes off!”

  Eddie’s fingers refused to move. Father grabbed the cutting shears and snipped away Megan Ann’s clothes with one continuous movement. Goose bumps grew on her, an insult to the perfection of her pale, silky skin.

  Father stared long and hard at her body. His hand shook as he traced a finger up her thigh and suddenly jabbed it between her legs. Megan Ann undulated to the in-out motion of his hand, began to moan.

  “Aaron! I’ve missed you so much.”

  Eddie stared at her, his stomach cramped. Tears gushed down his cheeks.

  “You chicken-shit cry baby. Cut the waterworks. Hiller will pay a bundle for a beauty like this when she’s all cut up and packaged for those insatiable research labs he deals with.”

  Father used his tongue to lap at Megan Ann’s skin, from thigh to breast. He bit down hard on a nipple but instead of crying out, Megan Ann sucked in her lower lip and smiled.

  “Do it to me, baby. Do it to me.”

  Eddie stared at her in horror.

  “You see, little Eddie? The tramp likes it. Wants it.”

  Father climbed onto Meagan Ann, pulled his pant zipper down, and plunged himself into her. She panted and thrust against him.

  “Aaron! Aaron!” she cried out as she rotated her hips.

  “Little Eddie finally gets it right.” Father laughed, then let loose an animal roar as he climaxed.

  * * *

  Megan Ann was floating in a purple haze of happiness. Aaron had finally come back to her.

  The room was a blur, the moment expanding. Soon she would explode. She moved faster, faster, tried to cry out but her voice was gone. She opened her eyes, saw only a blur of light that faded in and out.

  She was undulating, rolling in waves of joy. Then she saw the shadowy figure over her. Aaron was there, where he was supposed to be. She radiated with happiness as she began to float.

  “Aaron!”

  Everything became a dazzling glitter. She reached out to take his hand.

  Chapter 29

  “No!” Eddie screamed. He grabbed up a wooden meat tenderizer, swung it at Father’s drooping head, hit a shoulder instead; the arm of the shirt blossomed with blood.

  “Fu-u-uck!” Jacob roared. He pushed himself up with one arm and slapped his free hand against his shoulder. “I’ll kill you.”

  Eddie swung the mallet again. Father countered the blow by grabbing Eddie’s wrist, but the effort through him off balance; he rolled backward off Megan Ann and fell heavily to the floor.

  Eddie dashed around the table, kicked Father hard in the gut, snatched Megan Ann up in his arms, and ran from the butcher shop.

  Sweat drenched his shirt, circled down his legs until his feet were like fleshless stubs sliding in his shoes and socks.

  Megan Ann was rolling out of his arms; the exertion of holding onto her nude body was tearing his arm muscles, tearing at his insides.

  Stop! Have to stop.

  He almost fell as he hoisted her dead weight over his shoulder. She was small, but her body seemed boneless; she shifted back and forth like a half empty sack of grain.

  He stretched his neck, eyes strained as he listened for the expected rush of footsteps. But there was nothing. All he saw was the creepy corridor behind him; the same winding blackness he saw in all his nightmares.

  Then he was running again, out the door.

  His shoes pounded on the concrete, his breathing hard and painful as he gasped at air that wouldn’t fill his lungs. His wheezing grew louder, the ragged sounds filling the space around him.

  Black dots swam through his vision. He teetered on the edge of nothingness.

  Move faster!

  He struggled to stay upright as his legs grew weaker and weaker. At the Jaguar, he flung open the passenger door and dropped Megan Ann inside. She moved limply into the seat, her bare body slapping against the soft leather. He spread his palms across the top of the car to keep from passing out. Between gasps for air, he listened: Still nothing.

  Nothing!

  Everything was silent except for Megan Ann’s soft moaning, in syncopation to the noises in his chest, his booming heart, and the eerie whistling wind that crashed into the overhead sign: St. George Fine Meats.

  When his head stopped spinning, he hand-walked his way along the side of the car until he reached the trunk; he opened it, pulled out a blanket, and tossed it over the naked nurse. When he was safely seated behind the wheel, he fired up the engine and with a sharp screech of tires, left the parking lot. Stuffing his mouth with his inhaler, he took four rapid puffs.

  He had escaped Father! He pounded the steering wheel with excitement.

  Then it hit him: where would he hide this woman?

  Megan Ann was now coming around, talking to herself in a singsong murmur.

  Think! Have to think.

  He slowed, pulled up against the curb. He felt the neighborhood’s watchful eyes. Eyes that studied, looked to steal, hurt, cannibalize his car. He kept the engine running, locked the doors.

  Dump her. Dump her here. Take off. She’ll never remember what happened.

  He pounded the wheel in frustration. No. She’d remember him, remember their date.

  Can I forget?

  “It’s all your fault, Father,” he yelled. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d never be in this terrible mess. Why couldn’t you leave me alone?”

  As he drove away from the curb and back out onto the street, his thoughts took him back to the beginning of the horror. The quagmire started pulling him in the day he told Father about the scholarship his high school counselor had helped arrange so he could attend San Francisco State University.

  * * *

  “What’s this crap? University? I don’t have time to read some fancy shit from those dummies at your school.”

  “It’s an invitation, Father.”

  “Invitation to what?”

  “To the Honors Assembly.”


  “What fucking honors?”

  “For outstanding students, Father.”

  “Outstanding? Hah! They should see you around here. Useless.”

  “Will you come to the assembly, Father?”

  “Tell me, Eddie, what is it you’re so goddam outstanding at?”

  “I told you about being on the Dean’s list all four years. The school sent you a letter about my four-point-zero grade average.”

  “Didn’t put a nickel in my pocket.”

  “I applied to the College of Business at San Francisco State.”

  “What could you possibly know about business? This place would go belly up if I had to rely on you. “

  “My counselor helped me get a scholarship.”

  “Scholarship, huh? Shit! Like I’ve always said – the more schooling, the dumber the man.”

  “I want to go to the college, Father. I really do.”

  “What school again?”

  “San Francisco State, Father”

  “Here in the city?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What about work in the shop?”

  “I … I don’t understand?”

  “No free ride around here, damn it! Can you afford to hire someone to take your place, do your work?”

  “No, Father.”

  “Will your stupid scholarship pay for your transportation, pay for your meals?”

  “No, Father.”

  “’No, father. No, father.’ Fucking A. You can’t handle any of that. Where the hell would little Eddie get money if he didn’t work for me, right?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Oh, wait a minute! You could steal it, like that pissy-ass time when you thought you were going to run away, right?”

  “Yes, Father … I mean, no, Father.”

  “You don’t know what you mean, do you, Eddie?”

  “No.”

  “Where are the girls in your life, Eddie?”

  “What?”

  “Pussy, damn it! You date girls, don’t you, Eddie? I mean, that’s what you’ve been telling me these past couple of years. Maybe you’re a flaming faggot?”

  “I date girls, Father.”

  “San Francisco State’s co-ed, right?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Why? I’ll tell you, why: we both can get what we want.”

  “I don’t–”

  “I’ll explain it in terms even a genius like you can understand – you can go to school, but only if you work here the rest of the time. Got that part?”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  “Suppose a lot of those giggling high school girlies have an eye for you, huh?”

  “Maybe some of them.”

  “College girlies are so much better, so much riper. More available.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You have a pretty dull brain for a wise-ass scholarship student. Well, let’s smarten you up right here and now. You’ll bring one of those college girls home now and then, for me, like a nice, dutiful son, right?”

  “Bring one home?”

  “Think I don’t know about all those times you hid in the shop and watched me with those sluts. Sluts like your mother? You know what I want.”

  “No! I … I couldn’t do that, Father.”

  “No? No? What makes you think you can say ‘no’ to me? You do as I say, or you won’t go to that stupid college.”

  “But—”

  “You heard me – college for you, beautiful redheads for me.”

  “I can’t do that, Father. I can’t.”

  “You’ll damn well do it, Eddie.”

  “No.”

  “Do it or I’ll never tell you where you can find that whoring mother of yours.”

  * * *

  Eddie pulled over to the curb again, this time a block short of the garage entrance to his apartment building. He tapped out a roofie from a plastic vial, then pulled a bottle of water from the cup holder in the armrest.

  Megan Ann stared at him, but her eyes remained empty.

  He tried to stay calm as he slid an arm around her waist.

  “Hey, little girl,” he whispered in her ear, “time to take your medicine.”

  “Anything you say, baby,” she mumbled.

  Megan Ann’s eye lids fluttered; she reached over to Eddie and ran her fingers through his hair, pulled him to her and kissed him on the mouth.

  Eddie was caught off guard as her tongue slid over his lips and her hand searched between his legs. He pulled away and gently squeezed her cheeks together until she opened her mouth. He carefully placed the pill on her tongue. She took a long drink of water before settling back in her seat.

  He barely nudged the accelerator as he passed the front of his apartment building, stared through the glass façade of the complex, and took in the lobby with its shiny black marble floor and stark contemporary furniture.

  The doorman usually parked Eddie’s car for him in the building’s underground garage.

  Not tonight.

  Eddie had to get Megan Ann into his apartment without anyone seeing her. Especially the doorman, a nosy, non-stop gossip. Because of him, Eddie knew all the dirt about the other occupants in the building. More than he ever wanted to know about anyone.

  Where is he, where’s the doorman?

  Then he saw him, slumped in a leather desk chair behind a glass table, in napping mode: head dipped, chin resting on his green uniform jacket.

  The underground parking was only around the corner, on the side street. Eddie drove slowly, made the turn, and triggered the electronic button in the edge of the rearview mirror for the garage door. When the entrance yawned open, he eased the car down the ramp into the deserted, dimly lit area, pulled into his assigned slot, and doused the Jaguar’s headlights.

  Megan Ann moaned softly, clutched the blanket tightly around her, and snuggled deeper into the plush seat.

  The engine shut down with a twist of the key and Eddie allowed himself the momentary luxury of silence. He eyed the perimeter of the area with its circle of evenly spaced lights. There weren’t really any shadowed places, only deeper shades of gray around each parked vehicle. Most of the occupants of the apartment complex were tucked in for the night. He counted only two vacant spaces.

  Before opening the door to get out, he switched off the interior lights. He edged around the car, opened the passenger door, but was startled by a pair of incoming headlights. He crouched low until he was half sitting on the door sill next to the nurse. He hoped the driver of the approaching car wouldn’t be able to see him.

  As his shoulder touched Megan Ann, she suddenly threw her arms around him, tilted her chin, and drew his mouth onto hers. She moaned and tore the blanket away, shoved his hand between her legs.

  Warm. So warm and moist.

  Eddie’s groin ached with a flash of heat as her fleshy mouth surrounded his tongue. She yanked at his zipper. Her hot hand grabbed him.

  “Do it to me … please do it,” she whispered, her hips grinding.

  The clunk of the closing elevator door jarred him. The arriving tenant was gone from the garage. They were alone again.

  “We have to go,” he said.

  Eddie pulled up his zipper, scooped her into his arms, and arranged the blanket to cover her nakedness. In the elevator, he used his key to activate the penthouse button, then held his breath and worried that someone would be in the lobby waiting for the elevator as it came up from the garage.

  Megan Ann laid her head on his shoulder, mumbled something he couldn’t understand. The elevator moved smoothly past the lobby level.

  He watched, almost frozen by fear when they passed each floor as they climbed their way up to the penthouse; he trembled each time the overhead panel signaled the next floor.

  When the door finally slid open, he could see his answering machine blinking a furious red inside the penthouse. He carried Megan Ann across the foyer, into the living room, and lowered her onto the sofa.

  Still breath
ing hard and soaked with sweat from both exertion and tension, he listened to the message:

  “Eddie!”

  Father! He stared at the answering machine, felt himself cower at the illusion he was right there in the room screaming at him.

  Father’s angry. No! This is worse. He’s mad. Crazy mad.

  Eddie tried to ignore the malicious sound of the voice that kept repeating: “Eddie! Eddie!” But he knew what always happened when he didn’t listen to Father.

  The voice tore at him, twisted inside, like someone had forced a fist down his throat and was blocking every pathway he needed in order to breathe. He sucked in a breath and a loud wheeze escaped from his lips and resounded across the room. Eddie yanked out his inhaler. Puffed hard at the plastic.

  He stood in the living room, his legs shaking. He watched Megan Ann, who was splayed on the sofa, twisting first one way, then another. Her eyes flickered open, then closed. Opened, closed.

  “What am I going to do with you?” he mumbled. “Tie you up? Stuff you in a closet? Chain you to the bed?”

  He raced through the rooms, into the kitchen, frantically searching for something, anything that could be turned into a plan.

  What am I going to do with her?

  Then he saw the large laminated block of wood filled with an assortment of expensive knives, a rare gift from Father. As he walked to the counter, his eyes were on the glint of one particular stainless steel handle.

  “BRING HER BACK, EDDIE!

  “EDDDIEE.”

  That voice, Father’s unyielding voice, echoed throughout the apartment, making the hair on his neck stand, giving him the chills. He gagged as he grabbed for a 10-inch chef’s knife — the longest and widest of the set. He raised an arm and chopped as hard as he could into a cutting board.

  Not a butcher’s boning knife. A killing knife that could rip her heart out.

  * * *

  Megan Ann’s mind floated between the airiness of dreams and the hammer of reality. It was her special place, hidden among the soft shadows of a colorless fog-filled world of nothingness.

  Here, there were no decisions to be made.

  Here, she could be a numb, mindless creature. A jellied amoeba reaching out to everything and nothing.