Hawg

by Steven L. Shrewsbury

  “Some foolish woman in prep wanted to keep the factory running, aside from the affected areas. How is that for a company woman?”

  “My brother is right, by God. Dickheads do run this place.”

  Loring delivered a pat on the shoulder. “I took the liberty of speaking for you, saying I needed space for a crime scene and things had better wind down for the day. I assume that is fine, yes?”

  Doug walked the aisle with Porter, past the body of the woman with no jaw impaled on the spool. He couldn’t recall her first name, but Porter lamented her fourth husband’s loss. “They have good death benefits here,” Doug commented.

  Porter imparted a wry expression and moved on, saying, “Volunteers, the local police and rescue squads are doing a wonderful job on this. The clean up will be speedy if the aftermath deranged.”

  Doug cleared his throat and said, “I heard the tales already. A giant pig man? C’mon, Porter. You’ve been to the circus and seen the damned elephants. That’s all bullshit talk.”

  “Of course it is, but…” his voice weakened as he pointed at the injuries to the shift foreman. “I don’t think a normal man has done this. If so, whatever weapon he used was quite effective. Goodness, there will be no tidying up her for an open casket wake.”

  “Well, the security cameras will tell the tale, once and for all, right?”

  Loring nodded. “Yes, I’d thought of that. Get ready for a real show, Sheriff.”

  But when Doug asked the foreman on duty about such tapes, they gave him blank looks and directed him elsewhere. He questioned the bindery specialist, Stan Vernon. He also provided him a vacant stare and informed Doug he was presently there to fix the mail heads and plastic wrap feeders. At last, he cornered Mrs. Lauren from Human Relations. Her manner was uneasy, for the entire cast of the dead hadn’t been announced yet.

  “Certainly, I can take you to where that is supposed to be,” she said with a lighthearted laugh. “But you will be disappointed.”

  “What? Are you going to say the tapes are gone?”

  “No,” Mrs. Lauren confessed, hands in the air. “The cameras are dummies. They have a red light that blinks, but are not connected to a real security system. That costs money. The supervisors and planning committee deemed it a bad expense.”

  “Christ,” Doug said and buried his face in his hands for a moment.

  “I saw it, up very close,” she told him, eyes wide, head bobbing. “I can repeat what I told the officers.”

  “And that is?”

  She said in a low, almost whispered voice, “It wasn’t human, Sheriff. It was a foot taller than you. I know your family are big men, but this monster was a giant. It was all fleshy, pinkish, but had blood and brown stuff all over its body. It stank so I can guess what that was, really. The eyes…” she paused, blood draining from her face as Doug read her earnest recollection. “…they were red, inhuman, almost albino in nature. Its mouth was full of teeth, but not like a shark. It had these horns.” She forked her fingers and curled them out from her jowls. “They seemed to move as he moved.”

  “He?”

  She shrugged. “It was bare-assed, Sheriff and I know a man when I see one naked. It was not normal, the thingy, almost twisted and swinging.”

  Doug nodded and started to turn away.

  “It had a bandage,” she said with a meek voice.

  He faced her again and Mrs. Lauren placed a hand to her side.

  “Right there?”

  “Yes. Isn’t that peculiar?”

  Doug turned again, wondering who would patch up such a thing.

  ***

  Andrew sat down beside Jordan on the couch. Lynne’s grandmother’s home was modest and very tidy, even if the front porch and living area had been converted to a children’s play area in later years. As they watched Cartoon Network, Andrew lamented that Lynne’s grandfather built the home they sat in after World War Two. An excellent carpenter, Andrew thought of the bomb shelter in an antechamber of the basement the old man installed. He missed that guy and wasn’t ashamed to recall shedding tears at this funeral six years ago.

  “So, how long will this take?” Jordan said, playing his

  Gameboy and using the television show for a soundtrack. “A couple hours,” Andrew assured him. “There was

  some bad stuff going on in town today, out at the place

  where daddy works.”

  “Bad things?” His brown eyes looked up at his father.

  “Was it the pig-man?”

  Andrew hesitated, knew it was too late to lie

  convincingly, and said, “Yeah, it was him, all right.” Jordan stared at his game again and said, “Lucky you

  weren’t there when he was, huh?”

  Andrew closed his eyes and could smell the creature

  Hux called Hawg. The strong odor of a swine was in the air,

  but the awful scent of a sweaty man, rancid meat and mildewed water wafted off the beast. It was something he’d

  never forget.

  Eyes open, Andrew said, “Yeah, lucky me. I saw it,

  but the thing was past me.”

  “You saw him?”

  Andrew smiled. “You were right, son. It sure looks

  like a pig-man. Well, I have to go help Uncle Doug and the

  police. You see, there may be a way to track the pig-man.” Jordan froze and said, “You all aren’t planning to

  fight him, are you?”

  “Nope, daddy isn’t stupid. We plan to trap it.” Jordan blinked, he reached out to grab Andrew’s

  flannel shirtsleeve. “You should kill it, dad, not capture it.” He gave his son a pat on the shoulder and said, “I

  don’t think what we have in mind will be too healthy for it.” The game went on and Jordan said, “He’s a pig, dad.

  Mr. Solow kills pigs all the time. The Bible says there’s no sin

  in that.”

  When Andrew returned to his truck, he sat behind the

  wheel and exhaled.

  Hux gave him a sideways look. “What?”

  “I know you have kids, but have nothing to do with

  them,” Andrew said shortly. “I’m not worried about hurting

  your feelings today, all right?”

  Hux shrugged and gazed down the street at the

  manicured lawns. “I got fixed so as not to have any more. No

  skin off my ass, pal.”

  As he adjusted the cuffs on his shirt, Andrew

  continued. “You worry on how they deal with things, at least

  I do. I see kids come to school from messed up families. Hell,

  why else do you think we get so many shitty employees in the

  plant?”

  “What are ya getting’ at?”

  “My son is more rational than us.” “He’s a kid,” Hux shrugged, eyes never blinking.

  “They accept things better than us jaded asswipes of the

  world.”

  Andrew started the truck, but never put it in gear yet.

  “Do you think my brother is going to accept your plan?” “I doubt it.”

  Hux was correct.

  When they departed the house and Andrew called

  Doug, the Sheriff was not pleased at the call he received. Andrew closed his phone and Hux stated, “He

  sounded thrilled.” “I think his exact words were, are you fucking kidding

  me? Leave this to the professionals.”

  Hux gave a nod. “I gotcha. The professionals are

  getting folks killed.”

  “I know.” “If you want out, tell me, Andrew. I want this thing

  dead. You got kids and a good life. I got money and pussy,

  that’s it.” Hux sounded logical and calculating as he spoke.

  “That fucking Hawg has gotta die. He will follow me if I root

  him out. I can trap him. If you want to scoot, be my guest.” They drove a few blocks before Andrew answered. “I

  can arm you up bette
r. I have a stash of very bad things.” “I figured you did.”

  “This fucking Hawg isn’t worth either of us dying

  over.”

  “Agreed. But drop me over by the VFW. I have some

  things to get straight.”

  Andrew grunted in agreement. He thought that this

  way he’d not have to show Hux where his cache was at.

  “Meet me at the cemetery on 66. I think your idea about the

  pit is a good one.”

  Hux peered into the bed of the truck and then out at

  the small town as the houses passed by. Hux hoped the idea

  was as good as it looked in his brain.

  ***

  Elias walked to the door of Luella Goodkind’s trailer. It stood open, wind rattling the busted screen in the outer door. The old man could smell coffee inside, fresh. He stepped in and saw the automatic coffee maker probably performed its function on a timer. Elias chose his steps carefully and walked into the kitchen. He looked at the living room, torn apart, loveseat flipped over, and reached for a coffee cup. After he filled the mug, he unplugged the coffee machine.

  “Lord, girl, it’s all for the best.”

  “Get out of there, Elias,” a deep voice called from the outside of the trailer.

  Elias almost dropped the mug, but held it level as he returned to the doorway. Mr. Solow stood just off the deck.

  “There’s nothing we can do to change it now.”

  “Never saw you come out here, sir.”

  “I never walk this far on a given day. Then again, you never need to be reminded of your duties.” Solow turned away, thrust his hands in his overalls pockets and whistled at his golden retriever. The dog bounded out of the higher grasses behind the trailer.

  “It’s been a bad couple days, sir,” Elias confessed and stepped down from the deck. He took off his straw hat and wiped his brow.

  Solow kept walking as he said, “Been a bad world for some time, Elias. The Lord purifies at times. Come along now. We have more work to do.”

  “Yes sir,” Elias said and sipped the coffee. It was cold.

  But when they reached the main house yard, Deputy Gowran was waiting.

  “I need to speak with Elias,” Gowran told Solow. “There’s been a really bad incident in town and several people have died.”

  Mr. Solow let his hands dangle by his sides. “That a fact? So sorry to hear. What kind of incident?”

  “Sheriff wants to see if Elias’ memory has improved since last night.”

  ***

  Andrew stood at the edge of the freshly dug grave not twenty yards from his family crypt. Though the locale was deserted, abandoned by even the cops waiting for Hawg to return, Andrew felt as if he wasn’t alone.

  “Graveyards will do that,” he said to no one as he eyed the backhoe left by the workers. He walked to the edge of the fresh grave. Near the top of the grave, he read the tombstone marker. “Andrea’s parents. Damn. They are still alive.” Again, he looked at the fresh spot, set off to the side from the main two lots.

  Since no one was in the graves and vaults hadn’t been installed yet, Andrew fired up the backhoe and started to dig them out farther. He’d used a machine like this many times while clearing land for his neighbors and landscaping back by his silo. It didn’t take him long to widen the grave to triple its intended size. He never worried about discovery as Andrew wagered he was the least of anyone’s worries this day.

  While Andrew worked, an elderly lady drove through the graveyard. The woman crept at a snail’s pace. She exited her car, left some flowers on a marker, and waved at Andrew. He waved back and kept working. She departed, thinking him doing honest work, so he finished up his labor.

  “Deeper than six feet, but you’re a tall piggy, aren’t ya?” he said, peering into the pit. He left the end of the digger down in the hole and climbed off the machine. “Time to play Tarzan,” he joked as he walked over and opened the bed of his truck.

  Unsure how he’d explain his actions if discovered, Andrew went about his work of jamming the sharp implements into the soft dirt at the bottom of the pit. Sure, he was surprised at how many long knives Hux had on hand, but added to his own corn knives, disk blades, stunted steel posts, hedge trimmers and railroad spikes, the grave appeared ready to embrace a tiger or at least, a mutant pig man.

  Andrew took great care not to fall backwards onto the bed of nails he’d created as he climbed out on the backhoe arm. He then walked over to his family crypt, swore about the broken doors, and patted the two stone coffins. After he unlocked the lids, Andrew slid the left one to the side and let the reflected sunlight show him what he needed.

  “Concussion grenades and a few flashes, for a start,” he said with a wry smile. “Then, something a tad more sinister.” He reached down and pulled up a couple hand grenades, taped tight. He set these down and eyed the claymores. Unsure if these would be the best to use on this occasion, he let them be. Then again, he reasoned and looked across the expanse of the yard, they may come in handy if…

  Andrew turned, back in the rear of the crypt, and gazed out onto the graveyard.

  “What if he won’t go into the hole?” he said to no one. “What if he won’t do as we wanted?”

  Nose irritated, he turned his eyes down and saw the brown leftovers on the floor, deposited by Hawg.

  Eyes scanning the crypt, Andrew shuddered. “He likes it in here, doesn’t he?”

  ***

  Once Hux returned to Mr. Roberts’ car, he broke out into laughter. He thought of the dealer from Chi-town, out at the quarry, probably waking up with no means of escape. Oh sure, the guy could walk out, but he was waiting for him to return. Hux didn’t know what to do about Roberts. Oh, he knew what he had to do, but was unsure of when to do it. The mass killing made it all too real for him. He had to run. This was all over now. There was no going back to his regular life.

  When he swung by his house, a state trooper’s car was there. Hux kept right on going, cursing the fact that most of his weapons were still there. He’d palmed a tiny automatic when picking up materials with Andrew earlier, but that was chicken feed.

  Though he kept his cool when he saw the trooper, Hux’s innards panicked the further he drove away. He decided on a destination, Ambrose Brothers. Sure, there would be cops around, but it was a spread out spot and what he desired most was in the lot. His plot to skip town flared in his mind often, but he’d need his bike and stashes of cash from his place. He’d return after dark and slip in his house.

  Plus, there was a better stash hidden on his bike. He needed a toot to screw down his courage. His plan unfolding in his mind, a thrill bubbled out over his body.

  Hux drove the car to the backside railway line seldom used by the plant. It was the same one that he’d snuck down earlier. He parked the car, pocketed the keys and jogged down the side of the building. When he drew near the dock doors, he passed by a few of the hoist operators out for a smoke.

  “What the fuck are you doing out here, Hux?” one of them raged. “I heard tell you are responsible for all of this.”

  “Aw, that’s bullshit.”

  “They said that thing, whatever it was, chased you through the plant. What’s up with that?”

  Hux wanted to get past them, but sensed their ire rising.

  “What do I got to do with any of it? So what?”

  “All of them people died and the pigs wanna talk to you. What are you doing out here?”

  Hux reached into his leather jacket and took out the small automatic. Both men glared at the weapon and stopped their advance. Hux never pointed it at them, he just checked to see if it was loaded and the safety was in place.

  With a casual voice, Hux said, “I gotta get going, boys, now step off.”

  As he passed by, the younger man said, “You fucker, didn’t you sleep with Andrea Ennis once or twice? Doesn’t it matter to you that she’s dead?”

  “I fucked her, I never slept with her. Another dum
b assed girl with crack in her brain. Life’s a bitch.”

  Hux walked away from them and then started to jog again. He recalled her well. Sure, he was sorry she was dead. She liked it in the can and swallowed. Not many did. He would’ve scored that with her again.

  Once out in the open, Hux slithered down the line of cars parked on the far side of the plant. In the distance, he saw the rescue vehicles clustered around the entrance. Bold in his move, he walked to his Harley and climbed on. When he fired up the engine, the straight pipes barked. Though certain many eyes were on him, Hux looked only at the exit of the parking lot. He thought he heard voices shouting as he pulled away, but couldn’t be certain.

  While he rode, Hux wanted a place to get his head straight. He tried to banish the fear that the beast would rise up behind any bush or garbage can due to his bike. Though just running away seemed like a great idea, the hurt in his insides refused to let him take that path. Hawg had to die. He’d hunt him, ferret him out and lead him back to the cemetery. First, he had to get his head together, then he’d call Andrew and tell him his plan.

  But God, he thought, it felt good to ride again.

  ***

  “Drew, don’t do anything foolish now.”

  Lynne’s voice on Andrew’s borrowed cell was serious as a judge. Her tone usually was, he reasoned. He laughed and eyed the brick of explosive in his hand. “Hon, I’d never do something like that.”

  “Just leave this to the police.”

  “I will.”

  “Did you hear the official story on what happened?

  It’s hilarious!”

  Andrew took a breath. “No, what did they say?” Lynne never hid the amusement in her voice as she

  said, “Doug says an armed maniac ran amok in Ambrose Brothers today. The sheriff sounded sober on the radio when he said it was a big man dressed in a Halloween costume, probably of their own design. The man is still at large.”

  “Jesus wept.”

  “Drew, it was no costume, was it?”

  Andrew fell silent for a few moments. “No, hon, it

  wasn’t.”

  “I’m glad you called.”

  Andrew sat down the brick of explosives and picked up several wires. He said, “I love you, Lynne.”

  “I love you, too. I wonder if you are still fired.”