Deliverance from Evil

by Michael Cross

  We spent the rest of the evening just hanging out – like perhaps a mother and a daughter should. I have to confess though, as we watched TV together, a part of me thought how fun it would be if Vincent actually failed in his quest and we were left alone. We could live there in the house together and travel and…then the phone rang. It was Vincent. He had called Bethany to inform her he would be back sometime around lunch the next day. When Bethany got off the phone I asked her if he had given any details about, well, anything but she said he had not. She just reminded me that since he might return early it was best I remained undressed and resting. We went to bed that evening but I could not immediately fall asleep as I was wondering if Vincent was going to come home with some excuse as to why he could not capture the sheriff, and instead had some unfortunate prostitute in his trunk; or maybe he actually had caught Murdock. In any event I would be expected to take a life and, ironically, this was one time I had real mixed feelings about what the next day would bring.

  Chapter 9

  Perhaps the anxiety of wondering what this day had in store for me had prevented me from sleeping very well during the night. As I held my pillow tight I suddenly heard Vincent’s voice in the kitchen – he had returned home! A moment later the door opened and he greeted me, “Hi there! I really missed you – are you feeling well?” I pulled down the sheets a little, just to give the impression that Bethany had followed his instructions. I replied, “I have more energy than the last time you saw me!” He stood in silence, his eyes fixated on my naked body. It was not in the usual detached manner I was used to – it was more the way a man would be expected to look upon a woman. After his pause he averted his eyes and mumbled, “I am very happy you are feeling well.” He then tossed some clothes on the bed and commanded, “You should get some clothes on and come out for some coffee.”

  As I got out of bed I heard Vincent raise his voice to Bethany. I chose not to go out at that very moment but I could hear him shout, “She’s not your little make-up doll you know! She has to learn to be strong, not become some little princess!” What surprised me next was Bethany responding, “You are not going to tell me what I can and cannot do!” I paused with my hand on the door knob. Then I heard him yell, “We will see about that, won’t we?” I cautiously opened the door and headed to the bathroom. Both Vincent and Bethany looked at me in silence.

  While I was in the bathroom, they continued to argue, but in lowered voices. I suddenly realized that if Vincent did have someone in his trunk it would be so strange if they knew the family that was soon going to kill him, or her, was having an argument over make-up and manicures.

  When I flushed the toilet everything went silent in the kitchen. I opened the door and walked out, both of them staring at me as I poured some coffee and sat down to a cigarette. I asked, “What’s wrong?” and Vincent said, “Nothing important, we have work to do.” I nodded and asked if I could finish my coffee and he nodded his approval. I then stated, “Vincent, I missed you too – I am glad you are back safe.” He smiled and sighed. He then said, in a more relaxed, and even pleasant, tone as he looked at Bethany, “I am glad to see you and Bethany again. Now hurry and meet me in the basement!”

  I was somewhat nervous as I sucked on the cigarette until my lungs were filled to full capacity. I held my breath a moment and slowly exhaled, wondering what was waiting for me downstairs. Bethany said, “Wait, I can give you a different shirt than that.” She rushed to her bedroom and returned with an old rodeo t-shirt with so many holes worn into it that it made little difference having anything on anyway. I changed and Bethany went to work cleaning the kitchen. It was now time for me to descend the stairs and see what he was expecting of me.

  When I opened the door I could not actually believe what I saw – there was a fat man on his back, dressed only in under shorts and a sleeveless, white t-shirt on the gurney. His body was wrapped in leather straps and his hands and feet were bound tightly and stretched out underneath the gurney. It resembled one of those scenes of ancient tortures depicted on lithographs. I was at the wrong angle to see who it was but I was sure I knew. And as I slowly approached I found my suspicions were correct – it was Sheriff Murdock! He was not gagged, but he seemed dazed and confused, his eyes blank and fixated on the ceiling. Vincent must have administered drugs to keep him under control and he was still under their influence. I stared at him as he looked at me and seemed to be trying to focus his eyes. Then Vincent called me over to him.

  “Jennifer, here he is, as I promised. Got to say it was a bitch to make sure he had enough sedative – I think he had to have double-the-dose! I’m also glad I did not get a hernia hauling his enormous ass down here. Next time please choose someone with an eating disorder that makes them skinny, okay?” I smiled at his attempt at humor. Then he got this funny, or surprised, look on his face. In a hushed tone he said, “I remember giving Bethany that t-shirt you are wearing on a really special trip. I bought it at the rodeo in Eugene when we were much younger. She said she would never get rid of it.” For a second it looked as if he was lost in thought.

  He cleared his throat and said, “Oh to hell with it” and took out some tube from his pocket and walked over to Murdock. He put it under his nose, just like in the movies, and sure enough Murdock shook his head and started asking where he was – and who we were. Betraying his nervousness he screamed, “I am a sheriff and you will be in real trouble if I am not released immediately.”

  Vincent approached me and asked me to have patience – what he had in mind I did not know, but I assumed he was not at all fazed by Murdock’s threats. He then asked Murdock, “Just curious fat man, what do you think of God?” This was really strange to me. Vincent wanted to talk about religion to Murdock? Vincent asked, “I asked you a question porky, do you go to church?” Murdock groaned, apparently the bindings stretching out his limbs were causing him pain. He asked, “Can you please loosen those cords?” Again Vincent asked, “What do you think of God?” This time Murdock yelled, “I am a non-believer, okay?” Vincent leaned over him, their faces no more than a few inches apart, and Vincent inquired, “Why do you not accept the existence of God?” At that Murdock continued to moan but then, clenching his teeth replied, “I have seen too much evil in my life to believe there is an all-loving God who put us all here.” Vincent gave a puzzled look and then asked, “So, what if God wanted people to be strong and to show what they were made of?” Murdock raised his voice in anger, “Sure buddy, if that’s what you think! Now let me go you bastard!”

  That seemed to make Vincent upset as his eyes flared and he gritted his teeth as well, “What do you know? I can see you aren’t even strong enough to leave the table once you’ve had enough to eat, or say no to a dozen donuts!” Vincent stood erect and took several deep breaths. It seemed Murdock was trying to pull out of the leather restraints he was in and grab Vincent but it was in vain. Even if he could grab him all Vincent would have to do is reach behind him, grab the machete, and sever his hand. Vincent looked over to me and then sat down on Bethany’s stool. He laughed and asked Murdock, “So since you have such a low opinion of God, you would not mind renouncing him here and now, would you?” Murdock looked confused and his breathing got deeper, which only seemed to anger Vincent more as he yelled, “You want out this? Do you renounce God or not?” Murdock, in desperation muttered, “Sure, if that is what you want, why not?”

  Vincent walked over to me and whispered, “What a simpleton, he does deserve to be here, doesn’t he?” He grinned, “If you want to show me you are better than that then you know what to do” as he glanced to the machete.

  I had hated Murdock, even after all these years, but as much as I looked down on him I thought that maybe this was a bit too excessive a revenge. However, I found comfort in having saved the life of some person who would be there in his place had I not suggested him. And considering the circumstances, I could hardly refuse what was being asked of me. I looked at Vincent and said, “Don’t worry, I won’t disappoin
t you. And here, take this.” I removed the shirt and handed it to him – maybe to preserve something with meaning to him, or to make cleaning up easier, or, maybe to attract his attention again. I walked over to Murdock. I looked at him and even in his precarious situation his eyes were focused on my chest and not on my eyes. I asked, “Remember me?” and he just looked at me puzzled. I then said in a seductive voice, “Your only chance is to do as I say…understand?” He said, “Yeah” and I asked, “Would you like to feel my body?” I leaned closer to his face at that point.

  He was trembling but even in his situation I noticed his lust was affecting his body. I felt totally disgusted but I put my arms around him and held him close. I then got onto my knees and gently kissed his neck, all the while glancing from the periphery of my eyes at how Vincent was reacting. I noticed he was staring and clenching his fists, then stretching his fingers out only to clench again. I smiled, for whatever reason, not quite sure who I was torturing the most, and whispered into Murdock’s ear, “Would you like something far more intense and intimate? Now close your eyes until I say you can open them, okay?” He nodded and asked, “What’s this all about lady?” as he closed his eyes, and started breathing, or I should say grunting, heavier than he had been. I stood and began to gently caress his body. His breathing intensified. I looked over to Vincent and noticed he too was taking deep breaths as he stared at the game being played in front of him. I intensified my toying with Murdock. At this point he seemed far less concerned with any discomfort from the bindings. His eyes opened and I smiled as I said, “Bad boy! I will stop the next time you don’t obey me. Now close your eyes!” He quickly complied. I looked back at Vincent and nodded my head. I whispered to Murdock, “Just a second big guy. Remember, keep those eyes closed.” I then quietly reached over and took hold of the machete. Murdock’s eyes were closed as I took aim at his huge neck. I brought the machete high into the air and put all my energy into the fatal swing that plunged into Murdock’s neck – imbedding itself so deep that I could swear that I hit the bone of his vertebrae. I blanked out for a few seconds and when I connected back to reality I could feel warm blood covering my chest and arms. Vincent pulled me away and took the handle. He yanked the machete out and asked me to stand back. Murdock was obviously dead but Vincent took a second swing and severed the head entirely! It fell to the floor and bounced a couple of times before rolling over to the wall.

  Vincent excitedly asked, “Is the head dead?” I took a step over to it and looked as Vincent poked it with the machete to turn it over to face us. I could see absolutely no signs of life. All the better for him I supposed. Yet Vincent tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the body on the gurney and said, “Look!” The chest seemed to be attempting to take in breaths. Blood was gushing out the neck and onto the floor while the body twisted around. This drama only lasted a few seconds but it would forever etch itself on my mind. Vincent and I just stood there in silence a moment until he put his arm around my shoulder and laughed, “Wow, you don’t see something like that every day!” Once the body was completely still I looked down and noticed my feet were also drenched in blood. I said, “Great, looks like I need a bath for sure now!” Vincent, continuing to laugh stated, “Not yet! We still have some work to do. You said you wanted to see the pigs eat and you will…once you help me get this carcass out of here.”

  At that moment I thought I noticed Vincent looking me over again. I looked at him and he seemed like the perfect caricature from one of those 1950s western movies. The leading man was always older than his romantic conquest – with a seasoned, masculine, and distinguished look. At that moment I felt strongly attracted to him and, even after what had just occurred, or maybe because of it, I felt then might be the perfect time to see how he felt about me. When he asked me if I was okay, I did not answer him. I stepped over to him, reached up and placed my arms on his shoulders – not hugging him…just letting my hands dangle in the air.

  As I looked at him in the eyes he did not say a word. Then I could feel his hands move down my sides and rest on my hips. I started to breathe heavier and kept my eyes on his, trying desperately to determine what was going on in his mind. I slowly reached up and touched my lips to his…hoping finally to connect with him in our private hideaway, out of the site of Bethany.

  Suddenly, and without warning, he twisted me around and hurled me across the room and against the wall. I lost my balance, my feet slipping in a puddle of blood, and I collapsed next to Murdock’s head. I was trying to regain my orientation as Vincent started screaming at me, “You were so close! You have to be strong you stupid girl, what do you want, to be Bethany’s little princess or something better than that?” I struggled not to cry as he glared at me, waiting for an answer. I looked at him and in a quiet, submissive voice said, “I, I want to show you how strong I can be…I’m sorry, I just lost control. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

  Vincent just stared at me for a moment, in his usual detached manner. Then he walked over and reached out his hand, “I am sorry, I just want what is best for you – you know that, don’t you?” I nodded my head as I stood up and said, “I know.” He looked at me and in a soft voice said, “You did really well here – you had the eyes of a warrior as you removed that guy’s head. You still have some proving to do for me but today you certainly came really close!” I was not sure how I should interpret his statements. Yet after I had determined he was not going to punish me anymore for my showing him affection I felt what could only be described as the beginning of hate for him. How dare he hurt me – especially after I had been willing to give him my body? I did not show my feelings of contempt, but they were there, still mixed with admiration, strangely enough, but the seeds of hate had been sewn and there was only one way he could stop them from growing; but it seemed unlikely he would take that crucial step in the near future.

  I had to focus on cleaning up the horrific mess however. Vincent unstrapped the arms and legs and pulled a large plastic bag over the top half. Vincent spread out a sheet of plastic before we both took a leg and pulled the body off the gurney, causing it to crash onto the floor. He then said, “Know why I told you and Bethany not to feed the pigs? Now you will see why.” Vincent picked up the head and stuffed it into the plastic. We pulled the body up the stairs, out the front door, and dragged it to the back yard. The pigs started screaming when they saw us. The poor things were starving. Vincent said, “This is going to be interesting for you to watch.” He opened the gate but had to kick two of the pigs to get them to stand back as we drug the body into the enclosure. We left the little corral and the pigs went to work. It was a rather horrific sight, but I could not take my eyes off of it as they devoured the huge body, fighting and biting each other to get the best position to tear and pull chunks of flesh and bone away. In less than fifteen minutes there was nothing left but a few chunks of bone that the pigs were grinding their teeth on. Vincent turned to me, “Go start mopping up the mess down there. When you are done take a long shower. I don’t want to see a speck of blood or mascara on you, do you understand?” I nodded my head in silence and subservience.

  I tried to wipe my feet off in the rough grass – they were covered with animal waste and blood. Vincent quipped, “Hope the paint on your toenails didn’t get messed up.” I did not respond. I just started walking to the porch. I had only taken a few steps when Vincent yelled, “I don’t want to see any makeup on you ever again. And if you dare cut as much as a strand of hair off any of your body again I will take a chunk of your scalp off with my hunting knife. Are we clear on that?” I hid my anger, “I promise Vincent.” Bethany was at the door but remained silent as I began my descent down the stairs. She had placed a mop and some cleanser at the door. I reached down to pick it up and in a hushed voice she said, “Jennifer?” I looked up. She sighed, “When you are done don’t get dressed. I will be waiting in the bathroom.” She disappeared and I got to work. I was sweating as I scrubbed any trace of blood away. After I rinsed the mop out
I went up the stairs and into the bathroom where Bethany greeted. She must have felt I was in some way traumatized as she was using a comforting voice to ask how I was. I told her I was okay and she turned on the bath and laid out some clothing. She caressed my shoulders as I sat in the water and promised, “I will give you a full body moisturizing treatment before bed.” I asked, “What about Vincent?” For the first time I heard a roughness in her voice, “I don’t give a damn what he wants. If he lays a hand on you I’ll lay into him real good.” She also promised, “We are going hiking after dinner as long as you want to. And I hope you like pork chops, potatoes and apple pie. It’s all home-grown and prepared by your loving mother.” After seeing how Vincent supplemented the protein for his pigs it made me consider skipping the pork that evening, yet I suppose it was not as if I…well, had consumed a person directly. Yet I did get an uneasy feeling when I thought back to when I first arrived – for some reason I wondered about the unusual texture and taste. I just figured that I was letting my imagination get away from myself – Vincent would not have...no, not that...at least I hoped not.