by Bryan James
“What about you?” Kevin asked.
“Me? Didn’t I tell you? I’m fine,” Conrad said. “In a moment it can all be over and I’m not going to play along. I’m not going to hold my nose down to smell all of the shit. My father’s life after that was over. He got out in ten years but he was a broken man. They got divorced while he was still inside. My mother and I fought all of the time because I was getting into trouble.”
“What were you up to?”
“Little deals here and there, vandalism, petty stuff, that’s how I met Simon in juvenile detention. He wasn’t much then but we got along eventually. He was lucky I wasn’t any bigger and I was nice to him. I still thought I had something to live for.”
Chapter 34 - Old Man Parts
“What are we going to do?” Simon asked.
Heather looked over the edge of the barn’s open loft doorway and to the ground, the dirt path with a few stray pieces of grass and was frightened by the feeling that she could fall. It wasn’t far, she told herself, maybe break a few bones, but it wouldn’t kill you. She stepped back and looked to Simon who sat on the floor of the loft rubbing his finger against the grooves and scars in the wood.
The sun had just set and they had both heard Kevin and Conrad go from the car back to the house. They were divided into their pairs, Heather thought, as she planned to spend the night in the barn away from Simon’s mother.
“What can we do?” she asked.
“We can run away, you, me, and my mother,” he said defeated by his own sarcasm and disappointment. “It’s simple but I don’t think we’d get very far.”
“What can they really prove?” she asked.
“Nothing, I didn’t kill her, but I’m going to be the prime suspect, especially after she chased me out of her party last night. I can’t believe she’s dead.”
“She’s dead.”
“It’s just so crazy. I think she’s the first person I’ve known who died.”
“Me too,” she said, “and I didn’t even know her that well.”
“I spent all of those years in juvenile detention because I stabbed her brother. Even if the cops don’t arrest me he’ll probably try and kill me.”
“We can hide. You can come to my place. No one would know you are there.”
“Can I bring my mother?”
Heather stopped herself from speaking and turned away back to the open doorway and looked out to the house and the tree tops. Simon looked up to her, got frustrated by the way she turned away so he got to his feet and went to her. He approached cautiously, touched at each elbow and she pulled away. She turned on him and looked ready to cry.
“My mother isn’t a killer,” he said.
“What about all those people she supposedly killed?”
“What are you talking about?”
“All of those old people where she worked,” she said.
“What? Who said that?”
“It was in the newspaper articles.”
“She worked in a geriatric hospital and old people die. There were many of them that were her friends. I remember she used to make treats for them. She used to give them gifts and things. She’d pick flowers out of our garden in the spring and the summer. It wasn’t easy for her working with them.
“I remember she used to talk about the old men who’d grab her and pinch her. I overheard her talking about having to wash them. She did everything. It was a horrible place. Those old men would shit themselves and she’d have to clean it up. She used to talk about how they were like big babies. She’d have to wash the shit from under their balls. She used to wish they’d been castrated to make it easier. People used to kid her about seeing large penises and everything but it didn’t mean anything to her. She dealt with it. She wouldn’t harm them.”
“Not even the old men who she wanted to castrate?”
“No,” he said. “She used to work the night shift. That’s when people usually die. Four in the morning when it is the coldest part of the night. That’s when they’d all die. She told me it wasn’t her fault.”
“What about your father?”
“What about him?”
“He disappeared.”
“So,” he said. “He wasn’t a very good person.”
She stopped herself from saying more. What more could she add that wasn’t speculation? What could she say that wasn’t motivated by her own fears? She looked him over, the breeze was suddenly louder in the trees, the sounds of crickets and an owl felt like too much. She wanted this deception to end.
“Maybe we should turn ourselves in,” she said.
“No, we should runaway,” he said. “We could go anywhere you want. We could drive across the U.S., go to Canada, and Europe. We’d have to be smart with the money but we could leave this place.”
“We can’t. Our lives are here. We may not like them but we can’t just run away and take your mother with us.” She looked him in the eye and for a moment he felt like she was trying to tell him something telepathically.
“It’s going to be fine,” he said.
“Don’t make promises.”
“Or it’s not going to be fine but we will deal with it. The worst case scenario is I get life in prison, but like I said I didn’t do it. There isn’t any evidence because I wasn’t there.”
She began to cry. He watched her for a moment until he realized it would only get worse and he pulled her to his shoulder. He hugged her and held her close. He felt his shoulder get wet. He rubbed at her back.
“And I don’t think my mother did it either. We just have to get a good lawyer and hope the cops aren’t corrupt, and that her brother doesn’t kill me. You know, a bunch of impossible things to predict. It will either get worse or it will get better.”
She let out a laugh against his shoulder and pushed away a little to look at him. She had a puzzled but humored look.
“Thank you Captain Obvious,” she said.
“No, I just mean, I don’t know what I mean.”
Chapter 35 - Almost
The sun had begun to set. Conrad and Kevin decided to leave the car and go back inside the house. They stopped in the living room where they put some supplies in a brown paper bag. Conrad made sure to pack the beer and whiskey. They felt mischievous as they moved through the house with blankets and bags of supplies in their hands back to the room where they had first kissed. They stuck the blankets against the wall and made a nest, stripped down to their underwear.
“Feels like we’re camping out,” Kevin said.
“It feels like we’re homeless,” Conrad replied.
There was a tinge of bitterness there but Kevin ignored it. He opened a beer for each of them. They kissed. For a moment Kevin was ready to do something more. He was getting aggressive with Conrad’s body when he heard Conrad open the bottle. He pulled himself from Conrad’s chest and looked around for a glass.
“I don’t have anything to pour it into,” Conrad said before he put the bottle to his lips. He took a long drink and handed the bottle over.
Kevin took the bottle and smelled it. The odor was somehow stronger than he had expected even though he had drank that kind of whiskey before. It was his nerves, he told himself.
“What the hell,” he said.
He put the bottle to his lips, felt it burn all of the way down but managed to keep himself from spitting it out as he took a drink almost equal to Conrad’s. He felt a familiar burn through his body and he moved to the headboard where he reclined on against a pillow. He took another drink and passed the bottle back. Conrad did the same but placed the bottle down between his thighs. They touched at each other’s legs, felt at each other’s crotches but drinking became their main focus. They each felt like it was getting them closer to something.
They sat like that for a long time passing the bottle back and forth, feeling each other up, kissing a little, but otherwise staying there in a mutual state. The room became dark except for moonlight that shown through the windows that didn’t have any
curtains. Slowly they sunk down the wall until their heads were on the pillows and the bottle was placed beside them.
“You’re drunk,” Kevin said.
“I’m happy,” Conrad replied.
Side by side, face to face, Kevin could smell the whiskey on his breath but his own probably smelled much the same. He was in a comfortable state of inebriation, awake but slightly numb. Conrad moved to him and kissed him on the lips. He kissed back and Conrad moved down over his chin to his neck. Kevin smiled at the feeling until he felt the suction and the teeth.
“Ow,” he said.
“Sorry,” Conrad said, “you’re just so delicious.”
Kevin let out a laugh and Conrad went back to work, pushed him onto his back where he continued to kiss at his body, suckle on him. Kevin stretched out on the bedding. He enjoyed the feeling of the sheet against the back of his hand, his calf muscles, and the feeling of Conrad kissing his body, licking it. He turned his head and for a moment he thought he could fall asleep until he felt teeth again. He looked down to Conrad’s form and he was about to say something when he felt a hand slip into his underwear and grab at his ass. He looked up to the ceiling and stretched his head back into the pillow. Conrad’s lips left his body for a moment and then he felt them again on his thigh. He reached down and took hold of Conrad’s head, his fingers slipped into his hair.
The lips were gone again and he felt Conrad positioning himself over his body. He looked up to see the silhouette of him. He wanted more so he sat up and pulled Conrad down to his lips where they kissed. Each of them felt at the other’s body. For Kevin it was just the right amount of stimulation, just the right amount of feeling. He sat up into the pillows and pulled Conrad with him until Conrad was sitting slightly on his lap. Their slightly hairy legs rubbed against each other, crotch against crotch they continued to kiss passionately, tongue against tongue. Conrad grabbed at the sides of Kevin’s head, brushed against his ears to send shivers of pleasure through his body. He felt like he could work Conrad to some level of satisfaction, maybe for himself as well and that would be it. But Conrad pulled away.
“Let’s do it,” Conrad said.
“No,” Kevin replied.
“Please,” Conrad said.
He took hold of Kevin’s shoulder, and pushed against it but he resisted. He pushed back, grabbed at his hands, his wrists.
“Not tonight,” Kevin said. “It won’t be very good.”
“Please, I need to feel something. I don’t feel anything.”
“You drank too much.”
“No, in life, I don’t feel anything. Do you feel anything? You can fuck me. Make me cry, pound me hard. I don’t care.”
“No,” Kevin said. “I’m not going to do that.”
“Then let me fuck you,” Conrad said. “You can’t work me up like this and just stop, not again. I need to feel something. I’ll be quick.”
Conrad pushed against him more, lay against him, tried to smother him with his own body. Kevin was surprised at first, was almost ready to let it happen, but then he imagined just what could happen. He would be face down and Conrad would be on him from behind. He wasn’t ready for that. He didn’t trust him, not in that way. He pushed back against Conrad’s chest, shoulder, any part of him.
Conrad laughed but fought back until the laughter faded and the two of them were grunting and pushing against each other for position. Kevin was stronger. He shoved Conrad from his lap and Conrad shoved back knocking the back of his skull into the wall where it made a thud but Kevin didn’t feel it right then. He was angered. He pulled Conrad towards the floor, rolled with him until he was on top but he felt a panic as he realized they were two people on a floor and in the dark.
There was no more sense of play. It was closer to combat. Kevin could feel it. Conrad could feel it. Conrad sunk his fingers into Kevin’s skin making him cry out in pain and begin to retreat. It was the opening Conrad needed. He got to his knees and grabbed at Kevin who grappled him back. They were locked together trying to get a better position on the other but it was difficult in the darkness. The adrenaline overrode the alcohol for both of them. It was pure instinct.
But Kevin found himself to be the stronger of the two and Conrad was predictable as he pushed against him, one quick move and it could be over. He was getting tired just holding him there and he felt like he needed to end it. He let go, let Conrad fall against him and slipped Conrad’s head down under his armpit where he got him into a headlock. Conrad let out a grunt and tried to push against him but he had him locked, felt the softness of his throat. He would give him the option to quit or else he might have to choke him out, he thought.
That was when Conrad’s knee slipped in the bedding and they both fell to the floor. Kevin rolled over Conrad and into the wall making a loud thud that echoed throughout the house. Kevin felt the sharp pain of hands in his side and the floor against his knee but he pushed himself up and into Conrad who also tried to stand but he pushed through him, pushed him over. Conrad hit hard, was flat on the floor and groaned in pain.
“Just quit,” Kevin said.
“Not a chance,” Conrad said.
He scrambled to his feet and lunged at Kevin, knocked him against the wall making another thud. He thought he had the upper hand but Kevin pushed back, stepped around him, placed his foot behind Conrad’s foot, ankle behind ankle and pushed. Conrad hit the floor again but this time the wind was knocked out of him. Kevin maintained his grip and assumed a mounted position over Conrad’s chest. He held Conrad’s wrist and took hold of his other arm until he rendered him powerless. Conrad struggled, pulled and pushed but he was defeated.
“Okay, okay, I give up,” Conrad said.
“Really?” Kevin asked.
“Yes, I swear,” Conrad said.
Kevin let go of him, stepped away slowly and began to look for his clothes and make any sense of where he was and what to do next. Conrad sat up.
“You got lucky,” Conrad said.
“Yeah,” Kevin replied.
He felt lucky, not because he won but that it stopped.
“You’re a real tease and now that I want something you won’t give it to me.”
“I didn’t lead you on. We got into bed. I thought we were going to sleep. You’re the one with the problem.”
“Yeah, blue balls,” Conrad said.
“Those aren’t real,” Kevin said.
“Want to touch them and find out?”
“Not really,” Kevin said.
“Then get the fuck out of here,” Conrad said.
Kevin looked to the floor. His clothes were around there somewhere but he wasn’t sure if he could trust Conrad to not attack him, but Conrad retreated to the far wall where he sat and continued to rub at his chest. Kevin decided to take the opportunity to search for his clothes. He found his shirt and tucked it under his arm, found his jeans and pulled them on, then one sneaker and the other all while keeping an eye on Conrad. He pulled on his shirt, made sure everything was in his pockets. He remembered his hooded jacket and found it. He pulled it on and looked to Conrad who had gone from dangerous to humiliated. He walked to Conrad and attempted to reach out to him but Conrad looked up at him and balled his fists.
“Get the fuck out of here before I kill you,” he said.
Kevin held his breath at the threat, the intensity of Conrad’s voice, the dead calm in his eyes. He had never before felt so threatened, with someone so capable. He stepped away and turned to the door before realizing it was a bad idea. He looked back to Conrad as he exited the room, made sure to pull the door closed behind him.
Conrad looked up to the door and let his hands relax. He wanted to chase after him, wanted to grab hold of him, pull him to the ground, choke the life out of him but he thought about their struggle. Kevin would not be so easy. He was stronger and faster, more capable. So he thought about the gun in his bag, the same gun he used to shoot Dylan, Tim, and Elliot. It had been so easy.
No, he told himself, it wa
s never easy. There would be a body, evidence, and he couldn’t just go around killing people and expect to get away with it. He told himself that he had fucked up but that it was over. He felt the sting in his chest and reasoned that what he really needed was to kill the pain. He thought about the beer down in the cooler. There were two more bottles left and he told himself he could down both of them, regain that sense of numbness and fall asleep. He got to his feet, exited the room, walked the long distance down the hallway, down the stairs, another hallway, and eventually the kitchen. He went to the cooler where he opened it and took out one bottle. He pressed it against his cheek but it stung a little so he took it away, twisted off the cap, and drank from it. He drank deep, took a breather, and then pressed it back to his lips and downed some more. He felt pride and accomplishment by drinking so much so fast, especially cold. He held out the bottle to the light and smiled because less than half remained. He looked to the other bottle.
Tomorrow was another day, he told himself, just finish this, sleep it off, and figure out what to do, what he needed to do, when he woke up. He picked up the second bottle and turned on his feet but stopped when he saw the form in front of him. Short with long hair, it was Simon’s mother, he thought.
“I don’t have time for this,” he said.
That’s when he felt a pressure in the side of his stomach, a small punch, no he thought something else. He felt the warmth of blood and looked down to see she was holding a knife and it was stuck in his body. The open bottle fell from his hand, then the full bottle hit the floor and he felt himself go weak as the knife was pulled from his body. She stabbed again, and again, each time opening more wounds, letting out more blood. His legs gave out. His knees buckled. He fell to the floor and looked up to her form. She grabbed hold of his hair, pulled his head back so that his chin was out of the way.
One quick slash and she cut through his throat. He tried to reach out but his hands only twitched. His eyes closed and he fell. Blood ran out from his body onto the floor but she stepped away, walked away from his form. His body seized a few more times and then it was still, lifeless.