Parasite Deep

by Shane McKenzie

  “My daddy…he left that boat to us. To me and Sean. His boys. If Sean was here…if he would have stayed here—”

  “What did you do, P-Pete? What in God’s name did you do to our son?”

  “If Sean would have stayed here with me like he was supposed to, none of this would have happened.”

  Grace bawled, her crying scream a never ending, high-pitched howl.

  “But he left me here alone. Had his own family. His own sons. And now he’s dead. You know what I think?” Pete pulled out a handful of triple-barbed hooks from his toolbox, squeezed them in his fist until blood dripped down his arm.

  “You-you son of a b-bitch. You did this. I t-told you. I begged you not to go. This is your goddamn fault!”

  “I think Sean was supposed to die out here. Just like the rest of our family. Just like I will someday. When he went off and died elsewhere, the ocean claimed Aaron in his place. My boy. My only son.”

  Grace had plunged into another fit of wailing, and as Pete watched her, he couldn’t help but think about how much Aaron resembled her. Couldn’t help but wonder if he would have ever settled for her, if he would have ever married her, if Sean had stayed with him.

  But none of that mattered anymore.

  Her head was tilted back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth stretched as wide as it would go. Pete shoved the hooks into her mouth, a few ripping out of his palm as he slammed her jaw shut by her chin, shoving it closed with everything he had. She tipped backward, the back of her head colliding hard with the concrete below, and Pete reached out with his other hand, pinched her nose shut.

  Blood bubbled out from between her slug lips, her eyes wide and bloodshot. The barbed, metal prongs began to protrude from her throat as she was forced to swallow, the blood flowing strong from the puncture wounds. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down the sides of her face as she choked, clawed at Pete’s hands and arms, kicked her legs.

  Aaron’s legs were pressed tight between Pete and Grace, the knees jabbing Pete in the belly.

  When she stopped kicking, stopped fighting him off, he tossed her into the back of the truck, picked up his son and placed him back in the passenger seat.

  He would drive to his boat again. His Daddy’s boat. His and Sean’s boat.

  The ocean was still hungry.

  —1—

  One year later

  “Why? This is bullshit. Did you talk to Uncle Pete? He didn’t say anything about that to me.”

  Gentry sat in Ben’s bedroom, but the door was halfway open. He tried to focus on the video game he was playing, but no matter how many zombies he shot, he couldn’t ignore the conversation.

  “It was my idea,” Ben’s mom Cheri said, her voice soft and shaky like she was on the verge of crying. She didn’t used to talk that way, used to laugh a lot, but for the past year, she was like this. “I’m sorry you don’t like it, but your brother needs this as much as you do. And so do I. Some time alone to think would do me some good.”

  “Oh, okay. I see now. You’re making Clyde come along to fuck up my trip. So you don’t have to deal with his ass, right?”

  Gentry winced at that, tossed the controller away. When Ben had called Gentry a week back, told him about heading out to see his uncle for a deep sea fishing trip, it was the first time Ben sounded happy since his dad died.

  “I’m inviting Cobb and Manuel too. We’re going out on the same boat that my dad and uncle used to go out on all the time,” Ben had said, then laughed. Actually laughed. A sound Gentry hadn’t heard coming out of his best friend’s mouth in a year. “This means a lot to me, Gench. I need you there with me.”

  They were heading out tomorrow bright and early, and Ben had asked Gentry to sleep over. Cobb and Manuel would meet them in the morning, and the plan was to all pile into one car and go together.

  Then Cheri had poked her head into Ben’s room, forced a smile in Gentry’s direction, and pulled Ben out to talk.

  There was a long pause, and when Cheri spoke this time, her voice was sterner, but still just as shaky. “Your brother has his problems. I know you boys don’t get along, but you need to grow the fuck up and play nice together, you hear me? He lost his father too, Benjamin. You don’t th-think maybe…”

  Cheri broke down crying then, and Gentry wished there was some way he could stop listening. He felt like an intruder hearing this, and the sound of Ben’s mom crying made him want to crawl under the covers and press his hands over his ears.

  “Mom…”

  “Shut up. Just shut up. I already talked to your uncle. He knows. Tomorrow morning, Clyde is going with you. Get used to the idea.”

  There was silence for a few minutes, and Gentry hoped they had moved to another room to continue their exchange. But then Ben stormed into the bedroom, slammed the door, punched the air with both fists.

  “Fuck!”

  “I heard,” Gentry said. “Door was open. You cool, man?”

  Ben plopped down onto his bed, pressed both palms against his face and sighed. His voice was slightly muffled as he spoke through his hands. “Clyde will ruin everything. You know he will.”

  Ben was probably right. Gentry hated that motherfucker just as much as Ben. The guy got off on being an asshole, especially to Ben and his friends. There was even a time when Gentry looked up to Clyde, saw him as an older brother figure. But as they all grew older, Clyde decided he was too cool to hang out with younger kids, that it was much more entertaining to give them shit, to do everything he could to make their lives a living hell. Not to mention the life he had chosen for himself. The things he did to make money.

  As shitty as Clyde was, Gentry thought he still deserved to come along if he wanted to. Cheri was right, he had lost his father too. Gentry loathed the idea of spending the weekend with him, but if this trip could bring Clyde a little joy, let him feel close to his father for just a few days, he should be allowed to join them.

  Gentry knew better than to say any of that to Ben, though.

  “We won’t let him fuck it up. This is your trip, man. We’ll just ignore his ass, like we always do. I’ve got your back. We all do.”

  Ben sighed, shrugged. “Maybe the motherfucker won’t want to come, you know?”

  Just then, a hard knock on the door, just one, and then it swung open. Clyde stuck his head in, smirking. “What up, pussies?”

  “Get the fuck out of my room, dickhead,” Ben said.

  “Lick my balls, bitch,” Clyde said, then threw the door wide open and stepped in. Emma was behind him, arms crossed like she was cold. She glanced up long enough to share a moment with Gentry, then quickly averted her eyes to the floor. “Talked to Uncle Pete. He’s only got one extra room, and me and Emma just claimed that shit. Hope you faggots like the floor.”

  “Fuck you. No, hell no. This was my trip. Mine! You can’t do that!”

  “Do somethin’ then.” Clyde puffed out his chest, hands curled into fists. He stepped toward Ben, the muscles in his arms bulging as he squeezed his fists harder.

  “Clyde,” Emma said, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. “Come on. Let’s go to your room, okay?”

  Ben’s face was bright red, and he breathed through his nose long and hard. Gentry could tell his friend wanted to hit Clyde, but Ben had tried that before, and it never worked out for him. Clyde was bigger, stronger, and way meaner, resembled their dad, while Ben looked more like his mother. Ben stayed seated, glaring up at Clyde.

  “That’s what I thought, bitch. You’re lucky my girl was here to save your ass.”

  Clyde laughed, backing out of the room. He shook his head once, then slammed the door.

  In that moment, Gentry changed his mind. Whether he lost his dad or not, Clyde could go fuck himself. He figured Clyde had to be constantly exhausted from trying so hard to be an asshole every second of every day.

  “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker,” Ben said through his teeth. “I swear to God I will. I fucking swear to God.”

  “Fo
rget that asshole. This trip is for you and your dad. Remember? Don’t let him ruin it. I bet he gets too fucked up to even get on that boat anyway.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Besides, if he tries to start some shit, we can just throw his ass in the ocean. Leave him floating there like in Open Water.”

  Ben snorted. “I bet a shark takes one bite of him, he’ll spit him the fuck back out. He’s such an asshole, he probably tastes like one by now.”

  They shared a good laugh, then went back to their video game for a while. Gentry could tell his friend was still worked up about everything, but seemed to be calming down some. After about an hour of mindless entertainment, Ben cut off the PlayStation, tossed the controller, shoved his hands into his pockets, and leaned up against the wall.

  “You know, sometimes, I forget he’s dead. It’s weird. Like I’m expecting him to just walk in, you know? I expect to wake up on Saturday mornings and smell waffles cooking, coffee brewing, just like he always did.”

  “I thought you said his waffles tasted like shit.”

  “They did. I hated them. But that’s not the point. I’d give anything for another bite of his shitty waffles, man.”

  Ben said this while staring blankly at the floor in front of him. He didn’t cry anymore when he talked about his dad, and Gentry figured he had used up every tear his eyes could birth.

  “I don’t know. I guess I feel like this trip is my last real chance to say goodbye to him. I’ve never been to his hometown before, where him and my uncle grew up. Palacios. Shit, my whole family is from there. Dad didn’t talk about it much, but he told me once that he always wanted better for himself, that he didn’t want to spend his life floating in the ocean and smelling like squid guts. So he moved out here. But still…”

  Ben shoved off the wall and threw himself onto the bed, lying on his back. He folded his hands and placed them under his head.

  “Seeing his hometown, finally meeting my uncle. It means something, doesn’t it? My uncle said that my grandpa used to take him and my dad out almost every day when they were kids, teach them how to be fisherman. Sounds nice to me, you know?”

  “I’ve never been fishing. Never been on a boat either.”

  “Yeah, me too. I wish my dad would have taken me. He probably thought I’d hate it, but I think maybe I’d like it. I just wish he would have taken me, even once.” Ben snorted, smiled, stared blankly at the ceiling fan as it spun, the two metal draw strings clanking together. “I know this sounds stupid, but me going to Palacios to visit, getting on the boat? Maybe it’ll feel like he is, you know, finally taking me out.”

  “I don’t think it sounds stupid at all. If that’s what you feel, then it’s real, man.”

  Ben nodded. “Yeah.”

  They stayed silent for a long time after that. Gentry thought Ben was deep in thought, and he didn’t want to say anything to interrupt. Then Ben started snoring, and Gentry hopped up, tossed a blanket over him.

  ***

  Emma gasped to catch her breath, rubbing her throat with both hands and staring up at Clyde who paced back and forth.

  “Didn’t I tell you, bitch? Didn’t I say don’t ever fuckin’ mention my dad to me? What, you fuckin’ stupid or somethin’? Cuz I’ll fuck you up!” He had leaned down at the last part, spittle flying from his lips and sprinkling over Emma’s face.

  It hurt to swallow, and she grimaced as a ball of thick spit worked its way down her throat. She locked eyes with Clyde for a second before looking at the wall beside her. “Sorry.”

  “You never told me your dad was a fisherman.” That’s what she had said. That’s what pushed Clyde over the edge. In the next second, Emma was on her back, her boyfriend’s hands wrapped tightly around her throat. He had been saying something to her, his face maroon and the veins bulging on his forehead, but the ringing in her ears had prevented her from hearing a word of it.

  Clyde kept pacing the room, only glancing at Emma every now and then.

  “Fuck. Emma…” He took a step toward her, but the movement was so sudden that Emma flinched, actually scooted away from him. He noticed, shook his head, laughed under his breath.

  “Fuck this bullshit. You think I need this shit? Huh?”

  She didn’t say anything. Over the years, she found that just staying quiet was best when he acted this way.

  “I’ll be back. And your ass better be here. Emma, don’t make me come lookin’ for you.”

  She nodded, hugged herself.

  It wasn’t until Clyde had stormed out of the room and she heard the front door slam that she let herself cry. She curled up into a ball on the floor and wept into the carpet.

  Stupid, she thought, wiping the snot and tears from her face after forcing herself to stop. Quit crying, you stupid fucking idiot.

  She grabbed her menthol cigarettes from Clyde’s dresser, which was littered with empty beer and soda cans, an ashtray stuffed full of butts and roaches, and a plastic tray covered in marijuana seeds and stems. Behind all that was a photograph of Clyde and Emma, both smiling, both looking happy and in love, taken about three years back.

  But he never loved me. Shit, I don’t think I ever loved him either.

  When they had first started going out, it was easy to lie to herself that she really was in love. Easy to pretend she was happy, even though Clyde was just as much of a dick then as he was now. Bottom line was, he was good-looking, and he was a bad boy. Not a violent guy, at least up until a year ago, but people still feared him, and there was something about that that got Emma off. Knowing other people were scared of her boyfriend made her feel safe, proud in some ways. She could see now how fucking backwards that thinking was, but at this point, she didn’t see a way out of it. She could deal with the name calling and mental abuse. Over the years, she had grown so used to that, it hardly registered when he was trying to be an asshole to her.

  Once the crystal meth entered the picture, his innocent name calling became death threats and shoving and choking and hitting.

  The first time he hit her, even though he said he was sorry, she had this feeling he liked it a little. So he did it again, and again. Every time it happened, it seemed like it got a little easier for him, and instead of feeling remorse for what he had done, the act of hurting her only seemed to take his anger to another level, all fueled by that fucking shit. The same shit that was eating her mother alive.

  Emma wanted to leave him, but she knew he wouldn’t let her go. Not without hurting her. Maybe killing her. He had threatened to before, as if he could sense what she had been thinking. It was after the worst beating yet, and Emma was on the ground, trying to catch her breath, watching her blood puddle up under her face as it dripped from her nose and lips.

  “I love you, Emma,” he had said, flexing his fingers as if her face had done them damage. “You ever try and leave me, and I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

  Emma had tried going to her mom about it, but the woman only shrugged, told Emma she was a big girl, could make her own decisions. Emma knew her mom was too concerned with her next fix to truly give a shit about what was going on with her own daughter, especially since it was Clyde who would be providing said fix. Emma didn’t want to be home any more than she wanted to be with Clyde, and more than anything, she figured she stayed with Clyde because she had no idea where she would go if she ever left him.

  But she’s right. I did this to myself. How in the fuck did this even happen?

  It was like a bad made for TV movie, and she was the fucking star. High school dropout, in an abusive relationship, nowhere and nobody to turn to for help. How did those movies usually end? Depended on which channel it was showing, she guessed. Maybe some bright, shiny hero would swoop down and save her, ram his sword through Clyde’s fiery, black heart. Or maybe she would just fucking kill herself. Sit in a tub and turn on her wrist faucets until she drowned in her own fucking blood.

  Emma knocked over cans and other garbage looking for a lighter, found two that were dead until
finally finding a good one, then strolled out of the bedroom toward the backyard. She sat in the white plastic chair, which wore a five o’ clock shadow of dirt on its surface and had spider webs stretched across all four legs. She lit her cigarette, held in the smoke of her first puff for a minute, then sighed it all out.

  The fishing trip thing could be a disaster. Most likely it would be with Clyde and Ben being in the same place for longer than a few minutes. Emma liked Ben, liked his friends, but she wouldn’t mind if he and Clyde just fucking killed each other.

  She did have to wonder, though. How hard would it be to accidentally shove Clyde overboard in the middle of the ocean?

  Or maybe I’ll jump over myself. And just swim away from everything.

  ***

  Gentry tossed and turned for a while, tried to put on a movie to make him sleepy, even started reading some random novel from Ben’s shelf by someone named Richard Laymon, but after a while, he just sort of felt sick to his stomach, and was just as awake as before.

  He was so bored and restless that he nearly shook Ben awake so they could play video games or even just talk some more. But his friend looked so peaceful, so comfortable, he just left him alone, decided to creep out of the room, maybe take a walk or something.

  Ben was the one who should be nervous, not Gentry, he knew, but the more he thought about the upcoming weekend, the more he wished he could find some way out of going. He couldn’t do that to Ben, not when his friend was so adamant about how much he wanted and needed Gentry to be there with him.

  Now, it wasn’t just that Ben would be an emotional wreck or that Clyde was coming along.

  It was Emma.

  The girl Gentry had fantasized about since before he had hair on his nuts. The girl he had convinced himself was the one, his soul mate. He knew it was stupid, especially since they hadn’t spoken more than three words to each other. But he knew. For some reason, for Gentry, it was fact.

  As far as he could tell, she was perfect. The only thing he could count against her was her decision making skills. After all, she had chosen Clyde as a companion. That’s like choosing a rabid wolverine for a pillow. He always dreamed she would realize her love for Gentry one day, leave Clyde in her dust.