“Asshole!” she yelled.
“What? I just did you a favor.” He looked pathetic standing there with his not extremely large cock drooping below his stomach, his pants around his ankles.
“Yeah, well, thanks for the fucking favor.” She grabbed her underwear up off the ground and began walking toward her house, flipping Crank off.
“There’s still stuff we need to talk about,” he yelled. “What about Doug!”
“Fuck the both of you.”
Crank pulled his pants up and watched her go into the darkened house.
Tuesday June 17
Thirty-eight
Doug opened the door. It was never locked. Hadn’t been locked for as long as he could remember. The house was darkened but he could see the swirling colors from the television in the living room. He thought about trying to sneak past his mom but he didn’t really care. So what if she smelled beer on his breath? That didn’t mean he was ever going to drink again. He could convince her of that.
Glancing over at the couch, she wasn’t there.
In her place was Deacon Pork.
That changed things a little. If he tried to argue with Deacon Pork, he would probably be put in a head lock or something. Besides fear, a lot of things went through his head. Was his mother okay? It wasn’t like her to leave the house. Especially not after dark. Why was Pork here? Was it possible that Pork was seeing his mother? That was a repulsive thought and he couldn’t recall if Pork had a wife or not. If he did, she didn’t come to church. Doug couldn’t imagine Pork standing for something like that.
“Where’s Mom?” Doug asked.
Pork, who had been eyeing him ever since Doug had entered the room, now stood up from the couch, still wearing that skin tight wrestling singlet. Maybe church was the only place he didn’t wear the singlet.
“Maybe she went out looking for you.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s after midnight and she worries about you.”
“I’m eighteen. If she did, that’s ridiculous. Why are you here, anyway?”
“Your mother had to do a few things. She wanted me to stay here and wait for you. Make sure you remembered all the things we talked about the other day. About wrestling the devil and the demons and the... the evil? You remember all that, Dougie?”
“Of course.”
“I wonder. Been at that whore’s next door.”
“Only for a few minutes.”
“There with that friend of yours. You should stay away from people like that, Dougie. He’s bad news.”
Almost instinctually, Doug wanted to defend Crank. But, after thinking about what had happened, he could only agree with Pork by nodding his head.
“That’s good you’re finally realizing that.”
Pork crossed the room. He stood in front of Doug.
“Now we’re going to use some of our senses.” He leaned in until his gaping-pored nose was right in front of Dougie’s mouth. “Open up. I’m a human breathalyzer. I want you to blow out. Right into my face.”
“Why?”
Pork closed his eyes and shook his head. “That was all I needed. You’ve had at least one alcoholic beverage tonight, Dougie. And that’s probably clouded your judgment. Unzip those pants.”
“Why?”
“You know why. If your mother’s been doing what she’s supposed to, you know what’s going to happen.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You’ve already proven yourself to be a liar, Dougie. We can’t have that. You’re way more important to us than that.”
“This is weird and it’s making me feel uncomfortable.”
Pork clamped a highly sensitive area between Doug’s neck and shoulder. “Do it.”
Doug unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He slid them down.
“Underwear too.”
Doug slid down his underwear. Pork got down on his knees, closed his eyes, and moved his nose so close it was almost touching Doug’s penis. He took several deep sniffs and then stood up. Doug quickly pulled up his underwear and pants, refastening them. Pork shook his head and punched Doug in the stomach. Doug dropped to the floor.
“I smell two things on your genitals Doug. Two things that I am not supposed to smell. I smell saliva and I smell semen. You are very lucky I do not smell a woman’s genital secretions. I only want to know one thing. Who?”
Doug was conflicted. He knew not answering was not an option. Pork probably wouldn’t believe he had been mouth raped by an unknown assailant. If he told him the complete truth—that Mindy had rubbed herself against him until he had ejaculated and that Whitney had performed oral sex on him—that would probably also get him into more trouble.
“Whitney. The neighbor.” Doug knew he probably said that because he was mad at Whitney but, to seem less petty, he told himself it was because Mindy was a member of the Church and Whitney was a heathen. Meaning Pork would see Mindy on a weekly basis but wouldn’t really see Whitney unless he went out of his way to.
Why would he do that?
What would even give Doug that idea?
Could Whitney now be in danger?
That was stupid. He dismissed it.
Doug still lay on the floor. Pork bent down and lifted his head up until he was looking at the cross-shaped urn on the mantel.
“I want you to look at your dear old dad,” Pork said. “Know that he’s up in heaven and he is not at all happy right now. You’ve let him down, Dougie. Ever since Lankmeyer’s unfortunate and shameful death, you are our most shining prospect. Go on up to your room now. I’m going to wait here for your mother. I hope I’m able to calm her down. I’m going to recommend that she not allow you to leave the house.”
“You mean ground me?”
“If that’s what you would like to call it.”
“But I have a job... and driving lessons... and I’m an adult.”
“Nope. Adults take responsibility for their actions. All you do is lie.” He leveled a kick at Doug’s stomach and said, “Go.”
Aching, vaguely nauseous, Doug pulled himself up to his room and lay in his bed. The windows were shut and the air conditioner was running but he was pretty sure, before dozing off, he heard screams from outside. He didn’t bother getting up to see who or what it was.
Thirty-nine
Crank stuck around in the woods behind Whitney’s house and finished off the case. Driving the dirt bike home was a major challenge. He would have probably just walked if he didn’t think Whitney, in a fit of rage, would do something to sabotage the bike. It was her first time, after all, she probably thought they were boyfriend and girlfriend now. He drove the bike into the side of the trailer and it turned itself off. When he went inside, his mother was still on the disintegrating couch watching snow on the television. He figured she must be on some kind of methamphetamine. She wasn’t usually up this late unless she had a man with her.
“Stephen?” she said quietly.
“Not feelin good, Ma,” he said, trying to hurry to his room.
“Stephen.” More firmly this time.
“What?”
“Come here.” She patted the gross cushion next to her.
“I really hafta...”
“I don’t ask for much.”
He slumped his shoulders and sulked over to the couch. Sat down.
With lightning quickness, his mother clenched a claw-like hand around his arm and pulled him into her. Crank smelled char or sulfur or something. His mother’s eyes were fire and for a horrifying second Crank thought maybe it wasn’t his mother sitting on this couch at all, but that other thing. That other thing they were supposed to talk about before Doug went apeshit.
“Stay away from Doug,” his mother growled with a voice he’d never heard before. Crank tried to pull away. He was pretty sure he was going to vomit now. He was pretty sure this wasn’t his mother at all, but just when he had broken his grip, her voice softened and she said, “It’s just that Doug is a really good boy and wants t
o stay out of trouble. You don’t want him to turn into this do you?”
And now Crank stood and looked at his mother from above and what he saw wasn’t a human or a beast. It was more like a mummy, wasted and dry and emaciated. He charged for the bathroom and exploded into a toilet bowl filled with piss and blood.
Forty
Around dawn, Amanda made her way out of the Tabernacle, through the woods, and into town. With everything that had happened previously, she thought she should have felt weak and rubbery. But she felt just the opposite. She felt blissful. Like she floated more than walked.
When she reached her block, Officer Viled pulled up next to her in his cruiser. She stopped.
“Morning there, Miss Winthrop.”
“Good morning, Officer Viled!” She couldn’t stop smiling.
“You’re looking very chipper and naked and covered in blood.”
“Oh yes. Isn’t it glorious?”
“Glory glory, Miss Winthrop. How bout you let me give you a ride home?”
“Oh, I can make it. It’s just right there.”
“I really should give you a ride home. What if someone sees you like that?”
“It is my natural state. Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”
“I definitely do, Miss Winthrop.” Officer Viled licked his mustache and leered at her. “I really should give you a ride home.”
She crossed the front of his car and got in the passenger seat.
He pulled into her driveway.
“I’m a witness, Officer Viled. Isn’t that glorious?”
“It certainly is. What have you witnessed?”
“Magnificence.”
“Does it have anything to do with the... upcoming celebration?”
“Oh yes. It has everything to do with that.”
Officer Viled placed a hand on her naked, crusty thigh. “Now Miss Winthrop—”
“Please. Amanda.”
“Now, Amanda, the things you witness with your, uh, friends should stay between you ladies, don’t you think?”
“But I’m to tell the world.”
He ran a hand between her legs. “You can tell the world after the Great One has come. Glory glory. We’re all very excited. Until then, people might not believe you.”
“They will if they look into my eyes.”
“It’s best not to take any chances, don’t you think?”
“Maybe...”
“Let me walk you inside. Make sure you get there safely.”
“But it’s just right there.”
Officer Viled’s good natured expression dropped. “Miss Winthrop. Amanda. I’m going to take you inside and fuck you. I think you’ll like it. I’ll use my gun and everything. And then you can get some rest so you can be a refreshed little witness for the rest of the week. What do you say to that?”
“But we are now reserved for the Great Lord.”
“Not you, Amanda. Only them. The other girls. You’re a witness, remember? You can still fuck whoever you want. You do want to, don’t you?”
“Of course. And you’re sure nothing will happen?”
“As long as you have eyes in your head and a pretty little mouth to tell the world what you seen, you’ll be just fine.”
She was already out of the car, Officer Viled behind her, watching her ass, his erection straining against his trousers.
Forty-one
Doug called in sick at America Pantry. Patel called him a dog fucker and said he was calling Crank. Patel called back a few minutes later and told Doug that Crank thought he was dying. Patel referred to him as a little girl. Doug said he still couldn’t come in. Patel accused him of staying home to fuck six dogs and hung up.
Doug felt dirty and took three showers. Otherwise he didn’t leave his room. Not to eat. Not to drink. And not to use the restroom. He thought it seemed like something a monk or a priest would do. He had a lot of thinking to do. Mindy called late in the afternoon to tell him she wouldn’t be able to give him any more driving lessons until after her party Friday. She told him she didn’t like what they had done the other day and wanted him to know she would love to be his girlfriend and would he wait for her? Would he not mess around with any skanky girls that might live in the neighborhood, despite the accessibility and temptation? Doug assured her she was safe. He told her he was no longer friends with Crank or Whitney, which was good because now he didn’t have to feel guilty about coming to her party on Friday. She said she thought that was really good for everyone and then hung up after saying she loved him. Doug was stunned. Something else to think about.
That night Mindy and the other girls stole a young Mexican girl from a mall outside Cincinnati. They brought her back to the Tabernacle, skinned her alive, and danced in her blood. There were also three goats involved. They had wanted four but the man from Baal’s told her they were on backorder.
The beast rested, waiting for Friday.
W ednesday, June 18th
Forty-two
Doug awoke to his mom poking him in the cheek with the phone.
“Quit it.” He batted at the phone.
“It’s the Pantry.”
“I don’t work today.”
“It’s the Pantry. Besides, it’s time you got up. It’s almost noon.”
It was really great his boss was hearing this. So not only did he live with his mother, she also had to wake him up.
Doug took the phone and said, “Hello?”
“Good morning, Momma’s boy. I need you to come in today.”
“But I’m off.” He really didn’t want to go into today. He didn’t have much else to do except for church in the evening but... he just didn’t feel comfortable leaving the house. Too much temptation. Too much vile filth. Especially at a place that seemed to cater to vice. “I have... plans.”
Patel laughed. “Soon you will have plans but no money. Then no plans.”
“Look, I’ve come in a lot when you’ve asked me on my days off. I just can’t today, okay? Have you tried Crank?”
“Crank quit. He is dog shit with worms.”
This kind of surprised Doug. America Pantry was a slacker’s paradise. Not to mention all the booze, condoms, cigarettes and, apparently, Duraflames Crank could ever need. He had often imagined Crank retiring from the Pantry.
“Well, I’m very sorry. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“You are a lazy skank.”
Doug tried to protest but Patel had already hung up.
His mother still stood there. Now she held her hand out for the phone. As soon as she closed her meaty hand around it, it rang again. She looked at the number on the caller ID and shook her head, meaning she didn’t recognize it. Meaning she wasn’t just going to hand the phone over to him.
“Hello?” she said. Then handed the phone to him and said, “It’s a girl for you.”
Doug got excited. It was probably Mindy. Maybe just calling to talk. He took the phone and waited for his mother to leave, but she didn’t. She pulled a cigarette from her housecoat and lit up, saying, “I know what you’ve been up to. I’m standing right here.”
“Hello,” Doug said.
“Hi Doug. It’s Whitney. Listen—”
He hung up and handed the phone back to his mother. “Block that number.”
“Who was it?”
“The Devil.”
“Who did you think it was?”
“It’s not important.”
His mother ashed into his trashcan and sat down on his bed. He rolled over and faced the wall, pulling the covers over his head.
“I know you’re eighteen, an adult, and you’re going to start dating girls. But if you want me to be okay with who you’re dating, I have to approve of them. If you’re waiting for that whore next door to call, then that’s a problem. She’s crazy. You know where she’s been the past few years, don’t you? I can’t believe you’d let yourself get mixed up with trash like that.”
“That’s who it was. I don’t want anything to do with her. She do
esn’t have any morals. I’m dating Mindy Astan. You know her, don’t you? She goes to the Church. Or the Tabernacle, anyway.”
“Oh.” His mother sounded surprised. “That’s a good find, Dougie. I hope it works out.”
There was something about this calm acceptance Doug couldn’t believe. “She’s graduating from the Tabernacle, you know.” He pulled the blanket off his head and sat up against the headboard. “There’s a graduation party on Friday.”
“Oh, it’s more than that. It’s the graduation ceremony. Those three girls have worked very hard. I’ll be there. The whole church will be there. Which reminds me... there isn’t any church tonight. They’re preparing things. I wasn’t going to tell you because I didn’t want you making any plans. It’s a shame though. I think church is exactly where you need to be.”
“No plans. We weren’t planning on seeing each other until after the ceremony. We thought that would be best.”
“So now what are you going to do with your day?”
“I’m just going to stick around. Maybe go for a walk. Think about my relationship with God.”
She patted him on the calf. “You’re such a good boy, Dougie. I know you’ve made some mistakes the past few days but hormones are funny things. I think you’ll find the light again.”
“I’m trying.”
She stood up and left the room in a cloud of smoke.
Forty-three
Crank woke up sometime that afternoon. He’d lodged a chair under the handle of the door in case his mother tried to murder him in his sleep. It was probably more symbolic than anything since everything in the trailer was made so cheaply a toddler could break it. The chair under the knob was probably stronger than the door itself. But since he woke up and wasn’t covered in blood, it seemed everything had worked out. He called his band mates to arrange a last minute practice session. He wanted to be around as many people as possible and he didn’t want any of those people to be Doug. He thought about calling Whitney and decided not to. She was kind of a bummer. And she wouldn’t want to talk about anything except the Doug situation. Which was exactly not how Crank liked to deal with things. He would prefer to forget about it and put it off as long as possible, hoping the problem would pass. That required less effort and usually worked out.
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