The wooden pole tore through Andrew’s back, ripping apart his intestines as it shot through his belly.
Andrew screamed once, but only once; he couldn’t do it again.
Dean stumbled across the road, still favoring one leg. He grabbed the girl by the face and dragged her––kicking her broken legs and screaming––towards the sign.
The girl’s name was Amy Lopes. She was nineteen. She liked Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom, and books by J. K. Rowling. And for some unknown reason she thought about J. K. Rowling, her wonderful storytelling ability, and the book she was currently reading: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Then Dean slammed her body on top of Andrew and she didn’t think about anything else.
∞∞Θ∞∞
∞Θ∞
~~~~ CHAPTER SIX: THE JULIE THREAD
1
Julie Stapleton crawled out of bed wearing nothing more than a pair of underwear. She crossed the room and flicked on the overhead light. Thinking about her conversation with Paul LaFalce, she wondered what happened. Was he playing a trick on her, making a sick joke that wasn’t funny? Somehow she doubted it. Paul liked comedic movies and smoking pot. Sick humor wasn’t his style. So what did the phone call mean? Was he in trouble? Was he hurt? She thought about the way he was screaming and goosebumps cultivated her arms. She needed to do something, but what?
The obvious answer: dial 911.
But what if Paul was playing a practical joke on her? What then?
The fact of the matter was this: she didn’t know Paul very well. He was three years older and they had been seeing each other less than three months. She wasn’t even sure if they were a couple or not. She hoped they were, and some days it seemed like they were, but other days it was hard to tell. He kept secrets; that was the truth of it. He kept secrets and some days he acted strange, like he wanted to get rid of her as fast as possible. She had to wonder, what did that mean? For all she knew, Paul was seeing another girl. So how much could she trust him? And how much did she know about this guy? Unfortunately, not enough––so where did that leave her?
Truth or fiction, television taught Julie that calling 911 meant traced phone calls. And if the call were traced, her parents would be notified, even if she didn’t offer up her name.
And if her parents were notified she’d get in trouble.
She didn’t want that.
Her parents thought she was too young for a boyfriend. Of course, she disagreed. But if they knew she was dating someone three years older they wouldn’t be impressed. Plus Paul had a motorcycle. She had to take that into consideration too. Guys with motorcycles were bad news, her parents often said. They were nothing but trouble and innocent girls should stay away from them.
She tapped her hands together.
Whatever she decided, she needed to do it quickly.
“Okay,” she whispered, trying to push Paul’s screaming voice from her mind. “Think.”
If she called the police she’d get trouble. And if he were playing a malicious joke she’d be heartbroken. However, if Paul was in trouble and she did nothing, she’d never forgive herself. Not ever. Doing nothing while her boyfriend (if that’s what he was) screamed would haunt her for the rest of her days.
She had to act. That’s what it came down to; she had to do something––even if it meant getting in trouble.
She lifted the phone and hit redial.
No answer.
“Damn,” she said.
Then she threw her pajamas on and opened the bedroom door.
∞∞Θ∞∞
Julie’s parents were asleep. Gina Stapleton––Julie’s mom––was on the far side of the bed, close to a window and a patio door that opened onto a newly renovated deck; Ron Stapleton was stretched out like a grizzly bear; his left foot hung from the mattress, showcasing toenails that needed to be trimmed.
Julie didn’t knock; she opened the door and turned on the light. “Mom, Dad… we need to talk.”
Ron put an arm over his face and grunted.
Gina squeezed her eyes shut. “Turn off the light,” she mumbled. “Turn it… off. What are you doing? Go back to bed.”
“No mom. I need your help.”
“What?” Gina forced her eyes open a crack and rubbed a hand across her face. “What is it Julie? Are you sick?”
Ron pulled his foot beneath the covers, turned on his side and tried to ignore the exchange. He had to work in the morning; he needed sleep.
“No,” Julie said. “I’m not sick but we need to talk.”
“Now? We need to talk now?”
“Yes.”
“It can’t wait?”
“Mom, listen. And don’t get mad; just listen. I couldn’t sleep. Actually… I fell asleep and woke up. And I have this friend named Paul. He used to go to my school. He works over at Hopper’s Gas. He works the night shift.”
“What kind of friend?”
“A friend, mom. He’s just a friend.”
“Okay. Go on.”
Julie sat on the edge of the bed next to her mother, lowering her voice to little more than a whisper. She said, “I phoned him. That’ll probably make you mad and I’m sorry. But I was awake and bored. I knew he was sitting at work so I phoned him. The thing is, after I talked to him a few minutes he started screaming.”
There was a break in the conversation.
Gina said, “What do you mean, screaming?”
“I mean he was screaming… like he was under attack. The truth is, I’m worried about him, mom. I’m worried.”
Gina closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. She was too tired for drama, and she wasn’t completely sure she understood what Julie was telling her. She said, “Do you phone this boy in the middle of the night often? Is that why you’ve been dragging your butt around lately?”
“No Mom,” Julie said, aggravated. This wasn’t the discussion she wanted to have. Not while Paul needed help. “I think we should call the police.”
“The police?” Gina sat up.
Ron, listening to the conversation but not wanting to hear it, said, “Take it to another room, please.”
“This is important Dad.”
“This is teenage nonsense and I’ve got work in the morning. Go to bed.”
Gina cleared her throat. “The police? Really? Isn’t possible the boy is trying to be funny?”
“He screamed and the line went dead. I called him back and there’s no answer.”
“Please,” Ron pleaded. “Take it to another room.”
Gina recognized the truth: this conversation was going to be bigger than she wanted it to be. Ron was right. It was time to change rooms.
“Get up,” she said.
Julie made her way to the center of the room while her mother crawled from bed. They left the room together. Gina turned off the light and closed the door. Once they were in the kitchen Gina poured water into a glass and Julie sat at the kitchen table.
“Do you need a drink?”
“No. I’m okay.”
Gina sat across from Julie, placed her glass in front of her. “What do you want me to do?”
“Call the police.”
“And what if this boy is playing a practical joke? Did you think of that?”
“If that’s the case, he can explain himself to the police. He’ll be in trouble, not us. I think we should call, just to be on the safe side. What if he’s hurt? What if he’s dead?”
Gina didn’t think someone would end up dead tonight, but the boy working at Hopper’s might have been robbed. Might have been kicked around a bit too. Julie was right; better safe than sorry.
She said, “Let me call Hopper’s first. If there’s no answer, I’ll call the police. Then we can go back to bed. Okay?”
“Okay Mom.”
“Tomorrow we’ll discuss the appropriate hours for making phone calls to strange boys.”
Julie nodded. “Alright.”
“Having that phone in your room might have been a bad idea.”
“Mom… ” Julie whined.
“Get me the phone number, would you?”
Julie went into her bedroom with her shoulders slumped. She grabbed a small white envelope off her dresser, which had the words PAUL’S WORK written in bubble letters on the back. She brought it to her mother who looked at the envelope and snickered before dialing the number that was scribbled beneath the name.
The phone rang.
Cameron answered. “Hello Mrs. Stapleton. How nice of you to call.”
Gina made a puzzled face. “Who is this?”
“It’s Cameron.”
Gina was suddenly very confused. She thought a boy was working, not a girl. She asked, “Are you working tonight?”
“Who me?” Cameron laughed; there was no happiness in her voice. “No. Paul was working. Didn’t your daughter tell you? It was Paul. She’s been sleeping with him, you know. They’ve been having sexual relations. What do you think of that?”
Gina shot her daughter an evil eye that would have made Hitler nervous. She didn’t think much of that. She said, “Oh, really?”
“Oh, yes.”
Interrupting the conversation, Julie said, “What is it Mom? What’s happening?”
Before her mother had a chance to respond, Cameron continued. “I can tell you what I thought of that Mrs. Stapleton. I can tell you what I thought when your slutty little girl spread her legs to my Paul. I didn’t like it. In fact, I didn’t like it… at all.”
“What?”
“Do you know what I did Mrs. Stapleton? Do you? I bet you don’t. I bet you don’t have a fucking clue what I did. So let me tell you. Let me tell you all about it.”
Gina shook her head, stunned. “What are you talking about?”
“I came to visit my Paul and guess what? I found him talking on the phone with that slut daughter of yours. They were talking about how much fun they were having, sucking each other off, yes? Oh, yes. That’s what they were talking about. They were talking about their sexual relations. Paul looked so guilty when he saw me. He looked like a cat with two paws in the fishbowl. He said, Oh, please don’t get mad at me for fucking Mrs. Stapleton’s daughter. Please don’t get mad! I couldn’t help myself. She’s so slutty and willing. She loves fucking me, she loves it! So don’t get mad! But it was too late. I was mad. I was very mad. So do you know what I did, huh Mrs. Stapleton? Do ya?”
Gina didn’t respond.
“Answer me Mrs. Stapleton or I’ll make you wish you did.”
Gina’s mouth began to slink open. She was getting a sick feeling. This didn’t sound like a joke. It sounded like the real deal. Anger was being replaced with concern. Who was this Cameron girl? Was she dangerous? Was she insane?
She said, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Ask me what I did to Paul.”
“Okay. What did you do?”
Cameron laughed. “I thought you’d never ask! I kissed him, right on the lips. I kissed him and I bit down. Those were my lips, Mrs. Stapleton. They were mine and I took them, swallowed them like sushi. Do you like sushi? I did, but now I like other things. Revenge, Mrs. Stapleton… I like revenge. And murder. I asked Paul about your cunting daughter, you know that? I did. Weeks ago, maybe even months ago, I said, ‘Are you sleeping with Julie Stapleton? Tell the truth now.’ And he said, ‘No… of course not! What kind of person do you think I am?’ I wasn’t sure what to think, if you can believe that. I was confused and I wanted to trust him. So I said, ‘Are you sure?’ And he said, ‘Oh yes. I’m sure, I’m sure! You’re the only girl for me.’ And do you know what happened? I believed him! He looked me right in the eye and lied his head off and I believed every word of it!”
Gina Stapleton didn’t like this conversation. Certain words were making a very big impact on her. Revenge was one of them. Murder was another. She said, “What do you want?”
“You called me, Mrs. Stapleton, remember? You called me.”
“I suppose I did. Maybe I should let you go.”
“After I ripped Paul’s lips from his mouth with my teeth, I dug my fingers into his face and dragged him across the floor. Paul screamed so loud I figured he’d die. I didn’t want him to die. I wanted him to know how upset he made me, and I was very upset, Mrs. Stapleton. Very upset. So I broke his arms. Well, actually I broke his fingers, wrists and his arms. Then I chewed on his belly and chest. I have very sharp teeth Mrs. Stapleton. They’re very sharp indeed! His muscles tasted like raw hamburger and I swallowed them down, just like his lips. I swallowed and I drank. I rammed my––”
Gina hung up the phone. “Oh my God,” she said. “I think we’re in trouble.”
“What happened Mom,” Julie asked.
But before Gina had a chance to respond, the phone rang.
2
Gina didn’t want to answer the call, but the phone in her bedroom would wake her husband if she didn’t. She lifted the receiver. “Hello?”
“Don’t like my story, huh? I can’t blame you.” Cameron laughed. “I broke his arms, I ripped his nose apart and I tore the muscles from his bones. I did a lot of other things too, but that’s not the point, is it? No, it sure isn’t. Let me make something clear, Mrs. Stapleton, mother of Julie. I’m coming over. I’m comin’ to getcha!”
The line went dead.
“Oh my God,” Gina said, hanging up.
“What is it Mom? Julie asked. She looked scared now. She looked ready to cry. “Tell me!”
“We need… ” Her words trailed off. She didn’t know what she needed. She was too busy making sense of it all. Was the threat was legitimate? It was a threat, right? Had her family been threatened? If so, it was time for… what? Time to wake Ron? Time to call the police? Time to lock the doors and windows and hope nothing bad happens? Yes, yes and yes. It was time for all those things; probably time to get a weapon too. But she didn’t want to think that way. Getting a weapon meant using a weapon. And she didn’t have any guns.
What do people use when they don’t have guns?
A knife, she figured. I could get a knife for me––one for Julie, one for Ron. And, oh yeah––we have those pointy things from the fireplace. I could––
“Mom?”
Gina snapped free of her daze. She got up from her chair and ran to the bedroom, which suddenly seemed far away from the kitchen. She flicked on the overhead light, shouting, “Get up Ron! Get up!”
Ron rolled over and dragged the pillow in front of his face. His incoherent mumbles might have been, “Oh… what is it now?” Might have been something else.
“We’re in trouble. I’m calling the police, so get up, get up! Your family needs you!”
“The police?” Ron said, slightly more articulate. He pulled the pillow from his face and rubbed his knuckles against his head. “Why in the world are you calling the police?”
“Ron, get up. Your family has been threatened.”
“By who,” he whined. “One of Julie’s high-school sweethearts? You can’t be serious. He was probably drunk; go back to bed.”
“You don’t understand!”
She lifted the phone that was sitting on the night table and dialed directory assistance.
Julie stood at her parent’s bedroom door, more worried now than before.
Ron forced himself to sit up. “You’re really calling?”
“Yes. I am.”
The operator came on the line and Gina said, “Cloven Rock Police Department please. Can you put me through?”
“Hold the line.”
“If this is such an emergency,” Ron said, “why not call 911?”
Gina put a hand over the receiver. “I don’t want to talk with 911 dispatch. I want to talk with Mary O’Neill. She’s working the nightshift at Cloven Rock PD, as far as I know.”
Ron grunted. He was waking up now, and although he wasn’t worried, his wife and daughter were upset and that was enough to get his blood pumping.
The phone rang twice and Mary O’Neill answered. H
er voice was all business. “Cloven Rock Police Department.”
“Mary, is that you? This is Gina Stapleton.”
“Oh, hi Gina. Is everything all right?”
“I don’t know. I just had a strange phone call and I was threatened, my family was threatened.”
“Who were you talking with, someone from town?”
“I don’t know.”
“Crank call?”
No, not exactly. My daughter had… ” Gina’s words dried up. She was trying to explain quickly but didn’t know how to do it.
Mary O’Neill, being the professional, understood Gina’s thinking immediately. “Do you want me to send a car over?”
“I think it would be for the best.”
Mary said, “Gina, I’m going to put you on hold. Is that okay?”
“Yes, it’s fine.”
“You live on Hunters Road, right? What’s the house number?”
“Hunters, yes. Number Three thirty-two.”
“Three thirty-two.” A slight pause. “Got it. Hold the line; I won’t be long.”
Terror Town Page 28