Jack and Mr. Grin

by Andersen Prunty

  “So, you think it could be him? What was his name?”

  “Oh, his name was David Lattimore. It couldn’t be him though. He killed himself shortly after graduation.” Sam chuckled. “Maybe I’m sick but the only thing I could picture was him swinging from that rope with a smile plastered on his face. It must have been a fucking weird thing to see.”

  Jack picked the phone up from his lap and held it in his hand, not putting it away, cradling it, trying to draw some kind of answer from it.

  Soon they reached the highway and Sam slowed down. It looked like every highway exit area on every interstate in America, lined with chain hotels, chain restaurants and chain gas stations. Like the developers had dropped their pants and shat out what every mid-size city in America had.

  “Where do you want to start?” Sam said.

  Jack thought about it.

  He didn’t know.

  Didn’t have any ideas.

  He realized what a monumental undertaking this would be. Not to mention the fact he had absolutely no idea what they were looking for. Could he just walk into the motels and ask if they had seen someone fitting Gina’s description come in that morning?

  He didn’t think that would do a lot of good. If Mr. Grin had had a morning of torture planned for Gina then he probably wasn’t going to go parading her through all of the hotel lobbies. Most likely he would have left Gina restrained in the car while he did the checking in. Maybe he even worked at one of these hotels. And he thought it must be some sort of unwritten code of privacy that the hotel clerks only give information to police. After all, at least a fourth of people checking into hotels and motels were there to do something they probably wouldn’t do in the comfort of their own home.

  Sam pulled into the lot of a King’s Castle.

  “Here?” he asked.

  Jack continued to look helplessly at his phone. Did he even want to begin looking here? What was the likelihood they would actually find her? And how much time would they waste going into each of these places?

  “I don’t know,” Jack said. “Do you have any ideas at all?”

  “I’m as lost as you are, Jack. Let me listen to that conversation again.”

  “Okay.” He cued it up.

  Again, Jack found himself looking at Sam while he listened to his sister being raped. This time, Sam’s brow was furrowed in concentration.

  Once finished, he pulled the phone away from his ear and handed it back to Jack.

  “Listen to it again,” he said. “I was trying to see if there was any kind of sounds that would give it away— you know, like the highway in the background or something? But I didn’t hear any of that. But I think I heard something else. Towards the end, when she’s panting or something, listen, and it almost sounds like she’s trying to say something.”

  Jack couldn’t listen to it fast enough. He started at the beginning and relistened to everything, paying close attention when it got to the end.

  There was definitely some rhythm to her panting. Why would she be seductively panting in the first place? He figured if her mouth was uncovered, she would be screaming her head off unless she was someplace where she knew she wasn’t going to be heard or unless she was trying to convey some sort of message without Mr. Grin’s knowledge.

  Jack started over and listened to it again.

  He tried to verbalize what she may or may not have been trying to say.

  “When... will... I... die?”

  “Could be,” Sam said.

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Yeah. It does seem like sort of a half-hearted musing for someone in her situation.”

  “When... words... ride?”

  “That’s just dumb.”

  Jack started from the beginning, skipped straight to Gina’s part.

  It hit him hard. He felt his head spin. He thought he knew what she was trying to say.

  “Turn around,” he told Sam. “We’re wasting our time up here.”

  Sam whipped the car around, all squealing rubber, and they tore out of the King’s Castle parking lot, bolting across their lane and into oncoming traffic.

  Nineteen

  Sam jerked the wheel to his right in order to avoid the oncoming traffic and ended up back in their own lane.

  “So what did you hear?” he asked.

  “I don’t know if it’ll make any sense to you,” Jack said, his heart pounding away. “Where worlds collide.”

  “Huh?”

  “Where worlds collide. Does that sound familiar?”

  “Can’t say it does.”

  “It’s a place. Off of Groves Road. There’s like this huge field there. But, more importantly, there are some train tracks where it looks like two engines have collided...”

  “Ahhh. I know the place. It’s where all of the teenagers go to smoke pot and drink and make-out. All that good stuff.”

  “Yeah. Well, Gina took me there once but I didn’t know she had a name for it until I went to see Tim Fox this afternoon...”

  “Her old boyfriend?”

  “Yeah. Her old boyfriend.”

  “You really are serious about finding her.”

  “Anyway. He told me she called it ‘When Two Worlds Collide’.”

  “But you didn’t know she called it that?”

  “No. I mean unless it was one of those things she just brought up that kind of... well, maybe I wasn’t paying attention. I mean, if she mentioned it while we were actually there then there’s a good chance I could have been thinking about other things...”

  “Don’t need to know any more about that. Thanks.”

  The sky darkened again. Lightning slashed the sky, gouging out the rain, pouring down, icy cold, onto the car.

  “Piss,” Sam said as the windows started fogging up. He flipped a dial to defrost and turned on the windshield wipers. Well, windshield wiper, anyway. Apparently, only the one on the driver’s side worked. “That’s new,” Sam said. “So, you think that’s where he took her. To that rail car?”

  “I think, so far, it’s the only thing that makes any sense at all. You know how to get there?”

  “Definitely. You know, there’s another place out there too—”

  But he was cut off.

  A car had whipped over from the oncoming lane, coming right for them. Sam slammed on the brakes but with all of the rain and what were probably significantly undertreaded tires, it didn’t do a lot of good. Jack braced himself for the impact.

  A bright light exploded behind his closed eyes. He felt the seatbelt grab his shoulder. Wondered, panicked, if Sam was wearing his. Glass showered him. And, like that, it was over.

  He sat still in his seat, afraid to move, conscious of the sudden silence of the car and the rain beating down outside the shattered passenger side window. He looked over at the driver’s side.

  Sam wasn’t there.

  Shit, he thought. The stupid fucker wasn’t wearing his seatbelt.

  The car hissed steam from in front of him. Raindrops hammered his fevered skin. He had to find Sam. Had to make sure he was okay.

  He undid his seatbelt with clumsy hands and stepped out into the rain.

  “Look out!” someone shouted.

  Jack had enough time to turn around before something hit him.

  The something, someone, drove him onto the ground. He felt a cold pain open at his ribs.

  Jesus, had the person cut him?

  The person was now on top of him, snarling above him.

  “Maria?” he said, completely confused.

  Why was Maria holding him down on the ground? Why did Maria have that knife in her hand?

  “Never find her,” Maria snarled.

  This was definitely not the Maria he knew. Of course not, he thought. This was the Maria transformed by the mark. This was a dangerous Maria that he did not have the joy of sticking around in the coffee shop long enough to see.

  She raised the knife above her head, preparing to drive it down.

  H
e threw his arms up in front of his face, as though this would stop ten inches of sharpened steel.

  He tried to throw her off, simultaneously preparing for the punch of steel into his skin.

  It never came.

  He felt the weight lifted from his hips.

  Sam had her around the arms.

  “Jesus,” Jack said.

  Sam was covered in blood. This was a lot worse than the bloody nose.

  “We need to duct tape her and throw her in the trunk,” Sam said.

  Jack moved closer but out of Maria’s reach. “Now,” he said. “Why would we need to do that?”

  “Just seems like the right thing to do.”

  “I’ve got another idea,” Jack said. “We remove that brand there on her left arm and sweet little Maria goes back to being sweet little Maria. Does that sound like a better plan?”

  “Can it involve duct tape?” Sam said. He really didn’t look like someone who should be making jokes.

  “What?” Jack said. “Do you have like a spare roll of duct tape in your car or something?”

  “In the back. You can grab it.” He strained with the force of holding Maria back.

  Jack looked into the back seat of Sam’s car. There had to be at least six rolls of duct tape there. He had no idea why Sam would need so much duct tape.

  “Just don’t let her go,” Jack said.

  Sam threw her against the car, trying to get her to drop the knife. She held strong. She bent her head over her shoulder, gnashing her teeth at Sam.

  Grabbing the duct tape, Jack wondered where the police were now. For that matter, where were any concerned citizens? They were still on the state route. Their cars were bashed up in the middle of the road. Other cars were simply pulling around them. Jack certainly wasn’t putting in any calls to the police. And, furthermore, he didn’t want anyone to help them. If the police or an ambulance arrived here before they could get away then they would be forced to go to the hospital and fill out reports and other things that would undoubtedly burn away the rest of the night.

  Had Mr. Grin planned this?

  If he had planned the cop stopping by Sam’s apartment then it seemed very easy and logical that he had planned this.

  Jack grabbed a roll of duct tape and threw it, hard, at Maria’s knife-wielding right arm.

  She turned to him and snarled. He imagined that being a face she made when she was really into sex and wondered how, sometimes, very attractive people can become very ugly.

  “We need to get the fuck out of here,” he told Sam.

  “We can’t just leave her.”

  Jack threw another roll of duct tape, this time hitting the knife. It clattered to the ground.

  “Hold her around the wrists,” Jack told Sam.

  Sam shifted his grip down. Jack approached them and Maria began kicking out wildly.

  Jack put his back to her. Sam drove her to the asphalt, swaddling her in his girth.

  Jack crouched down, feeling the immense pain in his ribs, and felt along her left arm.

  He felt the brand raised under his fingertips. He grabbed a corner of it.

  This one didn’t come off as easily as Sam’s had. It was like, over time, it had grown deeper roots or something.

  Feeling time slip away, he realized he couldn’t do a finesse job. He found the knife, lying on the road.

  “Sorry,” he said to Maria.

  Holding the loose skin away from her arm, he ran the knife along the brand, shearing it off.

  Maria howled in pain.

  “We gotta go,” Jack shouted. He heard sirens in the distance.

  “We just gonna leave her here?”

  “I guess we could take her with us.”

  Maria was sitting up on the asphalt now, staring down at her arm. Jack tucked the brand into her hand.

  “Dude,” Sam said. “I think she’s in shock or something.”

  “Okay okay. Then we’ll just leave her here and the ambulance will find her. She probably won’t remember anything anyway. We just need to fucking go.”

  Sam trudged over to his car. He slid in behind the wheel and began cranking away at the engine. The engine didn’t really crank at all.

  “This thing’s shit,” Sam announced.

  “Let’s try hers.”

  “We’re just gonna steal her car?”

  “Why not? She stabbed me.”

  Jack slid into Maria’s driver’s seat. Her car was, actually, still running. The front wheels were not touching the ground, as it had run up on Sam’s car. Sam jumped on the hood of his car, making Jack think of King Kong and, with a mighty heave, loosed the front of Maria’s car.

  Sam grabbed a roll of duct tape from the back of his car and hopped into the passenger side, banging the door shut. It met in the frame but didn’t latch.

  “Great, now I’m gonna have to hold the fucking thing,” he said.

  “You could always tape it shut,” Jack said.

  “Not a bad idea.”

  Jack whipped back into the traffic and gunned the car. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t go faster than 35 mph. He guessed it was better than walking.

  “That was fucking wild,” Sam said. He was unspooling some of the tape, trying to fasten the door from the inside.

  “To say the least,” Jack said.

  In the distance, a herd of sirens sped toward them.

  “You better find some fucking back roads quick,” Sam said.

  Jack veered to his right, taking a street that went through the mall parking lot and ending in one of the upscale suburbs.

  They were only about fifteen minutes from where they needed to be.

  Jack drove along, wanting to go faster, and waiting to feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. Now seemed like an appropriate time for Mr. Grin to call.

  Twenty

  Driving along, Jack found himself tense, waiting for the phone to vibrate. For once, he almost felt lucky no one else ever called him. That eliminated a lot of the suspense. Like he wouldn’t have to jump when the phone went off only to look at the display and see that it was someone he knew. His parents called weekly, usually on Friday evening to see if he would be coming over at all that weekend. Other than that, Gina was the only person who called with any regularity. The phone sat in a cup holder in between him and Sam.

  “She got you, huh?” Sam said, looking at the gash in Jack’s side.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hurt?”

  “Not yet. It will.” If I live until tomorrow, he thought.

  “Wonder if she has anything in here to stop the blood?”

  “It’s a girl’s car. There’s gotta be something.”

  Jack thought of all the times Gina had borrowed the car. It seemed like, every time she got out of it, she left something behind. Notebooks, books, CDs, sweaters and coats (she claimed to get too hot when she was driving).

  Sam turned around in his seat and went rummaging through the back.

  “You don’t look so great yourself,” Jack said. “You’re covered in blood.”

  “I think they’re all surface wounds though. Nothing too deep. Maybe I nicked my head on some glass. Head wounds always bleed the most. Ah, here we go.”

  Sam brought a plastic package up from his explorations.

  “What the hell’s that?” Jack said.

  “It’s a package of pads. Must’ve been Maria’s time of the month. Or maybe she just likes to be prepared. These are just made to absorb blood. And we’ve got some duct tape.”

  “Yeah,” Jack said unenthusiastically. “Good thing you brought that along. Not embarrassing at all to go around with pads duct taped to you.”

  “Who are you really worried about impressing at this point?”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Okay. Now let me fix you. Just focus on driving.”

  Sam went about unwrapping one of the pads, unfolding it, and placing it on the gash in Jack’s side.

  “You might need to hold it right there for just a se
c.”

  “Got it,” Jack said, holding the pad in place.

  Sam unspooled some duct tape and wrapped it around Jack’s stomach. Jack was thankful for being virtually hairless.

  “Too tight?” he asked.

  “No. I think there’s supposed to be some pressure in order to make the bleeding stop. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m not going to tape a bunch of pads to myself, if that’s what you’re trying to get me to do.”

  “Fine.” Let me be the one with pads strapped to him.

  Still no call. For the past few minutes, that was really all Jack could think about. As horrid as Mr. Grin’s calls were, they at least let him know Gina was still alive. Mr. Grin could never call him again, he supposed, and the whole game might just end there. Would he be free to go to the police when the twenty-four hours were up? After knowing that Mr. Grin had some connection with the Alton police department, he didn’t think he would ever feel comfortable calling 911 again. And he didn’t think anything could be done with the FBI unless he first went through local law enforcement. Somehow, even if he went over their heads, he knew it would end up coming back to them.

  “Hey,” Jack said. “Before the crash, you were going to say something about that place with the tracks...”

  “Oh, yeah, if I remember correctly, there is actually a hotel back there. A motel really. Just one of those places you can drive up to your door, you know? The kind of place preferred by prostitutes and adulterers. A no-tell motel. Easy in. Easy out. Probably never asked for a driver’s license or anything. But it’s abandoned now. It’s kind of creepy. And out in the middle of fucking nowhere. Still, though, I guess it should have probably been the first place I thought about when you mentioned a hotel.”

  “Maybe that’s where she is.”

  “It’s possible. We can get there from the tracks. We used to go there when we were in high school. Had some fine underage drinking parties there. It’s off some out of the way road but I think we could just cut through the Wilds and get there.”

  “The Wilds? Those are the woods on the other side of the tracks?”

  “Yep. You’re starting to learn your Alton geography, aren’t you, Jack?”

  “Reluctantly,” he said.

  The car began demonstrating a disconcerting bucking effort and Jack slowed it down even more. If there was one thing he had learned, it was that this car didn’t like to exert itself. Probably not much before the crash and definitely not after it.