Survivor

by J. F. Gonzalez

  "Get out!" Frank said, his eyes wide and scared. "Go on, get out, this has nothing to do with you!"

  it has everything to do with me," William said, his mind kicking into overdrive. "Please put down the gun.. Let's talk about this."

  "What is there to talk about? You've already spelled it out for me. You think I had something to do with Lisa's kidnapping and attempted murder. You think I set this up based on all your circumstantial evidence"

  'That's not true, Frank, and you know it. I only want to help you"

  "You've already helped me by telling me all I need to know, okay? I've learned enough to know I'm fucked"

  William could tell that Frank was just as nervous as he was. When he'd entered the bathroom and saw Frank pointing the gun at his head, he could tell that Frank was trying to muster the nerve to pull the trigger. If he was that reluctant to pull the trigger on himself, maybe he could be talked into putting the weapon down. "I can help you," he said, holding up his hands. "I know it looks bad and all that stuff I said… that might not even happen. I just wanted you to be aware in case it did happen and-"

  "Oh, it's going to happen, I can guarantee that," Frank said. He was sweating profusely. His eyes were wide and panicked. "'They're going to find out, and you aren't going to understand when that happens. I don't want to be around when it happens, because I don't want to see the look on Joan's face when she finds out. "

  When she finds out what, Flank?"

  Frank tightened his grip on the gun and leveled the weapon at William, who raised his arms higher and backed up. His back touched the bathroom door. If somebody came in now, they'd bump into him and Frank might squeeze off a shot in surprise. "Please put the gun down, Frank. Let's talk about this."

  "We are talking," Frank said. He looked crazed and desperate. "You need to listen."

  "Okay, I'm listening." Please, just put the gun down!

  *You already told me everything 1 need to know. I'm fucked. My life is over, it's gone, it's fucked. They're going to find out everything, and I don't want to be around when that happens."

  "What are they going to find out, Frank? Are they going to find out that you really were involved?"

  Frank's face trembled; he looked on the verge of tears, as if he was trying to hold his emotions in. He struggled to compose himself, still pointing the gun at William. "I never wanted them to find out. You've got to believe me. I've kept it secret for so long… nobody knew. Not even you. Joan certainly never knew, and she never would have understood. She would have left me in a second if she'd found out. I knew I could never show her that side of myself… she never even indulged in light bondage with me. You know what I mean, William? The bitch never even consented to just a little light B&D, a little slap and tickle, a little role-playing. Know what she called it? She called it sick fantasies for sick perverts."

  William didn't know what to say. He could only stand there silently, hands raised in surrender, hoping Frank would calm down.

  "1 kept it to myself," Frank continued. "I… it hurt me to hear her say that, so…. I kept it to myself.. "

  William licked his lips. "I'm listening, Frank. Go on… you can tell me everything."

  Frank looked up at William again, his eyes wide, panicked. "Why should I tell you everything? You're just going to tell Joan that-"

  "What's the harm in her knowing now?"

  Frank's grip on the gun tightened. "If I shoot you now, nobody will know!"

  'Ibat's not true, Frank. On the way over here, I talked to one of my investigators. He's the one who found out the information on you" William paused briefly, hoping this would get to him. It did; Frank's face paled."How else would you think I found out? Why else would I bring this subject up to you?"

  "Oh… God.. " Frank moaned. His back was leaning against the tiled bathroom wall. He still had the gun pointed at William, but he was loosening his grip. "I'm… so… fucked…

  "It doesn't have to be that way, Frank I can get you help. Please put down the gun!"

  "You can't help me. They'll still find out and I'll be ruined. Everything I've worked at to keep that part of myself secret… it'll all come out and I'll be called a monster, only I never actually killed anybody! I just liked to watch! It'll be just as bad-"

  As William's suspicions bore fruit, he tried to fight down his revulsion. "You liked to watch? Why? I don't understand, Frank, what led you to this. Why.. "

  "I don't know," Frank moaned, tears pouring down his face. "I don't remember how it started, it just happened! I just… found myself attracted to it… found that the hardcore imagery turned me on sexually and… the more I got into the extreme hardcore scene, the more I liked it. It just… it just kind of grew from there."

  William was regaining some of his confidence in controlling the situation. If he could keep Frank talking, keep talking to him in a smooth voice and get him to let down his guard, he would rush him. "Why Lisa, though? I can accept you had… that you were living this secret life as… as a voyeur of… of this stuff, but… why Lisa?"

  Frank wouldn't answer at first. He kept the gun pointed at William, his features displaying the range of emotions that were battling to the surface. William could tell he was losing it. "I couldn't imagine what Joan's reaction was if she'd known I was into heavier stuff than just the light bondage, which she was so… so repulsed by. I kept it secret. I had to. I needed Joan, needed that security of a wife and a family and a job. I needed that… that respect that comes from doing well in business. But I also… needed to indulge every once in a while. I… I didn't like to… actively participate… but… I just liked to watch… and… and.."

  "How long have you been into this, Frank?" William asked calmly.

  Frank wasn't looking at William now, although he still kept the gun trained on him. A long time," Frank said, looking at the tiled wall in front of him. "I was fortunate enough to keep it hidden, to live that other life so nobody knew. It was like… any other thing. Some guys get turned on by normal pornography, others get turned on by fetish stuff… all that never did anything for me. What I liked was… very extreme hardcore S&M. At first it was okay that it was all an act, that… the people in the videos were all consenting adults. I could fantasize that the bottoms were being taken by force. But… after a while that wasn't enough. Can you believe I was actually asked to leave one of the bondage groups I was involved with?" He looked at William. "When they found out I wanted to watch a scene where the slave was really being taken by force, that she was an unwilling participant, I was told to leave and not come back. They looked at me like I was a freak. That's when I knew that… something was wrong."

  "Why didn't you get help?"

  Frank ignored the question. He was looking back at the wall in front of him, still holding the gun. "I did some more searching, was able to find out through one of my contacts about a more select group, and I got in. That… made me feel better. Knowing there were others like me, who just liked to watch… who were just as outwardly normal and were professional people on the outside in their everyday lives and contributed to society, even though it was a very small group of people. At least I knew I wasn't alone. I still contributed greatly to society, I rose up in management, I provided for my family, gave them everything they needed. But when I needed release, I knew I had an outlet. I was.. '. fortunate enough to gain the trust of this group. I was good at keeping my mouth shut, at just showing up at the gatherings and watching, paying any amount of money they asked for to watch and then go away. But then-"

  "Why Lisa, Frank?"

  Frank had slumped down into a sitting position on the bathroom floor, his back still against the wall. The arm that held the gun was less in control now, but William still didn't dare take a step forward to try to take it from hishands. He hoped to be able to talk Frank out of it. "The minute I saw her, I knew that she was the one."

  William paused. "What do you mean?"

  'When I saw her, I couldn't get her out of my mind. Every time I saw her, I… I
imagined what it would be like being with her… doing to her what… what I saw in the few… snuff films I saw. I kept fantasizing over and over what it would be like to… torture her and see her suffer. Maybe that's how it works for… the people who are into this. I know that's how it was for me. I didn't pay to see some… some anonymous whore get snuffed and imagine I was the one doing it to her. I always pretended that it was somebody else and… in the last few years that somebody I visualized was Lisa."

  William felt cold listening to this. To think that it wasn't malice or greed or some monetary reason that had driven Frank to arrange for Lisa's murder, but the simple desire to watch her suffer and die left William reeling.

  "For a long time it was just something I could fantasize about," Frank said, panting. "I could fantasize about it and it was okay, but then… then when Brad got engaged to her and they started coming to the house more she… she became part of the family and they got married and then… then I… started becoming more… emotionally attached to her… more… I couldn't control the thoughts, they got stronger and… I didn't want her… didn't want to someday lose control and… and be alone with her one afternoon or something and lose control of myself and make an advance towards her. That would have been trouble and… Brad and Joan… they would have hated me forever. So I kept trying to suppress those feelings, but they wouldn't go away! They just wouldn't go away, no matter what I tried to do!"

  "So you did it," William said, barely able to control the revulsion he felt for the man who was sitting in a crumpled heap across from him. "You didn't even try seeking psychological help, did you? Instead you raised the money and tried to have her raped and killed so you could own her, because you felt she owned you! The only way you could control your sick feelings over her was to control her, and the only way to do that was to watch her suffer and actually possess a visual documentation of that! Isn't that right, Frank?"

  Flank turned to him. "So you do understand?"

  No, I don't. And I'm not even going to try to pretend to!

  "I knew you wouldn't.'ihat's why I have to do this.' And with one swift motion he stuck the barrel of the gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger.

  The gunshot was loud, and the suddenness of the act made William yell and jump. His back hit the bathroom door and he felt wetness in his crotch as he peed himself. The force of the gunshot rocked Rank's head back against the wall and he slumped down, eyes open and staring at the ceiling. Twin fountains of blood gushed out of his nostrils like water shooting out of a faucet. The handgun that he had shot himself with lay in the clutches of his limp right hand, now resting on the tiled bathroom floor. A puddle of blood was slowly seeping outward from the body; more blood stained the wall and mirror in erratic splatters.

  Then William's stomach convulsed and he threw up, not even aware he was yelling and crying at the same time.

  Thirty-one

  "How can I help you today?"

  The ticket agent at the US Airways desk was young and blond. She smiled sweetly at Mabel.

  "Yes," Mabel said, handing over a dog-eared US Airways envelope that held her travel information. Her hands shook, and she tried to keep the shakiness in her voice to a steady level for dramatic effect. "I was supposed to fly out yesterday morning at eight A.M., but I missed my flight. I was visiting my sister and she had an accident yesterday. I couldn't make it to the airport because I was in the hospital for most of the day, and I couldn't get my nephew to drive me out here because-"

  'The agent took the ticket. "Let me see if I can help!

  Mabel nodded, looking crestfallen. It wasn't hard to act her way through that; she was tired. She'd gotten some much-needed sleep last night, but her body was still bruised and sore from that long hike around the desert pass yesterday. She'd gotten so much sleep that she'd snoozed right past her originally scheduled departure time. She sniffled. "I really hope I can make it back," she said, her voice low and brittle. "I had to call a cab to take me out here because we still can't locate my nephew, and I need to get back home to get the proper papers for my sister's will if she… you know… if she…"

  The ticket agent was typing information into the computer while Mabel talked, and now her smile widened. "Don't worry about anything, Mrs. Schneider. We can put you on the next US Airways flight out of Las Vegas into Philadelphia."

  Mabel looked up, trying to act hopeful. "Really?"

  "Really." The woman typed more keystrokes into the computer. "We have a flight leaving in thirty minutes. Flight 293. It gets in at ten thirty-six P.M. Is that all right with you?"

  Mabel nodded. "Oh yes, that would be lovely. 'Thank you"

  "No problem! The blond woman was all smiles as she went about preparing Mabel's ticket. Mabel smiled. If she'd made it this far, she was going to make it home. It had taken her three hours to pick her way around the low hills where they had intended to kill the Miller woman, and by the time Mabel reached the area where they had parked the cars, it was pouring rain. The SW was gone, but the Saturn had still been parked by the large rock. Mabel had taken the set of keys that Animal had left with his clothes, and she had given his body a quick inspection. He'd still been alive; he was unconscious, a knife stuck in his gut, and Mabel had seen the weak rise and fall of his chest. She'd pulled the blade out, then stuck it into his right eye, bringing slow, shuddering release. Then she'd licked the blade clean and gone to where the fat guy lay slumped on the ground, thick blood congealing out of his ears. He'd still been alive too; at least she thought he was. It had been hard to tell with the pouring rain and her own shot nerves, which were screaming at her to get the hell out of there. She'd knelt down beside him and slit his throat for good measure. Then she'd gotten into the Saturn and, after resting up for a moment, she'd started the engine and driven away.

  It had taken her four hours to get back to her motel. Maneuvering through the rain had been terrifying, the only time she had been scared in a long time. She drove slowly, trying not to drive over large rocks if she could help it, and tried to remember the path Tim had taken them down. It had taken her an hour to find the road, another hour after that to find the main highway. By the time she found the first road, the rain had flooded the desert. She had felt panicked, hoping that she wouldn't be washed away in a flood. Once she'd reached the main highway, she'd felt better. The Saturn had three quarters of a tank of gas, plenty to get her back to the Strip. She'd headed back to Vegas, taking her time, and once she reached the city she tried to remember where her motel was. She remembered the name, but not the location, and one phone call to information services was enough to put her in touch with the front desk, who gave her implicit directions. She was safe in her room by eight P.M., and after a hot bath she fell into bed, exhausted.

  Now it was almost twenty-four hours after they had attempted to revive Lisa Miller and begin the filming of her torture and murder. That surely hadn't happened, and Mabel didn't give a shit about it, either. She'd already been paid for her part; she'd made sure Rick Shectman had paid her in cash before she'd boarded the plane to Las Vegas a few days ago; he'd actually had it sent to her by courier from New York. The cops hadn't come nosing around her motel room, and she'd slept soundly last night. Once she had woken up she'd taken another hot bath, packed up, checked out of her room, driven to a Denny's, and ordered herself breakfast: scrambled eggs, pancakes, sausages, orange juice, and coffee. Then she'd gotten back into the Saturn, double-checked to make sure her ticket was in her purse, then driven to the airport. She'd left the Saturn in the airport parking lot after wiping the steering wheel, gearshift, dashboard, and doors with a rag. If the cops found.it, they might be led to believe that there was a third accomplice in Lisa Miller's attempted murder, but with any luck they wouldn't have her description. And in case they did… well, she was just a little old lady. Whom could she possibly hurt?

  The ticket agent smiled as a printout of Mabel's new flight itinerary spit out of the printer. She pulled it out, tore off a strip of paper, folded it u
p and scrawled the gate number in red ink. "There you go. Gate number fourteen, US Airways Flight 293. It leaves in about thirty minutes."

  Mabel smiled, trying to look grateful." hank you, dear. You've been such a big help."

  No problem, ma'am. Would you like to check any bagsr

  'No, thank you.' Mabel picked up her carry-on bag, which was a small duffel bag she had packed with her overnight clothes and toiletries. 'Ibis is all I have. Thank you! She smiled at the ticket agent and shuffled away, down to the security checkpoint.

  Mabel smiled as she hobbled down the gateway. She smiled and nodded pleasantly to the airport security checkpoint people as they ushered her through. She smiled as her carry-on bag was placed on the conveyor belt as she went through the metal detector. She picked her bag up on the other side, smiled at the young black girl who handed her bag back, then hobbled along, smiling pleasantly at those who looked at her and nodded. Those who saw Mabel Schneider on her flight home would think she reminded them of their elderly grandmother.

  HUMAN BODY PARTS, BONES, AMONG HORRORS FOUND IN HOME OF RECENTLY DECEASED GRANDMOTHER

  September 15, 1998

  Lancaster, PA-AP

  In what has to be one of the most bizarre cases in the annals of modem crime, authorities in the small Pennsylvania town of Lititz are puzzling over the discovery of the partial remains of several human beings found in the home of a recently deceased grandmother.

  Sources say the woman, identified as eighty-three-yearold Mabel Schneider, lived alone on the quiet tree-lined street, often entertaining her children and grandchildren in her two-bedroom cottage. The woman was also known for contributing cakes and pies to church fund-raisers, and was known throughout the neighborhood as quiet and neighborly. When her oldest daughter Miriam, 57, discovered her dead last month from natural causes, she had no idea she and the rest of her family would be plunged in a whirlwind of media activity.

  Found among Mrs. Schneider's possessions in a basement room that had been sealed off was a cardboard box containing mason jars filled with the pickled remains of various human body parts. "They aren't discarded lab specimens," remarked Detective Barney Hillman. "We did a routine check with medical centers in the area, and a DNA check on one of the remains came back with a match to an unsolved homicide from five years ago." That homicide, the murder of eighteen-yearold Doug Sawyer of Spring Valley Road, had puzzled investigators. Sawyer went missing on May 2, 1993, around eight P.M., when he was last seen by his mother when he left the house for the Weis Market on Broad Street. He never returned. Partial remains were discovered in a ditch on Route 772 outside of Brownstown, but no solid leads had yet emerged. Until Mrs. Schneider passed away last month.