Then Will froze. Death by drowning.
Maybe the guy isn't dead...?
"Will, was he alive?"
...now tell the jerk the good part...!
"Tanis...I can't possibly put into words exactly what happened next. It was so strange, it felt as if...well let me try to explain...
On his knees, Will gripped the man's wrist, felt for a pulse. The skin was frigid, and he wasn't sure if he actually felt anything. He dropped the wrist; the hand thunked to the concrete. He then crawled to the side of the head, placed his right hand beneath the neck and arched it up. With his left hand he pinched the nose and pulled back, forcing the mouth into a wide-open position. Will's nausea--previously forgotten--returned as he readied himself for action.
"Say AH," he said aloud and placed his mouth over the gaping mouth. He blew hard. He had no idea what he was doing, but felt as if it was the right course of action. What if the man was alive?
He arched back, then blew again. Four times, five, six, seven. No response, no signs of life. He put his fists together, raised them high, then brought them down into the midsection of the body. He repeated this action, three times, then four. He returned back and blew another gust of air into the lungs of the man.
With no warning, the body came to life, sucking back with a force stronger than a vacuum. Will, blowing, was forced to release more air from his lungs than prepared to. His lungs emptied and he found himself with nothing left to exhale. With amazing strength, the man continued to inhale, staking a claim to every last precious drop of breath that Will had left. Will gripped the man's hair and pulled, tried to break away. He was stuck. His head began to feel as if it would float away. He tightened his grip on the sides of the man's head and pulled with all the remaining strength his faltering body would allow. His hands came away with clumps of wet blond hair. Blotches of black light began to blanket Will's vision. Just when he heard his inner self say "this is it, it's all over," he heard a noise.
The man began to growl.
It was a chattering growl, like the syncopated sound a stomach makes when it's fed something it doesn't like. On the verge of passing out, Will started to spasm. His legs and arms flailed in all directions as if he were performing a grotesque tap dance.
The growling from within grew louder...and with the mouth-grip still intact, the man took one last breath and exhaled a mighty surge of air and water into Will. Helpless, Will inhaled and fell away, gasping and coughing.
Will--on his third drink--sat back and allowed the alcohol to create a welcome lethargy in his body. He looked at Tanis, who was silent, probably trying to convince himself to believe everything.
"Well," Tanis finally said, breaking the silence. "What did you do then?"
"I got up, walked around, in shock I suppose. Went back to the house and paced, looked out every window, at the body, just lying there by the pool. I guess I was just trying to catch my breath, you know? After a few minutes, when I regained my wits, I called the police."
"And the body?"
"Dead. It took one last breath and died."
...but not really now, Willy, right...?
"At your expense."
Will looked at his drink, then said, "More than you know, Tanis. More than you know..."
Will sat in his living room sipping instant coffee with two policemen and a balding middle-aged man who'd identified himself as Detective Ballaro. A group of detectives and police were outside by the pool scouring the scene. Crime scene tape barricaded out a few curious onlookers congregating in front of his home.
"It really is quite amazing that this guy just showed up floating face down in your pool," Detective Ballaro remarked.
Will said defensively, "I did. I tried to give him mouth to mouth, but really didn't know what I was doing."
Ballaro tried unsuccessfully to hold back a smirk. "Mr Cast, I hope you'll forgive me but I find this situation a bit humorous, of course not putting aside the trauma of you finding a dead man in your pool. But we've been looking for this guy for a long time. He's eluded us for two years. Last night a couple of my men finally got a beat on him, but he got away. We brought out a search team--dogs, helicopters--but we couldn't track him down. It appears that while fleeing he must have fallen and drowned in your pool."
Will looked up at the detective. "So you know this guy?"
Ballaro nodded. "Mr Cast, that man whose life you tried to save is the Cedar Crest Mangler."
Tanis sat agape. His voice was a rusty shrill by the time he found it. "Will, that guy raped and murdered about a dozen women."
"Fourteen," he corrected, toying with his empty glass.
"How come I didn't hear about this? I mean, I knew they got him, but I didn't know it was in your backyard!"
...hey Willy, I can't stomach this jerk much longer...
"They protected me in case he has any friends, you know? They might try to come after me thinking that I had something to do with his death."
"Did you tell them what happened when you tried to..."
"No. They did their work, which took most of the day, and then left..."
That night, Will peered out his bedroom window into the dark of the night. The pool, so tranquil now, reflected the light of the moon off the soft vapor rising eerily from the surface of the water. Under ordinary circumstances, this scene would've relaxed him. But circumstances were far from ordinary.
He crawled into bed, covers at his feet. All day a foul taste invaded his mouth. It was a bitter taste, like rotten eggs, and he could smell it on his breath. He tried brushing his teeth and rinsing with mouthwash but the odor overcame all attempts to scrub it away. It was as if something crawled into his mouth and died.
He fell asleep...
...and awoke the following morning with beautiful summer sunshine making warm, sharp designs on his body. It was all a dream, he thought with inconceivable relief. Just a nutty dream.
He swallowed and almost puked. His mouth was putrid. He sat up and a missile of pain burst through his head. It wasn't from drinking--he knew that feeling well. This was different, his entire head hurt, face and neck included, as if he had been beaten in the middle of the night. Soon his stomach took part in the physical melee, brought a knotting, twisting agony that felt as though it ripped his insides apart. He tried to rise from bed but the cramps wouldn't allow it. He gripped the sides of the bed and lunged to the floor. Crawling, he found his way to his desk and pulled the handset from the phone. It felt as if a thousand lit cigarettes were burning unbearable holes in his stomach. He dialed 9-1-1, got an operator.
All he could manage was his name and address before his mouth dropped open and then snapped shut. His eyes rolled uncontrollably and his groping nails scraped bits of flesh away from his cheeks. His stomach began to undulate, blood dripping from his navel. The pale skin covering his entire stomach darkened into a hideous shade of yellow, as if those lit cigarettes smeared ghostly nicotine stains there. Portions of the skin turned a deeper shade of yellow, the outer fringes showing traces of brown. Welts swelled up and twisted around his waist and abdomen as if hideous worms were crawling beneath his skin. Bold blue veins gorged with blood surged forth. When he was able to finally bring his eyes around from inside his skull and hone in on the blight savaging his midsection, the stains, the lines, the welts, the veins--they all came together to form what appeared to be a face looking back at him.
Show him my picture, Willy...
Tanis glanced at his watch. They had been in conversation now for over an hour now, and Will could tell that deep inside Tanis wanted to pass judgment on his story. C'mon Tanis, Will thought, why would I make up such a tale?
"Well," Tanis said, "I did notice when you walked in that your breath was, well, pretty bad. And there are a few small cuts on your face."
Will nodded, thankful. Tanis believed him, or was at least trying to. "Next thing I remembered was waking up in the hospital...
"Mr. Cast...how are you feeling?"
Will looked at the doctor, who after walking in grabbed a clipboard attached to the end of the bed and jotted something down.
"Honestly," Will answered, "I can't remember anything. Was I in an accident?"
"I was hoping you could answer that for me." The doctor dragged a stool over and sat next to Will. "A 9-1-1 call was received yesterday, presumably from you. When you came in you were in a lot of pain, something with your stomach..."
...remember the body in the pool, Willy...?
"...your complaints led us to believe you had appendicitis..."
...well, the body was alive...
"...but the lack of fever puzzled us..."
...it's me Willy, the Cedar Crest Mangler...
"...so we did a series of sonograms on your stomach..."
...and I showed myself on your tummy last night, remember...?
"...and they came out negative. Mr. Cast, you're fine. You may have the beginnings of an ulcer, however I see nothing at the moment that should be a cause for alarm. Unless there's something you're not telling me."
Will stared up at the doctor. He had visions of being sent off to a loony bin. "No...there's nothing."
"Good. I'll see your release at once."
"That was this afternoon."
"You mentioned you were at the library?"
...show him my lovely face...
Will unclasped the envelope he was holding. "Take a look at this," he said, handing a photocopied newspaper article to Tanis. The headline read, 'CEDAR CREST MANGLER FOUND DEAD.'
Tanis eyed the article, then nodded. "This is from Sunday's paper. I saw this."
"Take another look at his picture." Tanis looked at the familiar shot, a driver's license photo of an expressionless man in his early forties. Beneath, the caption read, 'JEFF GOLDSTEIN, a.k.a. THE CEDAR CREST MANGLER.'
"Okay. What are you getting at?"
"Now, don't ask me how the hell the doctor missed this. Actually, I think he saw it and didn't want any part of it." Will paused, took a deep breath.
"What? What is it?" Tanis was sitting at the edge of his chair.
"As I was leaving, a nurse came and handed me this envelope. She said that they were my sonograms. I didn't think anything of it at the time. My stomach felt better. I didn't look at them until I got home.
He handed the printouts to Tanis. "This is what I found."
Tanis took the sonograms from Will. After looking at them for a few seconds, he quietly turned them face down on the table and poured himself another whiskey, this time straight up. There was no mistaking what he saw those images.
Amidst the grainy black and white twists and blots, a face looked out.
The face of the Cedar Crest Mangler.
"He's in me Tanis," Will said. "I can feel him. I can hear him. He's been talking to me constantly. It's only been a day and I can't take it much more. He's pure evil Petter, and it's in me."
Tanis was about to speak when the phone jolted him. "Hold that thought," he said standing. He moved to answer it, said hello, then scowled. "Hold on. Will, it's Leslie." He put his hand over the mouthpiece. "She doesn't sound too happy."
...it's the bitch. Let's add her to my list, Willy...
Will shook his head from side to side. It couldn't get any worse now. He stood up and Tanis handed him the phone, giving him a flat, apologetic grin.
"Hello?" That was all he got in. He pulled the phone away from his ear to lessen the volume of Leslie's yapping. Will hung up the phone after twenty seconds.
"Well?" Tanis asked.
"She told me she has a gun and will use it if I don't pay the alimony I owe her."
"You owe her money?"
"About four month's worth."
Tanis blew out a nervous whoosh. "You seem to have more than one problem here."
The phone rang again. "Let me get it," Tanis said. He picked it up, said hello. Listened. Nodded. "Okay Leslie, he'll be right over."
Will's mouth fell open. "What are you nuts?"
Tanis hung up the phone and gazed at a disbelieving Will. "This may sound crazy, but I have an idea. Get in the car and I'll explain on the way over."
...this is getting good...
"Good luck, Will."
"Thanks. I could use it." Will got out of Tanis' car. He clutched his stomach which was starting to pain him again.
...what are we gonna do Willy? I can't hear you too well, the alcohol is clouding your pathetic little thoughts...
Will arrived at Leslie's door. "Work with me on this one..."
...are we gonna kill the bitch...?
"You'll see."
He rang the bell. Leslie was there in a heartbeat. She reached out and pulled him in by the shirt, spun him around and threw him against the wall. Weakened from his ordeal, Will had no energy, nor time really, to fight back. His back slammed against the hard sheetrock. He fell like a drunk losing all sense of balance, meeting the floor with an ungraceful thud. Through blurred eyesight, he saw his ex-wife--blond hair disheveled, red knit top stained with sweat--towering over him.
"Get the hell up, dirtbag!"
Such a lady, Will thought through the garbled mumblings of the Mangler. Then, on his clammy forehead, Will felt the pressure of a cold circle of metal.
"Now," Leslie said with authority, holding the gun to his head. "Where's my God-damned money?"
Will held his hands up, still cowering on the floor against the wall like a child fending off the blows of an angry father. "P-please, don't shoot me..." A dribble of saliva ran down his chin.
Still holding the gun to his head with her right hand, Leslie gripped him by the collar with her left and pulled. He followed her lead by helping himself to rise. In the process, Will's sweat-soaked t-shirt split down the back and peeled away in Leslie's hand.
First Will saw her take a step back and lower the gun, his shirt dangling in her hand. Then he saw her face, a frozen combination of fear and fascination: her mouth agape, eyes wide like coins. She stood remarkably still like an ancient tree.
"Leslie...? What's wrong?" He took a step closer.
She struggled to get the words out. "S-stay away from me you...you..." Will followed her line of vision to his bare torso where the sweat-coated face of the Cedar Crest Mangler loomed from his stomach, the cheeks turgid, the nose disfigured by bursting veins and capillaries. The eyes were terrible, glaring like black lights, glittering but empty. The mouth and lips in his skin were stretched wide, and from within a slab of flesh stretched forward, wriggling like a larvae trying to break free from the confines of its milky shell.
A tongue. The soul of the Mangler was sticking its tongue out at Leslie.
Leslie screamed.
Will's reaction was one more of surprise than of shock. Looking back up, he took a calculated step forward.
...what are doing, Willy...?
Leslie raised the gun back up in his direction. "Stay away from me..." she bellowed, but that was all she got out. Will put Tanis' plan into action. He leapt forward and grabbed the sides of her head, feeling the coarse waves of her unkempt hair beneath his palms. He squeezed, then took his open mouth and attached it to hers. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the gun rise up. He squinted, expecting a blow, but it never came; her arm froze in shock along with the rest of her body, and then the madness unfolded.
It was a repeat performance from three days earlier only now Will was dishing out the goods. All his insides went into turmoil, like a violent bile storm twisting and buckling in his body. His lungs began to pump--so hard that he felt her tongue slide deep in his mouth. He saw Leslie's eyes bulge, and she tried to yell but all that came out were muffled wines. Then Will heard a familiar low grumble rising in volume, sliding up to a wholly savage sound as if an animal were in the room with them. With a surge that seemed to burn away his esophagus, something strong, something alive, rushed up and out of him and into Leslie like a powerful drain being emptied.
At once Will's lungs stopped pumping and his mouth-grip on Leslie
came loose. She stumbled backwards into the armoire behind. The gun dropped from her hand to the carpeted floor and she quickly followed with a dead weight thud, gasping and wheezing.
Will fell back, too. He tasted blood and realized he had bitten his tongue. His heart pounded. He wiped his face with his hands, then cast a wary eye at Leslie, who was now lying on her side trying to catch her breath with labored gasps and coughs.
Will shifted his gaze down to his stomach. It was red, a few abrasions, but the face, that horrible face was gone.
He again forced a glance in Leslie's direction--she was all but passed out. He crawled, bobbing a bit from a dizzied head, to where she lay. Ever so gently, he pulled up her shirt.
No face. Not even a sign of swelling.
"Crap..." he said, releasing the shirt and turning to face to the window. He stared at his sorry reflection.
And saw her rise up behind him.
He turned and she was on her knees, shaking wildly, gun pointed at him. "I don't know what the hell you are, but bet your ass you're a dead one..."
The stench hit him. Her breath. "Leslie, you don't understand..."
"Stay away you freak!"
Will stood helpless, arms raised and at a loss. Then, like lightning--like someone possessed--Leslie violently slammed backwards to the floor. All the windows in the room rattled, the lights flickered. She howled and rolled around uncontrollably as if she were on fire and was trying to put it out. Will stood and quickly stepped back, watching Leslie twist like a worm out of earth. She gripped her midsection and started to gag. He caught a glimpse of her face, her bulging eyes, and knew what was happening. She pulled her shirt up, presumably to survey her pain, and saw a vile yellow discoloration on the skin of her stomach. She turned to Will, her eyes pleading for an answer.
But he just smiled. He then pulled a dollar from his pocket and dropped it on the floor. "Here's your alimony." He then walked out the door, leaving her screams behind.
Dregs of Society Page 10