The Devil's Demeanor

by Hart, Jerry

  “Ma’am?” he called, his heart still racing from the fright. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Don’t kill me!” she screamed, still struggling.

  “I’m not going to kill you. Just calm down.” He wondered how she had ever gotten in if she couldn’t get out now. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  She stopped struggling suddenly and turned to look at him through the grille. “Do you promise not to kill me?”

  Don was struck by how much the middle-aged woman resembled his mother. She had long brown hair with a few streaks of white. “Yes, I promise. What makes you think I would hurt you?”

  She crawled back in and stood before him. “Because somebody killed my husband!”

  * * *

  Minutes later, the woman was eating the sandwich Don had made for himself. He had offered it to her instead, his appetite completely gone. They sat in the food court just outside the security office.

  “I’m Don,” he said to her. “What’s your name?”

  “Amelia,” she said with her mouth full.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said. Their voices echoed in the large, empty court. The mall seemed even lonelier now that he actually had someone to talk to, though he couldn’t explain why. “I’m sorry about what happened to your husband.”

  Amelia was constantly looking about herself as she ate, as if she were afraid of being attacked. “Thank you,” she said distractedly.

  “How long have you been living in this mall?”

  “A few months.” She looked at him now. “You gonna kick me out?”

  He grinned. “No one is supposed to be in here, but I won’t tell.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are there others in here?”

  “Yes, but I’m not telling you where they are.”

  Don laughed. “Fair enough.” So there were homeless inside the mall, after all. He shuddered at the thought of being watched every time he did his rounds and exercise routines. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did your husband die?”

  Amelia stopped eating and simply stared. “He was murdered.”

  He thought of the story in the paper. “You mean the man found in the lake near here?”

  She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. “Somebody dragged him out of here while I was asleep. The last time I saw him, he was lying next to me in that office, in the theater.”

  “And you thought it was me?” Don asked.

  “Either you or the other guy,” she replied.

  Don’s attention was snagged. “Another security guy?” he asked.

  Amelia shook her head. “This guy was no security officer. If I hadn’t seen his face, I would’ve thought he was normal. But....”

  Don’s heart pounded in his chest. “What does he look like?”

  “Like you,” she said. “Only a little younger.”

  Don swallowed bile and prepared for his next question. “What was wrong with his face?”

  “Nothing when he’s not doing anything with it,” she said quietly. “One day, we all saw him walk past us—we were hiding in one of the stores—and he just stopped dead in front of us. And then he looked into the dark store and smiled. But that wasn’t a regular smile. He looked like the devil, or a...” She seemed at a loss for words.

  “A jackal?” Don offered.

  Her eyes lit up. “Exactly.”

  “Oh, god,” Don murmured as he placed his face in his hands.

  “What’s wrong?” She took a sip of soda.

  “I think I know who you’re talking about,” said Don. “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Last night. He was following you while you walked around the mall.”

  He looked directly at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean he was right behind you when you walked past the theater. I was in the lobby, looking out. I thought you two were together.”

  Don shivered violently at the thought of Ethan walking right behind him. Don had had no idea. “He wasn’t with me. I didn’t even know he was there.”

  “Never would have guessed, considering how close he was. He follows you often.”

  “Last night wasn’t the first time you saw him follow me?”

  “Nope. He does it almost every night.”

  Don wanted to vomit right there on the table. He too started looking about himself, the way Amelia had been earlier. For now, they were alone.

  “Who is the other boy?” she asked after a moment of awkward silence.

  “My brother.”

  “Did he kill my John?”

  “I think so. He’s probably watching us right now.”

  “Why would your brother do this?”

  Don sighed. “Because something’s wrong with him. Something’s always been wrong with him, ever since birth.” He felt weird talking about Ethan with a complete stranger. Don hadn’t talked about his brother with anyone in nearly a decade.

  “He’s killed before?” Amelia asked.

  “Yes. At least, I think he has. I’m still not sure if he killed your husband, but there are too many coincidences.”

  “Are you going to call the police?”

  Don wanted to say no. Telling the police about Ethan just seemed wrong. “I want to handle my brother myself.”

  “Do you think you can?”

  Don looked up at the slanted skylines in the ceiling and saw the sky lightening. He looked at his cell phone and saw it was seven a.m. “I hope I can,” he finally said to her.

  Amelia finished the soda and stood. “I should get back.”

  Don jumped to his feet. “It’s not safe for you out there.” He gestured to the rest of the mall.

  “Unless you plan on taking me home with you, I don’t have much choice.” She smiled warmly. “I’ll be fine; I’ll just join the others scattered throughout. We’re all like neighbors.”

  Don watched her walk away, back toward the movie theater. Wherever she was going, he prayed she got there safely.

  Chapter 16

  Don didn’t take his energy supplements the night before because he didn’t need them; he was still wide awake as he drove home that morning. He was also angry and scared. Though he still hadn’t seen Ethan with his own eyes, someone had.

  Amelia had described Ethan fairly well, and the “jackal’s grin” was the nail in the coffin. And Ethan had managed to get close enough to Don to touch him. Don shivered so badly he nearly drove off the freeway.

  His exit approached but he didn’t take it. Instead, he took the next one—a service road that looped around to a donut shop he liked. He often went there when he was stressed. He hoped Yvonne was still asleep; he wanted to eat in his room, not at the dining table.

  After buying a few sausage rolls and donut holes, he headed home. Unfortunately, Yvonne was up and watching TV in the living room. Don hid his food as best as he could and headed up the stairs to his room.

  He sat on his bed, turned on his TV and ate. He barely paid attention to the cartoon, however, as he tried to figure out what to do about Ethan. Should he call the police? Should he tell Dad? The latter option seemed the best.

  But what if Ethan hadn’t killed all of those people? What if the dog-creature had? Dragging the police into this could ruin Ethan’s life if he was indeed innocent.

  “Donovan!” the familiar, horrible voice of his stepmom called from outside his room, startling him. “You better not be eating in there!”

  Don was too distracted to hide the fact he was eating, so he stood up, opened the door, and showed Yvonne the half-eaten sausage rolls in his mouth.

  Her eyes bugged out. “You know you’re not supposed to be eating in your room, boy!”

  “I know,” he replied simply. His heart was racing with anger, and he wanted to keep his responses short.

  Yvonne continued her tirade in front of him, but he wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he imagined going downstairs, grabbing two knives from the kitchen, and—

  Whoa! Where did that come from? Don had ne
ver really liked Yvonne, but he also never thought of killing her before, either. And she was still yelling at him. He could tell by her bug eyes and bold gestures. His heart was beating in his ears and he couldn’t hear her anymore.

  He wanted her to stop, though.

  “Shut up!”

  Yvonne stopped mid-sentence, shocked by his words. “What did you say to me?”

  “I told you to shut the fuck up! You’ve talked enough!”

  “Who the fuck are you telling to shut up? This is my house!”

  “This is my dad’s house, you lazy bitch!”

  If Yvonne was surprised before, that was nothing compared to how she took that last statement. “Motherfucker, get your fat ass out of this house!”

  That struck a chord with Don. “I’m fat? I’m fat? You’re the fat bitch!” That last word came out as a shriek, and Yvonne jumped backward. She looked ridiculous with her white nightgown and red lipstick. “Anyone ever tell you look like a fat, ugly whore?”

  Yvonne looked as if she’d been struck. Suddenly, she reached forward, grabbed Don’s arm and pulled him out of his room. “Get out of my house,” she said with surprising calm as she started pushing him toward the stairs.

  Don struggled to keep from tumbling as he yelled, “Bitch, if I fall, your ass is going to jail!” In truth, he knew if he fell down the stairs, he wouldn’t call the police; he’d grab those knives.

  “If you don’t get out,” she said less calmly, “I’m going to call the cops.”

  Don had never been threatened with arrest before and didn’t know what to say. The thought of going to jail scared him. Suddenly, he leaped to the landing even though Yvonne was still pushing. She then lost her footing and fell down the last few steps and onto the landing as well.

  “I told you to quit pushing,” he said, looking down at her. And then he looked down to the foyer and saw his eleven-year-old sister Liz. He had forgotten all about her. She just stood there, looking scared and confused.

  Yvonne got to her feet as Don raced out the front door.

  * * *

  He drove aimlessly for half an hour, still fuming from the argument. He and Yvonne had never had it out that badly before. Chances were good she was on the phone with Dad, telling him all sorts of horrible things about Don’s behavior.

  It was still early in the morning, and Don had nowhere to go. He was just driving past a movie theater when he decided to pull into its parking lot. It was completely empty, and he had his choice of any spot he wanted. He chose one of the closest, turned off his truck, and cried. This was the second time he’d cried in a week, and he didn’t like it.

  He felt completely miserable and alone. He wanted to go home and sleep, but he couldn’t go home. He was tired and ashamed of the way he’d acted with Yvonne. He had been completely to blame in that situation, but it wasn’t like there hadn’t been other arguments. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another with that woman. He had to get out of that house.

  Pulling out his cell phone, he texted Craig. Minutes later, he got the reply he was hoping for.

  Shortly after, he sucked up his pride and drove home. Not surprisingly, the front screen door was locked. He had no way of opening it to get to the actual front door. Yvonne was smarter than he thought. He went around to the back porch and found that screen door locked as well. Damn.

  “Yvonne,” he called through the closed living-room window. He couldn’t see inside, but he figured she was sitting on the couch. “I came back to apologize.”

  Half a minute went by before he heard the back-porch door opening. Yvonne stood there, staring at him. She didn’t look mad, though. She unlocked the screen door and opened it for him.

  Don took a deep breath, let it out, and said, “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too.”

  Don was taken aback by that. What was she apologizing for? He stepped into the kitchen, and she closed the door behind him. The next few minutes consisted of more apologies and crying from both of them. Don couldn’t even remember a time when he’d ever hated her, and only thought of the good times: watching the Olympics with her at the beach house; going shopping the day after Hurricane Erin; playing old Nintendo games with her and Ethan up in Connecticut.

  Yvonne was human, just like everyone else. Don couldn’t see it until just then. The thought of stabbing her to death with the knives nauseated him now.

  “Things will be different,” she finally said as she wiped her eyes. “No more fighting. Okay?”

  She smiled, and she looked quite lovely to Don.

  “No more fighting,” he agreed.

  When Dad got home later that day, the three of them discussed Don’s moving out. Dad and Yvonne wanted him to stay, but Don insisted it was time for him to go. He was nearly thirty years old, after all.

  Craig and his roommate, Corey, helped Don move his belongings to their townhouse in downtown Fort Worth. The place was two stories, with Corey’s master bedroom on the ground level and Craig’s and Don’s on the top.

  The place seemed pretty cozy, though not clean. Dishes were piled up in the tiny kitchen and dirty clothes littered on the floor in the living room. At least there was furniture: a futon, recliner and coffee table. There was also a big-screen TV with horrible picture quality. Don was gracious enough to set up his own TV in the living room...on top of the big screen.

  Don’s very first roommates were pretty cool. Corey was tall and lanky, with dark hair and dark-rimmed glasses. He was the youngest of the three by two years, and was also a heavy smoker. He and Craig often smoked on the back porch, which was just below Don’s room, and could only be reached by going through Corey’s room. Don often listened to the boys’ pointlessly amusing conversations but could never bring himself to join them while they smoked.

  Over the course of the summer, life seemed to improve somewhat for Don. His roommates never got onto his case about anything, and work went without incident for a whole month. Whenever Don saw Amelia, she reported seeing no sign of Ethan anywhere on the premises. Had Ethan moved on? Don doubted it, but he was grateful for the respite.

  And then July came.

  * * *

  Don got up to use the bathroom one night when he thought he heard a noise. Since a small room with a bathtub separated his bathroom from Craig’s, he didn’t have to worry about sharing.

  Someone was in his bedroom, though.

  Don could hear ragged breathing. He never bothered closing the bathroom door whenever he pissed, but he wished he had now. He looked over his shoulder, into the dark bedroom, and could see nothing but his bed.

  And then he heard heavy footfalls running toward him.

  Instinctively, he closed the door just as something slammed into it from the other side. He held the doorknob firm as it started turning; something was trying to get to him.

  “Leave me alone!” he screamed at the intruder.

  The pounding stopped. Footfalls carried the assailant away. Don locked the door as well as the one to the joining room with the tub. Then he sat on the floor and waited.

  There was a gentle knock on the bathroom door a few minutes later. “Don? Are you okay?”

  It was Craig. Don stood up and opened the door to see his roommate standing there in his room. The bedroom door was open.

  “Did you open that?” Don asked, nodding to it.

  “No. It was wide open when I came out of my room. Are you okay? I heard you screaming.”

  Don looked out into the hall. “Someone was just in here.”

  Craig’s eyes went wide. “What, like a burglar?”

  No, like Ethan, Don wanted to say. Instead, he nodded. “I think so.”

  The two headed down the stairs to find the front door closed but unlocked. They often left the door that way, but Don was certain he’d locked it before going to bed. There was a thin mail slot on the lower part of the door, but there was no way anyone could fit an arm through it.

  Craig opened the door and looked out into the night. Nothing bu
t bugs and the occasional car driving by. Don could see a large office building across the street. It looked so out of place to him, though they did live just off a main road.

  “What’s going on?” a voice asked behind them, scaring the hell out of Don. Corey stood just outside his room in nothing but his underwear. His brown hair was completely ruffled.

  “We think someone broke in,” Craig said uneasily, and Don wondered if his roommate believed him. Don wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.

  Nothing more happened for the rest of the night, thankfully, but Don was groggy the next day. Corey had to work, but Craig was off and he asked Don to go walking with through the city. They found themselves in an industrial area that was depressingly empty of life.

  “Do you like living with us?” Craig suddenly asked.

  Don looked at him. “Yeah. Why?”

  “It’s just.... I know you saw the eviction notices.”

  Don had indeed seen them: past notices from before he had even moved in. Unfortunately, he hadn’t seen them until after he’d moved in. He hadn’t signed a lease form yet; Craig said he’d get the form for him, but he hadn’t yet. “Yeah, I saw them. Are we going to get evicted?”

  “Nah. We get those all the time. Corey’s job is on and off, so he can’t always afford rent. And I only work part-time at the video store. I’m looking for another job.”

  Don nodded absently. He didn’t really care about the notices. The only thing on his mind was Ethan. He was positive his little brother had been in his room last night.

  Craig and Don circled back and out of the empty industrial portion of downtown Fort Worth. Even though Don wasn’t alone, he felt lonely as he saw all the empty alleys and parking garages. He even noticed an old security guard sitting in a tiny lobby lit by unflattering fluorescents.

  Don felt like he was looking at himself just then, ten years in the future.

  * * *

  The walk had taken over an hour, and Don had actually enjoyed it. He’d gone through a whole range of emotions and seen quite a few interesting things, including cops on horses. He liked living downtown even more than before, and would miss it if he had to leave.