What Hides Within

by Jason Parent

  “I would have lit a candle, but I don’t know if that shit you’re wearing is flammable.”

  “All right,” Derek said, finally disappointed. “I get it already. The package guaranteed more favorable results. It’s got horse hormones in it or something. It’s supposed to make females horny.”

  “You should probably ask for your money back.”

  What a waste of eight bucks. Derek knew Morgan was more than capable of taunting him for a good portion of the next hour. His mind searched for a distraction. Desperate to change the subject from his poor olfactory judgment, he fumbled into a new topic of discussion.

  “Did you hear? There was an explosion at the post office in Fall River.”

  “Maybe someone was wearing your cologne and post office personnel couldn’t stand it, so they blew themselves up.”

  “Your sense of humor only makes me desire you more,” Derek said, frowning. “Anyway, it’s not funny. Three people died. At least two more are in critical condition. They haven’t said so yet, but it looks like it was no accident.”

  “So now you’re not only a ladies’ man but an explosives expert? Regardless, a post office blowing up? Is that really all that surprising? Once they put on that mail-carrier hat, it’s like an invitation to go psycho. There’s just something about rising stamp costs, dog bites, goofy shorts, and people who mail things that are liquid, fragile, or perishable that makes postal workers go, well, postal.”

  “Wow, Morgan. I can’t believe how insensitive you are. Clive is rubbing off on you.”

  “Did you go there, Derek?”

  “No.”

  “Then what do you care?”

  “Somebody blew up a building close to home. There could be terrorists in our own backyard. Don’t you think you’re taking this lightly?”

  “Why? Because I’m not manufacturing tears for people I don’t know? People die violent and inexplicable deaths every day, Derek. Just watch the news. A few weeks ago, they found a half-eaten torso of a little girl in those woods along the reservoir. Sick shit happens all the time, even around here. I’m not happy about it, but there’s nothing I can do about it, is there?”

  Derek shrugged. He was without retort.

  “They don’t know how it happened?” Morgan asked.

  “They haven’t said yet.”

  “Well, I’ll bet you ten bucks it was some disgruntled postman with a makeshift pipe bomb. Why can’t they be more like milkmen? The worst milkmen do is spawn bastard children with desperate housewives. Sounds like a good profession for you, Derek. Maybe you’d finally get some ass.”

  The potshot had too little sting to discourage Derek from making more advances. He was used to her teasing, and her insults only made him want her more. Derek, like most men, liked the chase. The more he was told he couldn’t have Morgan, the more he wanted her.

  “Laugh it up, evil Morgana. They haven’t released the names of the victims yet. For all we know, someone close to us could have been there at the time.”

  “The only person I care about is right here in this room.”

  Derek wasn’t taking the bait. “Yeah, yeah. And that person is you. Ha-ha. What about Clive? You and I both know you care about him.”

  “What about Clive? I’m glad we’re finally getting to him since he’s the reason I called you here in the first place.”

  “Quit pretending like you don’t want me.”

  “All right, let’s focus. I don’t want you and your stink in my house any longer than necessary.”

  “Is the cologne the only problem? If I took a shower, would you consider—”

  “No,” Morgan said as if she already knew what he was going to say.

  “Not even a hand job?”

  “Give it up, will you? Focus, Derek. Back to Clive.”

  “Okay,” Derek replied, temporarily beaten but not out of the game.

  “Good. Any ideas?”

  “Drinking is always good.”

  “That’s a given. But how soon after the operation will he be able to drink? Won’t he be on medication?”

  Derek glared impatiently at Morgan. How the fuck should I know? “If I know Clive, I don’t think he’ll pay much attention to doctor’s orders, particularly on the topic of alcohol.”

  “Which is exactly why we should be responsible for him.”

  “That’s your department, Morgan. Lord knows I can’t take responsibility for my own actions, never mind his.”

  “Fair enough. So we got drinking as a probably. What else?”

  Derek rested his head on his arms. He pondered all the fun things he and Clive had done over the years. He gasped, shocked he hadn’t yet proposed the idea that came to him. “Maybe we should—”

  Morgan squinted at him. “No goddamn way.”

  “But I was just going to suggest—”

  “I know exactly what you were going to suggest, and the answer is still no. Move on.”

  “I’d buy you a lap dance.” Derek’s mind began to wander. He felt movement in his pants. “That would be so hot.”

  “Hello! Earth to Derek. I’m still here.”

  “Sorry. Anyway, I don’t see you coming up with any ideas. You’re quick to knock down mine, though.”

  “Strip clubs are out of the question. Try again.”

  “We don’t need to go to a strip club. We can order the—”

  “No!” Morgan said, this time more sternly. “Please, let’s just move on. What does Clive like to do? And don’t say strippers.”

  The word had been on the tip of his tongue. How could he resist Morgan’s setup? Fortunately, another word came to mind. “Paintball.”

  “Now you’re on to something,” Morgan said, sounding genuinely excited. “Actually, Derek, that’s an excellent idea. He’d love it!”

  A ring of Morgan’s cell phone—AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long”—interrupted their conversation. It was her ringtone for Clive. Derek smiled. He knew the song and the caller.

  “It’s him. Keep quiet.” She answered her phone. “Hey Cli. What’s up? Tonight? I don’t know yet… want to get some dinner?”

  “Who’s that on the phone, honey?” Derek shouted. “Come back to bed.”

  Morgan ignored him and held the phone to her ear.

  “Oooh, Morgan. Don’t touch me there,” Derek said. “Wait until you hang up the phone. I don’t want everybody knowing about our fiery, passionate sex life.”

  “It’s Derek, and he’s being a dick.” Morgan swatted at Derek. He dodged it and laughed. She listened for a minute. “Ummm, well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag. He’s here because we wanted to get together with you for dinner tonight before you go in for your operation. I was just about to call you.”

  “I can’t go to dinner tonight,” Derek interrupted. “I have plans.”

  “Hold on a second, Clive.” Morgan covered the mouthpiece on her phone and turned to Derek. “Cancel them,” she whispered. “Who knows what Clive will expect if you don’t show now. The whole point of a surprise party is to keep it a surprise.”

  Derek sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Fine,” he muttered under his breath.

  She went back to her phone call. “Sorry, Clive. I’m here… how about Chili’s? Yeah, again. Okay… we’ll be there. Talk to you later.”

  She hung up. “That was close. Looks like we have dinner plans. And by the way, you’re an idiot.”

  “Thanks, sweetie,” Derek said. “So you liked my paintball idea. Does that mean I did good? Am I going to be rewarded for my ingenuity?” He leaned over the table, closing his eyes and puckering his lips.

  Morgan did not seem amused. “Don’t push it, Derek. So paintball it is. I’ll start looking into places. Any ideas on who’d like to play? Let’s put together a list of everyone who might be interested.”

  “I could probably think of a few people. There’s his brother, Kyle, for starters. Then there’s the people he works with. Felix… on second thought, he probably wouldn’
t want Felix. That guy’s a perv. Connie—”

  “Hold up. Connie? You mean that bimbo from Harcourt? Clive says she’s just someone to eat lunch with.”

  “Is that what he tells you?” Derek teased her. “You shouldn’t be so jealous of another woman just because she’s beautiful. Connie and other super-hot chicks like her have it rough, with this chauvinistic, testosterone-dominated society wrongfully assuming that beauty and brains cannot coincide within the female half of the species. Please don’t single-handedly set women back in the workplace four or five decades.”

  “Oh, shut up, Derek. The day you show any woman any respect is the day I’ll drop down to my knees and suck you off so good your toes curl up permanently.”

  “Can I hold you to that?”

  “Just get to work on that list. I’ll take care of everything else. Remember to keep this a secret from Clive. Actually, it would be best if you didn’t mention it to anyone just yet.”

  “Got it. Like the Go-Go’s and yourself, my lips are sealed.”

  “Are they? You’re not exactly Mr. Reliable.”

  “What do you want me to do? Swear an oath on the Bible?”

  “Yeah, if it’ll keep your mouth shut,” she said.

  “I know another way we can keep our mouths shut.”

  “Well, I think that’s your cue to leave. I’ll see you at Chili’s in an hour. That should give you some time to go home and wash that shit off.”

  Derek stood to leave. “You want me. You just don’t know it yet.”

  “You keep telling yourself that,” Morgan replied, showing Derek to the door.

  Look at them together, laughing and giggling. Since when were they so close? It looks like he finally wore her down. With her fear of you dying and leaving her all alone, she must have been easy pickings. She never did tell you how she got his number.

  Clive watched from behind his tinted windshield as Derek and Morgan stood chatting and awaiting his arrival outside Chili’s Restaurant in Somerset. It being the second time he’d eat there in less than one week, Clive felt a bit like a townie. But that thought discomforted him far less than the unprecedented friendliness between stalker Derek and his usually unwilling prey, Morgan.

  “I’ll give you that it’s odd that those two are getting along, but it’s hardly suggestive of what you’re implying. There could be hundreds of perfectly logical explanations for their sudden friendliness, all of which are unrelated to anything romantic.” Clive resented the insinuation and his entertainment of it. “Wait a second. Who asked you, anyway? Why am I even responding to you?”

  I’m just voicing what you were thinking, the inner voice responded. You and I both know he weaseled his way into her pants. Look at the two of them.

  “Morgan would never sink so low.”

  She fucked you, didn’t she?

  “Yeah, but… oh, fuck off! I’m not having this conversation with you. I know what you’re doing: planting an unwarranted seed of doubt.”

  C’est la vie. Have it your way. Keep an open mind, and you’ll soon see what I’m talking about.

  “La la la.” Clive plugged his ears with his fingers. “I’m not listening to you,” he sang.

  That’s mature. Still, I know when I’m not wanted.

  Clive turned off the engine. He paused, waiting for the voice to add more color commentary to his life. But it had left him again.

  He calmed a little before exiting his car. He believed his mind was jumping to illogical conclusions. Derek would hop on Morgan without a second thought if given the opportunity. His friend made no secret of it, and Clive couldn’t fault Derek for doing what he expected him to do. After all, that was Derek being Derek.

  Morgan, however, had promised Clive that she would stay away from Derek. Clive trusted her, and any act otherwise could only constitute betrayal. He couldn’t understand why the thought made him so angry. She owed him nothing. He was pining for Connie. She longed for whomever it was she wanted. Still, Clive trusted few people. He loved even fewer.

  His hostility subdued. Feeling that Morgan deserved much more than the benefit of the doubt, he relaxed. It was all that damn voice’s doing, a devil whispering its fork-tongued lies into his ear. Nothing is going on between Morgan and Derek, he told himself. He shook off the remaining tension provoked by his imaginary enemy. The operation couldn’t come soon enough.

  As he walked toward the restaurant, the proverbial seed began to bud. Seeing Morgan and Derek together, behaving as though they’d become best of friends overnight, left Clive unsettled. Could she really be bedding the frenemy?

  “Is something wrong?” Morgan asked as Clive approached her. She pulled him in close to her. In a low tone, she told him that she’d seen him talking to himself in his car.

  “No. I’m fine. There was traffic getting here. Then I had this cotton head in front of me going like twenty. It was so aggravating.”

  “Yeah, old people shouldn’t be allowed to drive,” Derek said. “And that bridge construction is a bitch to maneuver. I got stuck there an extra ten minutes.”

  “Well, I assume you two called me here for a reason. Do you have some sort of announcement to make?” Clive said it jokingly, but he wanted an answer. He flashed a devious glance toward Derek, who didn’t seem to catch it.

  “What?” Morgan stammered. “Of course not! That’s nasty.”

  “That’s not what you said when I was inside you earlier,” Derek said. Morgan ignored him. Clive tried to follow suit, but the comment added to his frustration.

  “I already told you why we’re here,” Morgan said. “Dinner’s on us. We wanted to wish you good luck before your operation.”

  “So now I have to pay too?” Derek protested. Morgan discouraged any further protests by thrusting an elbow into his stomach.

  “Sort of a last meal, huh?” Clive took in the scene before him. “And the best place you guys could come up with is Chili’s?”

  Morgan’s expression soured. “I thought you liked Chili’s. We were trying to do something nice—”

  “Got you out of the house, didn’t it?” Derek jumped in. “I mean, I’ve been trying to get you out of your apartment with no luck since you told me about your condition. We’re your friends, Clive. We’re here for you. Besides, you don’t like those fancy two-fork places.”

  Realizing he was being ungrateful, Clive apologized. “I’m sorry. Chili’s is fine. I’ve just been having a hard time dealing with this alone. I figure everything will go back to normal after the operation. In the meantime, I didn’t want to be a burden to anyone.” And it’s not like I haven’t had someone to talk to, even when I am alone.

  “Like Derek said, we’re your friends, dickhole.”

  Morgan’s frankness never ceased to catch Clive off guard. He gave her a cartoonish grin. “Well, I didn’t want you guys to think I was crazy, what with the hallucinations and all.”

  “You’re seeing things?” Derek asked.

  “No. I misspoke. I just hear things.”

  “Oh.” Derek’s emotional range lacked the capacity to console or comfort. “So are we going to stand out here all day, or are we going to eat? Who wants nachos?”

  The three entered the restaurant and were seated at a booth near the bar. They chatted meanderingly through happy hour, gulping down two-for-one drinks and bottomless nachos. All the while, Clive got the impression that Derek and Morgan were hiding something from him. They asked strange questions, prying into his social life beyond present company—a fairly nonexistent frontier. When he sought the basis for their interrogation and obvious attempts to get him shitfaced, they evaded his questions. Their voices hushed when he returned from his frequent trips to the restroom. Every now and then, Derek and Morgan would exchange a look of understanding or a private laugh as if they’d shared a secret joke at Clive’s expense.

  Drunk and irritated, he thanked them for dinner and got up to leave. Some friends, he thought. Always there when you need them.

  CHAPTER 1
5

  S o much for starting small.

  “A government building at that,” the bomb maker continued aloud. He laughed quietly to himself, reveling in his success, his first taste of destruction, chaos, and death. “But I guess if you’re going to do something, you might as well do it right.”

  He stared at his latest creation. It was far bigger than his previous devices and much more powerful. He viewed it with the same pride a father would view his newborn son.

  This next target will be much harder. Many of the buildings are solid concrete. I’ll need to plant more than one of these babies in select locations, and I’ll need to hide them well. The property damage will probably be less on this one, even with the bigger explosives. But the death toll is all that matters.

  He held high the latest fabrication of his sadistic creativity, beaming with pride. Still, he needed more, and that meant more parts. He frowned. The acquisition of the necessary supplies wouldn’t go unnoticed. He would need to be craftier. He would need an alibi.

  His television blared in background. Now was not the time for distraction or indiscretion. He slid his creation delicately underneath his bed. His preparation far from complete, he set his mind to planning, saving thoughts of the final result for a more appropriate time.

  He looked at the clock on his wall. One thirty in the morning. He had to get some sleep. His nightly exploits were beginning to show on his face. He didn’t want others to grow suspicious, to know his plans. Especially not him. Definitely not him. Not yet, anyway. The time wasn’t right for revealing himself. Soon, he would have to know everything. Soon, but not yet.

  “Hey, Felix,” Connie whispered, ushering him quietly into his cubicle.

  “What’s up, hot stuff? If you wanted to get me alone—”

  “You’re friends with Clive, right?”

  “I guess you could say that.” Even though he had no clue what Connie wanted, Felix decided to play up his and Clive’s relationship. “I’m only, like, his best work buddy. We get along well. Why do you ask? Any idea why he hasn’t been to work lately? Spencer told me he got abducted by aliens.”