Johnny Gruesome

by Gregory Lamberson

  The door beside the scale opened and heads turned as Coach Wrangler emerged from his office. The slender man wore a black V-neck sweater with a polished whistle around his neck. Holding a clipboard in one hand, he glanced at Eric and Todd. The look in his eyes said he had seen confrontations like this many times. “Save it for the match, guys.”

  Eric exhaled and Todd frowned.

  Wrangler blew his whistle. “All right, everyone on the mat. Let’s go, partner up! We’ve got a lot of work to do if we’re going to beat Silver Wood next week, and we need that win to make it to finals.”

  The boys in line dispersed, joining their teammates on the mat. Todd shoved Eric from behind. “I’ve got my partner right here.”

  Gary parked his truck at the curb of Campus Row, a stretch of houses on Central Avenue owned by the college, because Terry didn’t like it when he used the driveway. The sidewalk had been shoveled, so Gary had no trouble reaching the porch. He rang the doorbell, and when no one answered he rapped on the storm door.

  A moment later, Terry Louden opened the door. Supporting himself on crutches, he checked his driveway. He needed a shave and his eyes didn’t blink. “You’re late, bro.”

  “Sorry. I had to take a girl home and I knew you wouldn’t want me to bring her here.”

  “You got that right.” Terry turned and retreated, his right foot in a cast. Skiing accident, he had said. Gary entered the smoky house and closed the door, mellow music he didn’t recognize washing over him. He followed Terry into the living room, where a young woman with green eyes and black hair sat on the sofa, her shapely legs coiled beneath her. She wore a man’s button-down shirt and held a lit cigarette in one hand.

  “This is Sheila,” Terry said.

  “How’s it going?” Gary said. For a former high school jock who’d gone to seed, Terry was one lucky son of a bitch.

  Sheila massaged her nose and sniffed. “Cool …”

  “This is no one,” Terry said, indicating Gary.

  “Even cooler.” She smiled at Gary, who smiled back, self-conscious about his broken tooth.

  “Come on, man.” Terry hobbled into the dining room, where the curtains had been drawn. Newspapers covered the table and drug paraphernalia covered them. Leaning his crutches against the table, he sat and looked at Gary. “So what’s it gonna be?” He lit a Marlboro and blew smoke into the air.

  Gary looked over the smorgasbord on the table, his heart beating faster. He took a wad of cash out of his pocket, counted out five twenty-dollar bills, and laid them on the table. “The usual.”

  Terry counted the money and pocketed it. He pushed a handful of marijuana onto a newspaper, like a waiter clearing a table of bread crumbs in a fancy restaurant. “And for yourself?”

  Gary set down three more twenty-dollar bills. “Poppers.”

  Terry counted amphetamines with one finger like they were M&M’s and set them on a piece of shiny tinfoil. “Anything else?”

  Gary zeroed in on a mound of white powder near a scale. “Yeah. It’s time for a new flavor.”

  Terry tapped his cigarette in an ashtray and smiled. “All right. My man is thinking big. How much?”

  Looking at the remaining bills in his hand, Gary laid them down.

  Eric stood in the empty lobby, gazing through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the falling snow as he zipped his ski jacket. At 6:00 p.m., the sky had already blackened, and tall streetlights cast circles of light around The Lot, empty except for a half-dozen cars. The faculty had left for the day, and only the custodial staff remained. Down the corridor to his right, beyond the cafeteria, a floor waxing machine whirred. A metal gate blocked off the stairways on his left. Most of the athletes had left, either in their own cars or with their parents. His muscles ached from the severe workout Todd had given him, and he felt glad that Johnny had given the jock a beating to remember.

  He pulled on his gloves and pushed the panic bar. The wind seized the door, knifing him as if he stood naked, and he fought it to shut the door. As he crossed the sidewalk, the wind blew him sideways. At this rate, it would take him ten minutes just to reach the end of the driveway. Pine trees flanking the schoolyard bowed.

  Stepping off the curb and onto the icy pavement, he crossed The Lot. The bitter cold brought tears to his eyes, and as he wiped them away, he heard what sounded like a horse whinnying. Turning, he saw a pair of headlights ignite fifty yards away. He shielded his eyes, but the light intensified and the engine grew louder as the vehicle roared straight at him. He stood still for a moment, but when the car failed to slow down, he turned to run, his eyes bulging in their sockets.

  His left foot slipped on the ice, and he slid like a surfer riding a wave, flapping his arms for balance. His feet flew out from under him and he landed on his ass, pain shooting through his left hip. Using his elbows to prop himself up, he saw the car bearing down on him. With no time to get up or roll out of the way, he laid flat on his back, praying the car would pass over him.

  Chapter 4

  The car screeched to a halt, its bumper poised above Eric’s knees. Gasoline fumes enveloped him, and he heard a throbbing guitar sound. A door opened and closed, and boot heels traversed the ice. Snow sprinkled his face as he stared up. Then a head loomed over him, silhouetted in the headlights’ glow and blotting out the sky.

  “What’s up, Erica?”

  Exhaling, Eric settled his head on the ice. “You. Fucking. Asshole.”

  Johnny reached down with one hand. “Is that any way to talk after I violated my suspension just to come get you?”

  “You almost killed me!”

  Johnny sipped from a can of Budweiser. “Almost doesn’t count, son. Let’s go for a spin.”

  Eric grabbed Johnny’s hand and pulled himself up between the beams of light. He saw Karen in the front seat, drinking a Bud, Gary’s face hovering in the darkness behind her like a disembodied skull.

  “What the fuck happened to your face?” Johnny said.

  “Just practice.” Eric tried to sound casual.

  “It was Todd, right? That motherfucker is so dead.”

  “Forget it.”

  Johnny shook his head. “No way. That’s the difference between you and me: you let bygones be bygones, but I never forget a transaction.”

  “Transgression.”

  “Whatever. I don’t forgive and forget.” Johnny walked around the car. “We’re gonna find that asshole and school his ass good.” Sliding behind the wheel, he slammed his door with such force that the car shook.

  Eric opened the passenger door and smoke billowed out. He fanned it with one hand, and Karen leaned forward in her seat, smiling. Climbing into the back with Gary, a case of beer separating them, he coughed. The car reeked of marijuana.

  “How’s it going, Gar?” Not that he cared.

  Shaking his head, Gary looked out the window and sipped his beer.

  Eric raised his voice over the music. “That good, huh?”

  As Karen closed the door, Johnny looked over his shoulder and grinned at Eric. “Grab a beer and get in gear.”

  Looking at the case, Eric counted six empty cans in addition to three that had been removed. “I see you’ve been busy.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t all fun and games sitting here in the dark.”

  Karen giggled.

  “I bet.” Eric removed a beer. “So much for athletic training rules.” He popped the tab just as Johnny stepped on the gas, spilling beer on the front of his jacket. “My mother’s going to love that.”

  Johnny steered the Death Mobile across The Lot, which shimmered like an ice-skating rink. He sped up and jerked the steering wheel, causing everyone to lurch to one side, laughing.

  Faster now, circling The Lot. Cutting diagonally from corner to corner. He floored the gas pedal, and a bank of dirty snow grew closer. Karen squealed. Twisting the steering wheel in the opposite direction, Johnny stomped on the brake pedal. The car spun, the outside world blurring into kaleidoscopic colors.

  Squ
eezing the open beer can between his thighs, Eric dug his fingers into the back of Karen’s seat while Gary whooped like a cowboy. The Death Mobile settled on its shock absorbers, laughter rising from its interior.

  “Let’s tear this town apart!” Johnny said. He cranked the music and Karen cheered. They exited The Lot, speeding along the driveway, and Eric raised the beer to his lips.

  They blew past the Morton Street entrance to the Green Forest Cemetery. Tall brick columns bookended spiked gates.

  “Don’t tell me we’re going to the cemetery,” Eric shouted.

  “Nah, it’s too dead in there.”

  Leaning close to Johnny, Karen rubbed his crotch. “That isn’t what you said on New Year’s Eve.”

  Headlights appeared in the distance, approaching them. Johnny flashed his brights, and the driver of the oncoming car blared his horn.

  “Don’t you honk at me, motherfucker.” Johnny switched into the opposite lane.

  Eric sat forward. “What are you doing?”

  “Just hang on.”

  “I hate it when you say that.”

  Karen pressed her back against her seat and Gary gripped his armrest. The approaching red Honda Accord honked in protest.

  “Come on, you chickenshit!” Johnny swallowed beer, discarded the empty can on the floor, and gripped the steering wheel in both hands.

  Eyes widening, Eric fastened his seat belt. “Johnny—”

  “Don’t fear the reaper!”

  Eric pressed his back against his seat as the two cars neared each other, their impact inevitable. At the last second, the other driver changed lanes and the Accord sideswiped a snowbank.

  Laughing, Johnny returned to the proper lane. While Karen and Gary laughed, Eric looked out the rear window at the driver, who was getting out to inspect the Accord for damage.

  “Pop me another one of them bad boys,” Johnny said in a cheerful tone.

  As Eric reached into the case for a beer, he saw Gary pop a pill into his mouth.

  “You want one?” Gary said.

  “No, thanks. I’ll just get a contact high from all this smoke.”

  Gary shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Eric passed the beer up front. Karen took it from him, popped the tab, and handed it to Johnny.

  The speakers blasted screeching vocals:

  Gotta run, gotta hide, gotta get high …

  Gotta be free!

  Gotta run, gotta ride, gotta go fly …

  Gotta be meeeeeeeeeee!

  8:00 p.m.

  The snowfall intensified as the Death Mobile roared over Willow Road, a narrow stretch of hard dirt leading out of town. They passed vacant pastures, dilapidated farmhouses, and moonlit silos. The dull silhouettes of pine trees separated the stark white surface from the black sky.

  Johnny worked on another beer while Karen smoked a cigarette and Gary bounced his head to a Slipknot tune. Eric rocked in his seat, his vision blurred. He fumbled for a beer, knocking over empty cans. Locating the last one, he pulled its tab but failed to crack it open.

  Johnny glanced at the rearview mirror. “How’s it going, Eric?”

  Eric blinked. “Round and round …”

  Looking at each other, Johnny and Karen burst into laughter.

  “What’s so funny? I’m not drunk.”

  They kept laughing until they heard Gary snort something up each nostril.

  Johnny’s eyes turned cold. “Not in my car, Gary. I don’t need Chief Crane finding any of your shit on my floor the next time he pulls me over.”

  “Okay,” Gary said in a distant voice, his body trembling.

  “I can’t believe Milton fucking suspended me,” Johnny said, forgetting about Gary. “All because of Kumler and that bitch, Mrs. Crane. All three of them are on my list.”

  Eric sighed. There was no reasoning with Johnny when he got this drunk and this angry. They passed a diamond-shaped yellow metal sign that said: BRIDGE MAY BE ICY.

  “All right,” Johnny said, excitement rising in his voice. He crushed his empty can and threw it on the floor.

  Sniffling, Gary wiped his nose on the back of his hand. Falling snow glowed bright white in the headlights.

  Johnny clenched the steering wheel. “Hang on.”

  Eric’s stomach lurched as the Death Mobile accelerated.

  The speedometer reached forty-five.

  Karen sat up straight. “Slow down, Johnny.”

  “Who are you bossing around?”

  The speedometer reached fifty.

  Gary sat forward. “That’s fast enough, Johnny.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Fifty-five.

  Eric said, “Come on, Johnny …”

  Johnny’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Fuck you, too.”

  Sixty …

  A streetlight illuminated the skeletal structure of a wooden bridge surrounded by snow-covered trees.

  Karen said, “You’re going to get us killed!”

  “Fuck all of you!”

  The speedometer neared sixty-five.

  In a blur of motion, Gary sprang from his seat, his left arm encircling Johnny’s throat.

  “Gary!” Karen said.

  Gagging, Johnny released the steering wheel to claw at Gary’s arm, but Gary locked his right hand around his left wrist. The car drifted to the right side of the road, toward thick trees. Karen turned in her seat and reached for the wheel, but her shoulder strap held her back. Unbuckling her seat belt with frantic fingers, she seized the wheel and corrected their trajectory.

  Eric clamped a hand on Gary’s shoulder. “Cut it out!”

  Gary released his grip on Johnny’s wrist and drove his right elbow straight back into Eric’s chest, slamming him against the backseat. Dropping his beer, Eric gasped for breath, the wind knocked out of him.

  Lit from beneath by the dashboard lights, Johnny’s face turned scarlet. Reaching behind his head, he groped for Gary, who locked his hand on his wrist again, his body trembling as he clenched his teeth.

  Karen shouted, “Stop it, you’re killing him!”

  The Willow Creek Bridge grew larger, and Johnny wrested control of the wheel from Karen. Aiming the Death Mobile at the left railing, he floored the gas pedal.

  “No!” Karen’s high-pitched scream rose above the music. She tried to retake the steering wheel, but Johnny’s grip proved too strong. He gave her a determined grin, his eyes blazing.

  Her hands still on the wheel, she watched as they angled onto the bridge, the trees beyond the railing coming into focus. Her heart pounded in her chest. We’re all going to die!

  She grabbed the emergency brake with both hands and jerked it with all her strength. A sudden change in their momentum sent her flying sideways into the dashboard, uncertain whether the jarring impact had resulted from the brakes locking or the car crashing through the railing.

  Eric slammed against Karen’s seat, pain lancing his right shoulder. The Death Mobile stopped moving, and the streetlight on the bridge shone through the windshield. Gary had pitched forward, as well. Reaching along the door, he disengaged Johnny’s seat and leaned against it, pressing Johnny against the steering wheel and causing the horn to blare.

  Eric shook his head, fighting to clear his mind. He heard Gary’s angry voice over the music, and turning his head, saw him continuing to choke Johnny, his face a mask of rage.

  “Did you think you were going to kill us? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Reaching over Johnny, Gary switched off the ignition. “Goddamn it!” The car stopped vibrating and the music died. “Goddamn you! ”

  Wincing, Eric pushed himself off Karen’s seat. Gary slid his right arm around Johnny’s throat, freeing his left hand to jerk the door handle. The door opened, triggering the dome light, and frigid air crept into the car.

  Karen groaned, her features twisted in pain.

  Eric saw Gary reach down to the floor with his left hand. Then he heard the chinking of metal. Gary pulled a heavy chain into view, which Eric recognized: Joh
nny kept it coiled on the floor in the backseat for winter emergencies. Gary threaded the chain around Johnny’s jacket collar, pulling leather taut against flesh.

  Eric lunged at Gary, who stepped out of the car, dragging Johnny after him like a dog on a leash. Eric collapsed halfway over the seat and the pain in his shoulder doubled. He pulled the seat back and clambered over it, trying not to kick Karen. Gary spun Johnny around on the chain, using his weight against him, and smashed his head into the door, which slammed shut in Eric’s face. The dome light darkened.

  With a dazed expression, Karen sat back, her hair disheveled. Seeing the struggle between Gary and Johnny, her eyes filled with disbelief, and she turned to Eric. “Do something!”

  As Eric reached for the door handle, Johnny’s body thudded against the door again and the car shook. Johnny’s face flattened against the window, his eyes bulging and his tongue protruding. Karen’s scream sent a tremor down Eric’s spine. He pulled the handle, but Gary braced one leg against the door, keeping it shut. Eric reached for the car keys, intending to start the engine and back the car up.

  Gone.

  Gary had taken the keys! Eric turned back to Johnny, expecting to see his friend’s eyes pleading for help. Instead, he saw an expression of such uncompromising rage that he froze. For an instant, staring into Johnny’s hate-filled irises, he thought he saw himself from Johnny’s point of view. Then he realized his reflection in the glass overlapped Johnny’s features. Still screaming, Karen pounded his back.

  Johnny slammed an open hand against the window. Ignoring Karen, Eric pressed his open palm against the glass, spreading his fingers wide. Johnny clawed at the frost, drawing his clenched fingers through it. Then his eyes rolled up in their sockets and his body convulsed. His hand fell away, and he collapsed, disappearing from view.

  The dome light came on again as Karen opened the passenger door. She got out and ran around the rear of the car, her screams trailing off, then growing louder. Eric clambered after her, cold air numbing his face. He joined her on the other side of the car, his mouth opening in mute horror.