This Town Needs a Monster

by Andersen Prunty

  I tapped on the MyFace link. It was set to private, but her profile pic was visible. She smiled in a way that was soft and inviting, not demented or crazed, and she held a small dog and wore a conservative sundress. It was unmistakably the girl I’d met last night, although this one seemed to have a less malevolent tone.

  I put the phone back in my pocket and headed down to the street.

  She stood on the sidewalk in front of my truck, wearing a pair of skintight black yoga pants and a tight gray V-neck t-shirt. I didn’t know if I should thank her or be immediately suspicious.

  “My truck,” I said.

  “I had it picked up for you.”

  It didn’t look that bad. There were some new dents and scratches on the passenger side but they fit in with all the preexisting dents and scratches. The all-encompassing rust had really been the main focal point since buying it, anyway.

  “How did you find it?” I said.

  “Thanks, Dawn. I’m really glad you did such a nice thing,” she said in a husky, terrible imitation of my voice. But it seemed moderately playful and I liked that.

  “Yeah. Thanks. Sorry. So . . . how did you find it?”

  “You got my text, right?”

  “Yeah. It was confusing.”

  “Not really. You’re just being willfully ignorant.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I asked you why you were where you were last night and you lied to me.”

  “Is Travis okay? Did you do something to him?”

  “Who’s Travis?”

  “He’s the guy I was going to meet last night. You sent me a picture of his phone.”

  “Shhh. Want to take a ride?”

  The dread came back. I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me earlier. Maybe it was because Dawn had been alone and young and seemed incapable of doing what I now thought maybe she’d done. I tried to put the thought out of my head. It was a dumb idea. Probably an impossible idea. There was no connection between Dawn and Travis, so there was no way Dawn had done anything to him. So why did she have his phone? Maybe she’d gone and dug around in the field today. Maybe that was how she turned up the truck, even though I remember it being plainly visible last night when she had found me, so that didn’t really involve deep sleuthing.

  “The correct answer is yes.”

  “Okay.” Just seeing her again, being this close to her, seemed to cause whatever was left of the rational part of my brain to leak out. I didn’t want to argue with her. I wanted to fuck her. I also had to remind myself she wasn’t interested and probably just wanted the attention a pathetic older guy could give her.

  I expected her to hop in the passenger seat of the truck but she walked to the car parked in front of it. I hadn’t even noticed it. This was the car she’d been driving last night. Looking at it in the bright afternoon sunlight, I could now tell it wasn’t a cop car at all. I mean, it looked like it had been a cop car at one time but there were no decals or anything on the doors. No sirens. It was the type of car I typically associated with plainclothes detectives and warrant officers. Maybe it wasn’t the same one as last night. If her dad was the sheriff, it was possible he owned a whole fleet of decommissioned cop cars.

  We got in and she pulled away from the curb.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I don’t know. Is there anywhere you want to go?”

  “Is this all a game to you?”

  She made a pouty face. “Why? Are you not having any fun?”

  “Do you know what happened to Travis?” I felt like it was safer to ask this now that we were in the car. Now that she couldn’t take off and leave me standing on the curb. Now that those large, eerie eyes were fixed on the road and not me.

  She shrugged. “All I know is what you told me. You went to buy weed from him and he wasn’t there. Where’s Travis? I guess that’s a mystery.”

  “What does it have to do with Schrodinger’s cat?”

  “Are you familiar with that?”

  “It’s a theory or a thought experiment or something. Something to do with quantum mechanics. Put a cat in a box with something potentially lethal and, before the box is opened, the cat is considered to be both alive and dead.”

  “That’s pretty close. See? A mystery.”

  “So Travis is both alive and dead?”

  “That’s impossible. He’s probably alive or dead, but isn’t that the same for everybody. We’re alive. That’s what we should focus on. Besides, do you really think I’d be capable of doing anything to him?”

  “How did you end up with his phone?”

  “Maybe I found it.”

  “Did you?”

  “Find it? How else would I have it? I guess the real question is where I found it.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  “Why would I tell you the truth if you’re not going to tell me the truth?”

  “I’m still wondering why I should tell you the truth.”

  “Suit yourself. You know, I couldn’t help noticing your number was the last one he called.”

  “Yeah. Probably.”

  “Might look bad. I mean, if he’s missing. Or dead.”

  “I hate you.” I was half joking.

  She laughed. “That’s why it’s so much fun being around you.”

  Maybe she was waiting for me to say something else but I couldn’t really think of anything to say that wouldn’t serve as more fodder for her to manipulate me.

  “You know,” she said, “you were pretty much the only person besides his mom he ever called or texted.”

  “Probably. Travis didn’t have a lot of friends. Doesn’t . . . have a lot of friends.”

  “Is that why you sent him those pictures?”

  I put my hand over my forehead and massaged my temples. The pictures. It felt like they were going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

  “Let’s just say if I ever gave you my pussy and you sent naked pictures of me to your best friend, I wouldn’t be too happy.” She paused and shrugged again. “Actually, I probably wouldn’t give a fuck but I’m not most girls and, wait for it, I’m not married. I mean, you’re not married either but . . . I’m pretty sure she is.”

  I wondered how far in she wanted to plunge the knife.

  “Why did you tell me you were married?”

  “How do you know I’m not?”

  “I knew you weren’t as soon as you said you were. You seem desperate and sad but in a different way. Like there’s no one really looking out for you. Plus I researched you. Found no record of any marriages. Ever. I would have assumed you’d at least have given it a shot by now. You kind of have something about you that screams failure.”

  “Maybe I never even tried.”

  “That’s what it is. That’s even worse.”

  “Yeah, well . . .”

  “Did you know who that was before you fucked her? I’m assuming you did fuck her.”

  I was going to tell her it was none of her business but then she would just bring up the pictures on Travis’s phone again so I just nodded slowly.

  “Yes you fucked her or yes you knew who she was?”

  “Both.” My voice sounded hoarse.

  “Stasia Warner,” Dawn said. “She’s fairly well known in Get. Do you know why she’s fairly well known?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “That’s right. She’s well known because she’s married to Larry Warner. Do you know what Larry Warner’s nickname is?”

  “White Power Larry,” I mumbled.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you,” she said.

  “White. Power. Larry,” I said more loudly.

  “That’s right! White Power Larry. Tell me, Brad, do you think White Power Larry’s into wife swapping? Actually, it’s not even wife swapping since he didn’t really get anything in return. So I guess it would be more like wife loaning. Do you think White Power Larry likes loaning out his young, drunk wife to pathetic losers?”

  “It was a while ago,”
I said. “I used to drink quite a bit. I did a lot of things I wouldn’t have done otherwise.”

  “Really? Because she’s super hot. I would have fucked her in a heartbeat. Congratulations on nailing that, by the way. I’m not sure if it’s worth dying for but . . .”

  “I didn’t even know I’d sent the photos until the next day. I haven’t taken a drink since.”

  “Until . . .”

  “Until last night.”

  She had a loopy, shit-eating grin plastered across her face.

  “Remind me to show you some of the footage if I get the chance.”

  I felt queasy. The greasy breakfast wasn’t sitting so well.

  “Will you pull over?”

  “Awww,” she made that insulting pouty face again. “Is widdle Bwad going to be sick?”

  “Please.”

  “I’m not pulling over so you can vomit like a teenager who can’t handle his liquor.”

  “Please.”

  “Just vomit out the window.”

  I rolled down the window. Maybe the breeze would help stave off the nausea. Maybe she would have to stop for something and I could throw myself out of the car.

  No.

  It was definitely coming up.

  “Oh, man,” she said. “I gotta get this.”

  She pulled her phone from between her thighs and tapped it a few times before fixing it on me while continuing to drive.

  “Can you not record me?”

  “That’s perfect. Keep saying shit like that.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck you,” she mocked.

  I unfastened my seatbelt and leaned my head out the window.

  “Try not to get any on the car!” she called.

  I retched. At first it was nothing but bile and shame. I retched again and it felt like the entirety of my breakfast came up with one heave.

  Dawn laughed. “Oh, man! That was a lot!”

  She stopped the car, backed up, and got out to film my puddle of vomit.

  I could have run then but the only thing I could think about was how it would look as she filmed a grown man running in terror from a small teen girl.

  She got back in the car and said, “Know where you want to go yet?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Take me to where you found the truck.”

  “Why?”

  “I need to check on something.”

  “You know,” she said, “I’ll admit I’m a little surprised you knew about Schrodinger’s cat.”

  “Why? Because you think I’m an idiot.”

  “I’ve seen your apartment. It doesn’t exactly seem like you’ve done well for yourself. Plus I don’t really remember seeing a lot of books but I was somewhat preoccupied. I’ll have to go back and review the footage. Are you sure you didn’t just look it up after I mentioned it?”

  For some reason it bothered me when she said she was ‘preoccupied.’ I wondered if Klint had fucked her. I wondered why I cared. I wondered why the thought of it gave me a slight erection. I wondered how I could think about any of that with the smell of puke still drying on my lips.

  “I sold most of my books during the Great Simplification a couple of years ago.”

  “Let me guess . . . Some kind of break up. Like, of a long term thing.” She put on her baby voice again. “Bwad’s mad. Bwad’s gonna sell all his stuff. Dat’ll show her. He doesn’t need you. He doesn’t need nothin!”

  Her smile would have been a beautiful thing if it weren’t brought on by derision and self-satisfaction.

  “Yeah. Something like that.” I wasn’t going to go into details with her. “Did you fuck that guy last night?”

  “I told you. I don’t really like cock. Why? Would you be jealous if I did?”

  “No. I was just curious. He seemed like a douche.”

  “I don’t think he’ll be around much more. Besides, I thought you were kind of sweet on Barcie.”

  I didn’t want to say anything mean. “Barcie’s not really my type.”

  “Why? Because she’s ugly?”

  “I just don’t think she’s really for me.”

  “It’s not very nice to just shoot your load into a girl’s mouth if you don’t really like her.”

  “That wasn’t really my choice. You know that. Stop trying to make me feel bad about it.”

  “Fine. I like Barcie, anyway. I think she’s unique and tough. And I think she’s beautiful. Did you see how much I got into her last night? I was in almost up to my elbow!”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I, um, I was there. I saw it.”

  “Right. Because your cock was in her mouth while that was happening.”

  “Are you taking me where I asked you to?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to.”

  “That’s childish.”

  “So says widdle Bwad. Maybe because you still haven’t told me the truth about why I found you hiding in the bushes on the side of the road.”

  Since she already knew about the pictures, I didn’t really think there was anything to hide.

  “Travis seemed self-destructive. He wanted me to shoot him in the face. I told him no. He used the pictures as blackmail. When I got there he was gone. See? Not too exciting.”

  “I guess I can see why you’re worried then. Sounds like maybe he was mixed up in something. There’s some pretty dark shit that goes on in this town.”

  “I guess. I don’t know. I hardly leave the apartment.”

  “Unless it’s to fuck the wife of the local hatemonger or shoot your best friend in the face.”

  We were now in the nature reserve covering much of Gethsemane. Miles of well-maintained roads wound through the slightly hilly deciduous woods, the sunlight strobing through the trees. My stomach had settled somewhat. That was something, at least. I wondered if Dawn would just spend the rest of the afternoon driving around if I didn’t give her somewhere else to go. I also wondered if she would find some reason to not take me wherever I asked.

  As if reading my mind, she said, “You know, I’m just going to keep driving around until you tell me to go somewhere.”

  “I’ve already told you where I wanted you to take me.”

  “Yeah. I’m still not going there.”

  “Fine. Let’s go to your house.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It’s someplace, isn’t it? You’ve seen my apartment, now show me your house.”

  “It’s actually my dad’s house.”

  “Okay. Let’s go there.”

  She glanced at her phone. “Okay. Dad’s going to be at work for a couple more hours. I guess we can hang out there for a bit.”

  It turned out we were only about five minutes away. She lived in a cabin in the woods, one of four or five surrounding a small lake. Describing it as a cabin made it seem too modest. It was actually a massive house that happened to be made out of logs. Two stories with walkout decks on both floors.

  She stopped the car in the circular blacktop driveway and we both got out.

  “This is really nice,” I said.

  “I guess.”

  “Does your mom live here with you?”

  “No. She died a few years back. Someone actually accused my dad of killing her but it wasn’t taken too seriously.”

  “Did he?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I wasn’t around much then.”

  She unlocked the door, punched a code into a security system, and walked into the house. I remembered the dog from the MyFace profile pic and expected to see it running around but I didn’t see any sign of it. Maybe it was just a prop. Someone else’s dog used to soften her up and make her seem less like a psychopath. Maybe it was one of the ones that had gone missing.

  “I’m already bored,” she said. “Wanna lick my pussy for a few minutes?”

  The request was so out of the blue I didn’t know if I’d heard her correctly.

  I swallowed roughly and said,
“What?”

  “You heard me. Want to?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “You always have a choice, but decisions have consequences. Besides, do you really want a choice?”

  “Who doesn’t want to have the right to say no?”

  “A lot of people probably. I mean, think about it, it could seem emasculating if you’re doing it and not getting anything in return. But if you don’t have a choice then it’s just something you have to do. And you do want to. You’d probably do just about anything I asked you to because you think that maybe, one day, you’ll finally get to fuck me.”

  I was already slightly hard just thinking about it. How could I argue with her?

  I followed her into the living room. She tossed her phone onto the couch and shucked out of her yoga pants. There was something completely utilitarian and routine in her movement. I would have thought I wanted to watch her remove her pants slowly but there was something arousing about her blasé nonchalance. She sat down on the couch and spread her legs. She picked up her phone, looked into the camera and smiled before training it on me. I got down on my knees between her legs and began kissing her pussy. I licked up and down her labia and reached my hand up to spread her open.

  “Just your tongue,” she said. “I don’t want you to touch me.”

  I glanced up at her. Her eyes were glued to her phone, which was focused on me. She showed no signs of enjoying it. I pressed my tongue against her clit, closing my lips around it and sucking her into my mouth. Her cunt had an almost acrid chemical tang and I told myself that was probably from all the pills. I was rock hard. I pulled back and looked up at her again. She was still focused on her phone, no sign of pleasure on her face.

  “Can I jerk off while I do it?”

  “No. I want you to concentrate. You can afterward.”

  I went back to eating her out. I’d always thought I was okay at this. I’d been in a couple of long-term relationships and saw myself as being properly trained but no matter what I did, I couldn’t elicit any pleasurable response whatsoever. I thought about biting her just to see if she felt anything. I just kept going and going. There wasn’t really any way to gauge the time and I didn’t want to look around for a clock or something because I was afraid that would make me seem disinterested. And I didn’t want to stop. I sucked and licked and probed and nibbled for what felt like an hour. It could have been longer. I would have stayed down there as long as she wanted me to. There was something about her juices that had a nearly narcotic effect. I didn’t think about anything other than her and her cunt. Physically, I felt nothing but the silky texture of her skin on my tongue. My knees and back should have hurt but it was like I lost all awareness of my body. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this focused and clear-headed. My cock was hard and throbbing the entire time. It was like I didn’t even need to masturbate or be inside her. Even before stopping, I thought about the next time I’d have the chance to do this.