Els continued to laugh as she pulled her shirt over her head.
And Calisto saw why.
It was her last request from the surgeon. A small gesture, an opportunity to redeem some tiny fraction of the pain he had inflicted on the world. Her breasts, those mesmerizing elements of herself that inspired so many looks, so much unwanted drool dripping from the mouths of every creep she had ever encountered, had each been packed with two pounds of C-4 plastic explosive.
Calisto’s eyes grew wide in realization as he followed the wire running from the lactiferous duct in her right nipple, to the detonator she held in her hand.
There was no laughter now as she spoke. “It isn’t your world anymore. My name is Els St. Claire, and I’m taking it back.”
She pushed down on the trigger.
The burning, bullet riddled house exploded into a fireball, consuming everything. A massive pillar of fire shot up into the night sky like a triumphant fist punching up through an unmarked grave.
And then there was a silence so complete that even the wreckage and flaming debris did not crackle as it burned up.
EPILOGUE
It was midday in Port Lavaca. Sunshine beat down from an azure sky and the rays mingled with the cool sea air, only strong enough to provide the suggestion of warmth on the damp breeze. Soon it would be full Summer and the very air would boil with humidity, so these cool days in early May were a precious thing.
Elton sat in his small, dingy apartment, unconcerned with the weather as he was most days. He was currently engaged in an act that had at one time seemed a habit of necessity, but was now something closer to superstition: he was watching the news.
He couldn’t say why he did it anymore. He had stopped worrying about the backlash from the murder he had had a small part in covering up earlier that spring. It was like when she went away she had taken the uncertainty he felt along with her. There was something he couldn’t define about her that seemed so certain, so undeniably virtuous, that it alleviated him of any self-condemnation.
But still he watched.
He would switch on the news first thing when he woke up and stare at the screen in a daze as expertly coiffed talking heads would stream words at him in non-region dialects. He absorbed very little of the content, usually not even aware if he was watching CNN, or FOX News, or MSNBC. He just let the digitized current of color and sound wash over him, and before he realized it, hours would have passed.
Currently sounds were spilling from the mouth of an innocuous blond woman at a desk.
More bloodshed out of central Mexico today as another cartel operation has been attacked by militarized citizens. This is following a recent trend of onslaughts directed at so called “drug gangs” led by paramilitary forces. Ordinary citizens, heavily armed with military grade weaponry, have taken to boldly engaging in shootouts with those suspected of having ties to organized crime. A representative for Mexico’s government says that these attacks and the citizens that lead them have not been sanctioned by any government agency and suggests that they may be doing more harm than good as they plea for peace. The death toll numbers in the high hundreds.
And now, before we go to a break, here’s a story about what some have already dubbed to be the world’s silliest dog. His name is Beansy and he was born with a muscular defect around his eyes that makes it seem as if he’s constantly winking. Videos of the permanently winking pooch have gone viral, garnering hundreds of millions of views across social media, and that’s nothing to blink at, says this sly dog.
Elton was reaching to change the channel when he heard a knock at the door.
He switched off the TV and went to look through the peephole. He frowned at his bulging, fish-eye view of an apparently homeless man standing on his doorstep.
His immediate instinct was to remain quiet until the man went away.
The man didn’t leave, and he didn’t knock again. “I know you’re in there, I can see your shadow over the peephole.”
Elton swallowed. He said nothing, just stood watching. The stranger’s hair was unwashed and limp with sweat, he was unshaven and his clothes were stiff and dirty, he looked like hadn’t changed them in weeks.
The man spoke again. “Elton. I’m looking for someone named Elton.”
And just like that, images from hundreds of hours of police procedurals went through his mind all at once, fingerprints, DNA, carpet fibers, spectrometers. This was it. They had finally found him and they sent some undercover cop disguised as a homeless man to throw him off guard. As soon as he opened the door hundreds of cops would rush in, pin him down and handcuff him while the others put everything he owned into evidence bags.
“I have something for you. Something your friend wanted you to have. Elizabeth. You know her, right?”
At the mention of Els’ name, Elton cautiously opened the door.
There was no one else outside, no police, FBI, CIA spooks, just a bum who smelled like he sweats gin fumes.
“You Elton?”
Elton nodded cautiously.
“Then I guess this is for you.” The bum reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope and handed it to him.
“What is this?”
“I don’t know. Looks like a letter if I had to guess.”
“From Els?”
“She asked me to give it to you.”
“You know Els? You’re a friend of hers?”
The bum paused for a minute. “I knew her. I don’t think she would have considered us friends. She’s one in a long list of people that I’ve hurt. I used to think I would die so I wouldn’t have to think about all the rotten shit I’ve done to people. That doesn’t look like it’s going to happen, so I guess I’ll find a way to live with it. Try to find some small way to make amends. I guess that’s why I’m here. This doesn’t even begin to make things right, but she asked me to come here and give this to you, so I did. She could have asked for a lot more and I would have done it, but she didn’t. Not that it would have mattered. I’ve got a lot of time to figure out how to undo some very permanent things.”
“Well, if you ever figure it out, let me know.”
“I guess the only way is not to hurt anyone in the first place. But that’s not really advice, is it? You already know that. It’s kind of like telling someone to be safe.”
The bum looked down at the letter in Elton’s hand one last time and turned to leave.
“Hey, wait,” Elton called to him. “What’s your name, in case Els asks?”
The bum stopped and turned to him. “It’s Wade. But she ain’t gonna ask.”
He turned to leave again and Elton called out, “Be safe.” The bum didn’t look back, but Elton thought he heard him give a small chuckle.
When the bum was out of sight, Elton went back in.
He sat holding the letter for a long time before he opened it.
Dear Elton,
I’m writing to you because I don’t think we’ll see each other again. I didn’t want you to worry about me as I know I would worry about you if you just disappeared. I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye, but that’s only because I think if I had to say it in person, I might have never left at all. I think about how things would have been if I had never left, and everything I imagine is very good. But I had to go. I had to do what I thought was right, and if I didn’t, I don’t think I could have forgiven myself. I hope you can understand. And I think you do. I smile when I imagine what our lives could have been like, growing old and being friends forever and ever. I think about sitting with you on your couch and watching Predator 2 and Kill Bill and all the Shrek sequels until we are nothing but dusty skeletons with clothes on, and that makes me happy. I would have liked that very much. But it was still nice to have a friend, even if it was for a short time. I didn’t meet a lot of people who were very nice to me in my life, but you were one of them. And it’s all the more better because you picked me. You saw me alone in a dark place and you knew that I needed you even before I
did. You are a very good and kind person, and I hope that never changes. I don’t think it will because that’s just who you are. So, thank you. You’re going to be around for a long time, and you’re going to spread your kindness to so many people, and that gives me such hope for the world. Just knowing that there are people like you makes me smile. You are a good person!
I’ve got to go now. I miss you, and if you ever miss me, just know that I’m somewhere with my daddy, who is no longer sick, and Neesha, who has a head now. And when you die (which will not be for a very long time, I’m sure!) we will see each other again and we’ll write our love in the clouds for everyone to see.
I LOVE you!
Els.
Elton read the letter, and he re-read it, as he would thousands of times over the course of his life, with a bittersweet mixture of hope and sadness, and pity. And there were many, many times when he doubted her assertion that he was a good person, or if anyone was, really, but he was kind when he could be, and that’s the best that anyone could hope for. And as the letter grew yellow with age and the ink faded, he never forgot that odd, sad woman who never saw twenty summers, and how even a small moment of sympathy can be significant in an ugly, hateful world. He hoped that wherever she was, she had found the peace that she deserved.
Also by Jarred Martin
Also by Jarred Martin
FLYBLOWN AND BLOOD-SPATTERED
Ten supernatural tales to have you reaching for the lightswitch. These stories contain elements of dark humor and the bizarre, but the focus is always on the grotesque. With scores of scares and blood by the bucket these stories of haunted toilets, headless babies, freakish murder trials, deadly seaside family vacations, sinister gods, abrupt organ growth, and so much more will keep you up till dawn. Available here http://www.amazon.com/Flyblown-Blood-Spattered-10-Tales-Terror-ebook/dp/B00G7YC5DI
RED CHRISTMAS: A HOLIDAY HORROR
Christmas is a stressful time for everyone, but even more so for Gerry Murchison, a traumatized family man haunted by a past that he cannot escape. Something is stalking him. Something is watching him from the darkness. Something is eating away at his sanity. He knows he must confront it, but will he survive? What will be left of his family? What will remain of his mind? Find out in RED CHRISTMAS.http://www.amazon.com/RED-CHRISTMAS-Holiday-Jarred-Martin-ebook/dp/B00Q82FLJY
THE SEA WASPS
A grisly tale of madness at sea. Things take a horrific turn for six Americans sailing the Greek islands on a luxury yacht as they find themselves engulfed in a mysterious fog. Later, run aground on an uncharted desert island with little hope of escape, they discover a macabre realm that feasts on their sanity. Minds unravel and disturbing fantasies become reality as they realize that the island might not be as deserted as they thought. What horrors lurk on the sinister isle? And can they be as terrible as their own dark desires? http://www.amazon.com/The-Sea-Wasps-Jarred-Martin-ebook/dp/B00UZHW5VK
Jarred Martin is a speculative fiction writer living in Northeastern Arkansas. His stories have appeared various places such as L'Allure des Mots, Fiction Terrifica, and Bewildering stories among others. His first short story collection Flyblown and Blood-Spattered has been ranked as high as number three on Amazon UK's Horror Anthology chart.
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