Skaggs, her other son. The one she sometimes wishes was never born, but only for a moment. She comes back to reality and remembers him as a little league baseball player, a kid that took piano lessons. The bass thumps and Tina cries.
* * * * *
Skaggs pulls apart the box cutter. He meticulously picks up a razor blade out of the plastic casing. Careful not to drop the stainless steel sliver onto the dirty carpet, he digs it into his yellowish fingernail until secure. The maniac picks up a hatchet, and with the flat of the blade, whacks the razor hard enough to split through his index finger.
His neurons play laser tag with each other, bouncing around his mind, riding each brainwave like a Tsunami.
Skaggs puts down the hatchet and takes another razor blade out of the box cutter. He digs it through his middle fingernail, once he gets to the pink flesh, he leaves it be, watching intently to make sure it's positioned perfectly. Satisfied, he smashes it through his finger.
He repeats the process until his homemade claw is complete.
* * * * *
Tina opens the curtain and steps out of the shower. She wraps her forty-year-old body with a towel. Varicose veins map out her trials and tribulations.
Her tits, once so sought after in her twenties, are now victims of gravity. She uses a green towel with bleach stains to wrap her hair up.
Tina hears loud banging from the adjacent bedroom.
"Damnit boy! I'm through with all your bullshit!" she screams through the bathroom wall.
She fixes her towel, opens the door, and darts down the hall to Skaggs' bedroom.
"Get your shit packed and get the fuck out! I've had it with you!"
She walks into the living room and sees her purse open on the floor, her medicine ruffled through, damn near gone.
Tina dashes back to Skaggs' bedroom door and pounds as hard as she can. "Open up you piece of shit!"
Skaggs opens the door, slowly. He's higher than she could ever imagine. Geeked out.
Zooted.
His pupils stretch so far, all she can see is black with a slim line of green and white.
Tina looks beyond Skaggs' hollow eyes, down to his bloody hand. She can only imagine how the razor blades dug into four of his digits.
"Hello, mommy," Skaggs says with an eerie innocence.
"You, um." She tightens her discolored towel. "You need to get your stuff packed up and leave." The fear in Tina's voice cages the anger she had only moments before.
"You don't want me to live here anymore?" Skaggs tilts his head sideways and smiles wider.
"I think it would be best if you..."
"What's wrong, mommy? You don't like my new manicure?" He wiggles his fingers. "I did it just for you, I thought you would finally be proud of me." His smile fades, the music disappears, all that's left is the subtle drip of blood from rusty razor blades.
Chapter VI
Lady of the Lake
1981
Every town has a legend, a bit of history that sparks up conversation around campfires and barstools. Back in the eighties, before the birth of the internet or the cell phone, one of those tales was created in Kobe.
Judd was just coming into his own back then, a pudgy pubescent kid with husky jeans and wet dreams.
Hunter, Judd's best friend, was a tall lanky teenager, awkward but still athletic.
The two traveled the town together, but they hung out in the woods mostly. The Kobe forest has always held secrets in its midst, whispers of the past seamlessly drift through the walnut trees.
Rumors floated around that a devil worshippers would summon demons using candles and wigi boards at a large boulder called Devil's Rock. It was covered in red wax and pentagrams.
Devil's Rock was known for lots of things but it was mainly a spot for make out sessions. It was the same boulder where Hunter experienced his first kiss. Kelly, his gorgeous next door neighbor, snuck out with him during the Fourth of July Festival. Her mouth tasted like cotton candy and fried fair food. Judd was still waiting to get his tongue in anything besides a piece of pie. He had virgin lips.
However, neither of the boys thought about tasting tongues when they saw a headless dog on the famous rock.
The smell of cotton candy would have been wonderful, instead it was rotting German Shepherd meat. Their pubescent minds filled with fear, but they hid it with jokes. Sometimes humor is the best anxiety medicine.
"I ain't the coroner," Hunter did his best detective impression. "But I'd say this pooch died of natural causes."
"Maybe it was a bad diet, or too much stress at the office," Judd continued.
"It's a dog eat dog world." Hunter could barely say the words without laughing hysterically."Dare ya to touch it."
"Double dog dare me?" The two cackled like only thirteen year old boys can.
Judd picked up a long hickory branch, and poked the German Shepherd in the belly. A dark cloud of flies zooted through the air.
Judd smiled wickedly before he whacked the belly of the beast with full force. They jumped back to avoid shit, guts, and stink spraying from every orifice.
When the laughter stopped, they opted to go to their sacred spot. Void of adults, where they could smoke cigarettes and tell dirty jokes.
Hunter and Judd hiked through a shallow creek into Playboy Tunnel, named after the porn magazine men claimed to just read for the articles.
On the tunnel wall was a crude caricature of a girl sucking an enormous cock, with the receiver giving a thumbs up from the performance. A speech bubble enclosed the sentence 'Thanks for the blowjob Karen Cummings.' Below it was signed 'Tommy Doyle'.
Tommy Doyle was an asshole that only picked on kids smaller than him. Karen was a lovely intelligent girl whose only crime was being smarter than the reckless bully, and for that, he drew nasty pictures all over town and spread rumors of sexual conquests.
Hunter and Judd crawled out of Playboy Tunnel and climbed to the top of a cliff. The drop was about fifty feet into Shit Creek, named on account of the tunnel dumping waste runoff into it. It didn't smell like shit, or look dirtier than other lakes in Ohio, kids just thought it was a clever name. The boys, hell, half the neighborhood, swam in it from time to time. Everyone wore their shoes though, nothing's worse than the soft, turd-like mud sliding between your toes.
At the top of the cliff, Hunter shook out two stolen cigarettes and handed one to Judd.
They lit up and looked across the town.
"Wanna tell Zed and Curt about the dog?" Hunter inhaled a thick white cloud.
"Might as well, we can grab 'em to go swimmin' too. It's a hot ass day."
Out against the horizon, the boys saw three bumbling men drag a large burlap bag on the ground. Hunter recognized them right away; Mike, Earl and Lester, three stupid sons of bitches that took over his dad's garage before he died.
"What the fuck're those assholes doing out here?" Hunter asked.
"Jerkin' each other off, probably," Judd said, "what do you s'pose that is?" Judd pointed to the burlap bag.
"Looks like a possom in there, maybe a coon," Hunter responded, "I didn't think those idiots could hunt."
Muffled cries and shouts startled the birds out of their nests.
"That doesn't sound like a possum, Judd," Hunter said.
Lester was an old grease monkey that should've retired even before Hunter's dad kicked the bucket. He had the money to buy the garage and times were tough, so Hunter's dad sold it on his death bed.
Mike and Earl, Lester's cronies, were bullshit mechanics that could barely change a spark plug. Mike was built like a mac truck and he was just as smart.
Earl looked like a marshmallow, a yellowish, hairy, marshmallow. Ugly as sin, with buck teeth and a comb-over.
There wasn't a second that went by Hunter didn't hate those assholes. They didn't even show up to his father's funeral. Instead of preserving an honest man's legacy, they charged double the price and half-assed the work.
* * * * *
Mike
and Earl dropped the wiggling bag near a weeping willow tree. Brush and sticks were gathered around the base, set up for a good old fashion witch burning.
"What's s'posed to happen boss?" Mike's voice was hollow and slow. People called him Lenny in reference to the book 'Of Mice and Men' but he never understood the reference.
"If I toldja once I done said it a hundred," Lester pointed his cane at Mike. "We tie the virgin to that tree," His voice was curt and stern as he directed their attention to the large weeping willow behind them. "Say the prayer to our king, set 'er on fire, and he grants us each a wish."
"It's gonna make me smart, ain't it, boss?" Mike said. He wiped the perspiration out of his buzz cut.
"Yup. Earl's gonna be rich and perty, And I'll be young and powerful."
"That ain't fair boss! Why'd you guys get two and I only get one?" Mike asked.
"Cause it's twice as hard to make ya smart, ya big dummy!" Earl belted out. His grotesque stomach hung out from underneath his sweat stained shirt. It shook as he laughed.
"It should be ten times as hard to make you pretty, ya wart covered hog!" Mike balled up his fists tight.
"Shut yer mouths." Lester smacked both the goons with his cane. "Get'er outta the bag."
A brown haired girl tumbled from the burlap prison. Her white dress was stained with dried blood, mud, and God knows what else.
Lester picked up the bag and shook out the German Shepherd's severed head. The star of Hunter and Judd's little comedy show moments earlier.
* * * * *
The dirty rag in her mouth tasted like engine oil, and made her cheeks seethe white foam. The cheap rope that tied her wrists together rubbed through the skin down to her third layer of flesh.
The little girl had hope. It was a curse she was born with. A bright smile, pretty green eyes, and a full batch of hope. As her kidnappers argued the best way to set her on fire, a ladybug landed on her bottom lip.
She closed her eyes tight. In that instant, before she blew her new friend into the folds of the wind, she wished to be free.
* * * * *
"Should we get your dad?" Hunter asked.
"Ain't got time." Judd got up on his knees. "Distract 'em."
"What the fuck're you doin' Judd?" Hunter grabbed his pudgy friend by the arm. "You ain't never even been in a fight."
"How old you think that girl is, Hunter? Twelve? Thirteen?" Judd yanked his arm back. "I bet we get a closer look, and we may even know her from school." he pulled a switchblade from his back pocket. "I'm gonna take at least one out. I'll backtrack to the trail."
"They'll see ya man, ain't no way they ain't gonna see you."
Judd smiled, "that's where you come in."
Hunter glared at his friend, "what do you mean, 'where I come in'?"
"Get their attention," Judd shrugged, "tell them cocksuckers everything you been wantin' to say to 'em for years. Ain't like they can get to you all the way up here."
"You're one crazy mother-fucker Judd."
"Maybe," Judd smiled, "when I get to the edge, start throwin' bottles and makin' noise." Judd ran back through Playboy Tunnel.
* * * * *
Her green eyes looked like church windows, broken apart in stained glass segments by tears. The strong one, Mike, picked her up without so much as a grunt. She tried her best to kick her captor but he held her legs to the trunk of the tree like an iron vice.
Earl, the fat pig of a man, wrapped a thick chain around her waist, attaching the young brunette to the tree. She could hear him salivate over her, a sick twisted sound; moisture escaping as he slapped his lips together.
She puked into the rag.
The old man, Lester, was the worst of the three. He was the bastard that lured her in. The innocence of it all, the way he drove up so nonchalantly in his red pickup truck.
'Your mother's at the shop, little girl,' he said, 'she asked me to come get ya while we was workin' on yer car.'
Lester wasn't a stranger. He gave her a piece of candy every time she went into the mechanic's shop, smiled at her like a grandfather would.
Not anymore.
He peered his bright icy eyes deep into her soul. "What yer doin' is for the Lord," he said, "I know this seems like it don’t make sense, but ain’t for you, darlin’, it’s for somethin' bigger." Lester pulled a green box cutter from his back pocket. "This demon's gonna free us." Lester pushed the brass button on the knife and pushed the blade up. "He's gonna give me another shot at life.”
The little girl tried her best to turn her head away from the knife, to kick her bound legs, and scream through the oil and vomit soaked rag, but to no avail.
Lester's palm widened, and pressed down on her smooth forehead. His hand was steady as stone. The blade sunk through sweaty flesh.
Scarlet drops of blood formed and slid between Lester's bony fingers.
Lester drug the box cutter blade down the folds of her forehead and stopped between her eyebrows, then, he dug a quick horizontal line going across.
Lester wiped the blood away to admire his handiwork; an upside down cross.
“Shh, my dear. It’ll all be over soon," the maniac said, "you’ll be down with King Lucifer, and all the treasures of hell.” He pet her face with the scaly flesh of his hand.
* * * * *
Mike picked up the carved out dog-o-lantern and walked it over to his master. "Where ya want this boss?"
"Put it on 'er, shit fer brains!" Lester hissed.
Earl and Mike attempted to squeeze the little girl's head inside, but it didn't fit. The mechanics cracked the canine's skull with a rock, and pulled away enough brains to fit over her cranium.
The dog's head was more of a hat than a mask when they were through.
"Alright, it'll do." Lester said. "What'd ya idiots do with the dog's body?"
* * * * *
Hunter kept a keen eye on Judd while counting his weapons. The hang out was full of glass bottles, dehydrated pints of whiskey and empty twelve ounce beers.
When Judd gave him the thumbs up, Hunter threw a bottle at Lester. His six years of pitching little league helped immensely, he hit him square in the back. Lester arched his shoulders on impact.
“Hey fuck heads," Hunter shouted, "I'll be able to give a good description to the cops." He picked up another beer bottle. "Earl, you used to hit on my mom when she came into the shop to see my dad. Too bad you’re uglier than a bag of dicks and she wouldn't even look you in your eyes." Hunter hurled a glass bottle at Earl, but it missed by a few feet.
“Didn't your momma teach you how to throw?” Mike laughed and punched his fat friend in the arm."Or was ya too busy playin' dollies?"
"Mike, you fuckin' moron!" Hunter screamed "I thought you'd be dead from drowning in your cheerios by now." Hunter picked up a rock and launched it across the lake, but it missed. "Why don’t you crusty losers come up here like men instead of pickin’ on that little girl?”
“Boy, you don’t know what’s 'bout to happen. You best go home and say yer prayers. Whole world’s 'bout to know who we are,” Lester belted out.
“They already do know, you're a buncha rednecks that can barely change tires.” Hunter picked up another bottle, held his breath, and took aim. Just like his father showed him.
Hunter took aim, blew out the air in his lungs, and kept his eye on the bottle as it soared through the air and smashed on Les' wrinkled mug. Blood seeped from the old man's cheeks as he squealed out in pain.
“Get that little bastard.” Les wiped the glass from his face, and cut his hand in the process.
Mike ran through the lake quickly and latched on to the side of the cliff wall like a spider.
Earl moved slow, and breathed heavy. He wasn't even halfway through the lake before he stopped for air.
Hunter kept chucking bottles at Mike, but the muscular mechanic dodged them like a pro. "Stop messin' with that little girl, asshole!" Hunter yelled.
Mike grabbed a tree sticking out from the side of the cliff, his
chiseled biceps flexed as he climbed closer to his prey.
Hunter picked up a brown Budweiser bottle and steadied his hand. With his peripheral vision he saw Fat Earl was about to join his stupid friend. He dropped the bottle, careful not to break it on the others, and picked up a rock the size of his hand. He cocked his arm back and launched the stone.
Crack! It split Earl's head open like a walnut. The ugly ball of fat dropped to the ground, gushed blood, and lost consciousness.
* * * * *
Judd stared at the little girl stuffed in the dog's furry skull, he imagined the stench inside, the fear crawling underneath her skin, and how it would be if he was in that situation.
After it all processed through his mind he flipped out his switch-blade.
* * * * *
"Hurry up, we're losin' the sun!" Lester picked out pieces of dark green glass, burrowed beneath his beady eyes. "Don't let him go! Earl's knocked out but we can still do the ritual! We're gonna get you smart, but the sacrifice's gotta be done by sundown!"
"Yeah, you don't wanna miss Andy Griffith, grandpa!" Hunter yelled.
* * * * *
Judd let out a battle cry and charged the old man. He paused for a split second to find that little bit of evil to kill a man. His inhibitions melted away, and a fist full of rage plunged the knife into Lester's side.
The short, wrinkled man grunted and looked down at the blood soaking through his tan work-shirt. He growled and grabbed his assailant by the collar.
Judd twisted the blade around in Lester’s kidney, the toxins stirred inside the old man’s system.
The grease monkey tried to raise his box cutter, but to no avail. Judd pushed Lester to the ground with ease.
The hero snatched Lester's retractable blade and chopped the creep's throat without mercy.
* * * * *
Hunter watched Mike pull himself up the side of the mountain and clutch the top of the cliff.
Hunter picked up a rock the size of a basketball. He struggled, but with a grunt, he dropped the boulder on Mike's fingers.
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