"Maybe he ain't here," Travis says.
"I got a key. Let's take a gander inside the house, at least for peace of mind."
Judd unlocks the deadbolt and the cops go inside. "Curt?"
Alt J's 'Breeze Blocks' plays on repeat.
"We got a couple questions to ask you about Katie O'Malley, little brother. You ain't in trouble or nothin'. Travis and I'll be outta your hair in less than an hour."
"We just want to know why you ain't been to work since Katie disappeared, and when you last saw her," Travis says a bit sterner.
* * * * *
"It looks like our time is over my love," Curt kisses Katie's decomposing lips, flakes of flesh attach to his mouth, he grabs a revolver from the table next to Katie's untouched tomato soup. "I'm coming Detective." He double checks to make sure the gun is loaded.
Footsteps grow closer to the wooden staircase.
"I'm ready to go downtown, Katie and I want to go to the courthouse and get married. We are very much in love." Curt peaks around the staircase with his weapon pointed at the door.
* * * * *
Travis opens the basement door.
"Why didn't you answer the..."
Before Travis can finish his sentence a bullet rips through his stomach. He screams in pain and falls to the floor.
"Holy fuck!" Judd returns fire.
Curt hides behind the staircase.
"What the fuck're you doin', Curt? You shot Travis!" Judd puts his back to the wall.
"He wouldn't understand, Judd!" Curt calls up the stairs. "He wouldn't let us be together!"
"Okay, Curt, it's okay. I'm gonna come downstairs and talk to you and Katie, just hold yer fire, alright?"
Curt sneaks around the corner of the staircase, still holding his pistol.
The stairs creek underneath Judd's two hundred pound frame.
"I don't want to leave her, Judd. Don't make me!" Curt comes back into Judd's eye range.
Sherriff Judd pulls his trigger and pops one in Curt's shoulder causing him to stagger backwards. Judd plants a second bullet into Curt's belly knocking the necrophiliac to the floor. Judd runs down the stairs and kicks his brother in the teeth, pearly whites fly into the concrete wall.
"Fuckin' idiot! You shot at us! Where's Katie?" Judd picks Curt up by the collar.
"She's on the bed." Curt spits out pieces of enamel and blood.
Judd looks around, but before he can say anything else, the smell brings tears to his eyes. He can't hold his nausea back, chunks of last night's dinner shoot across Curt's face.
"I'm sorry, Judd," Curt wipes the vomit from his cheeks and mouth, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to."
Judd grabs Curt by the ear and drags him next to the bed. He removes a knife from his leg holster with a seven inch serrated blade, "C'mere!" Judd grips Curt's slimy tongue, the taste buds white from lack of dental care over the past few days.
The teeth of Judd's knife clasp the tendons of Curt's tongue and separate each muscle. The purple insides split open like a filet mignon butter-flied by a butcher to decrease cooking time.
"Travis! I'm callin' it in. I didn't kill him, he's gonna stay alive, hopefully for trial. The fucker cut his own tongue out, or maybe Katie bit it off, I can't tell without the lab looking at it."
The slippery tongue twitches as Judd tosses it nonchalantly on to the bed with Katie.
Curt murmurs a painful melody, his hands grip at his brother's tan pant leg.
Judd kicks him off and then positions his steel toed boot on Curt's right hand. He leans all the way in, popping every knuckle, and crushing each bone, to ensure Curt can't speak or write a word of their previous endeavors.
Chapter XVI
Manifesto of a Night Crawler
As told by Hunter
Before you jump to conclusions, I'm not a vampire or some sort of satanic abomination. I have the same double helix strand as everyone else. It's a condition, just like any other condition, I require medicine. Instead of insulin or pills I ingest the elixir of life, the essence of vitality; blood. This is any blood, mind you, not just from a human.
Every creature has a trait that allows it to survive, whether it’s heightened strength, or the ability to camouflage itself. My condition allows me to absorb that attribute through their plasma.
The more we feed, the more we learn. I’m the next link in Darwinian Theory.
After Judd and I saved Karen from old man Lester and his two disciples, we took very different paths. Judd was a gentleman. Karen's parents tried to give him cash, but he declined, and asked if he could date their daughter instead. He gets that modesty from his father, another born gentleman.
My father was dead, so I seized any opportunity that came my way.
I knew I was a big fish in a small pond, full of intellect and potential. I sure as shit wasn't going to waste it at a factory in Kobe or work at the Pitt. I had ambition. Not a lot, but enough to get accepted to the Ohio State University and move out on my own.
Columbus wasn't a long drive, around an hour depending on traffic and speed. It's not like I was completely sheltered, I went there quite a bit, but this was the first time I was going to live somewhere else. It was different, a bit rough even. My mom sent money and I went to class pretty diligently the first year, but that all fizzled out when I started partying harder and staying out later.
I worked part-time at a concert venue called The Castle. I swept the floor, set up for bands, bartended, everything that they needed. It could be a tough gig, but I ran it well. I hate to say it, but working at a bar is probably the reason I dropped out of school in the first place.
Manning, the owner, was a tough Mexican punk rocker, but he was cool once you got to know him. He was a smart businessman, and a good manger. Before I quit college Manning rented me the loft above the concert hall. He said it guaranteed I'd never be late to work. He took the money right out of my check, that way I couldn't fuck up and skip out on rent.
Like I said, smart businessman.
A lot of cool bands played at the Castle in the nineties, locals mostly, but every so often a big name would come through, up and comers. Stone Temple Pilots played there, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam. Manning could bring in the talent.
Every Tuesday a local band called The Banshees would play. Sometimes if Manning couldn't book a show on Saturday night, he'd hire the band for free beer and fifty bucks a piece so needless to say I saw these guys pretty frequently.
The lead singer was a goddess. She had dark olive skin and bright green eyes. Her name was Tamara. She had a wide range of vocal talents, I heard her hit the high notes but she could also growl out the metal screams.
One night after they opened for Nine Inch Nails, she saw me setting up for the band. This is about the time Pretty Hate Machine came out, a few people knew who Nine Inch Nails were, but they weren't big yet, so they didn't have their own roadies. When I saw her near the speakers, I thought she was waiting for Trent Reznor.
"Hey, do you need some help?" Tamara asked me. She had on a long black dress down to her feet, black flowing hair, and bright red lipstick. She looked sexy as hell.
"I don't know if the boss would like that," the words came out of my mouth in a nervous jumble.
"I've known Manning for years. He's not gonna care," she gave me this sexy smile, and at the time I didn't even know she was flirting.
I couldn't believe how strong she was. In a black cocktail dress, she picked up speakers like a grown man.
After a couple weeks of small talk we started hanging out. It was convenient that I had a loft upstairs so Tamara and the two guys in the band, Suduko and Barry, would hang out after the show.
Suduko was cool. He'd drink a beer or two but mostly he just stuck to smoking pot. Barry, on the other hand, would get wasted, and usually end up acting like an ass.
When I first met Tamara she was dating Barry, they fell out after he fucked a groupie at a show, but he was a great bass player so they stayed a band even though they d
idn't remain a couple.
I could never see how she could date such an idiot. He was the typical metal head. Big, surly, and mean. Most of all he was out of control. Manning would keep him in check at the club, but he would get in fights everywhere else he went.
I must admit the guy scared me a little.
* * * * *
I fell in love with Tamara on a hot summer day.
We were packing up the van for the Banshees. Barry and Suduko were already at the venue waiting on her to show up.
Those lazy bastards hardly ever moved the equipment, but I didn't mind. It gave me a chance to hang out with my dark haired angel.
It was hot as shit outside, by the time we were done, I was soaked in sweat.
"Why don't you take your shirt off," she said.
I didn't think anything of it and did what I was told. I stripped down to just my cargo shorts.
"Can you help me line these speakers up so they won't slide while I drive?" She asked.
"Absolutely," I said.
She bent down to give me a hand inside the van, and once I was up there she didn't let go.
"Maybe I should take my shirt off too." She said.
And by God if those weren't the prettiest tits I ever saw, hell they were the best I've ever seen since, but as it so happens I haven't seen many more.
The first time we kissed she tasted like a lavender sunrise. She led me the whole time, and I was submissive.
I was in love, and she was late to the show.
* * * * *
After that, Barry treated me like shit, constantly trying to put me in my place as a roadie. I let it slide and tried to keep from punching him in the throat, I worked with him so I didn't want any bad blood.
A couple weeks later in early August, Tamara, Barry, Suduko and I went to Cuyahoga Falls for a traveling festival called Lollapalooza.
It was a big show with Jane's Addiction, The Violent Femmes, and our friends Nine Inch Nails, among others. We packed up enough drugs and alcohol to kill a Turkish army and headed north on highway I-71.
After the show we went to an all night bar called 'Blinding Light'. We dropped acid on the way there. It was strong and speedy, the kind of LSD that makes you grind your teeth before the visual effects take control.
The club was wall to wall black lights and packed with people.
Barry became really antisocial from the acid, it dripped down his spine and activated an electric surge of anger. He'd been acting like an asshole all day, picking fights with Tamara and talking shit behind my back to Suduko.
At the club he drank from a bottle of whiskey he snuck in, just sipping the sauce and staring at the stage.
Tamara and I were hot and heavy on the dance floor. The drugs destroyed our inhibitions, as it did a lot of the people around us. The club was a mass make-out session underneath a neon glow.
I started to peek when I felt the whiskey bottle smash against my head. I fell into Tamara's black tank top, my face buried in her cleavage. She thought I was just trying to suck her tits until she saw Barry stabbing my neck.
I don't know what happened next, but from what I hear, Barry pulled me on the floor and soccer kicked my head three good times before were able to pull him off. He tried to run out of the club but security blocked his path.
Tamara said my face looked like an athletic track, covered in bits of gravel and footprints.
I don't remember drinking from her wrist, but she certainly does. Later, she said it was the most important decision she ever made.
She saved my life that night.
* * * * *
Barry went off to jail for felonious assault and my friends took me back to Columbus. We got out of the club without a hassle, Sudoku said he was taking me to the hospital and they let us through.
But I didn't go to the hospital.
Instead, I struggled for three days in my loft. Tamara never left my side during the transformation. She held me close when I shivered from the fever, wiped the cold sweat from my brow, and washed me in the bathtub when I couldn't stop puking and shitting myself.
After three days, my fever broke and my bowels regulated. Tamara and I were naked on clean sheets when I finally came to. I remember being so hungry, so thirsty, but I still didn't have the energy to get up.
"Bite into my thigh and drink my blood," Tamara told me, "it will make your muscles stronger and more flexible. Your skin will be softer and appear ageless. Getting common colds and the flu will be a thing of the past.
"Major diseases like cancer may still infect you, but most viruses will be stopped because your white blood cells have merged with mine."
"What do you mean our blood cells merged? What the fuck did you do to me?" I asked her.
"It's complicated," she said, "just, understand you could've died. It was my fault I had a relationship with Barry, and he was jealous you took his spot. So I used my gift to end your pain and misery."
"Why?" I asked her.
"Because I love you. Now bite the inside of my thigh and suck until my legs quiver.
* * * * *
Tamara moved into my loft shortly after that. She taught me how to play guitar and the bass. I took Barry's spot and we renamed the band Eulogy. Manning hired another guy to help out so I could play on Tuesday nights, and sometimes on the weekends. He never docked my pay either. I think he had a special relationship with Tamara. Not sexual in any way, like an uncle looking out for a niece.
We fed on each other every night while we made love, growing our minds and strengthening our bodies, becoming one.
She was the only medicine I needed.
* * * * *
It was spring of ninety-three, when we went to see Pearl Jam up in Cleveland.
They played all of 'Ten' and some stuff that was going to be on their next album. My favorite track was 'Yellow Ledbetter', a b-side off the Jeremy Lp. I spent twenty fucking dollars for an import with that song on it, not like these kids today that can get any song ever written with the click of a button. We had to scour record shops in my day. That's a different story I guess, or just the ranting of an old man.
It was just the two of us. I had some champagne on ice back at a nearby hotel with a great view of the city. My plan was to fuck the shit out of her on the balcony and propose at sunrise.
On the way back to the hotel we walked by a bunch of vagrants sleeping in doorways and alleys. There were always a lot of homeless people in Cleveland, so I didn't pay it any mind until I got closer.
He stared at me as I walked past. His mangy facial hair was new, but the manic look on his face was familiar.
"Still with my girl?" His voice chopped and slurred as he stood up, piss stains on his pant and track marks up his arms.
"I thought you would've still been in jail, Barry," Tamara casually said, "looks like you did pretty well for yourself."
He had a knife in his hand, I thought he was going to stab me, but he went after Tamara.
"You broke my heart, you stupid cunt!" He lunged.
I grabbed his arm before he could get close. Something inside me snapped and I went to town on that piece of shit. I pulled him into an ally.
At first, it was just fists, but I wasn't satisfied. The ammonia and metallic scent of his blood enticed me.
I chomped into his neck and sucked every bit of life from him. The other homeless people just stared at me.
I blacked out.
* * * * *
When I woke up, I was back at my apartment in Columbus, alone. I didn't know how I got there, or what happened.
Manning told me Tamara dropped me off a couple nights ago, pissed off that I fed on someone else, especially out of anger.
She said that she was never coming back.
I knew Manning and Tamara were close, but that was the first time I found out that he had our same condition. He poured me a shot of whiskey, and we talked for a while. Manning explained that I had to keep my urges maintained. How hard it was for us to be in control, especia
lly as men with all the raging testosterone. It was so much to process.
I got in my car and drove, not to find her. I had no clue where she went anyhow. Instead, I went back home to Kobe.
When I was a kid and got down in the dumps from a girl breaking up with me, or when I just needed to sort shit out, I'd go back to the weeping willow where we rescued Karen.
When I ventured into the woods later that night, instead of swimming or hiking, I decided to hunt.
Chapter XVII
Timber
Leroy's fingers clasp together above his green mohawk.
In prayer.
In hope.
In search of forgiveness.
The steel hook no longer instills pain in the nerve endings near his spine, neither does his missing tongue. In fact, pain is no longer a focus.
Even the most devout atheist begins to question the realities of heaven and hell during their last moments on earth.
* * * * *
The sun shines through the circular sky light in the Gaines real estate office.
"You can't get me a lower interest rate?" Matt, a rotund gentleman in a shirt and tie whines.
Jason Gaines, or Jaybird to his ghetto ruffians, sits on the deciding side of a mahogany desk. "Matt, I wish I could buddy." Jay's elbows lean on a desktop calendar full of appointments. "I'm not the bank." His walnut sized knuckles rest beneath his clean shaven chin. "From the information they found on your credit report, it's a risk. The bigger the risk, the higher the APR. I've knocked the price down quite a bit from the original cost, and purchased your home for ten percent ABOVE the recommend appraisal."
Jason leans back in his leather executive desk chair.
"I know, Jason, I know." Matt shakes his head forcing the fat around his neck to jiggle. "Alright, give me the papers."
Jaybird slides a stack of mortgage paperwork to the middle-aged man. "I don't want you to make this deal if you don't think it's right," Jason hands Matt a black and silver pen with Gains Mortgage etched in the side.
"It's better than anything else in my price range." Matt leans forward to review the paperwork. "Hell, I looked at a house Steve Markinson showed me for two hundred thousand, and it barely had a backyard." Matt begins signing the next thirty years of his life away. "No one else keeps things as cheap in this business as you do."
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