All of this went through his mind in the time it took for the cop to bark and order and pull back the hammer of the gun pointing at him.
“I said drop the weapon, mother fucker!”
Daryl’s knees felt as if they were seconds from buckling out from under him and nausea rumbled through his intestines. Somehow, he felt as if he were growing smaller. As it was if the barrel of the cop’s gun emitted some sort of magic ray that burned away everything inside him. The longer it was pointed at him, the more he deflated and the more he became like that small child who had shivered in the darkness of the closet.
He looked at the tire iron in his hand and almost seemed surprised to see it there. How could he have actually thought he had what it took to be the hero? Who the hell was he kidding anyway? He was nothing more than a stupid crybaby who pissed himself in the dark. Just like Earl always said. Like Mama always said.
He would never be a good boy.
Would never get his chance to shine
The metal rod fell from his hand and disappeared into the snow with a thump. Taking this as his cue, the cop raised slowly from his crouch. The man braced the wrist holding the gun with his other hand and his aim remained steady and true as he stood to his full height.
“On your knees! Hands behind your head!”
Daryl lowered himself to the ground and kneeled in the snow. With fingers clasped at the hem of his ski cap, his shoulders slumped and the features of his face seemed to grow longer, almost as if they were made of putty that was being pulled tightly. His eyes never left the gun trained upon him; but as the cop sidestepped his way closer, everything began to waver as warm tears slid down Daryl’s face and soaked into his mustache.
He’d killed Mama. He was sure of this. When he and Earl didn’t come home, she’d get worried. And that would cause her to be distracted. He was certain that’s all it would take. The young couple would somehow manage to get free and they would kill her as viscously as they had all those people in the photos. And it was all his fault.
The cop had closed nearly half the distance between them now and he no longer gripped his wrist with his free hand. It had slid to the waist of his belt and fumbling with the radio that was clipped there.
“Calling for backup.” Daryl thought.
From behind the cop, Earl staggered to his feet like some prehistoric beast pulling itself from a tar pit. For a moment he seemed to simply loom there with his hands cuffed behind his back. But then he charged with a guttural roar that would have made an African lion stop in its tracks.
The cop’s face drained of color and he spun around just as Earl’s bulk smashed into him with such force that the man’s feet were lifted off the ground. The cop fell backward as both his weapon and the radio flew from his hands. He landed on his back in the snow and was trying to scramble to his feet when the Earl fell upon him like a man doing a bellyflop at a pool.
The air whooshed out of the officer’s lungs and Earl drove his forehead into the bridge of the man’s nose. His head smacked down again and again, piston-like in its assault, but rather than fighting back, the cop seemed to be trying to squeeze his arms beneath the layers of Earl’s fat. Finally, he yanked his arm free and there was a small, black cylinder in his hand.
The cop yelled as he depressed a button and a stream of liquid sprayed from the top of the cylinder. Almost immediately, Earl’s roar turned into a scream and water gushed from eyes that looked as if they were swelling shut. Rolling off the cop, Earl plunged his face into the snow as if some sort of relief might be found in the cold, white drifts.
The cop now had his baton in hand and he practically ran toward the screaming giant with it raised above his head like a club.
Just as he was about to strike, a gunshot echoed through the hills and valleys like a sudden clap of thunder. A flock of birds perched in a nearby tree took to the sky amid the fluttering of wings as a flap of scalp knocked the officer’s hat from his head. His body pitched forward and he fell, face first, into snow that was speckled with his own red blood.
Blood continued to bubble and ooze from the missing top of his head, but somehow he managed to roll over onto his back where it seeped into the snow and formed a crimson halo around him. Staring up into the sun, he saw a man step over his prone body. Saw his own service revolver coated with snow pointed directly at the center of his face.
Daryl said nothing. He simply pulled the trigger and listened to the complete silence that follows a gunshot in the wilderness as the cop’s face disappeared in a mist of blood and bone. He stood over the corpse for a moment, staring at the remains of the cop with a slack-jawed expression of detachment. Then he dropped to his knees and began searching for the key that would free his brother from the handcuffs.
The cruiser handled the icy road better than the truck, but Earl still had to focus his full attention on driving; every so often the rear of the Impala slid to the left while the front insisted on going the opposite direction. Easing up off the gas, Earl made slight corrections to the steering wheel that pressed against his gut and the car moved through the snow like a sidewinder through sand.
As the sound of his brother’s heavy breathing filled the car, Daryl slumped in the passenger’s seat with his ski cap laying across his lap. Alternately looking at the pistol that lay on the seat and the length of chain at his feet, he brushed the side of his cheek as if he were stroking a kitten. Though his expression looked tired and bored, his mind actually replayed the events of the morning as if it were footage of the game winning touchdown in the Super Bowl.
He hadn’t expected the cop’s face to just disappear like that: the way his nose and mouth erupted like a volcano of gore; flesh, blood, shards of teeth and bone spewing into the air and splattering against his pants. Not that he’d never killed before. Plenty of throats had been slit with the blade of his hunting knife and he’d stared into countless eyes, watching for the moment that light of life finally flickered out, as his hands squeezed their necks. But he’d never truly obliterated someone before; and, for a reason he couldn’t understand, that simple act had made him harder than any of the naked women who’d been tied up in their house.
Daryl’s stomach churned with nervous excitement and his breath felt as if it kept getting stuck halfway down his throat. At the same time, however, he fidgeted in the seat as if his entire body was as numb and tingly as his hands and feet. Fighting the urge to reposition the cap, he stole quick glances at his brother from the corner of his eye.
Earl leaned forward so that his jowls were almost directly over the steering wheel and he seemed to look nowhere other than the road ahead. But what would happen if he noticed the lump that Daryl tried to hide beneath the hat? Would he be able to sense what was going through his brother’s mind? Would he instinctively know that the smaller man was thinking about the cop and not that cute little brunette waiting at home? The officer, after all, was a man. Did this mean that Daryl was somehow gay? He’d been as curious about homosexuality as he was putting his hand into a whirling blender . . . it was just something he knew he’d never do. So why was it then that he was sitting there, thinking about the cop, while his crotch felt like it was seconds away from exploding?
A dull ache spread through the base of Daryl’s skull and he closed his eyes as he leaned back. What if he really was a queer? He knew exactly what Mama and Earl thought of that type; the things they’d done to those two guys with the matching sweaters left no doubt about that. If either one even suspected that he could pop a boner by thinking about shooting that cop’s face off . . . .
“Damn it, fucktard, pull your head outta your ass and answer me.”
Daryl’s eyes snapped open at the gruff command and he tried to fold his hands on his lap as casually as he could. But, even so, he felt as if his motives were as obvious as the irritation in Earl’s voice. Oh shit . . . what if his brother thought he were touching himself? He jerked his hands away as if his penis were a snake and rubbed his arms briskly.
&n
bsp; “Uh . . . think maybe I was noddin’ off there for a second, Earl. Say again?”
Earl’s hands tightened on the steering wheel and his shoulders seemed to hunch as he growled in irritation.
“I said, did you leave the fuckin’ book where it could be seen or not?”
“Oh, that. Yeah. Yeah, I did. Right out on the seat, pages wide open. Just like we talked about.”
“You sure?”
“Course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be? I should know what I did or didn’t do, shouldn’t I?”
“You seem awful squirrely over there. Like somethin’s done gone and got you all worked up.”
Daryl tried to swallow but his mouth was as suddenly dry as if he’d been eating crackers the entire trip. He shifted in his seat again and looked out the window as he mumbled.
“Just tired, that’s all. Been one long-ass night.”
Earl shot a quick stare at his brother that felt as if it lasted an eternity.
“That better be all there is to it. You fuck this up and I’ll put my foot so far up your ass you’ll see it every time you go brushin’ your teeth.”
Daryl wanted to snap back at his brother, to tell him he realized how important this was, but was afraid his voice might crack due to the tightness in his throat. Besides, sometimes it was better to just not say anything at all. Especially when the conversation involved one of Earl’s plans.
Daryl didn’t always agree with the ideas his brother came up with, but he had to give him credit . . . this one was a pretty damn good one. After they’d managed to get the cuff off Earl’s wrists, the pair had removed the chain that tethered the truck to the wrecked car. Earl had then pulled the truck forward twenty yards or so and, as Daryl looked on from a safe distance, threw it into reverse. It had slammed into the wrecked Honda was a thud so loud that Daryl could feel it in his chest; flakes of rust had rained down from the bottom of the truck and the car, even though parked, had been jolted back a foot or so.
When he climbed out of the truck, Earl had made sure to leave the engine running and the door flung wide open. Then the pair hopped into the police car, fiddled with the radio until they figured out how to turn down all that crackling chatter, and sped away. By the time anyone came upon the scene, it would look like the little Honda had plowed into the rear end of the truck. What could have happened next was entirely up to the imagination, but it ended with the drivers of the car killing the cop and taking the two brothers hostage. They would lay low for about a week or so, come up with a story about how they escaped, maybe cut each other a few times to make it even more believable . . . but it shouldn’t take much. Once the authorities found Mona’s Secret Delights, there would be no doubt in their minds as to who was responsible for the cold-blooded murder of an officer of the law.
By the time Earl turned off the main road and their house peeked through the pines like a crouching animal, the tension in the cruiser had faded. While Earl busied himself with driving, Daryl mentally went through the multiplication tables as high as he could go. By the time he finished ten times ten and started over again, his erection had shriveled away.
As the car pulled up to the front of the house, Daryl felt as if all of the cold from outside had seeped into his bones. Though the heater still blasted warm air from the dashboard, chills covered his body and his left eye twitched as he literally felt his sphincter pucker. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper and the words sounded dry and raspy.
“That ain’t right, Earl . . . . That ain’t right at all.”
The front door of the house hung wide open and, even from the car, they could see a dusting of snow that crossed the threshold like a thin, white welcome mat. Though it was impossible to get more than just a glimpse into the foyer, somehow the old house felt abandoned and empty, as if it had been sitting there for years without ever knowing the warmth of a living soul.
Earl breathed heavily through his nose but was uncharacteristically quiet as his eyes scanned the windows, watching for one of them to peel back so that a hidden face could peek through the small gap. But there wasn’t so much as a rustle.
“Ain’t no smoke somin’ outta the chimney, Earl. Mama gets cold so easy. Not like her to just let the fire go out. Something’s happened . . . somethin’ bad.”
Earl snatched the cop’s pistol from the seat and his large hands almost made it seem like a child’s toy. Clicking the safety off, he glanced at his brother with eyes that betrayed the nauseous turmoil within his gut.
“We go in slow. Don’t know what’s waitin’ in there for us, so we’re gonna be careful, you hear?”
Daryl nodded his head, but his foot was thudding against the floorboard so quickly that his entire leg bounced. He moved in quick jerks, his head snapping around as he surveyed the yard while his fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly.
“Damn it, Daryl, I mean it . . . you gotta calm your ass down. Far as we know, Mama just dozed off on the couch. Wouldn’t be the first time. But just in case . . . we take it nice and easy, right?”
Daryl nodded again, more vigorously this time, while he simultaneously threw open the door of the cruiser. He rushed around the car like a frightened deer but by the time he’d reached the other side, his older brother had already scooted out as well. He snatched Daryl’s collar, causing the smaller man’s feet to slip and scramble in the snow as he was brought to a halt.
“Daryl, I ain’t fuckin’ around. We go in together and we go in slow. You just follow behind me and make sure nobody sneaks up and . . . .”
“Why do I gotta follow you?” Daryl hissed.
Earl rolled his eyes and pulled Daryl’s face so close to his own that the tips of their noses brushed against one another lightly.
“Because I got the gun, asshole . . . that’s why.”
Pushing his brother out of the way, Earl trudged up the front steps. He tried to walk as softly across the porch as he could, but the sheer weight of his body pressing down upon the old boards made them creak and pop with every step. By the time the two of them crossed through the entrance, he felt he couldn’t have been more obvious than if he’d rode into the house on the back of a steer.
Inside, all was quiet. Normally, there would have been the crackling of logs within the fireplace. Water coming to a boil in the kitchen, the scuffling of feet overhead. Perhaps even Mama whistling that little tune she liked so well. Instead, there was now only the sound of the brothers’ breathing as they crept through the hallway. Almost as if all the sounds of their home had fled through the open door, preferring the freezing temperatures and arctic desolation of the woods to whatever awaited within those walls.
As the two passed the closed, cellar door their pace slowed. Daryl seemed to press more closely to his brother and he chewed on his bottom lip so hard that blood had begun to well up on his bottom lip.
They were nearing the living room now. And something about that made both of them feel as if they were on the verge of passing through the gates of Hell.
The hairs on their arms bristled and every muscle in their bodies was as tense as if it’d been coated in quick drying cement. But, as they rounded the corner, Earl let out a sigh that seemed to expel all the energy pent up in his arms and back with its gusto.
“See? What’d I tell ya? Sleepin’.”
Though the body was hidden by the back of the couch, the pair of bare feet propped on the arm were more than visible. Small and pale, they almost seemed dwarfed by the living room and Earl shook his head as he chuckled at himself for getting all worked up over nothing. He’d let that dumb ass brother of his spook him, that was all. Next time something like this happened, he would . . . .
Daryl’s hand tugged on Earl’s shirt as if he were trying to pull it off. Though the younger man didn’t say a word, his arm appeared over Daryl’s shoulder as he pointed to something in the room beyond with a trembling finger.
Following the trajectory of his brother’s arm, Earl’s eyes took in the far wall and he felt as if
the weight of his stomach had just plummeted to the floor. For scrawled across the cheap paneling in what looked like red finger paint were two words.
Welcome Home.
Only it wasn’t paint. Paint wouldn’t have those little clots stuck into the letters or that particular, metallic odor they had come to know so well.
“Mama!”
Earl ran to the couch with his brother fast behind him. But when they looked down upon the body sprawled across the cheap fabric, the world seemed to spin like a weathervane in a windstorm as Earl gasped for breath. He staggered backward until he was pressed against the wall and tried to blink through the vertigo that crashed over him. At the same time, Daryl sank to his knees and was shaking his head silently, as if he could somehow make the entire scene disappear if only he disagreed with it strongly enough.
The body on the couch was entirely naked and it’s chest cavity had been slit open from the base of the throat to halfway down the stomach. The folds of flesh were peeled back like a frog on a dissection tray, revealing the pink and red organs within. They could see the wrinkled intestines peeking up from the bottom of the gash like a kid on Christmas morning. The stomach, which somehow looked shriveled and much smaller than a stomach actually should. The ivory rib cage that protected the lungs and heart, strands of muscle and gristle, blood that had congealed to the point that it almost looked like jelly. Laid out for all to see as hands with two nail holes in the very center of the palms held back these grisly curtains of flesh, probably glued into place judging from the shiny coating around the fingers.
But it wasn’t the sight of their former captive splayed open that had made the boys feel as if their blood had turned to ice water. No . . . it was the pair of spectacles that lay on its solar plexus. The crimson smear across the cracked lenses.
Shut The Fuck Up And Die! Page 12