Blister

by Jeff Strand

  "I know that. But what did he say?"

  "He said that you were a depraved pervert."

  "Did he?"

  "Yes."

  "Because I had a romantic interest in his daughter?"

  "Yep."

  "No offense, but your dad sucked."

  "He certainly did." Rachel snuggled against me more tightly. "I love you, Jason. You don't have to say it back."

  "I love you, Rachel."

  "I gave you permission not to say it back."

  "I know."

  "Can I ask you a question, if I promise not to be mad at your answer?"

  "Sure."

  "I swear I won't be mad."

  "I believe you."

  "Do you have a condom?"

  "I think so." I knew I did. I hadn't packed them specifically for this trip, but I hadn't unpacked them after my last one.

  "Good."

  "Any special reason you're asking?"

  "Don't worry, I'm not asking you to demonstrate superhuman endurance. Whenever you're ready."

  "Give me ten minutes," I said.

  "Okay."

  "Eight if you keep doing that with your hand."

  "I'm not doing anything. Ignatz, stop that!"

  "Har har. I can see him on the floor."

  "So you're a depraved pervert but not into bestiality. That's a relief."

  "Now it's eleven minutes."

  "I'll accept responsibility for that. Go get the condom."

  * * *

  I thought it went pretty damn well. I was gentle, we got through the process with no major blunders, and when it was over Rachel didn't say, "Well, that was a frickin' waste of time."

  We held each other for a while, not saying much of anything. Then I got another condom, and we went at it like...well, not like wild animals or anything. I wasn't a superhuman sex machine. We were just a little more rambunctious this time.

  I'm sure Rachel could have gone another round, but my time was over. If she woke me up in the middle of the night demanding that I satisfy her ravenous carnal urges, I could probably oblige, but for now my plan was to walk Ignatz and hope that my dreams were inspired more by the end of the day than that whole middle part.

  "Remember, you have to come back," said Rachel, as I got dressed. "If I hear an engine revving and tires squealing, my feelings will be hurt."

  "Should I leave the car keys?"

  "Yes, please. Unless you were going to get us more condoms."

  "We still have eight."

  "Like I said, unless you were going to get us more condoms."

  "Sure you're not a succubus?"

  "I make no promises."

  I attached Ignatz's leash to his collar, leaned over the bed and gave Rachel a kiss, then left the room.

  I walked Ignatz to a grassy area outside and waited for him to do his business. Ignatz always seemed to relish the idea that I, ostensibly the master, had to stand around waiting for him to take a dump, and he sniffed around, in no particular hurry.

  A large pickup truck pulled up next to us. It had been parked elsewhere in the motel's lot. There were four men in the back, but I only recognized two of them: Louie and Erik, my former buddies from Doug's Booze Wasteland. At least Holly wasn't there to encourage another fight. They jumped out of the truck.

  "Still here, huh?" Louie asked, as the other two men, who looked Malcolm's age, also jumped out of the truck. All four of them had aluminum baseball bats. I didn't think they were inviting me to join their league.

  "Yeah," I said. "Still here."

  "That was a mistake." Louie strode toward me, holding his bat in the air as if ready to crack my skull.

  I backed away. "Come on, Louie. This is ridiculous."

  He took a swing at my head, but I was almost positive he missed on purpose. He was still just trying to intimidate me.

  Ignatz barked at him. Unfortunately, a miniature Schnauzer did not produce the same level of intimidation as, say, a Rottweiler. One of the older men, a mostly bald, potbellied, sweaty guy who still looked damn scary with a baseball bat, also walked over to us.

  Louie swung his bat again. He definitely wasn't trying to hit me. But as I stepped back, he dropped the bat and scooped Ignatz up into his arms. The other guy gave the leash a violent tug and the handle popped out of my hands. Ignatz let out a frightened squeal.

  While Louie held him tight, the other guy grabbed Ignatz's front leg. "Make a wish."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  "If you hurt my dog, I will kill you," I said, trembling with rage and worry. "I don't care how many baseball bats you have, I will kill you. I don't care if you've got a shotgun in that truck, I will kill you. I will kill all of you. I will kick your fucking teeth out of your heads. I will rip your fucking chests open. I will break off your exposed ribs and stab you in the fucking eyeballs with them. I will scalp you with my bare hands; I'll just dig my fingernails underneath the skin and rip your scalps right off, and then I'll wad them into a fucking ball and shove them down your fucking throats so that you choke on your own fucking head-skin. I will break your fucking toes. I will break your fucking fingers. I will punch a hole in your fucking stomach. Do not hurt my dog. Put him down."

  One of the other older men jumped out of the back of the truck. "I didn't come out here to hurt a dog."

  "Me either," said Erik. "Hurting a dog is about as rotten as it gets. You know you're on the wrong side when you start threatening dogs."

  The man let go of Ignatz's leg. "Yeah, I can see where they're coming from. The dog didn't do anything to anybody. He's not even trying to bite."

  "All right, we won't hurt your dog," said Louie, setting Ignatz back on the ground. "I apologize for that. We all got a little worked up while we were waiting for you to come out." He picked up the baseball bat again and waved it at me. "But this doesn't mean that you're safe. It's time for you to leave town."

  "I'd be happy to go!" I said. "The only reason I'm still here is that the sheriff told me not to leave! I hate this town!"

  "What the hell is going on here?" asked Rachel, storming out of the motel room. She was, thank goodness, fully clothed.

  Louie looked over at her, and his lip curled up in disgust. If he made some sort of comment about her face, I'd be forced to...stand there angrily, I suppose. I wasn't going to throw a punch at somebody who had a bunch of friends with baseball bats.

  Rachel walked over to me. "Mr. Hastings? Mr. Clower? What are you doing here?"

  Mr. Clower was the one who wanted to snap Ignatz like a wishbone. He looked at the ground. "A young man died today," he said.

  "I know. Dad killed him."

  "He wasn't a fine young man. He creeped most of us out. But we can't have citizens of our community getting murdered without there being consequences."

  "The consequence being, we want you to get out of town," said Louie.

  I tore the gauze off my face. "This is what Allen did to me!"

  "Nobody is saying he wasn't a madman," said Mr. Clower. "His mom and dad raised him poorly. But people didn't get hacked to death before you showed up, regardless of their mental state."

  I pointed to Rachel. "The whole thing with her happened five years before I got here! What is wrong with you people?"

  Then I understood. Rachel knew Mr. Clower and Mr. Hastings because they'd been friends with her father.

  "Were you guys there when Malcolm murdered Brandon Keaton?" I asked.

  Mr. Clower looked away.

  "We're not trying to dredge anything up, okay?" I said. "We're leaving. We're leaving now."

  "Who's Malcolm?" Louie asked. "I thought Brandon ran away."

  "He did," said Mr. Clower.

  "No, he didn't," said Rachel. "You watched my dad kill him, and then you helped hide the body."

  Louie looked confused. "What? There's a hidden body?"

  "She doesn't know what she's talking about," said Mr. Clower.

  "Yes, she does," I said. "I've never known a town that's worse at keeping secre
ts. Your town hall probably has a plaque to commemorate the occasion."

  "This might be more than I wanted to get involved in," said Louie.

  "How are you all even associated?" I asked.

  "You made me look bad in front of Holly, so Erik and I decided to track you down. We figured you were shacking up with Blister, so we drove over there, but it was all blocked off with crime scene tape, so we figured you weren't in there, so—"

  "He doesn't need the whole story," said Mr. Clower.

  "I think it's relevant. We got there, and these guys showed up—"

  "They showed up right after you got there?" I asked.

  "Well, no, Erik and I smoked some weed first. I guess we were there for an hour or so."

  "Maybe an hour and a half," said Erik.

  "That long?"

  "It was good weed."

  "Yeah, you're right. Anyway, about an hour or an hour and a half later, these guys showed up. We asked what they were doing, and they said nothing, and we said we were there to scare you off, and they said they were there for the same reason, so we figured, hey, common purpose. We decided that if you weren't there, you were at a motel, and there aren't many motels in the area, so we found your car pretty easy. Then we just hung out in the parking lot and smoked some more weed."

  "I smoked no weed," said Mr. Clower.

  "You sure? I passed it to you."

  "I'm sure."

  "Your loss."

  "You all just drove over together?" asked Rachel.

  Louie shook his head and pointed. "Nah, we're parked over there."

  "But you just happened to have enough baseball bats for everyone?" I asked.

  "We're part of a league," said Mr. Clower. "We have mitts and caps in the back, too. Do you want to see?"

  "No, I trust you."

  The guy who'd been driving the pickup truck rolled down the window and leaned out. "Should I just park somewhere else? I thought this was going to be quick."

  "We're almost done," said Mr. Clower. "Need anything else explained?"

  "No, I think we get it," said Rachel.

  "Then here's what's going to happen," said Mr. Clower. "We're going to escort you back home, and you're going to pack up whatever stuff you can't live without, and then both of you are going to leave town and never come back. Are we clear on that?"

  I glanced at Rachel. My desire to not be bossed around was mitigated somewhat by the fact that I wanted to leave Lake Gladys anyway, and I was pretty sure that Rachel had no problems abandoning her shed.

  "We're clear," she said.

  "Good. Then it's all going to be easy."

  * * *

  I got my stuff—which wasn't much, since most of it had burned in Chuck's cabin—out of the motel room and threw it into the trunk of my car. Then Rachel, Ignatz, and I drove toward her home, with the pickup truck and Louie's car following close behind.

  "You don't have to leave," I told Rachel. "Technically we're not supposed to. We could tell Sheriff Baker about this."

  "I'd like to leave. It actually sounds pretty great."

  I reached over and took her hand, even though I was usually a "both hands on the wheel at all times" kind of driver. Instead of giving my hand a gentle squeeze, since it was still sore from Allen stomping on it, Rachel stroked my fingers.

  "You can stay with me," I said. "It doesn't have to be permanent. Just until you find your own place. If you want your own place. If you don't, that's cool, too."

  "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

  "I'm saying that I won't kick you out, since you're suddenly homeless."

  "We'll see how much we get on each other's nerves."

  "Did I mention that your town sucks?"

  "You did, and it does."

  "And did I mention that I love you?"

  "Yes. Three or four times while we were having sex."

  "I love you."

  "I have to believe you, because of all the shit our love has put you through. I swear I'm not high maintenance. You'll see." She smiled. "And I love you, too."

  We arrived at her house and parked in front of the yellow crime scene tape. We were now adding another criminal act to our list, but this one was under duress, and I was pretty sure it was only a misdemeanor.

  The other men parked as well. "You have ten minutes," Mr. Clower informed me.

  Rachel and I ducked under the tape. "Is there anything you need from the main house?" I asked.

  "Just a suitcase."

  We went inside Malcolm's home and grabbed a couple of suitcases from his bedroom closet. Then we went over to Rachel's shed, where she put the open suitcases on her bed and began to throw clothes into them.

  "What can I do?" I asked.

  "Pack the owls."

  I began to take the owl drawings off the wall. Would Rachel miss this place after she was gone? As far as I was concerned, we could fling a few Molotov cocktails in here and give it the same treatment as Chuck's cabin, but it wasn't as if Rachel had been chained to the wall. There might be a weird nostalgic element for her.

  "They can't force you to leave everything behind," I said. "Once we get back and get settled, I'll hire a private investigator or somebody to come and collect everything else out of your dad's house."

  "I don't want any of it."

  "No, but we can at least sell it. I'm sure he's got some pictures and stuff that you want. We'll figure that out later; I just didn't want you to worry."

  "Thank you."

  There was a knock at the door.

  "Has it been ten minutes?" Rachel asked.

  "Those assholes wouldn't knock first." I went over and opened the door. Sheriff Baker stood there, looking extremely annoyed.

  "Hello, Mr. Tray," he said.

  "Hi."

  "You're causing me a lot of headaches."

  "We're not trespassing on a crime scene on purpose," I said. "They forced us to. They want us out of town. They were going to break my dog's leg."

  "Seriously? They threatened your dog?"

  "Yes!"

  "That's not right."

  "I know! There's something in the water supply or something. All Rachel and I want to do is be left alone. I know we're not supposed to leave town, but with your permission we'd like to get out of here. You've got my contact information. You can get a hold of me whenever you want."

  Baker sighed. "I wish it were that easy."

  "If we're not allowed to skip town, then you have to do something about those bozos out there. Give us twenty-four-hour protection. Does Lake Gladys have a safe house?"

  "I'm afraid it doesn't."

  "Then we're hanging out with you. Louie's pissed because I made him look like a jackass in front of his fiancé, and the other guys are scared that their involvement in Brandon's disappearance will be found out. Things are crazy. We need protection."

  "That won't be an issue," said Baker. "I'm here because we know that Rachel killed her father."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  "Oh," I said.

  Rachel set down the owl figurine she'd been about to put into the suitcase.

  "It's been a terrible day," said Baker. "I thought, what better way to unwind than by going to a movie? The Lake Gladys Cinema is closer, but they've only got the one screen, and the popcorn's better at the Banks. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

  "Yes, sir," said Rachel.

  "Bad luck," said Baker. "Both yours and mine. It's the kind of coincidence where you have to consider that maybe somebody upstairs is saying that you weren't meant to get away with it."

  I cleared my throat. "So did you..."

  "Yes, I opened the trunk."

  "Oh."

  "None of this was Jason's idea," said Rachel. "I threatened Jason at gunpoint to help me cover it up."

  "I see. And then you threatened him at gunpoint to have sex with you in his motel room?"

  Rachel considered that for a moment. "No. The sex was voluntary. How did you know about that?"

  "The j
ackasses waiting outside couldn't wait to tell me that you went back to his motel."

  "I'm sure they discussed it in a mature fashion," I said.

  "Yeah, uh-huh, that's what happened."

  "How did you know it was Rachel who shot him?" I asked.

  "Lucky guess. She had a lot more reason to kill him than you did." Baker ran a hand through his hair. "All I wanted to do was enjoy some popcorn and watch a movie. That's not so much to ask out of life, is it?"

  "You can still catch a later show," I said.

  "Don't try to be funny."

  "That wasn't funny. It was hopeful."

  "Don't try to be hopeful."

  "We were leaving town," I said, gesturing to the suitcases. "We'll be out of your hair. If you let us leave, this all goes away."

  "Is that so? I have a dead body hacked up with a meat cleaver. I have another dead body missing part of its skull. You're suggesting that by letting you skip town, my headaches disappear? Is that your grand scheme?"

  "It's not a perfect plan," I admitted.

  "Do you know why I'm the sheriff of a small town like this? Because nothing happens. Because my ulcers are supposed to come from teenagers vandalizing street signs or drunks getting into barroom brawls. I'd love nothing more than for you to pack up your things and go, but I've practically got a lynch mob waiting out there. I can't keep this contained. I did something in the past that I'm not proud of, and now it's gotten away from me, and I have to accept the repercussions. Now are you going to come with me peacefully, or do I have to put you in handcuffs?"

  "We'll come peacefully," said Rachel.

  Rachel and I walked out of the shed, followed closely by Baker. Louie, Erik, Mr. Clower, Mr. Hastings, and the fifth guy whose name I didn't know were standing just outside the police tape.

  "Go home!" Baker shouted at them.

  "Where are you taking them?" asked Mr. Clower.

  "Where do you think?"

  "Are you arresting them?"

  "I'm taking them in for questioning."

  "Do you really think that's a good idea?"

  "It's none of your concern if it's a good idea or not. Now clear out or I will start arresting people."

  "How is this not my concern?" asked Mr. Clower. "You're making a huge mistake."