On that, he reached behind his head. Fingering through the doused fabric, he found the thin string of twine. The knot was small and had grown tighter through time. He doubted his chunky fingers could unhook it. Instead of trying to untie it, he tugged, pulling until the twine dug into the creases of his fingers, and slit them open. Then he pulled harder until the thread snapped. He tossed it over the shower curtain. The hood hung over his head like a wet towel. Some of it was engrossed in the scar tissue on his face. Pulling it loose would hurt, but he didn’t care. He wanted to feel the water on his face.
It had been too long…
He tore the pillowcase from his head, like ripping a bandage off hair. It burned, but only briefly. His face felt free, as if it could breathe, welcoming the warm steam on his damaged skin. It’d been so long since he’d removed the mask that it had become a part of him. Literally. His wounds had healed into the fabric. Tearing it free like that had opened some of them up again. Some dead-skin chunks dropped off his face and into the tub. The blood turned the clear water pooling around his feet a pinkish shade, and with the added lumps of skin it looked like a grotesque mixed-drink.
He was tempted to touch his face, to feel the damage that had been done to him all those years ago, but he didn’t have the courage to do so. He’d only dared once to see and that had been enough for him to never want to acknowledge it again.
He resisted the urge.
Then, sticking his face into the water, he embraced the downpour. Though it burned like hell, he didn’t turn away. It wasn’t long before the stinging stopped.
Soon, it felt wonderful.
CHAPTER FIVE
(I)
Face never kept them waiting longer than an hour, and it had been damn near half a day since he’d left. Buddy was far beyond concerned as he stood outside the makeshift barracks, assembled from old wood and tarps shortly after they’d settled on this mountain. The location had been fine at first, but recent land developments had been moving in closer and closer. They’ll be discovered if they don’t move on. Buddy figured they probably had three months left, tops, before they had to find somewhere else to station.
Where the hell is he?
He could hear the crunching of leaves from approaching footsteps, their light density revealing the hiker to be Carp. Face sounded like a bear when he went tramping through the forests.
Though Carp wore full camouflage fatigues, he could always pinpoint him in the rough. His eyes were used to it.
“Did you find him?” he asked Carp.
Shaking his head, Carp stepped up the side, using the protruding rocks like stairs. “No, the girl’s gone too.”
“What?”
“Went back to where we left her. Found the barbwire hanging there, pieces of that bitches skin stuck in the loops.”
“But, no girl?”
“No. No girl.”
Placing his hands on his hips, Buddy stared at the ground. Carp could tell he was getting angry. Buddy wasn’t a muscular man, barely six foot tall, and he stood with a slouch. If it came down to it, Carp could dice Buddy up without much effort. Yet, something about Buddy was more scary and intense than Carp or Face put together. It was how he could talk to people and come across as perfectly normal, when in fact he was nowhere near it.
He ran a hand through his short, spiky hair. “Face doesn’t just disappear like that without good reason.”
“Well, he’s done it before. I know you haven’t forgotten.”
Nodding, Buddy did remember.
Face had unloaded from the bus looking like the invisible man. Head bandaged up, all you could see was his eyes. It just so happened, a little girl no older than six or so, was also at the station and found it hysterical that he was dressed like that. She couldn’t stop her high-pitched laughter. Buddy had said, “Just ignore her, Face.” Then she pointed at him, and called him Pillowface; Buddy guessed because his face was white and fluffy from the gauze, like a pillow. No matter how much her parents tried to make her, she wouldn’t shut up. Finally, the mother popped her on the mouth, and told her to stop being rude.
Buddy figured that was why Face had let the parents live, but the little brat hadn’t stood a chance. When he found Face with her it looked as if she had exploded. There was blood, skin, and innards scattered all over the forest. And, none of it was his. Face had been missing for three days before Buddy found him with the little girl. Kimmy was her name. He’d taken her from her bedroom in the middle of night, even bringing her goddamn favorite pillow along. After he’d destroyed her, he’d begun to wear the pillow case over his head to hide his scars, and to also use it as a symbol. That was when he’d demanded to be called Pillowface. Buddy never had, because he felt his name should remain what it was on his dog tags.
Face.
But, he wasn’t the same man he used to be.
Hell, thought Buddy, none of us are.
That was why they’d come here. To start over, going after them one at time, showing them just how horrible their homeland could be. They’d been betrayed by their own country. Now, it was time for them to betray it right back.
“What do you want to do?” asked Carp. He removed his hat, scratched his sweaty head, flipping his hair all over.
“I guess we’ll wait. If he’s not back by sunrise, we’ll go looking for him.”
And find him one way or another.
(II)
Joel found the key to his parent’s room hidden in Haley’s jewelry box. He’d have to be sure he put it back when he was done. Didn’t need her knowing he’d been snooping around in her room.
He unlocked the door and went inside. The closed curtains blocked most of the sunlight from outside. The dark red veneer hanging in front of the window illuminated the room like an inferno. Not wanting to be in there any longer than he had to, he rushed to the closet.
He sifted through clothes, eventually finding some camouflage pants. Then he found a paper bag packed full of what Dad called his grease monkey shirts. Those he’d wear while changing the oil in the cars or doing any other repair work that he could handle himself.
He took two; one was dark blue and the other gray.
He put the key back in Haley’s jewelry box on his way back to his room. He marched straight to the work table to find the mask he’d made out of burlap for a scarecrow prop he’d planned to build. Having started it several times, he had never actually finished it. Joel took it from the Styrofoam head and quickly left the room.
(III)
He rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. The pleasure from his tingling scalp was nearly orgasmic. It’d been too long since he’d gotten the chance to do this. After finishing, he took the loofah from under the basket.
He used his thumb to flick open the bottle of liquid soap, then squirted a large mound onto the sponge-like ball. He put the soap back and began scrubbing. This didn’t feel as good as it had washing his hair. The wounds and open slashes screamed at him. He kept on though, knowing that he had to clean them before dressing them. Hopefully, he’d get rid of any type of infection before it was too late.
He heard the door creak, followed by a light knocking.
“It’s me.” He heard Joel say, through the water in his ears.
The gash on his chest throbbed when the soapy water filled it. He screwed his eyes shut, and punched the wall it hurt so badly.
“I don’t want to peek, just give me a thumbs up if you’re okay.”
Slowly, he raised a trembling fist above the shower curtain, lifting his thumb upward to tell him all was well. But, all was not well. He was in some grisly pain.
“Okay, good. You scared me.”
The kid was silent a moment.
“Hey, uh--I have something for you if you want it. It’s the mask you were looking at earlier. The one you were wearing looked pretty bad off and I thought maybe you’d like this one. I made it myself.”
He stood under the water, listening as Joel continued.
“Here’s the st
uff you needed.” He heard footsteps toward the door. “I’ll leave you alone to take care of all that; I’m going to toss these dirty clothes. Don’t want my sister finding them.”
There was some rustling, assumedly from a plastic trash bag.
“When you’re done, just push that switch to turn off the shower, then twist the dial to cut off the water.”
The door bumped as Joel exited.
After waiting another moment to make sure Joel wasn’t coming back, he left the water running as he stepped out of the shower. He stood on the floor mat, dripping onto the carpeted square, and reached over the toilet, filling both hands with supplies Joel had left him on the sink.
Then he returned to the shower, keeping his back to the jetting streams.
He twisted the cap off the peroxide and raised the bottle above his head. He took a deep breath, then upturned the bottle. A peroxide shower ignited the openings in his body like liquid fire. He gritted his teeth against the pain. When it had subsided enough that he could move on, he chucked the empty bottle over the shower curtain.
Next he took the spool of thread, pulled out a lengthy line, and used his teeth to snip it off. Then he carefully removed one of the small needles from the pack, and fed the string through the tiny hole. After tying it into a knot, he was ready to begin.
Using his free hand, he pulled up a slab of skin. He pressed the needle’s point to the skin and inserted it. Surprisingly, it barely hurt. Felt like nothing more than a briar prick until he tugged it through the other side. By doing that he felt more pain, but still not as much as he should. He assumed numbness was settling in, his body’s natural sedative, and as he continued to sew himself up, the pain became less acute until it wasn’t there at all.
CHAPTER SIX
(I)
With her feet propped on the desk, her bare legs exposed, Haley read from a paperback copy of Dean Koontz’s Bad Seed. She’d seen the movie as a kid on TV and remembered loving it. However, reading the book made her not like the film adaptation as much as she had growing up. The computer system had so much more personality in the book. She pitied it. The way it wanted to live just so it could hold the woman it loved. God, she would almost sell her soul to have someone love her half as much as the computer loved the woman in the story.
She really didn’t mean it. Because of the phone calls at home from whomever that pervert was, she found herself identifying more and more with Susan in the story. Actually, they had an awful lot in common. Stalkers. She wanted to laugh, but couldn’t since there was a possibility someone was obsessed with her. She’d called the cops more than once, but they’d done very little, and basically made it sound as if they wouldn’t do anything unless he physically harmed her. The best hope for her was to try not to let him frighten her.
Yeah right.
She’d had guys in her life that had actually claimed to love her, but she’d turned them away. Haley could be quite the heartbreaker, and couldn’t justify why she was such a bitch to the ones that truly seemed to care. Was she a loner? Did she enjoy the sadness of solitude? God, she hoped not. Yet, she had never been able to come up with a better explanation. But, no matter how desperate she became, she would never dress the way Carlee had today just to impress a guy. That had been just way too much. Luckily, she’d convinced her to go home and change.
Haley felt sorry for her. She’d obviously been planning this, and knowing Carlee, she was probably sick with dread trying to decide what to wear, how she should style her hair, and what to say in hopes John Kilward would swoon over her, beg her to accompany him to dinner or a movie.
Poor girl. Poor, dumb, girl.
Someone knocked at her door, blunt and heavy.
Probably Carlee wanting to make sure I approve her new attire.
“Come in,” she said, without taking her eyes away from the book. She wanted to finish the paragraph she was on before dog-earing the page.
“Is this how you greet everyone that comes into your office or am I just special?”
Oh, shit!!!! Quick to react, Haley slammed the book, cover down, on her desk. She jerked her feet off the top, swung the chair around, and put her legs underneath.
“Mr. Jones…? Wow…hello.”
Geoffrey Jones, her boss, was adjusting his suit, as he flung the door closed behind him in one quick swoop. He’d been tugging at his tie when he’d noticed her velvety legs were angled up on the desk, shoes on the floor, and her bare feet were arched with twinkling toes. He had seen a lot more of her than she’d ever wanted him to.
Humiliated, her dusky skin flushed scarlet, liquid fire surged through her.
“Come on now, you know better than to call me Mr. Jones.” He pulled at his tie again. Then he slid both hands over his thinning hair, weighed down by so much gel it glimmered in the fluorescent light. His sloping nose sniffed, his head bobbed as if moving to a beat. His facial structure had always reminded Haley of the rat from Charlotte’s Web. The way his nose crinkled, he looked as if he were sniffing for cheese.
“Right, I forgot, sorry. Geoffrey, this is unexpected.”
“Close, but not quite.”
“Geoff?”
“Bingo!” He chuckled, his arrogance shining almost as brightly as his hair.
“So, what brings you by?”
“Well, I was just on my way to lunch.”
“Oh?”
“Yep.”
She sat silently, wondering what his point was, or if he even had one. He rarely did. Normally when he peeked his head in, he’d say a few awkward comments about her neck, and be on his way.
Holding his arms out, he slowly rolled them over each other as if trying to persuade her understanding. “Come on Haley, I was on my way to lunch and…” He waited.
“And?” she asked back.
His smile oozed above his chin. “And, I realized I didn’t have a date.”
Help me.
“Oh…?”
“That’s right. And, I was wondering if you would help me correct this problem?”
“Geoff, are you sure that would be appropriate?”
He scoffed, as if offended by the question. “Haley? This is just lunch, of course it would be, plus I am your boss, so I’m demanding that you come with me and make me a happy man.” He picked at a piece of lint on the sleeve of his cheap suit, then flicked his fingers until the pesky flake was gone.
“Isn’t that your wife’s job?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she already wished she hadn’t uttered them. She was well aware that she did not want to go with him to lunch, but damn it, she didn’t want to get fired either. With the morning she’d had, getting fired halfway through the day would be a great way to top it off.
To her surprise—and relief—he laughed. Smirking, he stepped up to her desk, obviously taking her comment as a challenge. She eased her chair away from him as he leaned over; placing both hands on her desk. “If she was making me a happy man, would I be in this office right now?”
She sighed. “Touché.” Haley knew that if she told him no, he’d keep bugging her until she eventually caved, and things at work would probably become awkward. But, she was pretty certain that if she told him yes, then he’d make it a trend. What else would he try? What wouldn’t he try seemed a better fit. Would he take this as her welcoming his advances? If she went to lunch, would he expect more? A special thank you, perhaps? “But, just so you know, all this is, what we’re doing, is lunch. Nothing else.”
“Absolutely. What else would it be?” He was lying. She could read it through his bleached white teeth.
She felt trapped, cornered. “I’m a cheap companion, but I like to eat classy.”
“And, that’s where I come in. You like to eat costly, and I can afford the cost. We make a perfect team.”
She chose to ignore his last statement. “I’ll meet you at the elevator.”
“I’m happier already.” He walked to the door, stole a glance of her from over his shoulder, then left.
The
office was pummeled with stillness.
It’s just lunch. He’ll treat you to a nice meal, better than the pig-slop you’ve been feeding yourself and Joel for the last several weeks. It’ll be okay. Just put up with him for an hour, maybe a little more, and get a good meal out of it. How bad could it be?
Plenty.
What had she done?
(II)
Joel sat at his desk, the search engines pulled up on his laptop, determined to find out all he could—if anything—about this man. There had to be something online, a story or an article about either an eyewitness, or a…murder.
He typed into the search-bar: Unsolved Murders in NC history.
Enter.
The links filled nearly two hundred pages. Groaning, he didn’t know where to begin. Some were dated as far back as the twenties. He decided to narrow it down the best he could. Trying again, this time he typed: Recent Unsolved Murders in NC.
Enter.
A slightly smaller list of websites with article links popped up. Scrolling through the pages, he found something on the third that caught his eye.
Missing Hikers in Danover.
A small town on the other side of the mountain. Sounded like it could be his guy.
It was dated April 29th, almost three months ago. He clicked it.
The article loaded immediately. He whispered it as he read. It helped him focus. Often when he read his mind would wander, thinking of things other than the words in front of him.
“Two bodies found near Oak Hollow. Has to be him.” He scrolled the pointer down a few sentences to where the article began. “Early Wednesday morning, a group of water skiers discovered the bodies of Anthony Hern and Shannon Hammond floating in the waters of Canopy Creek. Amputated, mutilated, and covered with stab wounds, pieces of the body had been removed. Blah-blah-blah….” He skipped lower. “The pieces of meat looked as if they’d been removed by a butcher…..”
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