PillowFace

by Kristopher Rufty

  Smiling, he nodded.

  “Well, I wanted to find you and apologize about yesterday.”

  “For what?”

  “My boss.”

  “It’s all right, water under the bridge.” He made a rippling motion with his hand.

  “No, you don’t understand, it’s like…”

  Throwing his arms up as if surrendering he said, “Look, what you do in your life is your business, not mine. You don’t need to explain anything to me.”

  “What I do in my life?”

  “Yeah, he seems pretty possessive, though. I don’t like that.”

  Hearing what he was saying made her realize that he, like several in the office, thought her relationship with Jonesey was more than platonic. Relationship? Hardly, it felt like a forced marriage.

  “Oh, God, Alan; No! You’re wrong. I’m not seeing him, he’s just my boss. That’s all, honestly.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “That’s it, I swear.”

  “Just be careful how you handle it then, because he has his eyes on you.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because, he really has his eyes on you. He’s hiding in the historical romance section, watching us.”

  “What?” She glanced over, catching a head ducking down behind the shelves. “No way.” The head bopped back up like a groundhog coming out of its den to search for its shadow. When it spotted Haley, it ducked back down again.

  Jonesey.

  “That asshole,” she mumbled.

  “Tell you what,” he said. “Let’s head to the back, he can’t bother us there.”

  “The back?”

  “Yeah, my little private area. We’ll be safe there.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Come on.”

  Taking her by the hand, he led her away. She didn’t bother looking back to see if Jonesey was watching, because she didn’t care one way or the other.

  (II)

  Joel lay on his side, fitfully in and out of sleep. Weird dreams plagued his mind that featured Rusky, the naked lady Pillowface had disposed of, and Carlee. Each moment he found himself drifting off to sleep, a flutter of images would erupt, jolting him awake. He wished it was like last night, where he’d been so drained nothing bothered him.

  However, what had woken him this time was not a broken nightmare. It was footsteps, diminishing thuds heading away from him. They’d sounded so distant at first and yet so close. As his vigilance improved, he realized that they were in his room. Now he could hear them in the hall, then descending down the stairs.

  He rolled onto his back. The ceiling was a lake of gray above him. Shadows from outside skipped across. His eyes were itchy and felt as if they were crusted with sand. He wanted nothing more than to close them and go back to sleep, but he was afraid of what awaited him in dreamland.

  Freddy would be better to face than my own nightmares.

  He rolled onto his side, wondering if the footsteps had been a dream, also. Then he noticed a traced shape on his nightstand beside the lamp, rounded, and was the size of a melon, or ball. It hadn’t been there before.

  He gazed at it, filaments of frizzes spiraling from the top. As he reached for the lamp, his hand brushed across something soft, yet it was also dry and brittle. Stringy. Using his pinky to feel around, it slipped between the stringy substance and dried gunk. He tried dislodging his pinky, but it had become entwined. With his left hand occupied, he used the right to turn on the lamp. Light spewed from behind the shade, revealing an offering that had been left gift-wrapped in darkness.

  He screamed seeing what his fingers were tangled in. Hair. Blonde and matted in sticky clumps from dried blood. The face, staring back at him with bulged eyes and gaping mouth, was Tonya’s. Tracks of congealed blood trailed over her face like a map leading to the various bruises and welts. He snatched back his hand, bringing the head with it. Joel felt the jagged points of her spine rubbing against his crotch, then he saw its white stem extending from the fleshy stump that was her neck. Doused in blood, it hung disheveled in vein-like cords that smelled like copper and raw beef. He collapsed back onto the bed. The hair ripped away from the scalp, a piece of flesh was affixed to the roots. There was a sodden thunk when the head struck his floor.

  The bedroom became packed with a furor of screams.

  His screams.

  (III)

  Alan escorted Haley to a small card table in the back room of his petite store. From the loudness on the sales floor, it seemed deathly quiet back here. “Want something to drink?” he asked while walking to a refrigerator in the corner of the room. Beside it was a wooden stand with a microwave, toaster, and towers of Styrofoam plates, cups, and bowls on top. A coffee maker sat on the roof of the microwave, and a level of filters was next to the cups.

  “Sure,” answered Haley. “What do you have?”

  “Oh, the hard stuff. Coke, Pepsi, Dr. Pepper.” He opened the fridge, awaiting her decision.

  “Dr. Pepper?” He nodded. “Cherry or regular?”

  He looked impressed. “Both, but more cherry than regular.”

  “Cherry.”

  “Ah, I knew it.”

  “I figured you did.”

  “You said a couple weeks back that was your favorite soft drink.”

  “Wow, you remembered that?”

  “I have a great memory. It’s a curse and a gift.” He reached inside the fridge, and returned with two cans of cherry Dr. Pepper. As he extended his hand he popped the tab with his thumb. Some red-tinted cola fizzed out, but nothing exploded, which was good. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks,” she said, taking the can. “I think a good memory is a blessing. I can hardly remember this morning.”

  He laughed, cracked open his own soda, and sipped. “People that don’t have my memory say that, but trust me, they’d sing a different tune if they did.”

  Taking a swig, she felt the burbling of a belch in her chest. It never failed with soda. She slowly exhaled, keeping her mouth closed as it bubbled, then released. She turned her head, blowing the fumes of coffee and Dr. Pepper away from Alan. When she was certain none of it lingered in her mouth, she turned back to him, and said, “Why do you say that? If you have a great memory, you’ll never forget birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays. I could go on and on.” She took another sip, and could already feel another belch coming.

  “Yeah, that’s the Jedi side of it. But, the dark side is also never being able to forget when someone’s lied to you, or forgotten your birthday, made a promise and didn’t keep it. It also makes it incredibly hard not to hold a grudge.” He guzzled a few swallows, shook his head. “A lot of the time, I hate it.”

  A burp tore from Haley’s mouth, startling Alan enough for him to drop his drink. Seeing his can hit the floor and eject soda like an erupting volcano almost made her cry. “I’m so sorry!” She twirled in a circle, not knowing what to do first. Get something to clean it up, let him handle it, or run out of the store screaming. Settling for neither, she cupped a hand over her eyes and plopped down in a chair by the table. She pressed the weight of her humiliation against her palm.

  She could hear Alan snickering. Raising her head enough to see, she asked “What’s so funny? The fact I burped or my reaction to making you spill your drink?”

  “Well, both, but that’s not why I’m laughing.”

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “Because, I’m never gonna forget this.”

  Groaning, she said, “Me neither.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  (I)

  “You can’t do that!” shrieked Joel.

  In the basement, Pillowface sat in a chair like a kid in the principal’s office. His head hung low. Fidgeting with his fingers, he listened to Joel freak out while pacing back and forth.

  “She’s my neighbor! What are we going to do now?”

  It sounded so wrong and inexcusable hearing Joel put it like that. Yes, he had killed her, but it was a warranted executio
n. She’d sustained the urges and thoughts his dream had brought on. It had helped him to avoid unleashing his wrath on someone else, like Haley. He’d chosen to inflict his internal pain on the neighbor girl so she could understand just what he battled on the inside by turning her into a visual landscape of what he’d become: a monster.

  Tonya was someone that didn’t deserve the beauty she’d been blessed with. He remembered what Joel had said, how she’d let him fondle her just so he’d feel better about someone dying. She was partly responsible for the demeaning of the human race.

  He’d done the world a favor.

  She’d deserved it.

  And he’d brought home a token. Just as always, he’d kept a piece of the body as a souvenir, a reminder. This time, he hadn’t kept it for himself to disfigure like he would the others. He’d given it to Joel as a gift, a way to let him know that he appreciated all that he’d done for him. She was pretty to him, and Pillowface thought that Joel would have valued the gesture.

  He’d been wrong.

  Joel was just too young, too green to understand.

  “You did hide the body, didn’t you?” asked Joel, stopping his gaiting long enough to look at him.

  Pillowface, lowering his head even more, used his movements to confess that he had not. Actually, he’d left her in the bedroom, strewn about here and there and everywhere.

  “Great, just great. I bet it’s a mess over there, isn’t it?” Pillowface shrugged. “What are we going to do? They’ll find you, take you away! I’ve got to think.” He waved his finger at nothing particular and returned to pacing. Stepping a few feet one way, he’d stop, turn around, and come back only to repeat this process again and again and again…

  After several laps, Joel finally turned around beaming. “I’ve got an idea. We’ll head back over there and clean it up. Then we’ll take the body and hide it in the woods.” He seemed to be waiting for an ecstatic response, but didn’t get one. What he did get was a blank stare behind an inch of burlap. “Listen, I know you’re used to just leaving them where you killed them. But, this is the real world. Your rules don’t apply here. You go by that slasher movie guidebook, kill ‘em all, violently and gory. But here they have investigators, scientists, people that can examine these murder scenes and figure out who did it. They use technology to do it.”

  As Joel explained what the technology was, he began to wonder just who the hell he had confused him for. Pillowface was an ex-military sergeant, one that had fought all over the world, seen more in a day than this kid had experienced in his lifetime. Yet, he spoke to him like a hillbilly woodsman that didn’t know his ass from a pussy patch. Or as if he wasn’t real, like something from a movie. For the first time since their introduction, Pillowface questioned Joel’s sanity.

  “What I’m saying is we’ve got to go next door. Do you agree?”

  He nodded, but really he wondered what the point was.

  “I’ll be right back, gonna get some stuff to clean it up with.”

  While Joel gathered the supplies, Pillowface waited outside, staring into the woods. He wondered how long it would be before Buddy and Carp found him. He was surprised it had taken them this long, but he doubted it would be much longer.

  He heard the bumping and rattling of a bucket as Joel tottered out of the house, having trouble carrying all of the shit he’d gathered. In one hand he held a mop with a bucket lagging behind him in the other. The plastic pail whacked the backs of his legs with each clumsy step. Joel had placed an unopened pack of sponges, some soap, and two bags of rubber gloves inside the bucket with a few plastic booties and shower caps. Where he’d found all this, Pillowface had no clue, but at least the boy was prepared.

  “I think I’ve got everything.” He stopped in front of him, panting. Not only did he act tired, he looked it. Pillowface reached out and took the bucket, patting him on the back. Joel nearly collapsed against him from exhaustion. He put a hand against the boy’s chest, helping him stay balanced. “I’m okay, just a little beat, and thirsty, but it can wait. We’ve got to get this done before someone comes home.” Starting to walk towards the neighbors’ house, he stopped to glance back at Pillowface. “No one was home when you did this, right?”

  Head-shake.

  “Okay, thank God for that.” Joel made a face, as if wincing that he’d brought God’s name into this ghoulish scenario.

  Joel, with the mop hanging over his shoulder, led the way. Walking alongside the fence, they circled around the back, and entered the yard through the rear gate. The same path Pillowface had ventured earlier.

  While Joel waited at the side patio doors, Pillowface quietly pried the back door enough that the tongue pulled away from the mouth in the panel. With no deadbolt on the rear door, he was able to do this easier than the first time. No tools were required, only pure strength. He shimmied it back and forth until it popped. Then he slowly opened the door. The wood was splintering; if he did this again the frame would probably break.

  Inside, the house was dark. What little light there was came from the moon outside, casting slashes of gray this way and that. Pillowface didn’t need it. His own eyes would guide him through the oily blackness.

  He crossed the entrance-way, the living room, den, and the kitchen. Joel awaited him on the other side of the glass doors. This house’s layout was very similar to Joel’s; the only difference he’d noticed so far was the outside color. He had no trouble walking through it.

  Joel waved as he approached. Pillowface unlocked the door, then stepped back as he opened it, giving him all the room he needed to carry in the mop. The handle clanged against the frame, a metallic vibrating clamor resounded through the tranquil house.

  “Whoops,” whispered Joel. Once they were both inside, Pillowface slammed the door shut behind him. Its echo was much louder than the mop’s.

  Wincing, Joel said, “Trying to give me a heart attack?” He shook his head. “Sheesh. Let me have the bucket.” As if treading on ice, Joel lightly stepped into the kitchen. He propped the mop against the doorway on his way in. As Pillowface entered, Joel was already standing at the sink filling the bucket with hot water.

  After he finished, they headed upstairs. Joel, carrying the bucket, was careful not to spill a drop. They arrived at Tonya’s closed bedroom door. Joel put down the bucket, resting a minute while waiting for Pillowface to catch up. Sticking his hand under his shirt, he used it as an improvised glove on the doorknob. While he turned the knob, Pillowface wished he could somehow warn him of what he would witness inside, prepare him for the canvas of brutality behind the door. Deep down he knew there was no real way of doing that and decided to just throw him in the water and see if he could swim.

  Joel vomited when he saw what remained of Tonya: a mangled torso on the bed. Naked, legs spread. Headless, disemboweled, moors of intestines uncoiled and stretched across the room. Blood had splattered the sheets, the floor, and the walls, filtering the room’s radiance in a red gloom like the inside of a dingy bar.

  Her head, of course, was nowhere to be found. It sat back in Joel’s room, on his nightstand. Its open mouth gawkily contorted, and the milk-like eyes creamy with no color.

  Heaving, he wiped tears from his eyes, took another look, and threw up harder than before.

  (II)

  Alan finished wiping the spilled soda with the last of his paper towels. He raised the cardboard roll above his head and said, “Well, that took care of that. I need to get some more.”

  Haley was so red she wondered if traffic was stopping outside. “I’m sorry. God, at least let me pay for some new paper towels.”

  “Nah, I wouldn’t dream of it.” He stood up, tossing the cardboard cylinder into the trash. It bunked off the wall and went in. Holding his hands out, he turned around with a smirk.

  “Good shot.”

  “And, thank you very much for noticing.” He glanced back at the floor. “See any that I missed?”

  “Besides your shirt? No.”

  He l
ooked down at his soda-speckled shirt. “Yeah, not much I can do about that. Do you think it’ll stain?”

  It most definitely would. She groaned. “I’m so sorry.” She kicked her feet at the floor. “I feel like such a dumbass.”

  He laughed. “Brains have nothing to do with it.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You burped and it scared the shit out of me. I should feel like the dumbass.”

  “Oh, whatever. It was all my fault.”

  “Fine.” He joined her at the table, and took a seat. “If you must shoulder the blame, then I’ll oblige.” He sighed. “It’s all your fault.”

  “Thank you.” She looked at the cleaned area and frowned. “Not to be a wet blanket, but that’s going to have to be mopped or it’ll be sticky and attract ants. With it being summer, you’ll get them for sure.”

  “Are you volunteering?”

  “Please?”

  “If you feel like you really have to. The stuff’s in the cabinet under the microwave.”

  “Thank you.” She hurried to the cabinet. Squatting, she sifted through it and rose with a bucket, Pine-Sol, and sponge. “Where’s the mop?” He pointed behind her. She turned around and saw it leaning against the fridge. “Ah.” She put the bucket in the sink, unscrewed the cap from the Pine-Sol, and emptied what was left inside.

  “Okay,” he said, “You’re getting expensive.”

  She looked at him over her shoulder. “What?”

  “Not only will I have to buy paper towels, I’ll have to add Pine-Sol to the list.”

  Laughing, she said, “I volunteered to buy the paper towels, you declined.”

  “I’m beginning to regret my decision.”

  She laughed again, but suddenly stopped. “Hmm…” After a moment, she shrugged her shoulders and went back to work.

  “What was that?” asked Alan with an obvious frown in his voice.

  “Huh?” she asked without looking back. The water had finally become warm enough to allow in the bucket. She tilted it back, letting it fill.