by Brett McBean
“Just great,” he muttered to himself. “Way to go, Wayne.”
He turned on the tap and left his hand under the cold water until the blood had washed away. As soon as he brought his hand out of the water, blood began to flow steadily again.
This time he began picking out the pieces of glass splinters. The blood made his fingers and hand slippery. It was hard and took a while, but he eventually picked out all the visible pieces of the mirror. Then he ran his throbbing hand under the water, until it was clean again. He had left the bandages and antiseptic cream out in the other room, so Wayne wrapped a towel around his hand for the time being. Before he left the bathroom, Wayne looked up at the broken mirror, and grinned. The last image he had seen before he punched it was not of his own reflection, but of his father’s. And now it lay broken and useless.
But he knew that wouldn’t stop the voices. Nothing would ever stop his father from making his life hell. Even though he had died ten years ago from cancer.
But it would do for now; smashing that mirror had made him feel better, no matter that it wouldn’t last for long.
He opened the door and walked out into the golden glow of the candlelight. The bandages and cream were sitting on the round breakfast table near the front door. He wandered over and unwrapped the towel from around his hand. He placed the bloody towel on the table and picked up the cream.
“Had myself a little accident,” Wayne said.
The boy remained silent.
Wayne rubbed the cream into his numerous cuts, then wound the bandage around his right hand.
When he was done, he went back into the bathroom and picked up the knife from the sink. He washed it free from any glass and blood.
Walking back into the room, holding the knife in his left hand, Wayne smiled. “Never done this with my left hand. The knife I mean, not...well.” He laughed softly.
Wayne saw the boy stare at his hand. His eyes then darted to the one holding the knife. Wayne switched it to his right hand, while he shoved the towel back in the boy’s mouth. “Don’t want you saying that filthy word again. You only have yourself to blame, boy.”
He then switched the knife back to his left hand. He glanced over at the candles. They were still burning solidly, the flames waving with the gentle surges in the air. Wayne’s grotesque figure danced on the wall.
The radio was still playing on low volume – Wayne had turned it down after the boy had fainted. He now turned the sound up. He had missed the news report, but it didn’t bother him. He had heard it all before. The police had nothing new on him.
Wayne turned back to the boy. His hand was pounding with a dull ache, but he tried to ignore it. “I’ve got all night with you,” he said. “I’m going to have fun with you. Let you feel real pain. What do you think about that?”
“You...are...a...faggot.” Although the boy had his mouth stuffed with the towel, he pronounced every word slowly and as audible as possible.
A red-hot fire erupted in Wayne’s body. His hand began to shake, and his face perspire.
Wayne shuffled around to the foot of the bed. The boy lifted his head and peered down.
“You fuck,” Wayne barked. He thrust the knife into the underneath of the boy’s left foot. He hit right where the boy’s arch was. His body went into spasms. The scene looked strange, since the boy couldn’t move his legs. Wayne pulled the knife out, and an outpouring of blood gushed from the hole. Wayne did the same to the other foot. This time he worked the knife deep into the foot, grinding the blade, a callous grin on his face. Yanking out the blade, Wayne moved up to the boy’s heaving chest.
“Teach you to call me that,” he said.
With the tip of the knife, Wayne pierced the boy’s right nipple. He flicked and sliced at the small rubbery tip. Blood streamed down his white chest. Wayne took the knife away and placed his mouth over the nipple, which was half dangling off. He sucked and worked it in his mouth, flicking it occasionally with his tongue. He relished in the salty, metallic taste of the boy’s blood. He suddenly bit down on the small nipple and chewed it off. The boy’s screams added to Wayne’s thrill. He straightened up, and grinned, the nipple perched between his lips. He spat it out at the boy. It hit him on his left cheek, then bounced off onto the floor.
“That’s what you get for calling me a faggot,” Wayne said, panting hard. The acrid taste of blood in his mouth was a lot more pleasant than saying that word.
Wayne hated saying that word.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
She’s probably asleep,” Morrie said. “I’m not going over there now.”
“She won’t have gone to bed yet. You only left her place about twenty minutes ago. Besides, you said she stays up late. Come on, Morrie, we have to get out of here.”
Morrie sighed. He knew that Madge wouldn’t have gone to bed yet. She had told him that she more than likely wasn’t going to sleep at all tonight. But he didn’t want to disturb her again.
“It’s going to seem very suspicious if I go over and pay. Who pays at one o’clock in the morning when they’re already booked in?”
Judy was sitting on the edge of the bed. Her face looked pale and fatigued. However, she looked a lot better than Morrie felt.
“I’ll go then. I’m not staying here, Morrie.” She stood up. “Give me your wallet.”
Morrie sat up straight. He placed his hands on the round table. “I’ll do it,” he said softly. “At least she knows me. What do I tell her?”
Still standing, Judy ran her fingers through her long, tangled hair. “Tell her that we want to get away very early in the morning. And that you suddenly remembered you forgot to pay.”
Morrie blew out a long, worn out breath. He brought his right hand up to his temple and rubbed hard. “Okay. But I still think she’ll get suspicious. Especially when we all of a sudden start the car.”
“Jesus, Morrie. She probably won’t even hear it. And even if she does, she won’t know that it’s our car.”
“I suppose,” Morrie said.
“I just really want to leave as soon as we can,” Judy said. “Who cares what she thinks or suspects? We’ll be far gone.”
She walked over to Morrie, put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him with affection. “I love you, ya big lug.”
Morrie smiled and kissed her cold hands. “We’ll get through this, Judy.”
“I know,” she answered. Her voice sounded tired and defeated. She didn’t sound convinced. Morrie hoped that he could believe it as well, although, like his wife, he wasn’t sure if he did.
“You okay to drive? I know that you’re tired, but with that migraine of yours, will you be able to?”
Morrie patted her hands. “I’ll be fine. I’m wide awake.”
Judy let go and he stood up. He turned and faced her. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was the one who shot that kid. I was the one who didn’t pay when we arrived.”
Judy smiled and shook her head. Morrie didn’t think he’d ever seen Judy smile so warm and loving. “It was all a big accident. You thought he was going for a gun. It was self-defence. You were just protecting us.”
“I wonder if the courts would see it that way,” Morrie huffed.
“Go on,” Judy said. She patted him on the buttocks. “Hurry up so we can get out of here.”
Morrie nodded, pecked her on the cheek, then headed for the cabin door.
“Remember the story,” Judy called out to him. “And don’t forget to pay this time.”
At the door, Morrie turned around and grinned. “Very funny.” He zipped up his blue jacket then patted his jeans pocket. His wallet was sitting securely in his left pocket. He gripped the handle and opened the door.
“Don’t be too long,” he heard Judy say before he stepped out into the cold and gusty night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Al had been in the bathroom for fifteen minutes. Even with the door closed Eddy could hear
him moaning with anguish, not to mention the unpleasant splashes that accompanied them. So Eddy turned up the radio even louder, then lay back down on the bed. His hands were sore from handling the heavy revolver. It was now sitting on the bedside table, loaded and ready.
Outside, the wind had really picked up. He could hear it howling against the small cabin.
“That rain’s gonna come soon,” he said and sighed.
If it wasn’t bad enough that they had to cart a dead body up into the mountain, Mother Nature was going to give them a hellish storm to accompany them on their ghoulish deed.
Maybe it’s karma, Eddy thought.
He heard the toilet flush. He turned off the radio, stood up, then grabbed the gun. He lifted his shirt and slipped it down his pants. Al came timidly out of the bathroom.
“You all done?” Eddy said.
“I fucking hope so,” Al said.
“Man, that’s ripe. How do you feel?”
“How does it smell?” Al answered.
“Enough with the jokes. I mean seriously, how do you feel? Are you up for this?”
“I don’t think we have any other choice. We can’t leave the car here.” Al smiled weakly. “Besides, I don’t think I have any shit left in me.”
Eddy chuckled.
“I’ll be okay. Let’s do this.”
“You realise that it’s gonna rain soon? The radio said a fucking storm.”
“They’ve been saying that all night,” Al said. “It’s what, one-twenty, and it hasn’t rained yet.”
“Listen to the wind, man. I’m telling ya, the storm’s coming.”
“So? What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing.” Eddy grabbed his jacket and put it on. “It’s gonna be twice as hard, though, carrying him in the rain. Fuck, we’ll probably catch pneumonia.”
Al shrugged. “We have to do it. Hell, it’s our fault for jacking that car. We live with our actions. Deal with the consequences.”
“That’s exactly what I was just thinking,” Eddy said. “This whole predicament, the storm, it’s karma.”
“Well, let’s set our karma right.”
Eddy nodded. He headed for the door.
“Got the gun?” Al asked as he followed.
“Of course.” Eddy opened the cabin door. A gust of wind sent his hair and jacket in a mad flutter. “My God,” he said as he stepped out.
Al followed, switching off the light and closing the door.
Apart from the loud wind, the motel grounds were quiet. Only the office across from them had on a light.
And a man was standing by its front door.
Eddy grabbed Al by the jacket and pulled him around to the side of the cabin.
“What the fuck?” Al gasped.
Eddy pushed him against the side of the cabin. The office and its light couldn’t be seen from where they were hiding. “Didn’t ya see him?” Eddy whispered.
“Who?”
“That big guy from next door.”
“The wife beater?”
“Yeah. Didn’t ya see him?”
“No, was he out having a smoke or something?”
“He was over at the office. Waiting outside.”
“Really? I didn’t see him.”
“Trust me, he was there. I don’t think he saw us. I’m gonna make sure.”
Eddy left the logs of the cabin and crept forward. He stopped at the corner and peered around. The man was still standing at the office door.
Eddy walked back and took Al by the jacket. “Come on, let’s go. He ain’t coming. I don’t think he saw us.”
Al followed behind in the darkness. “Wonder why he’s going to the office,” Al whispered.
“Probably to fuck the old lady.”
They both tried hard not to laugh out loud.
They arrived at the car. Eddy gazed out at the thick woods that led up into the mountain. He shivered. “Spooky out here.”
“You’re telling me. My stomach feels like a goddamn blender.”
“Well, there are plenty of trees out here if you need to shit.”
“That’s reassuring,” Al said.
Eddy’s eyes had adjusted a little more to the darkness. He could faintly make out the car a couple of metres away. He went over and stood at the boot.
Al joined him. “Don’t you think we’d better find where the start of the trail is first?”
Eddy looked back. “You’re right.”
They gazed out at the dark woods. “It must be somewhere in there,” Eddy said. “Come on.”
They started off towards the edge of the thick mass of pine trees.
“Damn I wish we had a torch,” Al muttered.
The night grew immensely darker as they tramped into the forest.
“Hey, I think there’s a track here,” Al said.
Eddy looked down at a cleared patch of dirt. “Must lead up to the different sets of trails,” he suggested.
As they walked along the track, the meagre light from the moon gradually diminished. Instead of being able to distinguish individual pine trees, all Eddy could see was a thick mass of darkness. They didn’t bang into any trees, so he figured they must be on the right track. They also seemed to be walking up a slight incline.
“We should leave fluorescent breadcrumbs so we can find our way back,” Al said.
Eddy turned his head, but could see only darkness. Judging by Al’s voice, he was still reasonably close. “Not to mention we have to find this again later.”
“If this is actually the way,” Al said.
Up ahead, a patch of brightness found its way through the trees. They walked over to it and saw that the moon, momentarily free from the cover of gloomy grey clouds, was shimmering through a clearing in the trees.
They stopped and looked ahead. In the distance Eddy could just make out a set of signposts. “That could be it,” he said, pointing in the direction.
“I see it,” Al said.
They headed over to the signs. When they arrived, they saw three wooden signposts, each pointing in slightly different directions.
Eddy wandered up close and studied each sign. “Ah, this one says Rober...Robertson...Valley Hike,” he called back. He gazed at the next sign. “Devil’s...this is it,” he shouted back.
The small post pointed to the left. Robertson Valley Hike pointed straight ahead, and the other sign pointed more or less to the right. Eddy guessed that was the track that led to Hutto.
He went back to Al. “It’s over on the left.”
“Great. Let’s get back.”
Eddy nodded and they hurried back the way they came. They walked through the dark woods, until they finally hit the edge and were back at the motel.
Out of the woods, the back area of the cabin seemed extremely bright. They ventured over to the car.
“It’s gonna be a lot of fun carrying the body up the mountain,” Al said.
They stood by the boot of the car.
“Here we go,” Eddy said. He took out his wallet, opened it up and took out the small hairpin.
He placed his hand on the boot and flinched from its coldness. He felt his way around until he located the keyhole. Keeping his fingers in place, he slipped the pin into the small lock and jiggled it until there was a small click. “Bingo.” He took out the hairpin, but left the boot shut. Being so close to the body again, he had forgotten how real and serious their situation was.
“At least he’s not rotting,” Al said.
Eddy lifted the boot lid. A faintly stale smell emitted from inside. He was now glad that it wasn’t a sweltering summer night. “He’s still here,” Eddy mused.
Al gave a small chuckle. “It would be good if we had another person. Maybe we should ask that big guy.”
“Yeah, sure,” Eddy said. “I’ll just call him over.”
They stood by the rear of the car, staring into the black space. Although he couldn’t see the body, Eddy knew too well that he was in there. Knew that he was curled up on his side, cove
red in leaves and dirt, his face a cold blue, dark purple bruises on his neck, his face staring up at them, up at the cloudy night sky.
“I wonder who he is,” Eddy said.
“Was,” Al corrected.
“He was just a kid, Al. I wonder what his family’s doing now. Probably worried to death.”
“No pun intended,” Al said.
“Yeah, I wasn’t joking around.”
“If he had parents like ours, they’re at home, guzzling a bottle of Johnny Walker, not even noticing that he’s gone.”
“I hope not,” Eddy said.
“I wonder who killed him,” Al said.
“And why,” Eddy added.
“You know we’re stalling,” Al said, turning to Eddy.
Eddy sighed. “I know.” He reached into the boot.
“What’re you doing?” Al asked.
“I’ve gotta know something.” Leaning into the boot, he patted the dead kid’s right side pocket. There was something down there. Gritting his teeth, he reached into the pocket and yanked out what he hoped was the kid’s wallet. He straightened up, walked around to the driver’s side and opened the door. The overhead light came on. Eddy sat down.
Al walked around. “Jesus, you took his wallet?”
“We’re gonna bury the kid, I want to at least know his name.”
Eddy opened up the cheap, imitation leather wallet and took out the kid’s probationary license. “Jeffrey Olsen,” he read out. “He was nineteen years old. Lived in Mt Evelyn.”
Eddy gazed at the small photo. It showed a good looking, open faced young man. He had dark hair and a wispy moustache.
Eddy had a hard time putting that face to the body that lay in the boot. He handed the license to Al.
“You know, that name sounds familiar,” Al said as he took the plastic card. “I’m sure I’ve heard it before.”
Eddy was looking at a photo he had found in one of the slips. It was of an attractive red head. She looked about Jeffrey’s age. “Jeffery had a nice looking girlfriend,” Eddy said. He handed the photo to Al.