The Last Day

by John Ramsey Miller

  “You're working for Mr. McCarty,” Alice said. “Isn't this like a conflict of interest?”

  “You should have gone home,” Louis said. “You're in a world of shit here, Alice. And I was starting to like you.”

  “My mother kicked me out,” Alice said, frowning. “And I didn't know you were a psycho.”

  “Sit down,” Louis told her, as he sat in a dining chair resting his wounded arm on the table. Taking the large knife from his belt, he drove the tip an inch into the dining table.

  “Ward, put your gun down and plant your ass in the chair. Get his gun, Evelyn.”

  Evelyn grabbed Natasha and placed the butcher knife against her exposed throat.

  Ward stood, placed the Smith on the hearth, and moved away, sitting down in the chair he'd just used as a bench rest.

  “You should have loaded blanks, Louis,” Evelyn said.

  “Hindsight is twenty- twenty.” Louis shrugged.

  Alice sat on the couch, holding her tote bag to her chest like a baby.

  Natasha sat down beside her and put a protective arm around the girl's shoulder. Ward didn't see fear in the young girl's eyes, just something more like fascination. Natasha appeared more concerned than afraid.

  Evelyn Gismano reached over and picked up the handgun from the hearth. Aiming in the general vicinity of the trio, she walked over to stand by the table, handing Louis the Smith & Wesson, which he absently tossed on the table beside the erect Randall. He took the bloody paper towels from the wound and his wife looked at it, frowning. There was a deep channel cut into the bottom of his forearm, and the exiting bullet had laid his elbow open.

  “I should look at that,” Natasha said.

  “I don't think so,” Evelyn said. “You've done enough damage to us.”

  “It looks like it shattered your elbow,” Natasha said. “You'll have to get medical attention.”

  “It'll be fine,” he said, dismissing her. “You're far more dangerous to other people than your pantywaist husband.”

  “That's a bad wound. It could get infected. I can clean it and mitigate the future damage. You could end up losing the arm. And it is going to hurt a lot.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Evelyn hissed.

  “Get some warm water, Leslie,” Natasha said. “You have to clean it. I can stitch it, and at least slow the bleeding. I have some medical supplies.”

  “You're worried about me?” Louis asked, snorting derisively.

  “You're getting blood all over,” Alice said. She opened her black carry bag.

  “Don't sweat it,” Evelyn snapped.

  “So, can I play my game?”

  Everyone looked at Alice quizzically. “You want to play a video game right now?” Louis asked slowly.

  “I was winning. It's no skin off your ass. It relaxes me. Plus your fucked- up arm is making me want to puke.”

  “Forget it,” Louis told her.

  Evelyn said, “You just sit there like the amazingly stupid and ugly fucking toad you are. I ought to just shoot you in that ass- face and put the world out of its misery.”

  “You could just say no,” Alice said, frowning. “You don't have to be such an asshole.”

  “Actually,” Louis said, “we should thank Alice for being a little thief. She helped me get in here earlier than I'd planned. I was planning to use the virus as my entry into the McCarty household. Just like Howard's party at the lake, the gods smiled.”

  “I hope you bleed to death,” Alice said. “People like you are why the world is so fucked up. And if you didn't know it, your wife's a total psycho bitch. I can't believe anybody let her have a kid in the first place.”

  Ward let his eyes pass over the fireplace tools, trying to think of something he could do, some weapon he might go for, when he got a chance. His eyes went to the prototype on the mantel, and he thought about Barney, his mind forming an image of his son laughing with everything he was—laughter that took over his entire being. If I die, I will be with Barney. Death held no fear for him. But he had to mess with Louis a little, because Louis wouldn't expect that from him. Ward needed to play for time. He had to muddy the waters for Louis the way Louis had muddied them for Ward.

  “So, Louis,” Ward said, “how much longer does Leslie—Evelyn—here have?”

  Louis's eyes fixed on Ward, as did Evelyn's.

  “Unless you lied about her screwing Sergeant Ross.”

  “Fuck you, Ward,” Evelyn snapped.

  “That was why Gizmo was out there to be killed by Howard Lindley Way it looks to me, you killed his three friends and set him up to go to prison. Those young men were sons, just like Gizmo was yours. If you'll kill three totally innocent young men, are you really going to let Evelyn off the hook for what she did? Ob vi ously she's alive now because you needed her to get close to us, but seems like she's just deadweight now.”

  Louis's eyes sparkled, and something like a smile crossed his tight lips.

  “Shut up, Ward,” Evelyn snapped.

  “Your wife knows I'm telling the truth. She's a very intelligent woman. You blame her as much as, if not more than, you blame Natasha.”

  “She's my wife,” Louis said after a too-long silence. “She was Gizmo's mother. She knows I love her. She's in this every bit as much as I am. Isn't that right?”

  Evelyn nodded once, but her eyes remained uncertain.

  “I forgave her for the affair, after I showed her the error of her ways.”

  Evelyn smiled nervously. “Sergeant Ross seduced me like he seduced a lot of other women. He was evil. He deserved to die for it.”

  Ward shrugged. “You'd know Louis better than I do. Maybe he has really forgiven you because he still loves you despite how you helped to kill Gizmo. Perhaps he doesn't still think about you in bed getting your sweaty jollies while your son wandered into the path of Howard's car. Maybe you can believe we're going to be the last objects of his revenge. I'm thinking if he can really believe that Natasha killed Gizmo and that she didn't do everything in her power to save him, and he can still kill her … Or is this all just an excuse for him to kill and torture innocent people? It seems evident that there's no stopping place, just pauses in the process. Louis may miss Gizmo. Maybe he loved him and he's been driven to this by grief and he isn't just another sociopath who's using Gizmo's death as an excuse. But I think he likes killing. It gives him pleasure. Best case, he's insane.”

  “Shut up,” Louis said, wincing as the pain hit home. “You don't know what the hell you're talking about.”

  “No? What's the body count in your son's name? Six? Seven? More? We'll make it what, nine? You know Natasha tried to save Gizmo, don't you, Evelyn. If Lindley hadn't hit your poor sister, you think he'd have let her live?”

  “It won't work,” Louis said, pulling the survival knife from its resting place and gripping it in his bloody left hand to point the tip at Ward. “You're not going to save yourself by making up this psychological mumbo jumbo. You're a dead man.”

  Ward didn't intend to shut up. “You don't feel anything, because psychopaths can't feel anything. You kill so you can, but there's no lasting satisfaction in it. And it's your only purpose. There's no stopping place. Everybody is responsible for your son's death except you. Everybody but you should die. So why did you start sleeping with that sergeant, Evelyn? Was it because you never felt loved? We're all just cardboard targets in Louis's world. He wants you to believe he loved your son, but what kind of love allows him to paint his son's legacy in blood? What kind of a meaningful monument is it? Natasha has spent the past three years saving children and raising money for a children's surgical center at the hospital, while he's spent the past three years killing people. Louis wants to kill Natasha, and his selfishness will do harm to innocent children, all like your son, for decades to come.”

  “Bullshit. You're suing the people who killed your son,” Evelyn said. “That's revenge, just so you'll get hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

  “The people responsible for kil
ling Barney should pay for their mistake, but that money is going to the hospital in our son's name so something good can come out of our loss. We want to honor Barney's memory long after we're gone. You'll kill us and we'll be together with our Barney. What will Gizmo's life have counted for?”

  “I'm going to gut you like a fish,” Louis said evenly. “While Natasha watches.”

  “I suppose you can't believe in life after death,” Ward continued. “We do. If there's life after death, maybe Gizmo is watching you. He must be proud of his parents.”

  “You're using bullshit psychology on us,” Louis said. “It won't work. Trying to divide us against each other. It's good, Ward, but she loves me. She loved Gizmo.”

  “She's scared shitless of you,” Ward continued. “She's doing this because she knows that until we're gone, she's safe. Slipping that disk into my computer, getting close to feed you information on us. Doing her part while you snuck in and drugged me at home, and screwed with our heads. Once that's over, she knows you'll only have her left to punish.

  “You're going to get caught,” Ward said, finally. “You'll see. And you're going to hell, and you won't ever see your son again because he won't be there.”

  “Enough of this bullshit,” Louis said. He flinched and closed his eyes tight for a second.

  Evelyn looked at her husband and back at Ward. Ward had gotten to her, but how much good that would do was impossible to gauge.

  “Shoot the kid,” Louis said, opening his eyes. He put down the blade, grabbed up the gun and held it out to Evelyn, butt first. She looked at it, bewildered.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Shoot the toad,” he repeated. “You hate the bitch and she has to die. Or do you want me to do all the work myself?”

  Evelyn's eyes reflected horror. “Me shoot her?”

  “Take this, go over there, and put the fucking gun to her forehead and blow her brains out. Do it now!”

  “I … can't do it,” she said, her eyes darting around the room.

  “You've never killed anybody,” Ward said. “He wants the satisfaction of seeing you be like him.”

  Louis flipped the weapon in his left hand to grip it. “You can't? You can't? Yes, you can, and you will!”

  “She didn't do anything,” Evelyn protested.

  “Did the boys in Lindley's cabin? Did you ever say, ‘They didn't do anything’? No, you said it was a good thing. Alice is an annoying little thief. And she's a witness. Do you want me to let her go so we can watch her testify against us?”

  “You can do it,” Evelyn said. “You know how.”

  “I taught you to shoot. But you don't mind if I kill her?” he asked.

  Evelyn nodded. “Please.”

  Louis aimed the gun at Alice, who pressed herself against Natasha, and squeezed the bag tighter to her chest.

  Natasha held her tight, protectively. “Alice never even heard of Gizmo until she came here and we told her. She's as innocent as Gizmo was.”

  “Collateral damage,” Louis said.

  “Like those teenage boys at the lake,” Ward said. “Like Trey. You killed Trey, didn't you? And that hacker you hired. And Thumper?”

  “Yes, I did. Now shut the fuck up.” He turned to his wife. “Are you going to take this gun and shoot her?” he demanded.

  “No,” Evelyn said. “I won't do it. I can't, Louis.”

  Louis winced, opened his eyes, and seemed to be weighing something for several seconds.

  “I let you live in the trailer, because you promised you'd do whatever it took to help me pay back the bastards who killed Gizmo. Against my better judgment, I didn't use the torch on you, didn't fill you with spray foam. This is my reward?”

  “You know I love you, Louis. I've proved that. But I can't and I—”

  As she spoke, Louis turned the muzzle from Alice and fired. The bullet passed through the base of Evelyn's neck, ending her words, and punched a large hole in the window behind her. The thick double panes of glass around the hole formed a spiderweb of tiny cracks around it.

  Evelyn looked at Louis, bewildered, and collapsed. Natasha screamed out, and Louis stood, aiming the gun at her.

  “You bastard!” Ward yelled.

  Louis waved the gun. “I ask her to do one little thing and she refuses. In all this time she's never done anything but sit back and keep her hands clean. She never loved Gizmo. She never loved anybody but herself. Totally selfish.”

  “Let me help her,” Natasha demanded, straightening.

  “She's beyond help,” Louis said, unloading the gun and putting it back down on the table. “I think we should get this finished.”

  He picked up his knife and came into the den with blood streaming down his arm, dripping off his fingers.

  Ward sprang from the chair and grabbed the poker. He raised it up like a major league batter and moved toward Louis. Blood dripped rapidly to the stone floor, the rug. Crouching, Louis held the knife in his left hand. Except for his hair, his bright teeth, and steel-blue eyes, the coating of ash totally obscured his features.

  Louis pounced like a cat and was on Ward so fast he didn't have time to swing the poker. The knife passed through Ward's left shoulder, striking the bone as it went through the tissue.

  Louis sprang back, balancing and waving the blade in a figure eight. Ward swung the poker, missing by a foot.

  Natasha lunged from the couch and jumped on Louis's back, wrapping her arms around his neck and applying pressure.

  Without so much as swaying, Louis snapped his head back and connected with Natasha's forehead, with a sound like a hammer striking a coconut. She collapsed behind him in a heap.

  Despite the weakness in his shoulder, Ward raised the poker and swung again, stepping into the blow to close with Louis. Louis seemed to vanish as he ducked the poker's wide arc, moved in, and swung his blade, opening Ward's shirt and releasing a gout of blood through the sliced fabric. Ward dropped the poker as he fell backward against the fireplace. His right arm on the stone mantel for balance, Ward felt the prototype against his hand and gripped it.

  Meeting Louis's eyes, and drawing strength from the victorious smile on the killer's lips, he mustered all of his strength and threw the car as hard as he could.

  When the prototype hit Louis an edge found a bright blue eye.

  Louis bent and cursed, putting the back of his knife hand against the damaged eye for a second before he looked back up at Ward with a bloody, orbless socket.

  Ward was aware of Louis lunging, and he felt a new pressure high in his chest as the blade entered.

  Ward, no longer able to stand, slid down the front of the fireplace.

  Louis looked at Ward and fixed him with one-eyed unbridled rage. The knife in his hand flipped to change position, the back edge of the blade resting against his forearm, preparing to finish his opponent.

  Ward put his hands reflexively to his stomach, and felt something warm and substantial, and knew he was holding in part of his intestines. He could feel hot blood running down across his groin and he couldn't catch his breath.

  Louis looked at Ward's wound, and said, “Don't die yet.”

  Louis turned.

  On the couch, Alice had drawn her legs up, holding her knees, the tote bag trapped against her. Ward couldn't hear the screams, just the odd sound of wind, like a hurricane, rushing through his mind.

  Below Louis, a stunned Natasha raised herself up on one arm. Louis grabbed her hair with his bloody right hand, and looked at Ward, who was trying in vain to get to his feet.

  “Watch,” Louis hollered, placing the blade pointing down at the base of her neck just behind her collarbone.

  “No!” Ward yelled, his eyes locking on his wife's. They were wide open in terror, but as he watched they closed once, then opened and she smiled weakly at him. Her final expression was one of acceptance, and sadness, but there was no fear there.

  And behind Natasha he saw Alice looking into her tote like a woman searching for a tube of lipstick.r />
  “This is for Gizmo,” Louis said.

  Ward was aware of the first notes of Louis's laughter.

  He saw the muscles in Louis's arm tighten, but Ward managed to lunge and grab the end of the blade with his right hand, squeezing as hard as he could.

  Ward felt the pressure of the blade biting into the meat and tissue, wedging into bone as Louis pushed down.

  Ward looked up and met Louis's amused gaze.

  He felt the blade moving down, the tip penetrating Natasha's neck, and he squeezed harder. The knife seemed to rise for an instant. Ward pulled the blade toward him. Louis gritted his teeth and snarled as he muscled the blade back to Natasha's neck.

  Ward was blinded by a bright flash, and an aura around Louis's form. The killer's features evaporated. Louis released the knife. As Louis/Todd fell sideways, Ward saw a small gun in Alice's hand, a thin plume of smoke rising from its barrel.

  Ward raised his hand and saw that the knife was still there, wedged fast, covered in his own blood.

  Washed with a feeling of well- being as he fell backward, Ward was filled with the sensation of floating, and he realized that, even though he hadn't felt himself connecting with the floor, he was on his back looking up at the light fixture.

  Sound faded, and Ward's head was filled with a continuous dull tone like that of a struck gong. As he stared at the dimming ceiling, Natasha suddenly loomed over him, a thin line on her neck oozing blood in a wide ribbon. She was crying and he could feel the pressure of her hands, first on his cheeks, and then on his violated abdomen.

  He couldn't hear what she was saying, because just over her left shoulder he saw a golden circle growing, and from within it, Barney's smiling face.

  Barney's hands seemed to reach through his mother's shoulder, and Ward's hands rose to take them. The child's hands were as warm and real as they had been before he died. Ward's own hands were now bloodless, the right one undamaged as Barney pulled his father up from where he was lying.

  As Ward rose, he turned his head to look down on Natasha's back, her head turned down over a body he recognized as his own. The physical Ward McCarty was splayed on the floor beneath her, seemingly floating in a rapidly expanding pool of blood that looked like black water.