Deviation

by Scott M. Williams

  “Mmm. You guessed it, ladies and gentlemen. It's time to start your engines.”

  Edgar Stevens lifted his drink and his giant bowl of snacks and carried them out to the living room. There was an end-table directly beside his massive recliner and he set them down carefully, then picked up the remote and powered on the TV. He spent a moment flipping through the channels, trying to locate something worth watching. The cable wasn't hooked up yet, so the choices were rather limited. After going through each of the channels twice, he finally stopped when the familiar sound of the Three's Company theme song filled the room. He smiled and began increasing the volume until it was loud enough to block out much of the noise from the neighboring apartments.

  “This must be my lucky day.” He eased into his chair and reached over, helping himself to a pretzel stick. He crunched it up and followed it with a long drink from his tumbler. Tampa wasn't such a bad place after all, he thought. He could get used to this.

  He reached over and grabbed another chip. The show was just starting, and he was pretty sure he'd never seen this particular episode. Was it possible? He smiled again and lifted his drink.

  Just then there was a knock on the door.

  Stevens paused, his tumbler poised at his lips. Who could possibly be at his door? He hadn't met a single person in the building besides the manager. Perhaps his TV was too loud. He set down his drink and lowered the volume slightly, angry that he was missing part of his show.

  The knock came again, louder this time.

  “What the hell?” he muttered. He got up from his chair, his fingers snatching another pretzel from the bowl and tucking it into his mouth.

  If these types of intrusions were going to persist, he was going to break his lease; there was no question about it. He crossed the room and spent a moment unlocking the door. There were two deadbolts and a chain; good security. When he had it unlocked, he turned the knob and pulled the door open.

  “Can I --” Stevens froze, his heart almost seizing up in his chest. Standing there looking back at him was the one person in all the world he'd hoped never to see again.

  “Edgar!” said Douglas McKenzie. “What a pleasant surprise!”

  Stevens felt his bowels loosen. This couldn't be happening. “P-P-Pastor...”

  “What's the matter, Edgar? You look as white as a ghost.”

  McKenzie pushed his way inside, slipping a switchblade from the pocket of his robe.

  21. On The Move

  They drove through until sunrise, sipping beer and feeling the effects of their sleepless night as the LSD began to wear off. Dianne missed it before it was even gone. She'd liked her first trip overall; the visuals, the psychological insights, the feeling of the heavy drug burning in her system. She also liked and missed some of the more subtle effects, ones she couldn't quite fully remember. She knew Frank had more of the acid, and it dawned on her that she'd like to try it again, sooner or later.

  The fact that she'd killed again bothered her, but not as much as she would have thought. Frank was correct in his belief that human beings were not far removed from insects. There were billions of them, and more every hour. They were all going to die, too. What difference did it make if a few odd lives here and there were taken by her hand? Just because people thought they were important didn't mean they were. They couldn't be. There were far too many of them to matter. And if god didn't care, why should she?

  They found another motel in Kearney, just east of Lexington, and paid in cash for one night. They slept all day, oblivious to the world and everything that was going on around them. When they woke up, late on Thursday night, they made love and then smoked a joint while lying in bed. They both felt refreshed, and gratified, and ready to continue on.

  After showering and changing clothes, as well as eating the last of their sandwiches, they were back in the car and heading west. Frank was getting into the cocaine, and trying to persuade Dianne to join him.

  “I told you, I really don't care for it.” She was driving again, already fully accustomed to the way their new car handled.

  “I won't ask again. I just feel funny, using it without offering you some.”

  “You don't have to offer. The weed and the beer are plenty for me.”

  Frank snorted a little pile of coke out of the palm of his hand. “You seemed to like the acid.”

  “I did. I wouldn't mind doing it again, but not right away.”

  “That's fine. It wouldn't work anyway, the very next day. Your body builds up a kind of tolerance.”

  “Maybe next week. When things settle down a little.”

  “Alright.” He put the cocaine in the glove-box and settled back in his seat. “I wonder where we'll be by then?”

  “I wonder where we'll be by morning. If we keep going for another couple of days we're going to reach the ocean.”

  “I don't think we need to go that far.”

  “Neither do I, but I'm not sure where we should go.”

  “Where would you like to go?”

  “No place in particular. Or permanent. But maybe we can stop somewhere for a few days and just kind of mellow out.”

  “That sounds wonderful. If we find an inexpensive motel...”

  “Motels kind of depress me,” Dianne interjected. “I mean, they're okay for a day or two once in awhile. But they make me feel like... I don't know... like I'm just another useless slob, renting a bed for the night. Or in our case, the day.”

  Frank was studying her in the constantly shifting glare of oncoming headlights. “I know what you mean. But what would you prefer?”

  She shrugged and peeked over at him. “I don't know. Maybe...”

  “Yes?”

  “Well... the other day, you were telling me that it was my world.”

  “It is.”

  She nodded. “I like that. It feels right.”

  “It is right. What do you propose?”

  “Well...” She shifted in her seat. “I was just thinking...”

  “Yes?”

  “What if we found a nice house? Just for a few days?”

  “You mean, rent one?”

  “No. Just... move in.”

  “Ahh. You're talking about squatting. I haven't done that since I was in college.”

  “No. Not squatting. I mean, what if we moved into a house that wasn't vacant?” She looked at him, feeling suddenly anxious. She'd thought long and hard about suggesting such a thing, and finally worked up enough nerve to do it. “A house that someone lives in.”

  “You mean...”

  “It was just a thought.”

  “You're getting more daring.”

  “Maybe so.”

  “You know, when I first suggested that we... travel together... that you might not be ready. That you might not be able to handle the stress of having total freedom and no routine.”

  She grinned. “I love it! I didn't at first, but... I don't know... I'm getting more used to it now. The idea of finding a job in one of these ridiculous towns and getting another shitty apartment... it just makes me feel sick. I don't think I'd even be capable of doing it now.”

  “You've become a free spirit.”

  She liked the sound of it. “Is that what I am?”

  “I think so.”

  She nodded, her face bathed in stark shadows. “I like it. I like it a lot.”

  “I'm glad. But... about this house...”

  “Bad idea?”

  “Not necessarily. I just want you to be sure. You need to be prepared for the consequences, you know.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, if you're suggesting we simply march into someone's home and... take over, so to speak... you need to be ready for the likelihood of their retaliation.”

  His words dampened her mood. “You don't like my idea.”

  “I do like it. In fact, I would have suggested something similar, if I thought that you'd be willing to go along with it.”r />
  She looked at him, her enthusiasm building. “Really?”

  “Absolutely. I had no idea you would have adjusted this quickly.”

  She smiled again. “I have! I mean, I'm really liking this. It's like a huge rush of freedom. Freedom to do whatever we want.”

  “We certainly do have that freedom. But keep in mind that everyone else does, too. The difference is, they don't seem to realize it. But still, if we push our way into someone's home, they're not going to be apt to just sit back and let it happen.”

  She felt an unjustified sense of anger. Not at Frank, but at the idea that people would always be in her way, no matter what she did. “They won't have a choice.”

  “They do have a choice, Dianne. As pathetic and ineffectual as they may seem, these shit beetles who populate the world can be very dangerous. Don't ever underestimate them. A lot of them are heavily armed, and waiting for an excuse to see what 30 rounds of high caliber ammo will do to a human body.”

  She thought about this. “Okay. I see what you're saying. But does that mean you don't want to take over someone's house with me?”

  “Not at all. Like I said, the idea sounds wonderful. We've just got to be careful, is all.”

  Her whole face lit up with happiness, and she felt true joy in her heart. She was going to help herself to a house tonight. Any one she felt like. Anywhere she felt like. It was the greatest feeling she'd ever had, and she knew that she could count on herself to pull it off now, too. She was a different person. She was cunning, and resourceful. She'd cut the last of the ropes that had been holding her down since birth, and in doing so, the world had become a different place. She felt the need to celebrate her decision, immediately. “Do you think any of our beers are cold back there?”

  “No. But I'd be happy to get you one anyway.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “Perhaps you'd even like to open your fancy rum.”

  “No. I think I'd like to save that for later.” She smiled at him from the shadows of the driver's seat. “Once we find a house to our liking.”

  * * *

  As they drove along, drinking beer, Frank realized he hadn't turned his phone back on since hanging up on Pastor McKenzie a couple of days earlier. He pulled it from his pocket and powered it up.

  “Making a call?” Dianne asked.

  “Just checking.” He glanced at the screen when it had finished initializing and saw that he had two missed calls. He pressed the button for voice mail and held the phone to his ear.

  Both calls were from the pastor, and both were short.

  “Frank, it's me again. Don't play games with me. We've got a common interest here. You have my number. Call me immediately.”

  The next message had come in several hours later.

  “Have it your way, Frank. You're a dead man.”

  The message disturbed him, but if he remembered correctly, the pastor would be having some trouble with the police by now.

  “Everything okay?” Dianne asked.

  “More or less. The pastor left a message. I wonder if they caught him yet?”

  Dianne felt suddenly stupid for not keeping up with the developments. After all, her and Frank had left four dead bodies behind already. She reached quickly for the radio and turned it on. “We should have checked the news sooner.”

  Frank took a long drink of beer. “I must admit, I'm not used to this. I've never had my face on TV before.”

  “I wonder if they know about me?” she mused.

  “I don't see how they would.”

  They only had to wait four minutes until the bottom of the hour, and then one of the local news stations began broadcasting top stories. Douglas McKenzie was still at large, though there was a massive manhunt underway by the FBI. They were currently searching for him in Tampa, Florida, where Edgar Stevens had been found slain in his apartment earlier this afternoon. The police had recovered horrifying evidence in the burned-out wreckage of St. Paul's in Milwaukee, and the pastor was said by police to be one of the most ruthless serial killers in modern history. The story went on to mention Frank by name, but only as a person of interest. He was wanted for questioning, and police urged him to come forward and turn himself in.

  No mention of Dianne.

  “I can't believe he got to Stevens so quickly,” Frank said. “And without a lead.”

  “You don't know he didn't have a lead. He must have. It just didn't come from you.”

  “Where, then?”

  “I don't know.”

  “I'm not even sure why he'd target Stevens and I. We've never crossed him. At least not badly enough to warrant our deaths.”

  “Maybe because you abandoned him?”

  “Maybe.” He looked at her. “Well, at least they haven't connected you with anything yet.”

  “They probably didn't even find any of the bodies yet. Except that drug dealer of yours, in the church, but they'll probably blame that on your old boss.”

  Frank nodded. “Probably.” He felt an abrupt desire to get drunk. “Would you like another beer?”

  “Yes.”

  He reached into the backseat and got them each one. Things were going to get worse before they got better, he knew.

  He only hoped he'd live long enough to see them get better.

  22. Elm Street

  They alternated behind the wheel again, switching off every few hours or whenever one of them just couldn't stand driving any longer. Frank was driving when they somehow strayed off Interstate 80 and onto 76, crossing the border into Colorado at about 2am, and then Dianne took over, driving until her shoulders ached and she once again needed to empty her bladder. They stopped at a rest area and used the facilities just east of Sterling. They also filled the gas tank, although Dianne was beginning to think it would be a good time to find a place to settle down for awhile.

  They exited 76 and found themselves driving west on Route 6.

  “What do you think?” she asked Frank. “Do you want to get further from the Interstate? Or should we start looking for a place?”

  “I think we're far enough from everything. If they're going to find me, it will be because someone recognizes me. That could happen anywhere.”

  She looked him over. “Maybe you should stop wearing that cassock.”

  “That would probably make sense.” He took a sip of beer. “Sterling, Colorado. Who would have guessed?”

  “I've never even heard of it.”

  “Me either.” He glanced at the dashboard clock. It was just after 5am. “Do you propose finding a house before the residents leave for work? Or after?”

  She thought about it. “I guess it would be easier after.”

  “Are you sure? It will be light by then. And we'll have to deal with them when they get back, never sure when that will be, or how many of them will be coming.”

  “So... you think we ought to make a move now? Surprise them while they're still half asleep?”

  “It would make sense. We could... immobilize them... tuck them away in a closet for a day or two while we unwind.”

  Dianne giggled. The idea of actually doing such a thing delighted her. “God, this is so fucking amazing!”

  “I'm glad you're enjoying it.”

  “Aren't you?”

  “If you weren't here, I probably wouldn't be. But, yes, I am having a rather good time.”

  “Good.” His words pleased her. “It will get better, too.”

  “For us, maybe. Not for the poor unfortunate Joneses.”

  “The Joneses have had it good for a long time. It's our turn now.” She turned off Route 6 and began creeping along Third Street, having no idea where she was going. “Where do these Joneses live, anyway?”

  “Wherever you want them to.”

  She drove on, smiling, her eyes busy scanning the streets for a desirable house. It was still fully dark, but the streetlights provided enough light for her to see by. She turned several
times, making her way deeper into the town. Most of the houses were simple and relatively small. She would have preferred something a little fancier, but she knew there would be other houses in her future. As long as she was careful, there would be a great many of them.

  She finally found one that appealed to her on Elm Street. It was a single family home with a large garage and a peaked roof over the front porch. It looked clean and new and the three large front windows were all dark. There was a single car in the driveway, a little red Mazda. She was about to pull in behind it when Frank touched her arm.

  “I think we ought to park somewhere else. At least for now.”

  She looked at him. “Oh?”

  “Just in case. Park a few blocks away, and we'll walk back. If everything goes right, we'll retrieve the car and move it into the garage.”

  “Okay. Better safe than sorry, I guess.”

  “It's just a precaution.”

  “Do you like the house?”

  “It's a fine house, Dianne. I think we'll be very happy there.”

  She smiled again. The world was a better place than ever before.

  * * *

  She drove a few blocks west of the house she had chosen and found a small section of angle parking in front of an empty lot where the Honda would be less conspicuous. They left most of their things in the car for the time being, Dianne taking only her purse and Frank only his gun. He kept it carefully concealed in his pocket as they made the short walk back to Elm Street.

  A sense of serenity had come over Dianne during the past few minutes. Walking hand in hand with Frank through the dark, suburban landscape made her feel at once peaceful with the world and in control of it. It was a feeling she never wanted to lose. She glanced at the houses as she passed them by, one after another, each one of them filled with an absurd collection of human beings. She had developed a new-found sense of superiority over them and she never wanted to lose that, either.