Something_Violent

by Rufty, Kristopher

  “Well, not exactly.”

  “And I was dumb enough?”

  “Well, you did say you wanted to…”

  “Unbelievable.”

  I felt stupid. Not because he just wanted me for sex. That, I was fine with. Hell, that was all I wanted him for. But I guess realizing that this was just his gimpy game, and I had taken the bait as easily as countless other stupid bitches made me feel…pathetic. Somehow it reminded me of exactly who I was and the kind of place I’d been trapped in all my life. I remembered how much I hated my life, hated my town, hated my father, and most importantly, I guess I understood for the first time how much I truly, truly despised myself. The wonderful body I thought had been a blessing was really a curse that kept me imprisoned to my shortcomings and vulnerable to the molestation of imbeciles.

  All of these things came to me in a blink.

  Feeling glum, I said, “Take me to the lake.”

  Glenn looked panicked. I noticed his eyes make a quick dart to the right before looking at me. “Why?”

  “Did you really just ask me that? You already have everything prearranged, and you’re going to ask me why I want to leave? What a dumbass.”

  “Come on, you didn’t think this was going to be something more…”

  “No way. I was completely fine with what we’d talked about. More than fine, really. But this…” I held my hand out, gesturing toward the blanket. “I don’t want to be a part of your shtick.”

  “Well…” He glanced away, then back. Louder, he said, “How about we head to my truck then? Do it like you wanted to.”

  “I can hear you fine. No need to talk louder. And nope—I’m over it now. Take me to the lake.”

  I started to turn away, but noticed Glenn raise his hand to his throat. From the corner of my eye, I caught him making quick motions across his neck. I’d seen enough behind-the-scenes documentaries on DVDs to know when a director is calling ‘Cut’.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked, turning to face him.

  He was lowering his hand when I turned, so now it was at his stomach, which he quickly scratched to try and convince me he was only taking care of an itch. “What was…what?”

  “This.” I mimicked his gesture. “That thing you just did.”

  His brow furrowed, nose wrinkled. His upper lip curled, showing some of his top teeth. “I didn’t do that.”

  “Yes, you did. I just saw you.”

  “No, I was scratching…”

  “Shut the hell up.” I slapped my hands against his bare chest and pushed. He stumbled back. My hands left ruddy prints on his pink skin. “I just saw you do it. Where is it?” I turned around, gazing into the trees surrounding us. There were plenty of dark patches, some heavy shrubs, and felled trees—places somebody could hide a camera. “Huh? Where is it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

  “Lying sack of shit…”

  I took a couple steps toward the way we came in, scanning the area. A breeze drifted through the opening. Trees lightly swayed, leaves sighing all around. It was a pleasant sound that I enjoyed when I wasn’t seething.

  I didn’t see any hidden cameraman, or camera. Just a lot of trees and dancing specks from the sun. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he had actually been just scratching himself. I started to turn around, preparing myself to apologize.

  Then I spotted something gleaming behind the pile of brush. A glowing wink that was quickly gone. Looking a bit closer at the pile, I saw the limbs had been neatly piled on top of each other to form a wide bushy fort.

  “Asshole,” I muttered.

  I heard Glenn say “Shit” under his breath.

  I turned to Glenn. Looking at the ground, he rubbed the back of his head. He looked like a little boy who’d been caught humping his pillow.

  “You get an A for effort,” I said. “But the pile is too perfect though. Cut the limbs, arranged them like that. You didn’t find this spot, you own it, right?”

  “My daddy owns it…”

  “Ah. Still live with Daddy?”

  One of Glenn’s shoulders bumped in a lame shrug.

  “Asshole,” I said again. “Loser, scumbag, asshole.”

  “How about I pay you?” he said. “Fifty bucks?”

  “Pay…?”

  The look on his face showed he understood he’d said the wrong thing. “No…I know you’re not a whore…I mean. Shit!” He took a deep breath. “What I mean is, I make videos…put them on the internet for people to download. Charge two bucks a download. Make good money…”

  “And the stars of your little pornos? Did they know they were about to become so popular?”

  “Well…”

  “That’s what I thought. And I was going to be just another cast member, without my knowledge?”

  “You were going to be my official mascot. We have a good number of girls on the website, but you…” He shook his head. “None that look like you.”

  “That supposed to make me feel better?”

  “How about a hundred bucks?”

  “Get real.”

  “Two hundred?”

  “How about I kick you in the nuts until they plop out of your mouth?”

  Glenn’s eyebrows lifted. His mouth was frozen in a grimace.

  I looked back at the brush pile. “Come on out! Bring me the tape!”

  “We don’t shoot on tape,” said Glenn. “It’s a hard drive.”

  “Then bring me the hard drive!”

  “Are you serious?” asked Glenn. “That thing cost four hundred dollars!”

  I glanced at Glenn. “Remember, Glenn. My foot, your balls, and expelling from your mouth.”

  “How about we just delete what footage we have of you?”

  “Let me watch you delete it.”

  “Right.” Glenn nodded. He let out a relieved breath. “Good deal.” He looked at the brush pile. “Stacey! It’s okay. Come on out.”

  “Stacey?”

  “Yeah,” said Glenn. “My sister.”

  “Your…?” I was certain my disgust showed.

  “Sometimes she’s the star and I’m the cameraman.” He shrugged. “Keeps it simple.”

  “And gross.”

  Rustling came from the brush pile. I turned and watched the limbs part around a skinny blonde. Dressed in a bikini, her body was pretty lackluster. Tits about the size of lemons on a very tall frame were smothered by the cups of her top. Though she was really pale, she had a pretty face, dotted with freckles. Her legs were long with thin thighs and knees that looked too big.

  My rage abated. I decided to stay pissed at Glenn, but his sister would be forgiven. She looked young, maybe eighteen, hopefully. She probably did whatever Glenn told her to do, because she was raised to obey. Same way my dad tried to raise me. Unlike Stacey here, I just couldn’t be taught.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Just come over here and let me see you delete the footage. Okay?”

  Stacey walked stolidly, her legs rigid. Her bare feet shuffled across the ground, kicking up pine needles. Moving like a zombie, her mouth opened, but instead of speaking, she only made gagging sounds. She was probably really nervous…probably scared, too.

  Or the living dead.

  “I promise it’s okay,” I said.

  “What’s wrong?” Glenn asked his sister. There was a pause. “Don’t drop the camera.”

  I spotted the camera. She held it like a suitcase by her side. It was a large device, with a wide, rectangle-shaped lens on front. A similar-shaped hood of plastic jutted a couple inches above the glass.

  As if to anger her brother, Stacey dropped the camera. It landed on the ground with a muffled clatter, then fell over on its side.

  “No!” Glenn cried.

  He started for the camera.

  But stopped when Stacey dropped to her knees.

  What bit of color the girl had in her face drained away. Her nearly white eyes flicked from Glenn to me. She tried again to speak. Groaned. Then dropped fo
rward.

  An ax was lodged between her shoulder blades, the handle going down her spine and over the hills of her rump.

  The blood oozing down her rib cage looked very red against her milky white skin.

  Screaming, Glenn ran over to his sister, dropping to his knees. He held his hands above the protruding ax, as if afraid to touch it. “My God, my God,” he said, his voice weak and frightened. “What…? How…? Stacey? My God…”

  With his back to the brush pile, he was oblivious to the man emerging from behind the limbs. He wore a white mask, painted in blue markings. Lines zigzagged this way and that across the front. Around the eyes were heavy blue shadings, and the mouth had been painted to look as if it had been stitched shut.

  Creepy as hell.

  Which was probably why I couldn’t move. Also the reason I couldn’t shout a warning to Glenn as the man approached him from behind, raising a baseball bat. The tip had long nails hammered through in different directions to make a spiky crown.

  Glenn must’ve noticed the shadow covering his sister’s back. He started to look back.

  The bat came down, slamming nail tips into the top of Glenn’s head. It made an awful wet cracking sound when the bat hit his skull. Mouth agape, Glenn gazed at me. I saw rage flash in his eyes before they rolled back in the sockets.

  Then Glenn fell sideways. The bat jutted from his head like a lever. As Glenn’s shoulder hit the dirt, the man made a wide step over his fallen body.

  He came for me next.

  * * *

  I woke up in darkness. I could hear the quiet whirs of tires as they rolled over asphalt. The car slowed and red-lighted everything around me. Rolling to the side, my elbow brushed something hard and rubbery. It felt like a tire. Reaching up, I tapped the ceiling. It was just a foot, maybe less, from my face.

  I’d been stuffed inside a trunk.

  Feeling around the fuzzy floor, I hoped to find a tire iron, jack, or even umbrella. Anything that might be used as weapon. Other than some tiny bits clinging to the carpet, nothing was back there.

  We drove for a long time. The soft whirring of the tires was soothing and made me feel a little cozy in the cramped confines of the trunk. As I started drifting off, the low hum was replaced by crunches and pops. I figured we’d left the blacktop and were on some kind of dirt road. The ride was bumpy, bouncing me all over. I hit my head more than once. It was not pleasant.

  Finally, we came to a stop. I heard the car shift gears and steady before shutting off. The door opened and closed with a bang. I could hear his footsteps outside, leaves crunching under his shoes as he headed to the trunk.

  I began to shake. My back felt as it was being scraped with icy claws. I saw that mask in my head, saw him kill Glenn. Saw Stacey drop dead, the ax embedded in her back.

  I’m next.

  The key made a scraping sound when it was shoved into the lock. Something thumped, and the lid rose. Daylight poured in, stinging my eyes. I could see the dark green leaves of the trees reaching across the sky. More woods, I realized, but these must’ve been far away for how long we’d drove.

  With the sun behind him, the man was just a dark shape at first. I couldn’t quite make him out, other than recognizing how lean he was. His muscles made curved shapes, like a superhero cutout.

  He didn’t move, only peered down at me. My eyes adjusted and I stared up at the man I knew was going to kill me.

  First, I noticed he wasn’t wearing the mask. Briefly I wondered where it was. Then I began to wonder if it was the same guy.

  It was, I realized, because he wore the same white T-shirt that seemed glued to his muscular arms. The front was dotted with red stains.

  I looked up to his face. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the blaring brightness, I could see him clearly. Our eyes locked, and all the fear just melted away. The slimy coldness I’d felt slithering through my insides turned warm and fuzzy.

  For the first time, I was gazing into Seth’s gorgeous blue eyes.

  Even as I think about it now, I picture it like a movie—trumpets sounded, a filter blacked out all around us, angels sung.

  So romantic.

  5

  Seth

  I knew Jody was jerk-off material when I first spotted her entering the clearing. I’d been there, waiting on them to show up for an hour. Stacey was alone when I got there, looking for somebody to kill. Didn’t take much to make her talk—just a few pokes with the ax handle got her squealing.

  But she seemed to be kind of into it. Like she wanted me to do more. I didn’t. Killing is my business, and that’s it. I don’t fool around with them, at all.

  But I could tell Stacey wanted me to, and was disappointed when I didn’t.

  I whacked her with the ax when Jody was yelling at Glenn about the camera. Then I let her walk out on her own. Killing Glenn was unavoidable, nor did I want to avoid it.

  When it was Jody’s turn…I don’t know. The way she stood there—panting, shoulders slightly sagging, her breasts rising and falling with each heavy breath…something happened inside of me. Instead of killing her right then, I took her. Threw her in the trunk of my Nova, and sped off.

  I didn’t know what I was going to do with her.

  So I just drove for a while, banging on the steering wheel as I scolded myself for being so careless. Never had I abducted somebody. Not once. Stupid, so stupid. I drove for a long time.

  Then I noticed the pale smudges of mountains in the distance. They were purple peaks painted with a thin layering of haze. I spotted signs for a small place called Mountain Rock. Sounded good to me, so I headed for it. Eventually I came to a turnoff that led back into the woods.

  As I parked the car, I came to the conclusion it was best to kill her. I knew I had to do it fast, or I might not do it all. There was no way I could let her live. Even if she seemed to make my heart go heavy, and the thought of her made me jittery inside, she couldn’t live. Just like Glenn and Stacey, she had to die.

  With my mind made up, I opened the trunk. And gazed down. My breath caught. My stomach felt like it was being twisted with cold hands.

  Gazing up at me, Jody’s eyes were wide and misty. “Who…who are you?” she asked in a helpless voice. Tears had left glossy trails down her face.

  Her eyes. There was just…something about their almond shades I couldn’t deny. I don’t mean the actual eyes themselves. What went on behind them. They touched me somewhere and not just inside my jeans.

  “Seth Covington,” I said. It came out more as a whisper, and I cleared my throat. “Who are you?”

  “Juh—Jody. Jody Hearty.”

  I couldn’t kill her, I knew that. But I had no idea what to do. I’d abducted her, and she’d seen me butcher two people. What was I supposed to do? Bashfully shrug my shoulders and say sorry?

  I have no idea how long we stared at each other. Sometimes I think it was hours, other times I think it was only seconds.

  Neither of us moved until a voice barked, “Freeze!”

  I spun around. Sheriff Holt Bernstein stood between a pair of pines, aiming his Ruger at my face with trembling hands. I could see the twinkling red light of his laser scope above the barrel. He was scared and nervous, but he also had me dead to rights. Nothing I could do.

  The brass of the star pinned to his chest gleamed in the sunlight. His tanned uniform had dark stains here and there from sweat. “I see a knife sticking out your pants,” he said. “Pull it out. Slowly. And throw it on the ground.”

  I sighed. Couldn’t believe I’d been caught. I guess he’d trailed me all the way from the lake since we were a good hundred miles outside his jurisdiction. For a while, I’d known he had some suspicions about me.

  It was the Janz guy.

  That one had been stupid of me. And sloppy. Janz was going to run for senator, little did I know. So everybody knew who he was. I nearly pissed my pants when the news stations started their several month-long specials about his death. To me, he was just a guy I saw at a rest sto
p. I trailed him for a bit, made him run off the road. Then I walked over to his window and blasted him with both barrels of my sawed-off double-barrel.

  But guess what? Not only was he practically guaranteed to be our next senator, he was Bernstein’s nephew. So the sheriff had taken the murder personally, as a vow to his family. That I could respect.

  But it was hard to be empathetic with a guy when he was pointing a hand cannon at your face.

  Bernstein had been pestering the shit out of me for months because somebody spotted a car that looked like mine near the scene of the Janz murder. With nothing else to go on, he made it his mission to stalk me as much as possible. Whenever I went to a movie, his cruiser was in the parking lot. If I left to go to the laundromat, he trailed me and asked if I needed soap. If I stopped somewhere to shit, he was there to hand me toilet paper.

  I started lying low. With time, I noticed him trailing me less and less.

  Then a full month went by without my spotting him.

  But I guess he’d really just gotten better at staying hidden.

  Though he had no evidence before to arrest me, I figured with Jody inside my trunk and some blood on my shirt, he’d have more than enough to put me away for a long time.

  “I knew you were the one,” Bernstein said through gritted teeth. His wrinkled cheeks trembled. He wasn’t very fit, but his height and natural stockiness filled his uniform, showing he was a threat.

  I held the knife in my hand, looking at the blade. I could see my reflection in its shiny surface. The blade’s jagged teeth shimmered under the sunlight.

  “Drop it!” Bernstein ordered again.

  Sighing, I tossed the knife. The blade stabbed into the ground, the handle pointing at the sky.

  Bernstein flinched and jumped back as if the knife had been thrown at him. “You bastard!” He marched forward, thrusting the gun to the right. “Get over there. Now.”

  I walked over to a clear spot that circled a scorched mound of broken sticks from an old campfire. It had been a long time since a fire had burned there.

  “Get on your knees,” Bernstein shouted. “And put your hands on your head!”