Savage Life

by Kelly, Kathleen

  The three men in the back get out of my cruiser and walk toward the rear of the house. Dane sticks close to me. My heart is beating quickly as I raise my hand and rap on the front door. I can hear muffled voices from inside, and the front door opens a crack.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Schuler? It’s Sheriff Carlos Morales. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment?”

  The old man opens the door wide. He’s wearing no shirt and a pair of old threadbare shorts.

  “Sheriff, what the hell are you doing out here at this time of night?”

  “Mr. Schuler, do you mind if we come in?”

  The old man steps out and sees Dane and smiles. “Dane! You finally came to visit. Yes, come in, come in. Shirley! Dane is here with the sheriff.”

  I give Dane a look, and he shrugs. The home is clean but well lived in. An older woman in her nightie and dressing gown comes out of a back room and makes a beeline for Dane. She wraps her arms around him and squeezes tight.

  “Don’t think I don’t know it was you who fixed our truck.”

  To my surprise, Dane blushes and shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Mrs. Schuler slaps his chest. “Oh, you…” She giggles like a schoolgirl. “What are you two doing out here this time of night?”

  “Mrs. Schuler, we’re looking for a white car that’s new to the area and might be living on this road.”

  Her face goes blank, and she looks to her husband.

  “I’ve seen a white car coming and going from the old Brewster place. Such a pity about him. No family, no—”

  “The old Brewster place? I don’t have it on my map,” I reply as I interrupt him.

  “No, no, you wouldn’t. Sorry, when Mr. Brewster died…” He looks at his wife. “Shirley, that had to be what ten, fifteen years ago?”

  “Oh, Harry, more like twenty. He was such a lov—”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Schuler, we’re looking for a white car. We think he might be the one to have abducted Izzy from Betty’s Diner. Could you give us the address?” interjects Dane.

  “That lovely girl with the weird haircut? Isn’t she your girlfriend, Sheriff?”

  “Yes. Which house is the Brewster house?”

  “The house itself is gone now. The only thing left is the old barn at the back of the block. I only know this because—”

  “Mr. Schuler, please, the address?” asks Dane.

  “Oh, right, it’s up on the left-hand side. Has an old red concrete statue of a bull at the gate. Not that it looks much like a bull anymore. Old man Brew—”

  I pat the man’s arm and do an about-face and head for my cruiser. I can hear Dane saying thank you to the older couple. I start the cruiser and put it in reverse. Dane and the other three come running and get into the car while I briefly stop.

  Grabbing the radio microphone, I say, “Attention, the Schuler’s said they’ve seen a white car at the old Brewster place. There’s a barn at the back of the property. Has anyone else had any luck?”

  Silence greets me as I speed to the Brewster place. My headlights hit on the old bull. Its ears are missing and looks weird in the reduced light. The grass is all overgrown, but you can see a car has been through here recently. We drive past the old, dilapidated farmhouse and keep going until we see the barn. The FBI’s Escalade is parked, doors open but no one near it. Next to it is a white Corolla sedan. I park behind it, just in case they manage to get out of the barn.

  I turn off the car and hold up my hand. “Be careful.”

  With a flick of the handle, I open my door and walk to the back of the barn. Dane makes hand signals to his men, and they go in the opposite direction. It’s dark and hard to see. I’m straining to hear any sounds, but the only thing I hear is Dane and my footsteps. It’s eerily quiet. Too quiet for an FBI agent and three MC members to be here already.

  There’s a side door to the barn. I open it, and it creaks loudly in the night. I figure if someone is here, that alone should tell them they have company. So I let the door fall back with a bang.

  “This is the Sheriff of Tourmaline. If you’re in there, make yourself known,” I yell into the night.

  I can hear a shuffling noise and a figure appears in the doorway then stumbles and falls to the ground. It’s making a weird noise. I flick on my flashlight to get a better look. It’s Special Agent Argos, and she’s holding onto her neck, blood is pouring out like water, and in the darkness it appears black.

  “Fuck,” I whisper as I drop the flashlight and apply pressure to her wound.

  “Carlos, you need to let me do this,” whispers Dane. He rips off his T-shirt and wraps it around her neck. “You go in there as see what’s what. Don’t. Get. Killed.”

  As if she weighs nothing, Dane picks up Argos and runs back the way we came.

  I wipe my blood-smeared hands on my pants and shirt. My gun feels slippery in my grasp. I pick up the flashlight in my other hand and hold it under my gun hand for extra support, just like we’re trained to do, and I enter the darkened barn.

  Izzy

  This monster’s killed Jules, he straddled her and plunged the knife in again and again, all the while smiling and sometimes he pulled the blade out slowly, seemingly mesmerized by it. The whole thing made me sick, but I have nothing left in my stomach to expel.

  Eventually, he looked up at me and smiled. It made my blood run cold. He rose, stood in front of me, and held the blade to my throat. He stood like that for a long time, not seeing me with his eyes locked on the blood-soaked blade.

  Then, without warning, he simply walked out of the room, leaving me with Jules’ mangled form.

  Time seemed to falter after that. Was it an hour or five minutes? I didn’t know. I spent the entire time looking at her lifeless eyes, her face screwed up in terror and pain.

  “I’ve made her beautiful, haven’t I?”

  “She’s dead, you sick fuck.”

  “Yes, but so much prettier.”

  Ice cold water is thrown over me, and I gasp.

  “Open up,” he demands. I shake my head. “Do you want that headache to dissipate? Take the Advil and some water. You’ll feel better.”

  The monster who was here only a moment ago feels like he’s been replaced with a refined gentleman. I open my mouth, and he puts the Advil in my mouth and holds up a bottle of water.

  “See, isn’t that better? No need to carry on.” He smiles at me and walks back outside dragging Jules buy one leg.

  He’s only gone for a moment, and when he returns, he has another bucket of water which he throws on me again, this time most of it hitting me in the face.

  “Much better. Vomit smells so bad.” He grins at me, and I’m terrified.

  “M-My name’s Isabel Finemore, Izzy to my friends. What’s your name?”

  “Ahh… smart, trying to get the killer to feel sympathy for you. I watch crime shows, too. Well, Izzy, may I call you Izzy?” I nod. “My name is Francis Cantrill, pleased to meet you.”

  Francis pulls the knife out of the back of his pants and begins to cut off the buttons on my shirt one by one. The blade slices through the cotton, making me think it could do the same to me.

  With my shirt open, he drops the knife and pulls off my sneakers, then he undoes my jeans and yanks them down my legs. It’s not an easy task. The water has made them stick to me, and as he pulls, the ropes holding me up off the ground cut into my wrists, causing me to cry out.

  “Oh, stop it. We haven’t even got to the good part yet.”

  My stomach turns over on itself, and I begin to retch. The water and Advil come back up, and I feel like a puppet on a string as I flail about helplessly.

  “Fucking hell,” mutters Francis.

  He leaves the room, and I continue to retch all the time the ropes cut into me painfully. When Francis returns, he puts an old wooden crate beneath my feet so I can stand. The moment I do, the pain in my wrists ceases.

  “Take in deep breaths. You know in al
l the time I’ve been doing this, only one other woman has had this type of reaction. It was in Spain. You ever been there?” Francis leans against the wall, twirling the knife in his hands. “Beautiful country. Lots of women.” He pushes off the wall grinning. “She took two days to stop vomiting. Of course, there was nothing left in her by then. Do you know how it feels to fuck someone while their body convulses like that?” Francis stands in front of me, and the grin falls off his face. “Amazing.”

  I begin to shake all over, the realization of what he’s saying sinking in. He’s been doing this for a long time. He’s never been caught, and there will be bodies out there that no one even knows belong to him.

  “H-How, many women have you killed?”

  Francis chuckles and laughs as he shrugs. “Whenever I get an itch. In the beginning, it was all Kade’s and my father’s fault, but as time wore on, I liked it. You know that Zeke, yes? What’s it about him everyone seems to like?”

  “Zeke’s a good guy.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t get it. Kade left his family home, money, and me for Zeke and the other one, JJ. I was his blood, his family, and he threw me away.”

  “I don’t know Kade that well. I grew up in the same town as Zeke. We went to school together.”

  “Ahh… that’s right. You met him before Kade, but come on, you must know something?”

  Tears fill my eyes. I’m half-naked, and this guy wants to have a conversation about his family?

  “Please let me go.”

  Francis shakes his head. “There are two things in life that are known, taxes and death. Unfortunately, Izzy, your death will happen here in this barn with me. How quickly or slowly it goes is up to you. Answer my questions, and I’ll make it quick. Fuck me around, and I’ll slice and dice you till you beg me to end it.”

  His voice is calm and controlled, and I believe every word he’s said. Francis holds up the knife and grins.

  “You know what you need? More Advil and some water. Don’t go anywhere.” Francis takes two steps away from me, stops and turns around. With a grin, he kicks the crate out from under me. I fall helplessly again, and the ropes sting as they bite back into my flesh.

  From the open door, I can see night is falling. If I were going to be saved, it would have been before now. I’m trying to find a way out of this. Maybe if I keep him talking, they will find me? Francis comes back into the room and lights some candles. It’s then I notice the floor—different dark stains on the floorboards around me.

  “Open,” he commands and puts pills into my mouth then holds up the water.

  I swallow and enjoy the cold liquid. He pulls the bottle away.

  “More,” I beg.

  Francis shrugs and holds up the bottle again. I swirl the water in my mouth and spit it out in his direction, but it misses him. He raises an eyebrow and grins at me.

  “Good to see you’ve got spirit. I like them feisty.”

  The knife appears in his hand, and he goes behind me. I thrash and twirl to get away from him. I feel the sting of the blade as he drags it down my back. I scream in pain, and he laughs.

  “Zeke! You want to know why your brother chose him? Because he’s not a sick motherfucker like you.”

  Francis walks around and looks up at me, quizzically. “You think that’s it?” He shakes his head. “Nah, can’t be that. I only started doing this after he left. I did it to get his attention. The first woman I ever did was someone he went to school with, a girl he had a crush on. Her name was… Shannon. Yeah, Shannon. Red hair, big boobs, seems his tastes in women haven’t changed much. Have you seen the set on Destiny?” Francis shakes his head. “You know I did her for him. She wouldn’t have anything to do with him. Thought she was better than him. Back then, I didn’t know what I was doing. Hadn’t perfected my art. I followed her outside at a party, waited till no one else was around, and slit her throat. There was no fun, no playing. I did it for him.”

  “Just like you did to Jules?”

  Francis looks at me. “I got to play with Jules before you got here. Didn’t she tell you?”

  I take in a deep breath as my stomach lurches. I have to get my body under control. I have to escape this. I don’t answer his question. I shake my head.

  “Really? Weird. She kept saying, this isn’t me, I’m not here, this isn’t happening. Blah, blah, blah. Made me laugh.”

  Francis grabs the crate and again puts it under my feet. This time when I stand, the pain in my hands is nothing compared to my back. In the dim light, I watch as he goes outside and comes back in with another crate. He puts it in front of me and sits.

  “Tell me about Zeke.”

  He has one leg crossed over the other, the knife seemingly forgotten as he leans forward like it’s fucking reading time at the library.

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Everything,” Francis says with no emotion as he looks at me expectantly.

  I have numerous cuts to my body, and I can feel blood dripping down my legs. The tattoo on my arm was fascinating to him, and he’s cut around it and into it many times. I have told him all I know about Zeke, I even lied, but I know with every thrust of his blade, he’s getting more and more excited. Francis keeps adjusting his pants or openly touching himself. I shudder at the thought of him inside me.

  It’s dark now. The candles are burning low, and this place feels like hell. Francis is crazy. He’s talked about his obsession with Kade, how he hates Zeke and wants him to be blamed for the murders. Francis was joyous as he spoke about how happy he was when JJ died.

  My stomach’s no longer trying to make its way out of my body, and my head no longer throbs. I have been trying to undo my binds, but I can’t. To amuse himself, he will kick out the crate and carve into me. I don’t know where he is right now, and he has left me dangling. I have tried to hoist myself back up the rope, but I’m not strong enough. Jules was far stronger than I.

  Headlights pierce the darkness, and I scream as loud as I can. I keep screaming, and that’s when I hear Francis laugh. He walks from behind me, and I can barely see him in my peripheral vision.

  “Yay! This is going to be fun.” He moves in front of me. “No one has ever found me. Do you know how many traps I’ve set?” Francis claps his hands and disappears.

  “Don’t come in,” I scream. “He’s got traps. Don’t come in.” I keep screaming this over and over.

  A loud bang goes off, and I wonder if someone has been hurt. Screams sound out through the night sending shivers down my spine. It sounds like a man. A noise like a gun startles me, quickly followed by another bang, and to my horror, the night goes silent.

  “Please, don’t be dead. Please.” I’m sobbing and screaming, hoping they’ll rescue me.

  Someone enters the room from behind me.

  “Hello? Is someone there?” I yell.

  A woman with a gun moves in front of me. “Isabel Finemore?”

  “Yes. Please be careful. Is he dead? Did you kill him?”

  The woman puts the gun in her holster and pulls out a knife. She goes to stand on the crate but suddenly makes a grunting noise. Her hand goes to her back, and when she pulls it back around, it’s covered in blood.

  “What the?”

  She looks up at me confused, and that’s when I see Francis behind her.

  “Look out”

  But I’m too late. He drags the knife across her neck, her eyes go wide, and she stumbles toward the doorway.

  “That was too easy.” Francis chuckles. “I got all five of them. The booby trap at the front of the barn took out two of them. I shot two, and now she’s going to bleed out. Do you think there’s more?” he asks excitedly.

  Another set of headlights light up the room. Francis jumps up and down like a child at Christmas. He begins to put out all the candles, and when he gets to the last one, he winks at me and grins before snuffing it out.

  The door to the barn opens with its normal creaking sound, followed by a loud bang as it hits
the side of the barn. Within moments, I see a beam of light from what I think is a flashlight then darkness again. I’m straining to hear anything. I’m scared to speak as I don’t want Francis to kill anyone else.

  The beam of light comes back on, and they are standing in the doorway. It stops on me. I’m shaking badly.

  “He has traps set. He has a gun and a knife, and God knows what else. Whoever you are, please be careful.”

  The flashlight examines the room and advances on me quickly. I’m sobbing hard now.

  “Please, please, please…” I chant into the darkened room.

  “Izzy, it’s okay. Baby, I’m here.”

  The voice sounds like Carlos, but it can’t be him. This place is only filled with death and pain. I must be hallucinating.

  “I’m going to cut you down.”

  I feel his hands on me as he climbs up onto the crate, and I breathe in his scent. “Carlos?”

  “Yeah, love, almost done.”

  My arms fall, and the pain in them is instant. I cry out in agony as the blood flows back into my arms again. Carlos throws me over his shoulder. His flashlight hits the floor and shatters, plunging us back into darkness.

  “Shit,” curses Carlos.

  “He’s mad, and it’s all a game to him. Please be careful. I can’t lose you, too.” Tears course down my cheeks, and I sob uncontrollably.

  Carlos grunts in response and stands stock still. I’m trying to stifle my cries, but I’m unable to stop them. He takes a step and waits then another and does the same.

  “Dane,” Carlos yells into the night.

  It takes a few moments, but I hear someone running toward us.

  “Carlos?” says Dane Reynolds.

  “Yeah, he’s here somewhere. You armed?”

  “Yes. You got Izzy?”

  “Over my shoulder. She’s hurt bad.”

  “Keep walking toward me, I’ve got you covered.”

  Carlos walks quickly toward the open door. I feel like a sack of potatoes strung over his shoulder. I’m unable to stop from shaking, and if Francis comes at him, I’ll be a hindrance. We step out into the fresh night air. Hope blooms in my chest as he carries me out of this place. He goes around an SUV and puts me in the back seat of his cruiser.