by David Berens
The odor coming from his freezer happened to be the smell of decaying flesh…human flesh. His original plan had been to dump their bodies in the water to let the fish have them, but then the cops started poking around and he was afraid someone would see him. And it probably hadn’t been the best idea to put their heads in Troy’s lobster cage…but it would’ve been hilarious to see that asshole’s face when he pulled them up. And he was pretty sure the cops would eventually pin the crime on the dude. He was a drifter at best and was messin’ up Barry’s good gig at Austin’s. It was just after Troy came on the scene that they reduced his hours and he’d had to start cleaning fish down at the pier.
A rattling knock on his RV door, insistent and loud, shook him out of his thoughts.
“I’m coming, Riley. Hang on a sec.”
He hopped over to the door and jerked it open. It was not Riley and he was instantly pissed off.
“What the hell do you want?”
It was his closest neighbor, a short, stubby little old guy with white hair and splotchy skin.
“I know it’s coming from your place, ya little bastard.” The old man pointed a crooked, knobby finger at Barry. “It’s getting worse and I’m telling you, ya better do something about it or I’ll sick the old bat on you.”
“Screw off, old man. I don’t know what it is.”
“It’s comin’ from that heap of junk you call a freezer out back of your rig.”
“Shut the hell up. And get off my property.”
Technically speaking, there weren’t real lots, but there were imaginary lines of ownership that kept the residents separated…to a degree.
“One day. Ya got one day to get the rotten shit in the cooler gone. Or I’m goin’ to—.”
Barry slammed the door in the old man’s face. Damn Geezer, he thought. But the man was right. He’d have to do something about it soon, or it would get worse. And then people would start poking around and someone would find out what was in the freezer.
He plopped down on the couch. Riley should’ve gotten here by now. He pulled out his phone and texted her.
-Where u at?
He waited, but she didn’t reply. With the power out, he had no TV, no internet, no game, no light, no nothing.
“This blows,” he muttered to the darkness of his trailer.
He tapped out another message to Riley.
-Bitch you better be close.
But he deleted it and never sent it. Didn’t want to scare her off. He got up and poked around in the kitchen for a cigarette and found a half-smoked Winston. Might’ve been left over from when his mom lived here. Bitch. He opened a drawer and found a lighter.
The rain was heavier now as he stood by the screen door, blowing smoke out into the night. He didn’t much care about smoking inside, but he didn’t want Riley to be put off by the smell. Luckily, it seemed like the stronger rain was dampening the foul odor coming from the freezer.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he tapped the screen. He expected to see a message from Riley, but it wasn’t. It was a call from his boss at the Austin Seafood Company. He let it go to voicemail. After it dinged to let him know the message was complete, he dialed in and listened.
“Hey, Barry-boy, this is Oscar just checking to make sure you turned the backup generator on before you left. Power’s out over at our place, I’m sure the restaurant is dark too.”
Oh, shit, Barry thought, forgot to do that.
“Yeah. Anyway,” the message continued, “just wanted to make sure because we got in that shipment of crab meat for the big order due on Tuesday.”
Barry’s mind raced. The meat would be spoiled for sure if he didn’t get that generator on. Shit, shit, shit. Gotta run over there and turn it on or they’ll fire me for sure.
He opened the text he sent to Riley and added a new message.
-Going to work for something real quick. If you get here before I’m back, just come on in, door’s open.
He tucked his phone into his pocket and ran out the door into the rain. A few minutes later, he was unlocking the front door of the restaurant and running into the back. He jerked the cooler open and was hit by warm air…too warm.
“Dammit, no!”
The massive tubs of crabmeat reeked. They had definitely spoiled. He dug his hand down into the tub and felt that the center was still frozen. He scooped out the bad meat and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. When he was satisfied that he had saved as much as he could, he weighed it. Four pounds.
“Aw hell,” he smacked his hand on the stainless steel counter.
The order due this weekend called for thirty pounds of meat and he had managed to save four. There was no way to stretch the leftovers into a decent chowder. It would be all sauce with no meat. He slid down onto the floor and propped his back up against the table. This was bad.
With his head in his hands, he tried to figure out who he could call to get twenty-five pounds of crabmeat at this time of night…on a Sunday. And he doubted he could get enough in tomorrow either.
“Nobody,” he decided.
Well, this is it, he thought. I’m going to be fired. Troy will get all my hours, that shithead. Ugh, I hate that guy.
He stood slowly and went back out into the rain to fire up the generator dragging the trashcan of rotten meat as he went. At least he would save what he could of the remaining frozen stuff. The generator fired up easily and the lights came on inside the store. If only he’d remembered to turn it on, none of this would’ve happened.
Of all the crazy things going on, the two freezers in town that he cared about had lost power leaving everything around him going bad. He hoisted the trashcan up and poured the spoiled meat into the dumpster behind the store. A horde of hungry rats dove in on it and began to devour it. Apparently, they’d come in out of the rain too. Gross, he thought as he slammed the lid shut.
“Enjoy, ya filthy mongrels,” he called to the furry frenzy.
He sloshed back into the store, dripping wet from the sheets of rain coming down now. Time to let the boss know. He tapped out a message and read it three times.
-Oscar. Generator failed. Meat is bad. Saved four pounds. Maybe we can use something else to make the chowder.
He looked at the message again. Can’t send that. I’d be fired before tomorrow, he sighed. Use something else…but what else was there. Need meat. Probably should’ve just made the chowder with the spoiled meat. Hell, it smelled pretty fishy as it was…nobody would’ve figured it out anyway. But it was too late for that now; the rats had probably finished it off. Shit, another mistake.
He resigned himself to letting the boss know tomorrow. He’d bring his keys in and take his medicine. He figured with his new knife, he could probably pick up more side work at the docks to make ends meet. He clicked the lock and walked away.
The street leading into the trailer park was flooded with the heavy rain coming down and he splashed through as best he could…trying to avoid deeper puddles. He was soaked by the time he bounded up his steps.
“It’s gotta go!” A voice he recognized as old lady Witherington’s called from behind him.
He turned to see her standing in the deluge under a bent and broken umbrella.
“What?”
“The meat you’ve got rotting away in that freezer back there,” she pointed a finger at the rear side of his trailer. “Too many complaints. It’s gotta go tonight.”
“Are you shittin’ me?” Barry raised his hand and let the heavy rain splash off it. “Tonight?”
“Tonight. Get the meat gone or your gone.”
She turned away from him. He opened his mouth to say something and then inspiration hit. Meat. He needed meat. Surely between the two girls, he could come up with enough meat that hadn’t rotted too much. It was gruesome, but it just might work. Just like cleaning a fish down at the dock, he thought as he jerked his trailer door open.
He jogged back to his bedroom. The cardboard box his new sword had shipped in lay on his bed. He
smiled as he gently lifted the top off. Even in it’s very used condition, leather grip tattered and torn, it gleamed brightly. He wrapped a hand around the hilt and lifted it up. The weight was good, precisely balanced to make wielding it a breeze. The blade was marked with a few dings and a little corrosion, but he’d have that fixed up in no time.
He decided it was time to test this baby out. He walked out the door to his RV in a light sprinkle of rain. No one was around and the trailer park was pitch black. No sneaking necessary tonight. He walked to the back of his trailer and the smell from the freezer hit him. The seals must’ve been bad for it to have this much odor coming out of it. He couldn’t get closer to it without pulling out a red bandana and tying it around his face to cover his nose and mouth. The awning of his trailer barely shielded him from the rain, but he figured he’d be sweating anyway.
Inside, the bloated, puffy, bodies of the girls were scrunched together in pretzel-like twists. Their arms and legs intertwined in odd angles. The bottom of the cooler had a standing pool of dark, black blood that had drained from their necks. He grabbed one of the girls —he though it might be Dana’s — legs and pulled it up toward him. He laid it across the top of the freezer. Looking around to be sure no one was watching, he raised his new sword high in the air an slammed it down on the hip joint. It bit into the skin and a squirt of pus and gore oozed out, but it wasn’t a good cut. He swung the sword again and it had much the same effect. He rubbed his thumb across the blade’s edge.
“Dull as shit,” he muttered. “It’s gonna be a long night.”
Riley Carr shivered in the dark sheets of rain and ran into the lane where Barry had said he lived. It was pitch black. No lights of any kind shown in any of the trailers or RV’s and it looked like a ghost town. She jogged down the lane and realized she couldn’t see the numbers on the sides of the trailers, so she had no way of knowing which one belonged to Barry. To make matters worse, in the dark, she couldn’t even peek inside and catch a glimpse of him. She slowed and ducked under an umbrella poked up from the middle of a picnic table.
She pulled her phone out and jabbed out a text asking him to come meet her outside. After a few minutes, she decided that he wasn’t texting back and made a plan to knock on a door and simply ask a neighbor. She ran to the RV that seemed to belong to this picnic table and banged on the door. Rain pelted her and slicked her hair down to her head. She imagined that she looked like a vagrant, but at this point, she didn’t care. All she cared about was getting indoors.
An old man, short and stocky came to the door. He had on a wife-beater tank top with stains of red and yellow on his melon-sized belly. Tufts of silver and black hair sprouted from the neck of the shirt. His boxer shorts were pale blue and thin...they looked to be about as old as the man was. And the flap didn’t quite close all the—Oh God, thought Riley as she caught a glimpse of the opening and what lay beyond. She snapped her eyes up at the man and realized he was holding a half eaten chicken leg in one hand and had a paper towel in the other.
“What the hell is it now?” the old guy grunted and grease from the chicken dripped down his bottom lip onto his stubbled chin.
Riley froze. She tried desperately not to look down, but it was like a train wreck and his boxers somehow magnetically drew her eyes. Gah, no! She made herself stare at the man’s forehead, which apparently he noticed.
“Are you blind or somethin’?” he demanded.
“Uh, no, um…sorry. I’m looking for Barry. Do you know where he lives?”
“Ha, do I?” He said sarcastically. “Basically, all ya gotta do is follow the smell.”
Riley held out a hand and the rain pooled in her palm.
“All I can really smell right now is rain.” She matched his sarcastic tone.
“Next trailer.” The man hooked his thumb toward the RV next to his. “Good luck. And tell him if that freezer ain’t empty by tomorrow, rain or shine, I’m callin’ the cops.”
Riley shrugged. “Okay.”
She had no idea what the man was talking about, but she didn’t wait around to find out. She jogged the ten feet to the next trailer and knocked on the screen door. It rattled against the brown aluminum door inside it, but didn’t make much noise. She waited. Nothing.
“Barry!” she shouted as she banged again.
Still nothing. The rain, as impossible as she thought it was, came down harder. She looked around. No sign of anyone out at all…and still no lights. She took a deep breath and turned the handle of the door. Luckily, it opened and squeaked inward. She breathed a sigh of relief to be in out of the soaking weather. Glancing around, she realized she couldn’t see very well. The windows were covered with thick curtains and the cabin was dark.
“Barry?” she called nervously toward the back of the trailer.
No answer. She inched down the hall, certain that she was going to be attacked at any second. That was how it always happened in those cheap horror movies. There wasn’t much to search, a small bathroom, a closet and a bedroom. There was no one here.
Then she remembered Barry’s text about having to run into work. Maybe he hadn’t gotten back home yet. She glanced down at her phone. Still no message from him. She tapped out a new text to him.
-Found your place. I’m inside waiting.
She sent it. Nothing came back, but she thought he must be working and either didn’t hear his phone or didn’t want to touch it with fish guts and gore all over his hands. Out of habit, she reached into the bathroom and flicked the switch. Of course, nothing happened.
“Power’s out, you idiot,” she reminded herself.
Fumbling around, she found a towel and dried herself off as best she could. She couldn’t see her reflection, but she knew she must look ridiculous. Oh well, not the best first night together, but what the hell. She wrapped the towel around her head and wandered back into the bedroom. She felt excited, nervous, scared, and thrilled all at the same time. She didn’t know what they would do together, but it was partly the unknown that made her feel this way. She sat down on the bed and pushed a big cardboard box out of the way. She laid back and rested her head on his pillow. Looking at the ceiling, she listened as the rain pounded away on the metal roof. It was rhythmic, slow, steady, and even. Actually, very even…like a metronome.
Wait, she thought, that doesn’t sound like rain.
She listened as the sounds came for a minute, then stopped, then resumed in exact cadence. Weird. She determined that the sound was coming from outside the bedroom window rather than the roof. She crawled across the bed and pulled back the curtain.
Outside, she saw the white edge of a cooler lid propped up against the window obscuring the lower half of her view. Above it, she saw Barry. She had found her rhythmic sound. He was swinging something up and down, up and down. Whatever he was doing, she couldn’t see it because of the freezer lid.
Pecking on the window, she tried to get his attention. She called his name, but it soon became obvious that he couldn’t hear her. She slid down off the foot of the bed and pulled open the closet door. She screeched a few hangers back and forth and found that apparently he didn’t own a raincoat. She pulled a sweatshirt off a hanger and threw it over her own wet T-shirt…at least she’d be a little warmer.
She walked to the door, unwrapped the towel on her hair, and draped it over her head and shoulders. She swung open the door and jogged around to the back of the trailer. When she rounded the corner, she saw him.
He had his shirt off and was soaking wet, his red hair slicked down almost into his eyes.
“Hey!” she yelled. “I’ve been trying to get—.”
She froze as his eyes snapped up at her. He looked like feral animal. As she took in more of the scene, she saw that he held a long sword in one hand that had red blood running down the blade. He took a step toward her.
That’s when she saw what he had in his other hand. He held a bloody leg, severed just below the knee. And the skin was peeled back in a long sheet. Riley bent ove
r and threw up.
“What the frick are you doing here?” He demanded taking another step toward her.
“I…we…you said to come…didn’t we have…”
She was backing away as she tried to form a complete sentence. He took another step, faster this time, almost lunging at her. She jumped backward and slipped. She fell and landed hard on her butt, and he leapt on top of her. She felt the weight of his body slam down on her and the breath left her lungs.
She opened her mouth to scream…but nothing came out.
Part II
A Knife And A Nudist
“Only when the tide goes out do you discover who’s been swimming naked.”
-Warren Buffett
14
Thunder And Lightning
Troy shook Meira’s shoulders lightly as the rain began falling in heavier and heavier sheets. She was dead to the world…perhaps one beer too many. Lightning flashed in the distance and a boom shook the beach under them. Afghanistan had been hard for a lot of guys, but not so much for Troy. He’d basically spent his time in the war shuttling around the top brass, but there had been a few rough spots. Harry Nedman had lost his life in one of those rough spots. Sometimes the blast that ripped his friend’s legs off came back to him.
There was something in the sound the thunder made that shook Troy. Strange how these episodes always seemed to come at night, but he guessed that was because all the terror in wartime happened at night. He felt a cold sweat bead up on his forehead under his hat. Heavy curtains of rain began to soak them, but Meira only groaned and leaned into his shoulder.
It might have been the motions he was going through, or the continued booms of thunder that sent him into an episode, but suddenly he was back in the war.