by J. L. Drake
I reached the top of the stairs, moving as quietly as possible. I took nearly ten steps forward, moving blindly in the dark. I held the knife at my side.
“Sir, are you in there? I don’t know what happened!” I called out, my voice trembling.
“I’m right here,” said a deep voice behind me. I pulled a small flashlight from my back pocket and flipped it on, just in time to see him creeping toward me. The song said it all, and I was certain that he knew who I was, standing there with him in the darkness.
He was right in front of me now, stepping forward cautiously. My eyes adjusted to the blackness, and I was suddenly hit with a strange sense of inner calmness. He was so close I could smell his body odor and stale breath. It was time.
He was right in front of me now, and we stood face-to-face, staring at each other knowingly. But there was one thing he didn’t know or realize: I was holding a knife.
Without warning, I lifted the weapon, stepped forward, and plunged the knife deep in his chest. He let out a strange, breathless attempt at a scream. “I really did like you,” I whispered in his ear as I shoved the knife deeper into his soft flesh. That night in the house of horrors, I’d thought it was James whispering those words to me. “I really liked you,” the voice said…but last night I’d realized whose voice it really was saying them. It was Zach. I think I’d known it all along.
Chapter 45
The flashlight didn’t provide much illumination in the velvety blackness. What made me think this was a good idea, stabbing at him in the dark? He let out a small oomph when I pushed the knife in farther, and then we fell to the floor together. I was on top of him. He lay slumped beneath me on the floor, noiselessly.
My hand was still gripping the handle of the knife shakily. I wanted to stab him again and again, but I couldn’t get the knife out of his chest. It was lodged in a soft spot over his right breast. Blood spread out around the knife, soaking his pale yellow Polo. I yanked on the knife with all my might, but it wouldn’t budge from his chest. Zach made pitiful moaning sounds and jerked from side to side, trying to knock me off him.
The dull glow of the flashlight provided little help in the dark. I could barely see what I was doing, and my attempts at pulling out the knife were futile.
I made a quick decision. Leaving him lying there, I ran downstairs to turn the main breaker switch back on. I was certain he was dead or dying, but I had to make sure. The song was still playing, eerie words about riding a snake and the end of nights people tried to die…
I raced down the cellar stairs. On the second or third stair, my foot abruptly slipped out from under me. I went tumbling to the bottom, scraping my back all the way down. I panted and groaned, pulling myself back up to my feet. I didn’t have a flashlight or any source of light, so I spun around aimlessly in the dark, trying to find the wall with the breaker box.
I felt like I was going to hyperventilate, but somehow, someway, I traced my hands along the wall until I found that dreadful box, and I found the one left-sided switch. The power roared back to life like a godsend. I let out a deep whoosh of breath.
I took off running back up the stairs. I turned the corner, and that’s when I saw the bloody mess on the carpet. A dark, crimson stain, as large and wide as a person. But Zach’s body was nowhere near the bloody puddle. He had somehow managed to get away!
Chapter 46
It didn’t make sense. How could his body just disappear? There were no doors leading outside from up here, and I would have heard him if he’d come down the stairs…wouldn’t I?
I crept toward the lightless bathroom, wondering if he’d pulled himself inside it, and maybe he was still alive. Maybe he was just wounded, waiting to attack me. That’s when he charged straight at me, running out from the back corner of the bathroom, and knocking the wind out of me as I tumbled backwards. I grabbed onto the towel bar as I went down, trying to break my fall, and it collapsed to the ground with me.
He ran at me like a wild bull covered in blood, with the knife still lodged in his chest. Unlike him, I wasn’t injured, so I moved more speedily, jumping up with the towel bar in hand. Now that I was back on my feet, I poked at him with the lousy towel bar, backing up desperately. He chuckled at me maniacally.
“I lied. I never liked you, Wendi,” he said, grabbing for me. I stepped back, but he charged again. I moved quickly, and just in time. He fell forward, banging his head on the heavy metal radiator that stood outside the bathroom door. He crumpled to the floor beside it, his body lifeless.
I crept forward, edging toward him on my tip-toes, fear surging through my entire body. What if he was pretending? I held that stupid towel bar out in front of me, protectively, and I moved as close to him as I dared. I leaned down and felt his pulse. He was still alive!
I ran downstairs, grabbing a long, twisted rope that was hanging on a hook in the cellar. I dragged the heavy rope back upstairs with me. He was breathing, but unconscious. I had to seize the moment. I began tying his arms to the radiator, trying to finish before he woke up and tried to kill me again.
Chapter 47
I sat on the living room couch, chewing on my fingernails until they were sore and bleeding. Who had I become? What was I going to do with him now that I had him tied up? Even if he died up there, I had to dispose of the body. What the hell was I thinking when I concocted this crazy plan?
I’d closed the door to the upstairs. Shoved one of the metal chairs up under the knob. So, even if he broke free from the ropes, he would still have to struggle at the door long enough to alert me.
When I get my paycheck, I could buy a gun and shoot him in the head, I considered, chewing on the bloody nails relentlessly. But…then what? He was too big to move. Maybe I could slide his body inside the bathroom.
The only way to get rid of his body would be to chop him into pieces. I could buy a Sawzall…I shuddered at the thought, my stomach lurching. I felt like I needed to throw up, but I couldn’t use my own bathroom because a half dead guy was waiting upstairs for me.
An image of me chopping through his flesh, bone dust flying through the air around me, entered my mind…I ran over to the garbage can and promptly vomited in it.
Wiping my mouth, I pulled the bag out of the can, and carried it outside to the city can in the desolate backyard. That was my only liner until payday, I realized miserably. The fact that I could worry about everyday household concerns at a time like this frightened me. Was I as bad as them?
I walked inside the house and fell back onto the couch. I covered my head with the blanket again and closed my eyes. I thought about the way it felt when the knife ruptured his skin, shaking with disgust and fear. I never should have done this. Never, never, never…
I was physically and mentally done for the day. I don’t know how I did it, but I drifted off into a dreamless sleep, snoring away on the couch…
Chapter 48
I woke up two hours later, at quarter after one in the morning. It was the sounds of groaning upstairs that awoke me. I groaned myself, standing up from the couch. My right arm felt heavy and sore. Probably because you stabbed someone with it, I thought guiltily.
I crept up the stairs and pressed my ear to the door.
“I know you’re there,” Zach grumbled creepily from somewhere on the other side of the door. I gasped, nearly falling backwards down the stairs. “Please untie me and I’ll explain everything,” he whined, a surprisingly babyish tone to his voice.
So, he was still tied up at least, I realized, crossing my arms smugly. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m going to kill you,” I hissed through the door.
“But it wasn’t my fault. It really wasn’t,” he moaned pathetically.
I pulled the chair out from under the knob and threw open the door angrily. I stomped over to where he was lying on the floor tied up, and kicked him promptly in the face. My foot connected with his nose and his head snapped back. I enjoyed the sound of it. I was hoping to knock him out cold again, but he was regret
tably still conscious. His mouth and nose were bleeding.
He spat the blood on the carpet, snarling up at me. “Even if you kill me and somehow destroy my body, you’ll never be able to explain all this blood on the floor. My mom is going to freak,” he said, looking around the room wildly. I wanted to kick him again, but what he said sort of rang true. Ruth would eventually come looking for her son, the plumber. She knew he was here, and it wouldn’t be long before she started wondering where he was.
“If you tell me everything I want to know, then I’ll consider letting you go,” I told him honestly. I wondered if what I was saying were true; I wasn’t so sure myself. I doubted that simply letting him go was even an option at this point. “Wait a minute,” I said. I ran downstairs and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and lighter from my backpack. I brought them back upstairs with me.
“Can I have one of those?” Zach asked, staring at me with big doe eyes.
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked, taking a relieving puff for myself.
“If you give me one, I’ll tell you everything,” he pleaded desperately.
“If you want to live, you’ll tell me everything. Get your priorities straight, Zach. Or should I call you Zeke, since that’s what you like to go by with the ladies?” I asked bitterly.
He stared at the burning cigarette longingly, but I wasn’t budging. This asshole deserved no pleasures in life. I certainly had no pleasure when I was held captive in the house of horrors.
I sat there smoking in silence, staring at his blood on the floor. Waiting for him to talk. “Ruth is my mom. She was James’ mom too. But James is dead now. His stupid, drunken ass fell off the side of a roof while we were laying shingles. We were half-brothers. My father’s name is Hank. I also have a half-sister, Jennifer.”
“And Jennifer and Hank are the ones who were in charge,” I said, bored with hearing information I already knew.
“Not exactly,” he said.
“What do you mean, not exactly? Stop yanking my chain,” I shouted, stubbing out the cigarette on the floor. There was no point worrying about the carpet anymore, that much I knew for sure.
“You don’t even know, do ya?” he taunted, a smug smile on his face. I can’t wait to knock that look off his face again, I thought crossly. But then my thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of loud, thunderous bangs on the front door below.
I froze, my feet rooted to the floor momentarily. Who in the world would be knocking at my door at nearly two in the morning? I wondered incredulously. But then it became obvious. It had to be Ruth. When she didn’t hear back from me or Zach regarding the plumbing issue, she must have worried something was wrong. I didn’t know what to do.
“You’re gonna die,” Zach snarled menacingly. I kicked him again in the face, but this time I put more force behind it.
“You bitch!” he screamed, spitting out one of his canine teeth.
“Who’s the bitch now?” I asked, winking down at him.
The banging downstairs continued. I crept down the staircase silently, unsure what I should do. If it was Ruth, I couldn’t answer the door. But how could I not when she knew I was in here?
I slowly tip-toed across the living room. Luckily, all of the drapes and blinds were snugly closed. I stood in front of the door, taking deep, fearful breaths, and then I stood on my tip-toes, peering out through the peephole while sucking in my breath. Of all the people I expected to see, this person certainly wasn’t one of them. I jumped back from the door, completed stunned by the person standing on my front porch. It was Officer Milby.
Chapter 49
Officer Milby had come all of the way from Albuquerque, and here he was, standing on my front porch in Flocksdale. How the hell had he found me? And what was he doing here exactly?
I leaned against the door, pressing my back against it, completely in shock from the day’s events. What the hell was going on?
Officer Milby started banging again, and I jumped back from the door, startled. “Let me in, Wendi! I know you’re in there!” he shouted through the door. At the mention of my real name, I remembered that day in the parking lot at LOHP, him calling me Wendi as I ran away. Remy had told him everything, and now he’d finally found me.
“If you don’t open the door, I’m going to come in anyway. God knows, I have enough probable cause, Wendi!” he warned. I stood there, wide eyed, unsure what my next move was. What choice did I have at this point?
Officer Milby started counting down. “One, two, three…” I threw open the door on four, and stepped so close to him that we were nearly nose to nose. I considered running past him, into the street beyond, but where was I going to go this time? I would rather be here, dealing with the police, than out there dealing with the maniacs of this town, I decided finally.
I stepped aside and let Officer Milby enter the house. He stepped in the living room, and now that we were standing in the light, he looked me up and down with a horrified expression on his face. What was he staring at?
I glanced down at my clothes, appalled to see that I was covered in Zach’s blood. Moments earlier, I’d been snoozing away with his blood all over me, I realized with disgust.
“What’s going on?” he asked, placing a hand on his gun and stepping back from me hesitantly.
Before I could explain, Zach started shouting upstairs. “Please help! She’s holding me prisoner! And she said there’s a body buried in the cellar, and it’s one of her friends!” he screamed.
My head started spinning and I fell to my knees dizzily. Zach’s words hung in the air, resonating through my head in violent, rhythmic thrusts. Why would Zach say that? And mostly, why would he say that my friend’s body was down in the cellar of this house? That’s when it hit me—the awful truth. Not only had Zach and his family victimized me horribly, but now they were going to pin Claire’s murder on me.
Chapter 50
It was at that moment I realized I was going to jail. Maybe this had been my destiny all along. Hell, maybe in some way, I actually deserved this type of ending, a voice down deep inside of me was saying.
Officer Milby placed me in cuffs and sat me down on the couch. He went upstairs to assess Zach’s wounds. After what seemed like an eternity, he came downstairs, covered in blood himself.
“He’s lying,” I started to say, but he put up a hand to stop me.
“I stopped his bleeding. Paramedics are on their way.”
“But, you can’t just let him go! He and his family raped me and they killed my best friend, Claire!”
“Claire. You mean the body that’s supposedly in the basement of the house that you are renting?” Officer Milby asked, staring at me so intensely that I felt afraid of him for the first time in my life.
“I don’t know anything about that! I had no idea where her body was all this time!” I screamed, tears streaming down my red, hot cheeks.
I imagined Claire’s gorgeous face with all its freckles and innocence, and then I pictured it again, only this time it was bloody and mangled. I imagined her dead, rotting flesh lying beneath the earthy floor of my cellar. I fought back the urge to vomit again.
But then I remembered something important, something that would clear my name. “The fingerprints! I have Jeanna’s fingerprints! Her real name is actually Jennifer though…but I do have them!” I exclaimed, remembering the evidence I’d been toting around with me for years.
“What fingerprints?” he asked, raising his eyebrows skeptically.
“In the pack!” I yelled, jerking my arms around in the cuffs, trying to show him where it was located. He walked over to the backpack and unzipped it, reaching down inside.
He held up the Ziploc bag and said, “What am I supposed to do with these?”
“Those are her fingerprints. On the tape! And there’s a CD downstairs in the boombox. It should still have prints on it too! They are the prints of the woman who held me prisoner,” I tried to explain breathlessly. I suddenly felt like a fool and I knew what he was going to s
ay next.
“I don’t know where these prints came from. I didn’t find them at a crime scene. You can’t just take someone’s prints and then tell me you found them at a crime scene. You could have easily taken these prints from anyone or taken prints off something that someone touched. This doesn’t help me, Wendi. Even if these are someone’s prints—a very bad person’s prints—it all means nothing if I can’t link it to a crime,” he said, exasperated, sitting down on the couch beside me.
My heart sank. Everything he said was true, and I looked guilty as sin. “Your buddy from the rehab clinic told me your story,” he said quietly.
“I know,” I said, staring down at the floor miserably. I could hear ambulance sirens in the distance.
“At first, I thought it was just a story. But I’ve always cared about you, Wendi, and I started doing a little digging. I looked into the town of Flocksdale, and I came across the picture of a missing girl…” I squeezed my eyes shut.
“The girl in the picture was you,” he finished.
I looked at him, my eyes widening. Snot slid down from my nose into my mouth. I had no free hands to wipe it away.
He pulled a picture out of his back pocket. “Have you seen this girl?” he asked, holding up the same picture of me that I saw at the skating rink. I held my breath. Was it possible that he actually thought my story was true, then? “I believe you,” he said, staring back at me gravely. I let out a whoosh, my entire body filled with relief.
Chapter 51
“Stay here and don’t move,” Officer Milby ordered me sternly. I nodded my head, staring down at the silver cuffs on my wrists. He’d loosened them now, and I was free to move my feet at least. He obviously trusts me, I realized, feeling a glimmer of hope. The thought of someone knowing my story, believing it, and being in a position to help me do something about it felt overwhelmingly wonderful.