Kzine Issue 5

by Graeme Hurry

  This time, he surrendered it. She slid it closed and held it tightly.

  ‘No one else knows about this. No one has to know.’

  Kyle’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

  ‘Nothing we do now will change things. If my neighbors had actually bothered to be parents, this wouldn’t have happened at all. And you, Kyle, you’re not an evil person. You’ve been going down a poor road, but I know you wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose.’

  ‘I swear, only two beers. I swear.’

  ‘OK, then. We can’t save him, but we can save you. Wait here.’

  Arlene walked back up the driveway and went into the garage which had sat unused for so many years. The light bulb was burned out. She cursed and walked halfway back to where her grandson stood, his eyes still vacant.

  ‘I need that light you have.’ She called out as loudly as she dared.

  He brought it to her, and she returned to the garage. Behind the rusting lawnmower was an old shovel. It was heavy, heavier than Arlene remembered. When she first picked it up, her grip gave way, and it scraped shrilly on the floor. She thought of her remaining years being spent alone in her house, a prisoner for a crime she didn’t commit. The second time she picked it up, her grip was strong.

  A pulse of heat lightning illuminated in the sky as she dragged the shovel down the driveway.

  ‘Open your trunk.’

  Kyle’s eyes flitted from his grandmother, to the shovel, the boy.

  ‘What are we doing?’

  ‘What has to be done. Now open that trunk before anyone sees us.’

  Kyle fumbled with his keys and opened the trunk. With great effort, Arlene hefted the shovel into it.

  ‘Now, put him in. Let’s go.’

  She turned her back and moved towards the passenger side door.

  They drove for nearly half an hour, Arlene giving directions all the way. Finally, she had him pull off the road in a forested area.

  ‘I think this will do. I’ll show you where to go. Give me your flashlight. Get the shovel and the… the body.’

  She led them through trees and underbrush. When she was younger, this was a place she liked to go and watch birds and other wildlife. She might not be able to move as quickly as she had in those days, but her memory of the terrain was sharp.

  She found the place she wanted, a small bare patch surrounded by a bunch of old trees. She sat the shovel down and waited for Kyle to arrive with his burden.

  He dug without further question. Arlene had no watch, but she was sure that the digging took well over an hour. She wondered how long her neighbors’ laxness would last. Would there be police cars there when they returned to her house? When she could wait no longer, Arlene told Kyle to stop. She grabbed the sneakered feet herself, and drug the corpse into his grave. All that remained was to fill in the hole and try, as best as they could, to cover the signs of their work.

  It was past one in the morning when they arrived back at Arlene’s house. She was shocked, but grateful, to see that there were no signs of law enforcement in their neighborhood. Kyle didn’t say a word on the drive back or when they entered her house. He went straight to a sofa and slept.

  Arlene cooked a hearty breakfast the next morning. Kyle shuffled into the kitchen as she laid out two plates of eggs, bacon, and home fries. He took a seat and picked up a fork. Instead of eating with it, Kyle simply held it and stared at the food. His hands trembled.

  ‘It’s not going to work. Someone will find out,’ he said.

  ‘How? Are you going to tell them?’

  ‘No. But, they’ll stop here to see whether you heard anything. There must be blood on the ground or something.’

  She’d thought of that in the night, and had done what she could to obscure any visible traces in her driveway.

  She explained what she had done. Leaving out, of course, that she’d had to do the work in two places. ‘And, besides, why would anyone suspect me? I’m the poor, old lady next door. They’ll be looking for those men you see on TV, taking little children away.’

  He stared at his hands and did not reply.

  ‘Now, I believe you came here for a check.’ She took a small piece of paper down from where a magnet held it to her refrigerator and handed it to Kyle.

  ‘Two thousand? Grandma, that’s way more than I need for the rent.’

  ‘Use the rest to get yourself those clothes we talked about. Maybe you can even put a down payment on a car that you could trust to get you to work each day.’

  She saw the look of disdain for these ideas which filtered up through his exhaustion.

  ‘Kyle, understand me. You will do what I say this time.’

  He thought for a moment, then put the check on the table and slid it away.

  ‘Don’t do that. You’re going to need that money.’

  ‘I’m not going to go get some corporate job just because I’m short of money right now. If you’re going to put those strings on this check, forget it.’

  ‘There are no strings on the check. But I can’t imagine you’d be happy with what would happen if I made a call to the police. Vehicular homicide is serious enough, tack on a cover-up and …’

  He flushed. ‘It was your idea! You told me to do that!’

  ‘Oh, come on. Who would believe that story? A shiftless man with a history of driving drunk blames his poor, old grandmother for his crimes? They’d put extra time on your sentence just for the gall.’

  Kyle set down his fork and pulled the check back. His gaze was unfocused, distant, and Arlene knew she had won.

  ‘As far as I can see, Kyle, you just don’t have any choice. Now, when you’re done eating, be a dear and go into town and get me a nice cup of coffee, won’t you?’

  THINGS BEST LEFT ALONE

  by Stephen Heuser

  ‘I can’t believe you liked that movie.’

  ‘Shut up,’ I said with a grin to Mitch. Though we’d been best friends for years, we’d always been at odds when it came to movies. ‘Lord of the Rings is a classic; at least I didn’t drag you out to see some stupid vampire chick-flick like Beth.’

  ‘You’ll understand if you ever get a girlfriend,’ he said, shoving me playfully. I swatted his hand away, dancing around him in a play-boxing match down the street. We calmed down quickly after crashing into a trash can as a cop drove by, on the look-out for drunken idiots.

  ‘Seriously, Scott; no chick goes for sword and sorcery crap.’

  ‘Amber does,’ I shot back.

  ‘Yeah, our creepy hippy-witch neighbor is really a good example of women,’ Mitch said, rolling his eyes. ‘I’m talkin’ about actual, sane chicks.’

  ‘Beth’s not crazy?’ I laughed. ‘Does she still make you apologize to her stuffed animals when you have sex?’

  ‘Don’t be hatin’ on the Snuggle Squad,’ Mitch said solemnly, though I could see him struggle not to smile.

  ‘Fine, but don’t hate on Amber then. She’s coming over tomorrow after classes.’

  ‘Aww, is Scotty goin’ to finally pop his cherry?’

  ‘What was that?’ I said, grabbing him around his neck, which left me hanging a few inches from the ground.

  ‘Fine, I’ll play nice with your weirdo crush,’ he said as he un-hooked me. ‘Get off me; people will talk. Just keep her from turning me into a frog.’

  We laughed and shoved each other more as we walked back to our house from campus and the Lord of the Rings marathon. Obviously not really into the movies at all, we talked about classes, sports (which I hated), comics (which he didn’t get), and all the women in his classes that, like, totally wanted to bang him.

  ‘Oh shit, Scott, check it out!’

  We’d just rounded the corner to our place, and were walking by Amber’s house. Following Mitch’s excited pointing, I realized we had a damn good view of her bedroom window.

  A window with Amber, in all her lithe, shapely glory dancing to something on her headphones as she folded her laundry.

  I’m
no saint, I won’t lie; I enjoyed a good, long look at our brunette neighbor in a gray tee and jogging pants gyrating slowly, a soft, sensual smile playing across her face as she danced with an invisible partner.

  ‘Now there’s somethin’ worth sittin’ through Lord of the Rings for,’ Mitch whispered, his drooling tone ruining the moment. I smacked him upside the head and shushed him, maybe a bit too vigorously. He laughed, kicking an empty beer bottle across the sidewalk as he stumbled forward.

  ‘Hey! Heckle and Jekyll!’

  We both turned to see Amber looking out the window at us, un-amused. ‘Enjoying the show?’

  ‘No, not at all!’ Mitch protested. ‘We were just admiring the uh,’

  ‘Heavenly bodies,’ I whispered to him unhelpfully.

  ‘Dude, what?’

  ‘Just say it!’

  ‘You say it, she’s your crush!’

  ‘Mitch here was admiring the heavenly bodies,’ I said, my house-mate giving me a cold stare. ‘I was just tryin’ to get home and get back to studying.’

  Amber’s only answer was to pull the shades, rolling her eyes as she did.

  ‘Really?’ Mitch said as we walked a few more houses down to our place. ‘You had to throw me under the rug?’

  ‘Strategy,’ I said, unlocking the door. ‘I needed to keep my honor in her eyes intact, something you - a friend through and through - helped with on instinct. A true credit to our friendship.’

  ‘Dick,’ he said, snorting as he went inside. ‘Next time let me know about your brilliant schemes ahead of time.’

  ‘And give you time to object? Where’s the fun in that?’

  The next evening was spent flying about the house cleaning up. A few projects I’d procrastinated on had me on campus all day, turning my idea of showing off my cooking skills to showing off my skills at ordering pizza.

  ‘Stop that,’ I scolded Mitch, smacking his hand away from the pizza for the zillionth time. ‘I don’t want Amber to walk in to the half slice you didn’t shovel down.’

  ‘It’ll be cold by then,’ he whined, eying it forlornly.

  ‘That’s what microwaves are for,’ I said, handing him a broom. ‘If you’re goin’ to hover around, you might as well help out.’

  ‘Yes sir, captain sir! Anything to help you get laid tonight.’

  ‘Amber’s coming over for a movie, you ass,’ I said, exasperated.

  ‘What, I’m not complaining! If anyone needs a lay, it’s you,’ Mitch said, sweeping the living room’s dust all over the clean kitchen floor. ‘Maybe then you won’t be such a prick all the time.’

  ‘Am I interrupting something?’

  Amber stood in at the front door, peering into the tiny living room, and set her backpack down with a heavy thunk.

  ‘The front door was open so—oh, Scott, I knew you were a great cook, but pizza?’ Her lips curled upwards with an electrifying smirk. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to go so all-out,’ she teased.

  ‘Yeah, uh, some stuff at school took longer than I thought it would.’

  ‘I don’t mind. Oh, thanks.’ Amber glanced uneasily at me as Mitch almost shoved a plate piled high with pizza into her hands. He nodded briskly, and then fell on the remaining pizza with all the dignity and restraint of a starving shark.

  ‘He’s a growing boy,’ I joked, and mimed an ever-expanding belly. Amber chuckled softly before starting in on her own food.

  ‘So is your son goin’ to join us?’ she joked.

  ‘Yeah, but probably after a bit. He’s still stressing out over his exams, so every waking moment is study time.’

  ‘What about your finals?’ she asked as we moved to the living room’s beat-up plaid couch.

  ‘That’s the nice thing about being an English major: re-writes and portfolios all the way.’

  ‘At least the rest of us will have non-fast food careers,’ Mitch yelled from upstairs. Amber barked out a laugh from around her pizza, and I felt myself blush slightly.

  ‘Comments from people who failed their last English-lit class aside,’ I said as I shifted on the couch, attempting to be close, but not too close, to the woman next to me. ‘What movie did you bring?’

  ‘OK, I know you’re not that into older movies, but you have to see this one,’ she gushed as she slid the DVD in. When she sat back on the couch I faintly smelled her detergent, and I had to keep from inhaling deeply; somehow I doubt it would’ve come off as endearing.

  ‘Mm-hmm,’ I threw out every so often as she fiddled with the remote, hoping I wasn’t too obvious.

  ‘I know!’ Amber exclaimed, eyes alight. ‘Oh, it’s on, it’s on! Keep watching…There!’

  Amber cackled as a poorly CGI’d monster was set upon by a knight, only to tear the would-be hero into grisly bits. I laughed along with her, though a bit weirded out. Still, she did have a nice laugh…

  About halfway through the worst movie I’d ever seen, all three of us had given up pretending to watch. Filled with bad special effects, horrible dialogue, and actors stiffer than a table leg, the movie probably wasn’t worth the disc it came on.

  The story was no prize either, a stereotypical ‘guy going after kidnapped girl’ thing. Actually, the ‘prince’ was such a tool we actually got more out of the villains and random monsters.

  ‘Oh shh, he’s shakin’ his hair again!’ Mitch pointed excitedly at the TV where the prince was yet again removing his helmet and shaking out his hair ever so slowly. Sadly, the movie apparently couldn’t afford slow-mo for it, so it was up to the actor to toss his hair, but as slowly as possible. Mitch was giggling so hard at the doofus we had to hold our glasses steady as he refilled them with whiskey and soda.

  ‘I hope the princess is loaded,’ Amber giggled. ‘He probably spends most of his money on hair products.’

  ‘Well, how else is he goin’ to rule if not by luster and volume?’ I asked, taking slightly cautious sips of my fifth drink.

  About then the prince finally stumbled upon the magic amulet he’d spent half the movie searching for. As he put it on, he crowed about its power and the end of his evil nemesis, or something. None of us were really listening to him chewing the scenery.

  ‘OK, so, so, here’s what I don’t get about magic,’ Mitch said to Amber. ‘You’re like, a witch, right? So…why don’t you just snap your fingers and…poop golden eggs or something?’

  ‘Because it would hurt,’ she said, giggling.

  ‘So have Scott poop them out.’

  ‘Leave my butthole out of this,’ I demanded. ‘You don’t see me volunteering your orifices for personal gain.’

  ‘OK, moving away from buttholes,’ Amber broke in. ‘Aside from moral issues, one person can’t do big, flashy stuff. Most of it’s just ritual magic that—’

  ‘Bored now,’ Mitch interrupted. ‘All I hear is ‘blah blah blah I can’t do magic blah blah.’’

  ‘I can too!’ Amber shouted, flushing in anger. ‘But big spells need more people, and it’s not like I even have some ancient grimoire; all of the stuff I do is minor, things passed down by word of mouth.’

  We were all silent for a minute as our drunken brains scrambled to catch up with our mouths. Slowly a smile spread across Mitch’s face, and I saw him inch towards the closet.

  ‘Hey, hey!’ I shouted as it dawned on me. ‘Mitch, no! Don’t -’ I leapt at him as he rushed to the door, catching him around the waist. As I tried to haul him back, he ripped the deadliest fart I’d ever smelled, leaving me near puking on the floor.

  Triumphant, he grabbed a large box from behind our winter coats, and slid it across the floor to Amber. Stumbling along, he landed next to it, and gently lifted the lid.

  Inside was a large, red, leather-bound book. The pages were yellowed with age and flaking to pieces in some parts. The leather looked like it’d gone through an oven, blackened and cracked. It smelled absolutely funk-tastic too, hence me keeping it out of the way.

  ‘What…what is it?’ Amber asked, looking between my irate glare and Mi
tch’s puppy-dog smile, confused.

  ‘I found it at a garage sale a month ago,’ I said, still glaring at Mitch, who was helping himself to more booze. ‘It was supposed to be a birthday surprise, so… happy birthday,’ I finished lamely.

  Amber gazed at the tome reverently, gently opening the worn pages and growing more and more excited as she paged through the book. She smiled at me, almost glowing, her fingers still lightly caressing the spine.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said softly.

  ‘No problem,’ I said, gulping half my drink to wet my suddenly dry mouth. Obscene sucking noises from Mitch killed the moment. Remembering that his parents were coming up in a few weeks (and didn’t know about Mitch’s rather extensive, ah, adult literature collection) kept me from locking him in the basement. Amber blushed deeply, and looked down at the book again.

  ‘This…you found something really old,’ she said, nervously pushing back her hair.

  ‘Anythin’ interesting?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Amber stuck out her tongue in concentration as she carefully began to turn through the aged pages.

  For a while the three of us simply sat almost on top of one another as we peered through the otherworldly diagrams of fantastic creatures with too many eyes or teeth, and hand-drawn pictures describing how to harvest rather, ah, unique requirements.

  ‘Ooh, what about that one?’ Mitch jabbed a finger excitedly at one page. ‘Will it make Scott poop golden eggs?’

  ‘Ummm…no,’ said Amber. ‘That looks like a cure for…hemorrhoids, I think.’

  ‘Well, what about that one?’ Mitch asked, slapping at the page to turn it.

  ‘Stop that!’ Amber slapped his hand away, scared he’d damage the book. ‘There are no spells to make anyone poop golden eggs!’

  ‘Thank God,’ I breathed. ‘What about this one? Anythin’ worthwhile there?’ I gently stopped the pages as one rather intricate symbol caught my eye.

  ‘Yeah, I’d say so.’ She pointed to a diagram of some kind of circle on one page. ‘That’s Greek. I think…’ Amber furrowed her brow as her eyes tried to focus on the pages through a drunken haze. ‘It looks like it’s a ritual to learn ‘all there is to know’.’