Addy took a small vial from the dresser and once more tilted Daniel’s sputtering mouth up while she poured the contents down.
Daniel sneezed and coughed as Addy unshackled him.
“Wha--?” he moaned as he rubbed his hands. He reached down to his legs to rub his ankles but dizziness slipped over him and he toppled from the bed.
The rug burned his cheek as she dragged him along the floor. His limbs were paralyzed, his body heavy with the urge to sleep again. As he sank into darkness, he felt his fingers being wrapped around something cold, hard, and steel.
Daniel woke with a massive headache. The sun was shining and he was sitting up, his head nodding, clothed and handcuffed in the back of a police cruiser.
“He was obsessed with her. Dirty pig wouldn’t stop seeing her no matter how much his wife begged.” One of the cops was saying.
“Once a cheater always a cheater. She was one hot dame too.”
“Yeah, quite a looker. Wife of that guy that just won that big race the other day.”
“Right, Bill Simpson’s a pretty rich man now. Especially with his wife dead.”
Daniel narrowed his eyes and kept his mouth shut. He listened to the cops gossip, their chatter evolving from the cheater in the back seat to the cheaters in the office.
He cheated once.
More than once.
Maybe.
How many times did they go together?
How many others were there?
He shook his head, remembering the recent brush of succulent lips and firm rhythmic strokes and warmth to penetrate.
Why did Addy kill Vivian?
Why did Addy frame him?
He paced in his cell, flashes of memory flushing through him but none of it making sense. Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, colors, and partial images danced teasingly, not quite ready to be snapped into place.
He was stunned beyond belief when Addy showed up to bail him out, using the house as collateral. He trembled as they walked to the car, the bright sunshine glaring at him, as if mocking his confusion. No matter how much he tried to remember the race, only portions of it came back.
He stared at her as she started the car, and the memory of her standing with the gun pointed at Vivian came back to him.
“What happened?” she asked him. “Just what the fuck happened? You lied to me all along. You never stopped seeing her at all.”
“No,” Daniel said, rubbing his aching jaw. “I stopped when I said I stopped. I did for you and was doubly grateful when I realized she was Bill’s wife.”
He stared out the window.
“But I didn’t kill her.”
Addy sighed and reached for her cigarettes. She lit one and drew a deep drag from it. As she exhaled, Tony turned his head.
“They found you with the gun in your hand, Daniel. You went on a drunken bender after you lost the race and next thing you know, Vivian is dead.”
“But it wasn’t me...” Daniel turned to stare at his wife, at her cold emotionless lips sucking on the cigarette, eyes hidden by large dark sunglasses as she drove. He smelled her familiar muskiness, her perfume, her hair. He had loved her so much but she couldn’t see it. Since the affair, she was never the same. Her wall had gone up and the Addy he had loved so much had left forever. Even marriage hadn’t eased the undercurrent of resentment she carried.
The drive home seemed like forever. Addy had errands to run and Daniel was left on his own. The shower soothed him as he stood under its hot pulsing beads dreaming and wondering, snatching at the elusive pieces of the puzzle.
When he was dressed, he went to the garage to check on his collection. His jars of honey were untouched. The bees continued to drone around their honeycomb. The beetles scuttled. The ants burrowed their labyrinths. All the busywork of mandibles and spindly legs hypnotised him for a while, clearing his mind to nothingness.
“He’s sleeping, it’s okay,” a woman whispered.
“Are you sure?” A man’s voice quietly asked.
“I’ve been doing this for months. It’s fine,” Addy’s voice said.
“So why did you spring him anyway? Shoulda let him rot.”
“But he was already talking about the memories that came back when they interrogated him. And who knows if maybe one day someone will take him seriously? Right now they just think he’s lying.”
“So why spring him?”
“To confuse him further, of course. Buy us more time,” Addy cooed.
“I don’t like...” Bill’s angry whisper was silenced by the sounds of her lips covering his. Daniel squinted open his eyes to see them kissing by the door of the bedroom. He was lying in his own bed and shackled around his wrists and legs. He feigned sleep as he heard them go into another room. Rage fuelled within him as he listened to their wet smacking kisses. His wife’s low guttural moans rose steadily with the sounds of clothes being torn away. Suddenly, Bill’s voice boomed loudly through the walls.
“Get back in there.”
He heard her scrambling against the wall and soon she came into the room. Daniel closed his eyes, pretending to snore lightly.
“This is it. I’m done.” Bill said.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re number is up, my dear. You think I’m going to take the chance of him squealing? You should have left him alone.”
“But what about us?” Addy pleaded tearfully.
“What about us? There was no us. You were fucking my wife. Just like your husband fucked my wife. Bunch of dirty whores. “
“But you fucked me,” Addy sobbed.
“I fucked you good. I won the race and the $500,000, my whoring wife is dead, my whoring mistress is dead, and all the blame falls on sleeping beauty here.”
“You can’t…”
A shot rang out and Daniel breathed deeply to avoid wincing, or worse, crying as his wife’s body thudded to the floor and leaned heavily against the bed. He felt her twitch and moan and the sound of another bullet rang out. Another shocked squeal and then silence.
Bill sighed and Daniel heard him rifle around the dresser. At last Bill stopped rummaging and the sound of his footsteps returned to the bedside. The handcuffs were unlocked and still Daniel feigned sleep. Bill rearranged Daniel on the bed so that he was laying prone, the gun in his hand. Daniel heard the pop of a vial lid.
Daniel tightened his grip on the gun and opened his eyes. He stared into Bill’s face and pointed the gun at Bill’s head. Bill dropped the vial and the contents leaked onto the floor.
“Don’t move,” Daniel commanded, keeping his eyes on Bill.
“Hey, Daniel,” Bill raised his hands, putting on the friendly face that Daniel despised. The face he showed to television and newspapers as he crossed the finish line. Not the angry jealous face that killed Daniel’s wife. “What happened man? I was ringing the bell and couldn’t find…”
“Cut the crap, Bill. I know what’s been going on,“ Daniel scrambled to his feet quickly, the gun levelled at Bill.
Bill stared at Daniel.
“You okay man? You don’t look so well…” Bill stammered.
Bill looked over at Addy then looked back at Daniel.
“You know I didn’t do it,” Daniel said, his voice shaking with rage. “I caught you and I’m turning you in.”
“Like hell…” Bill stepped towards Daniel and the trigger cocked. Bill froze.
“You killed my wife.” Daniel said.
“You killed my wife,” Bill said.
“No, I didn’t...she,” Daniel nodded towards Addy’s body, “killed your wife.”
Bill sighed. Daniel’s hands shook as he kept the gun trained on Bill. Images of Bill and Addy filled Daniel’s mind and his rage grew.
“So what are you going to do?” Bill finally asked.
“YOU are going onto the bed. Then you will shackle your own ankles and one hand. I will do the final one.”
Bill stared angrily at Daniel then relinquished a sigh and crawled onto the bed.
“Slowly.” Daniel grinned. “I want to enjoy this.”
Daniel watched Bill shackle himself to the bed. When Bill had the handcuff fastened around his wrist, Daniel easily pinned Bill’s arms with his strong muscular thighs as he snapped shut the final handcuff. Even Bill’s attempts to bite him were amusing as he found the ball gag on the dresser.
Daniel remembered the hotel. No dreams. He had been there. Many times. For how long?
Days?
Years?
As he slipped the ball gag onto Bill he wondered when it all began? Their evil plans to throw him. Greed. He and Bill had been the best in their division for years. No one could outdo them. If one of them was gone, then there was slight chance for the other athletes unless some new superstar appeared out of nowhere.
He looked at Bill’s panicked ball gagged face. Daniel hadn’t known Vivian was his wife until they had already had their one night stand so long ago.
With Bill tightly secured, Daniel stood back and stared at him.
“So this is what I looked like for so long,” Daniel said, crossing his arms.
Bill’s muffled cries amused him. Daniel’s mouth twitched a little as he stared at Bill, so helpless. Bill was still in his underwear from when he had stopped Addy in their little romantic games. Daniel looked down at Addy, topless but still in her panties.
Too bad. Bill’s semen would have made the story more believable.
Yet now here I am. Holding the murder weapon once more and people are dead and chained up.
Daniel turned from the bedroom and ran down the stairs. Bill frantically pulled at the bed straps.
Shit. He’d forgotten to drug him
But if he drugged him, then Daniel would look even guiltier.
No, he couldn’t drug him if he was calling the police.
But should he call the police?
Daniel rubbed his temples. The banging and moaning continued on. The whole house shook and Daniel was terrified that Bill could pull down the bed posts.
The best in his division.
Daniel ran back up the stairs and over to the dresser. He found the cosmetic bag of vials and grabbed one. He pressed the gun at Bill’s head as he placed the vial on the nightstand.
“I have to loosen your gag a bit. You yell or call out or make any noise at all, I will shoot you. Game over, pal.”
Bill nodded. Daniel put the gun down and loosened the buckles on the gag. Bill breathed heavily gasping what little bits of breath he could until Daniel yanked his head back by the harness and dumped the contents of the vial down his throat. Bill choked and sputtered, drool running down his chin. Daniel tightened up the ball gag again and left.
Daniel’s mind swam with snatches of conversation and glimpses of memories. He was still hazy, not sure if what he was doing was real or more of the dreams within dreams within nightmares. Maybe he would truly wake up and it would be his wedding day. They could start fresh. He would take the pain from Addy’s eyes somehow.
He went into the workroom to stare at his bees. He shivered, and looked around for a blanket or covering. There was a jacket swung over a chair and he pulled it on. The gun was still clutched in his hand. He placed it on the table. Then he changed his mind and put it in a drawer until he could figure out what to do.
The bees buzzed in the honeycomb. Searching and picking, their legs rubbing, their antennae twitching. Daniel watched the queen, settled and content that her kingdom was under control.
He would never have control over his own kingdom again. He was charged with murder. He would be charged in a second murder. And now, what to do about Bill? A triple play?
He stared over at the beetles scurrying along the pebbles, carrying bits of crumbs, battling with tiny pinchers, running back and forth on quests that appeared meaningless but perhaps were the secrets to the universe themselves.
He rubbed his temples, still feeling the bruising from the head harness.
He placed Addy’s cold dead arms around Bill who was hooked into the handcuffs. With his own hands gloved, Daniel ran his index finger along the inside of the honey jar then wiped the contents lovingly along Addy’s eyelids. Daniel wrapped Addy’s fingers around the empty jar. Addy’s naked body glistened from head to toe like a glazed ham in the afternoon sunshine. Bill was just as succulent, a true golden boy, and Daniel smiled as he enjoyed the picture of the lover’s embrace, Bill’s light snores vaguely ruining the moment.
The peeling yellowed wallpaper showed water stains from decades of leaks. Cockroaches scurried throughout the curling sheaths. The frayed faded once gold curtains waved gently in a breeze. He recognized it all, almost feeling his own vibrations of grief and confusion ebbing from the walls. He grinned as he looked at Bill’s sleeping face, nestled in with Addy’s dead one.
Daniel had brought a rather large hard suitcase to room 367. He pulled out his honeycomb bee structure very carefully and set it up at the foot of the bed. He watched as the bees angrily protested the constant movement. Next he pulled out a bottle full of his beetles. They pushed and shoved over each other as hundreds of them scrambled in the jars. The ant farm had also survived the journey in the car and up three flights of stairs in the suitcase and he held it up with glee.
Daniel turned to talk to Bill and Addy. Bill snored unconscious, Addy’s head rising up and down on his chest in time to his labored breathing.
“You two fucked with my head for years. I never knew if I was coming or going. Now I know it was lies. So many lies.”
Daniel tightened his mouth to keep from screaming.
Bill continued to breathe heavily, the sounds turning into a buzz as he strained through his nose, his lips flapping lightly around the ball gag.
Daniel set the arm farm on the bed, near their heads. He opened the lid of the ant farm. They wouldn’t come out just yet, but they would eventually. He shut the suitcase and gathered up anything that could be thought of as evidence. The bodies were naked and there were no clothes anywhere. There was nothing in the room, not even a condom. The jars and containers of bugs were wiped crystal clean of his fingerprints.
Daniel put the suitcase by the door and held one of the jars of beetles. He stared at them once more, and then unscrewed the jar lid enough so that it was open but not enough so that it would fall off. He placed it on the bed, between Addy’s sprawled legs half- spooned into Bill.
He watched as a few beetles had already figured out the escape route and were on the sniffing searching path for honey. Within minutes, the ants had also figured out the road to glory.
Daniel laughed and slid the lid very slightly off of the beehive terrarium. The sound of the bees filled the room. He slowly walked over to the door and opened it as the first few bees buzzed happily through the air. Daniel grabbed the empty suitcase and left.
He was running.
Running through the woods that edged along the tall winding mountains, his breath even and easy, memories ebbed and flowed. The buzzing of black flies and mosquitoes followed him everywhere he went. Pockets of shadows and brightness burst through the heavy thickets of trees. Twigs snapped as his feet pounded the ground. He’d been running for days, him and his backpack, through the mountainous back roads and woods. He’d left his bike behind long ago, worried that he would be too conspicuous on his custom made racer. In fact, he’d disassembled it and put its parts in random dumpsters around the last small town he’d been in.
What had his life really been?
What would become of it now?
He hoped to find an opening between the borders of United States and Canada that wasn’t shut down and not be caught on camera or helicopter trying to find one.
In the meantime, he ran, his backpack bobbing on his back. The idea of a finish line far away in the distance spurred him on. He would lose himself in some tourist town or even a forgotten town, where no one would question him, where everyone else too harboured dark and terrible secrets.
And while he ran, he dreamed of a dismal hotel
with a flashing neon sign.
MIIRA
Andrew Robertson
“Is it this connection or do you look like shit?” My mother asks me over FaceTime. “My god, you look ten years older honey. You need a better moisturizer. Did you get the soap I sent you from Portugal?”
I can always count on her to freely hand out her brand of honesty, something she is proud of, but something she still refuses to admit gave me a bout with bulimia at thirteen.
“Mom, things are really busy with school and working nights at the bar can make for some long hours,” I respond. She’s not even looking in the laptop camera while she rummages in her purse, clearly on her way out somewhere. My index finger starts to scratch at a hangnail on my thumb.
“Well I told you we would send you some money if you need it. You don’t need to keep going on with this whole student martyr shit. You’ve made your point.”
Martyr shit. There’s her brand; the distracted philosopher, the successful former hippie masquerading as smart talking mom-of-the-year. She thinks I’m martyring myself by paying for my own schooling, clothes, rent and food. To be honest, I barely eat anyway so that part is almost irrelevant, but I would rather not owe them anything. They love to point out how much they do for everyone. The world wouldn’t turn without my parents’ generous donations of used and tattered old clothes to charity.
I don’t look great. I feel bloated, my skin is breaking out, my hair alternates between waxy hay and greasy threads and my energy level is way off. But you just don’t tell someone that. Or if you do, it’s got to be presented in a complement sandwich like, “you must be working very hard because you look a bit tired but I hear you are doing a great job and I would love to help any way I can.”
Just a few more weeks of class and then I can get some rest.
“Did you stop biting your nails at least?”
This is why some animals leave the nest and never return.
My other line shows an incoming FaceTime call from Bradley, so I let my loving mother go so I can talk to someone with better bedside manners.
Group Hex Vol 1 Page 16
