“I told Holly everything.” I looked straight ahead as we walked. A deer cut across the path in front of us. Squirrels scampered around in the pine needles.
“Oh.”
“So now you know I was serious when I said this is over.”
She took my hand and we stopped. “But it’s not over.”
“Missy, Holly knows everything. There’s nothing you can do to us.”
“I never wanted to do anything to you, Dave. I want us to be together.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you think this is a game? That you can just … be with me for a little while, then go back to your life?” Her hand was clutching mine hard—it hurt.
“I don’t love you.”
The words stopped her cold. She released my hand and backed away like I’d slapped her. Behind her, Jim staggered towards us from the shadows.
He looked crazy, with what was left of his clothes draped over his bony, putrefying frame. Most of his hair had fallen out and his eyes were scaled over. All of the flesh around his neck had slid away, exposing dry, dark red muscle and a grey esophagus. He moved towards Missy, his head twitching.
“Missy!”
“What? You want to apologize?”
“Missy, run!”
She turned too late. Shrieking, Jim grabbed her, his vise-like jaws snapping at her face. She screamed and writhed, trying to get away from his teeth. I ran to her and took her arm. Elbowing my friend in the face, I pulled her away. We ran.
Why is it when you’re scared you lose all sense of direction? Instead of running towards Missy’s house, we headed deeper into the forest. In my mind I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop.
Then I was alone. I looked back—Missy had fallen. Jim came towards her fast, his movements like those of an enraged animal.
“Missy, get up!”
She looked back as Jim grabbed her foot. Kicking at him with the other foot, she scrambled away.
I didn’t wait for her.
Up ahead, I found a small ranger station built out of flagstone and heavy wood beams. Standing under a cool canopy of pine trees, it had a slanted roof and a single door I prayed was open.
“Help! Somebody help!”
No one came out. I ran to the door. Glancing sideways, I saw a large cord of wood and an axe. I pounded on the door.
“Please! Someone! Help us!”
Missy was still far away, with Jim right behind her. She screamed the whole way. “Dave!”
I tried the door handle. Unlocked. I fell inside, and without hesitation I locked the door.
Even now I can’t describe the fear that contaminated my blood like black ink. My heart raced, and I tasted copper. I couldn’t think, couldn’t reason. All I could do was focus on survival.
“Dave!”
Missy was getting closer, but I knew Jim was out there too, no longer my friend but a demon. If I opened the door to let her in, I might die. I knew what Jim had done to those animals. And I guessed he was the one who’d torn Sarah Champion to pieces in the forest.
“Dave! Please!”
Missy beat her fists on the door. My lungs were on fire from running and my eyes were blinded by tears of shame. My hands shook, and no matter how much I wanted to save Missy, I couldn’t open the door.
Outside, Missy sobbed, scraping the door with her fingernails and calling my name. I pressed my head against the rough wood and closed my eyes. “Sorry.”
Then I heard the most horrific sounds of fighting and tearing and screaming. After what seemed like forever, I heard a dull crack, then a groan.
Then silence.
I didn’t move for a long time. Eventually, I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and opened the door.
Jim’s body lay sprawled at an angle on the ground, his head split in two. His arms and legs twitched for a second, then he was still. A dark stream of infectious black brain blood leaked into the earth. The greasy axe lay next to him. Bloody footprints led away into the forest.
Missy was gone.
I felt a lunatic’s laugh welling up inside me. This was perfect. Somehow Missy had gotten the better of the situation and killed my friend, who I knew was already dead. She’d stop at nothing to get me—and Holly too.
I ran back to Missy’s house. Her front door was unlocked, and I went inside. “Missy?”
I checked the entire house. She’d disappeared.
My heart still pumping hard, I walked towards my truck, and before getting in I vomited on the ground.
Once I was on the road, I checked my cell phone. There was one voice mail. It was Holly wondering where I was. I called her back, trying to make my voice sound calm.
“Where’ve you been?”
“I went to see Missy.”
A long silence. “Will you be home soon?”
“On my way.”
After I hung up, a text message appeared. I almost crashed as I read it. You shouldn’t have done that, Dave.
This was it—I was screwed. Missy would call the police and report me. Is there a law against not helping someone in danger? I could see the cops thinking I’d planned the whole thing to get rid of her. Holly and I had no money for an attorney, so I’d end up with some lame-ass public defender with bad breath and dandruff. I’d be convicted for sure, with Holly left on her own while I rotted in prison.
* * *
“They found Jim,” Holly said as I walked in the front door.
“What? Who?”
“It’s pretty bad. Come into the kitchen. You smell like Death.”
I took a chair at the table and rubbed my eyes, trying to suppress a giggle. I felt like I was in a long, dark drainage pipe and Holly was at the other end, leaning in and trying to get my attention. When I looked up, I saw she’d turned off the kettle and poured out two cups of tea. I had trouble holding my cup without spilling anything.
“Detective Van Gundy called,” she said. “They found Jim’s body at a ranger station. A neighbor reported hearing screams and called 911.”
I sipped at my tea and burned my tongue.
“Someone killed him. And you know Van Gundy—he won’t say any more. Since Jim had no family, they want you to go down and identify the body.”
“What? Now?”
She looked away, pretending she heard something. “So what happened over there?”
“I ended it,” I said.
Things would have to play out. I was a spectator who had gotten free admission to a freak show. I stood to get more tea and heard myself saying, “I ended it.” A picture of Missy bringing down the axe on Jim left me weak. I knew she was coming for Holly and me.
My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the floor.
“Dave,” I heard Holly say. “Listen to me. You have to get it together.”
“I’m okay,” I said. Holly helped me to my feet, and I sat. “Jim must’ve gone crazy. But now he’s dead. It’s over.”
I was sick to my stomach and pushed my tea away. Holly turned on the TV, which was already tuned to the local news. We watched footage showing the front of Missy’s house. There was police tape everywhere, and cops trying to keep everyone back. A local reporter named Evie Champagne kept trying to jam her microphone into Detective Van Gundy’s face. It was pissing him off.
“Detective, can you confirm that this is the home of Melyssa Soldado?”
“Not confirming or denying anything. We have to notify the family—”
“Didn’t you find the entire inside of the house drenched in blood?”
“Where do you people come up with this—”
“Where is Ms. Soldado, Detective? Is her body still inside the house?”
“No. We have officers looking for the missing woman right now.”
“And the attacker? Who is he?”
Detective Van Gundy hesitated. “John Doe,” he said.
“Excuse me, but isn’t the man you found Jim Stanley? Isn’t he the missing accident victim you’ve been looking for?”
“You’re unbe
lievable. No more questions.” He pushed his way off camera.
Evie spoke into the camera. “There you have it. Police neither confirming nor denying the identities of the attacker and his female victim. This is Evie Champagne. Back to you, Felix.”
I turned off the TV and took Holly’s hands in mine. My legs felt like cooked spaghetti. A searing pain shot through the core of my head. My neck hurt again, and I felt woozy. My plan had disintegrated—and me along with it.
Holly stared at me. “So you were there.”
“I need to tell you what happened,” I said, unable to block the sound of Missy’s screaming in my head.
“Please, no more of your confessions, Dave.”
I went to the sink for no reason. The faucet was dripping, and I made a mental note to replace the washers. I felt woozy.
“Yes, I was there.”
“Please, just stop—”
“You need to hear this. I was at the ranger station. I was there when it happened.”
“What did you do?” She stood next to me.
“It’s what I didn’t do.” I turned to her, my whole body hard with tiredness and regret. “I didn’t help her.”
“What?”
“We were walking in the woods near her house. I was trying to convince her it was over. Then Jim showed up. But it wasn’t Jim. He was like a … some kind of monster full of rage. I tried to get Missy to run, but she fell. I ran and hid in the ranger station.”
“You didn’t go back for her?”
“No, I was too scared.”
“Then you killed him, right?”
“No, I stayed inside.”
“You left her out there with that thing?”
“I guess.”
Holly moved away from me and walked in circles. It was like she was playing the scene in her head over and over. She grabbed her teacup and threw it at me. I blocked it, and it bounced off my forearm and shattered on the floor.
“You left her!” Holly’s voice was shrill.
“I don’t care about her, I care about us. Why aren’t you happy that it’s still us?”
“Because what you did was evil,” she said. I heard the disgust in her voice. “You don’t leave someone to die.”
“But she didn’t die. She got away.”
“It doesn’t matter. You wanted her to die.”
“I wanted her out of our lives.” I made a move towards her, but she backed away. I thought she was scared of me. “It wasn’t my fault. She split his head with an axe. I’m sorry.” I was blind with anger and frustration and didn’t notice she’d taken a seat at the table. “Holly?”
“Shut up, Dave. I need to think.”
She sat with her hands folded in front of her, staring straight ahead. I wanted a drink bad. I imagined going to Jim’s house and emptying out his refrigerator one bottle at a time. How long could I survive on beer and dead animals? Instead I refilled my cup. The tea had cooled, tasting like pond water.
“I was almost going to forgive you for what you did,” she said. “It was a lapse, I know. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t do it again.”
“Never.”
“But to stand by when someone is being attacked. What in hell were you thinking? What if it had been me?”
“It wasn’t.”
I needed something to do, so I went to the hall closet to get a broom and a dustpan. Her face was expressionless as I swept up the broken cup and threw the pieces into the trash. The tea set had been a wedding present from her mother.
“Is she crazy?” Holly said.
“What do you mean?” I felt tired. All I wanted was to sleep.
“I mean, genius, whadda you think she’ll do next?”
“Come after me probably. She’s a vindictive—”
“Great. Well, we can’t stay here—we have to leave.”
“We?”
“You’re not off the hook.” She buried her face in her hands. “You stupid, stupid bastard.”
“What about our jobs?”
She looked at me like I was some kind of imbecile. “We have to get out of here, Dave. At least until the police find her and we can, I don’t know, get a restraining order or something.”
Holly had always been smarter than me. More practical. More focused. Especially when it came to solving difficult problems. She was right. We’d have to leave town.
“There’s one other thing,” I said.
“You started drinking again.” She wanted to hurt me, and this was the best she could do. I let it go.
“No,” I said. “It’s about Jim. He … When I saw him, I don’t think he was alive.”
“Was that before or after the axe to the head?”
“Before. It was like he was decomposing or something. He wasn’t even breathing.”
“That’s crazy, he was sick. Like all these other people wandering around. It’s a virus.”
“Maybe.” I thought of the kidney worms and the maggots. No. He was sure as shit dead already. “Are you going to leave me?” I said.
She didn’t answer for a long time. “I need time to think,” she said, and got up. At the door, she stopped. “You’re a real prick, you know that?”
Guilty as charged.
* * *
I was still upset over the fight with Holly as I rode the elevator down to the morgue, where Detective Van Gundy was already waiting. In the movies these places are always creepy. But this room was clean and pleasant, with comfortable chairs and bright artificial plants in the waiting area. The magazines on the side tables had nothing to do with Death. No Morticians Monthly—just Us, People and Cosmopolitan.
Detective Van Gundy led me into the viewing room. A few minutes later a morgue attendant brought Jim in on a stainless-steel table with wheels. The body was covered in a white paper shroud. As the attendant pulled back the paper, I told myself it wasn’t Jim anymore—it was a piece of meat. I moved closer and gritted my teeth.
His head had been pushed back together and secured with surgical staples. I turned to the policeman, reminding myself I was never there. “What happened to his head?”
“We think Ms. Soldado split it with the axe we found. It’s how he was killed.”
I still couldn’t believe she was capable of that kind of violence. The same could be said about my own cowardice.
They’d gotten rid of the maggots and the kidney worms. There was a surprising lack of blood. Other than the reddish seam running down the middle of his face and neck, he looked the same.
“For the record, can you identify the body?” Detective Van Gundy said.
“Yes. It’s Jim Stanley.”
For what seemed like a long time I stood there, trying in my mind to picture Jim alive again. Then I turned away and threw up in my mouth. When I recovered, I heard a loud banging coming from another room. Another attendant ran in and said to the first, “One of them’s alive!”
They both hurried out of the room, leaving the detective and me alone with Jim’s body.
“I wonder how often that happens,” I said. No one laughed.
Sitting in the hospital lobby with Detective Van Gundy, I thought about how long it would be before they connected me to Jim’s death. I knew Missy hadn’t contacted the police—otherwise, why hadn’t the cops arrested me already? And other than the one text, I hadn’t heard from her again. What was she waiting for?
Revenge.
“Do you know if Mr. Stanley knew his attacker?” the policeman said.
“What?”
“Ms. Soldado. Did Mr. Stanley know her?”
“I don’t know.”
“So this was random?”
“I guess—I wasn’t there. I’m sorry, I don’t feel well.” I headed for the exit. Detective Van Gundy followed me.
“I understand,” he said. “I’ve got more questions, but they can wait.”
“What about the woman?”
“We’re obtaining her cell records. That should tell us something.”
“Right,
” I said, trying to mask the dread that chewed at my guts. “See you.”
As I walked off, the detective called to me.
“Yeah?”
“Seeing as Mr. Stanley had no next of kin, were you planning on handling the burial arrangements? The hospital said to ask you.”
I hadn’t even thought of that. It was true, Jim had no one. “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.” I didn’t know where the money would come from, but it was the least I could do for my friend.
I left the cop and found my truck. I couldn’t shake the feeling he was watching me the whole way. Like he knew what had happened and was waiting for me to slip up. Even if this was all in my head, it was a matter of time anyway. Once they went through Missy’s cell phone records and saw all the calls and texts to me, it was over. Now would be a brilliant time to get my affairs in order.
As I left the parking lot, a naked woman with greyish skin and red eyes staggered in front of me. She looked like a mean drunk. Her abdomen was cut open, and I saw a piece of white plastic tubing protruding from the incision. I think it was a Lap-Band. Her hands sliced the air as she bared pin-like teeth. I thought she was a patient—till I saw the toe tag.
I slammed on the brakes as the two morgue attendants and an orderly came out and grabbed her. Shrieking, she pivoted and sunk her teeth into the orderly’s face. He screamed as she ripped away his ear and part of his cheek. The attendants backed off, looking confused and terrified.
I couldn’t move. There was a crowd of people behind my truck, and in front of me, the woman. She waved her arms like windmills, gibbering and drooling. Then she stared at me through the windshield, her metallic eyes cold and dead. I recognized that look.
Detective Van Gundy appeared, his gun drawn. He pushed the wounded orderly away and waved the others back. I saw the fear on his face as he took aim.
“Lie down on the ground! Now!” the policeman said.
She ignored him. He shot her twice in the chest. I saw two holes in her the size of quarters but no blood. She kept coming. The detective wiped his face with his coat sleeve, took careful aim and fired point-blank at her head.
The bullet tore through her forehead and exited out the back of her head, leaving a huge hole and shattering the windshield of a nearby car. As the car alarm went off, the woman dropped to her knees, her tongue lolling in her bloody mouth like a writhing red eel, and she fell face first onto the pavement, motionless.
The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels Page 199
