Gristle

by Mark Allen

  So that’s what they did.

  The kiss was light, hesitant, unsure. Kevin felt Holly freeze up for a second, but when he tried to pull back, she moved into him, kissing harder. It hurt some, but he’d be damned if he was going to tell her to stop. He pulled her close as his hand slid under her shirt, fingers tracing the curve of her spine. He stopped kissing her long enough to nuzzle her neck and softly ask, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “No,” she said quietly. “But we’re going to do it anyway.”

  The combination of double shots and young desire heated up their bodies. Kevin peeled off his own shirt and then helped Holly out of hers. Her breasts were ripe and pert, nipples hard with arousal. He was abruptly consumed by an urgent need to be with her. Call it lust, call it love, call it the desperate need to affirm life in the aftermath of death—hell, call it all of the above. He picked her up, feeling her legs wrap around his waist as he carried her to his bedroom.

  Once there, he unsnapped her jeans and lowered her zipper. The metallic rasp sounded loud even over their panting. The jeans slid to the floor and she stepped out of them, leaving them in a puddle of denim on the floor, mute testimony to her need to be loved after years of being abused.

  His fingers hooked into the waistline of her panties. “Are you sure?” he asked again.

  She leaned in and kissed him, letting her lips linger on his. “I’m sure,” she said. “You know we both need this.”

  He moved his hands downward and her underwear slid to the floor. His pulse quickened as she stood naked before him, but there was still one more thing he needed to confess. “I’ve never done this before,” he said.

  She kissed him again, pressing her body against him. “Neither have I.”

  Kevin looked at her, surprised. “Sorry, I guess I thought…” He stopped talking. There was no easy way to say it.

  “They did a lot of things to me,” Holly said, “but they didn’t do that.”

  Kevin undressed and they tumbled into the bed, exploring each other’s bodies with an intoxicating blend of sensual hunger and desperate passion. Neither could know for sure what the other was thinking, but they sensed that they both needed the same thing—a few moments of feeling alive, a few moments to ease the pain in their hearts and souls, a few heartbeats of heaven to make them momentarily forget their hells.

  Their arousal burned fast and hot as their hands devoured one another. Their moans and gasps echoed through the room as they fully surrendered to the intensity of the moment. Holly moved on top of him and Kevin felt himself immersed in hot, wet silk. He groaned in pleasure and then, as she began to move her hips slowly, uncertainly, he gasped, “My God, Holly…”

  It didn’t take long. It couldn’t, nor did it need to. For a few brief moments, they forgot their nightmares by surrendering to each other, yielding to the satin friction of skin on skin. Their smoldering gazes locked as they moved together until the final seconds came. Then they each closed their eyes as Kevin’s shuddering climax rocked them both. She silenced his cry of release with a kiss, feeling the vibrations of his orgasm tremble through him and into her.

  “Holy shit,” he said when he could speak again.

  “Yeah, that about sums it up,” she said as she slid off of him and cuddled against his side. He wrapped both arms around her and pulled her close.

  “Guess we’re not virgins anymore,” he said. “Good thing too, ‘cause that whole virginity thing was really overrated.”

  She smiled contentedly and moved even closer to him. “Do you mind if we just lay here for a while?”

  “If a while is forever, sure.”

  They were both asleep in less than a minute.

  ******

  Bill drove back to his sporting goods store in Saranac Lake after spending all day burying his sons in a place he knew no one would ever find them. He hadn’t bothered saying any words over their unmarked graves. Heaven … Hell … God would deal with them as He saw fit and nothing Bill could say would change that.

  Now he was covered head to toe in dirt, exhausted, and dreading the call he had to make. In some ways, making this call was even worse than putting his offspring into the ground. But procrastination would not spare the pain, just prolong it. He picked up his cell phone, dialed the number, and held it to his ear.

  Hettie answered after just two rings. “Hello?”

  At the sound of her voice, Bill closed his eyes. He hated the thought of causing her any hurt, but it had to be done. “Hettie,” he said, “you need to pack your bags. We need to get outta here, fast.”

  “Why?”

  Bill took a deep breath, exhaled, and answered, “The boys are dead, honey.”

  He held the phone away from his ear as Hettie shrieked. The caterwauling lasted a long time, but eventually dissolved into muffled sobs. Bill put the phone back up to his ear in time to hear her ask, “All of them?”

  “Yes, all of them,” said Bill.

  “Even Junior?”

  “Yes, even your baby. Sorry, honey. He took a shotgun slug right between the shoulder blades. I buried him with his brothers. Took all damn day.”

  “I want to see their graves.”

  “I’ll show you someday but that day ain’t today,” he said. “Today we have to haul ass. Pack your bags and I’ll be by to get ya soon.”

  “Do you know who did it? Do you know who killed our sons?”

  “Jack Colter and his boy, if you can believe it. The same yellow-bellied son of a bitch that let me put a bullet in his wife’s head is the one who killed your baby and then his boy killed the other three.” He shook his head. “Un-fuckin’-believable. Turns out the Colters have more balls than anyone expected. Should have executed the whole lot of them that night instead of just the wife.”

  “I want you to kill ‘em all,” Hettie said heatedly. “If my boys are suckin’ maggots, I want them suckin’ maggots too.”

  “Oh, you can bet your sweet ass on that,” said Bill. “I just stopped by the shop to get a certain gun.”

  “You mean the gun?”

  “Damn straight,” Bill confirmed. “I’m gonna drive out to Vesper Falls, execute that fuckin’ worthless preacher and his bitch of a daughter, and then I’m gonna shoot Kevin Colter right in the face with the same gun I used to kill his mother.”

  “Do it for the boys. Do it for me,” Hettie said. “I love you, Bill.”

  “I love you too, darlin’. It’s you and me forever—ain’t nothin’ or no one gonna ever change that. See you soon.” He disconnected the call. He didn’t want to talk about killing anymore—he wanted to get it done.

  He unlocked a drawer, pulled out a Colt .45 with a dragon etched into the walnut handle, and threaded a suppressor onto the barrel. He referred to the automatic as his “thrill-kill” gun, the weapon he used when he invaded homes and killed not for meat, but for pure sport. Slaughtering wayward hikers and lost hunters deep in the woods was nothing more than sustenance; forcing his way into a home in the middle of town and playing his sick, twisted game was pure pleasure.

  Unfortunately, in an area as small as the tri-lakes, he had to be careful not to indulge too frequently. He carved a notch into the handle of the Colt every time he thrill-killed and there were only six notches. Trisha Colter was represented by the sixth and final notch. Well, final for now; he would add a seventh notch after he used the gun to put a bullet in her son.

  Eye for an eye, he thought. Sons for sons.

  He grabbed a box of .45 ACP ammo and headed out to finish the hunt.

  ******

  Kevin and Holly slept the sleep of the exhausted, the sleep of those who have been beaten and bruised and battered by life until they are physically and emotionally wasted. Neither of them moved so much as an inch for the next seven hours. Had either of them been capable of conscious thought, the term “sleep like the dead” might have come to mind.

  Holly eventually stirred as the evening sun speared through the partially-open shades. She stretched
languorously and then nudged Kevin. “Hey, you.”

  He groaned in response.

  She nudged him harder. “Come on, wake up.”

  Still groaning, Kevin sat up, rubbed his eyes, and announced, “I feel like I just woke from a coma.”

  “Me too.” Holly climbed out of bed, giving him another chance to admire her naked curves. Even crisscrossed with scars, they were very nice curves.

  “Where are you going?” Kevin asked, feeling his arousal also awaken. “Come back to bed.”

  She stood by the side of the bed, just out of arm’s reach, and put her hand on her hip. “For what?” she teased.

  Kevin devoured her with his eyes. “For … you know.”

  She smiled, but shook her head and began dressing. “Maybe later. Right now I want to see my father.”

  Kevin swung his legs out of bed and pulled on his boxers. He suspected their blissful hours of passion were about to come to an end, replaced by grim tension. “Yeah, I want to see your father too.” He motioned toward the bed with its rumpled sheets. “I hope you don’t think this changes anything. I still want your father dead.”

  “I know,” she said quietly. “I won’t lie—I hoped what you feel for me, and what I feel for you, would make you think twice about killing my father, but that’s not why I slept with you. That was something we both needed after everything we’ve been through. But if it had made you change your mind about putting a bullet in my dad, well, that would have been a nice bonus.”

  He didn’t say anything for several long moments. Just stood there and looked at her, eyes hooded and thoughtful. Finally he said, “Let’s just see how it goes.”

  “Kevin…” she started to say, then stopped, biting her lip as her eyes glistened. She turned away to get herself under control and when she looked at him again, her eyes were dry. “No matter what happens,” she said, “I have to go back.”

  Kevin wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “Back?” he echoed incredulously. “Like, back to the cabin?”

  “Yes.”

  Kevin shook his head. “Do you have a death wish? That crazy bastard Bill is still alive and since we killed his boys, I’m pretty sure he wants us dead. Hell, he wanted us dead before we killed his boys.” He stared at her, trying to decipher what was going on in her pretty little head. “Why do you need to go back? Why would you risk that?”

  “I have to get Mr. Brown.”

  “Who the hell is Mr. Brown?”

  “He’s my friend,” she replied. “My guardian angel. He’s…” She hesitated, just for a second, then finished the sentence. “He’s a spider.”

  Kevin blinked. Once. Twice. Then made sure his ears weren’t playing tricks on him. “Uh, did you just say, a spider?”

  Holly looked hurt. “Don’t laugh at me. You can believe what you want, but without Mr. Brown, I never would have survived these last two years. I’m dead serious, Kevin—with you or without you, I’m going back.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully. “This … spider … Mr. Brown … really means that much to you, huh?”

  “Yes, he does.”

  Kevin leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss. “Okay,” he said. “When we’re done with your father, we’ll go find Mr. Brown.”

  “Thank you.”

  He finished getting dressed and said, “I’ll wait for you in the Jeep.”

  Outside, he stood by the driver’s side door and looked through the broken window at the shotgun, thinking about what he was going to do to Pastor Larry Wainwright … and wondering what he would do to Holly if she tried to stop him.

  Chapter 12

  No Forgiveness, Know Fury

  Pastor Wainwright sat behind his desk as the sun went down, trying to squeeze in some Bible reading before he headed for home to his empty house and a supper that came out of the freezer with microwave instructions on the box. His well-worn study Bible was spread before him, cracked open to the Book of Luke, Chapter Fifteen. The story of the prodigal son, his all-time favorite scripture passage. He had a daughter, not a son, but he still knew what it felt like to desperately wish your child would come home.

  He nearly jumped out of his skin as his office door smashed open. The knob banged into the wall with enough force to punch a hole in the sheetrock.

  Kevin Colter stormed into the room with a shotgun in his hands and fury in his eyes. Larry knew at that exact moment that he was a dead man. One look at the coldness in Kevin’s gaze and he knew he would find no mercy at the young man’s hands. And frankly, he didn’t deserve any. The terrible things he had done, the blood on his hands, merited his execution.

  Kevin marched across the office and shoved the muzzle of the shotgun right between the pastor’s eyes, pressing hard enough that it felt like the skin might split. “Hey, preach,” he said. “Bet you’re surprised to see me.”

  Larry kept absolutely still. Sudden moves were ill-advised with a shotgun tucked against his forehead. Just because he knew he was about to die didn’t mean he was in a rush to make it happen. The only thing he moved were his lips. “Kevin,” he said, managing to keep his voice much calmer than he actually felt, “I must admit this visit is a bit unexpected, but are you sure shoving a shotgun into a man of God’s face is the best way to proceed?”

  “Man of God.” Kevin sneered the words into something twisted and profane. “You’ve got some serious balls calling yourself that. You set us up, preacher. You sent us out there to be slaughtered by those fucking things and now my father’s dead. You hear me? Dead! So what you need to do now is give me one good reason not to pull this trigger.”

  Larry felt like he was going to wet his pants. Never had he been as hyper-aware of his own mortality as he was right now. He searched for the words that might spare him. “You don’t understand!” he said, hearing the babbling desperation in his voice. “I didn’t have a choice. They have my daughter.”

  “Had.”

  “What?”

  “They had your daughter,” Kevin corrected. “Past tense.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  At that moment, Holly walked into the office. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Oh my God! Holly!” Larry started to rise but Kevin pushed him back down with the shotgun.

  “I don’t think so,” Kevin said. “Sit the fuck down.”

  Larry complied and once Kevin was satisfied that he wouldn’t try to get back up, he moved aside and let Holly approach her father. She walked around the desk, tears in her eyes, and then abruptly threw herself into his arms. For a few moments she was nothing more than a frightened little girl and he was nothing more than her comforting daddy. For a few precious heartbeats their reunion was joyous, sins forgotten, no barriers between them. They wept together as Kevin stood stonily by.

  But of course the moment could not last forever. Holly finally stepped back and used her one hand to wipe away the tear-tracks silvering her face.

  Larry looked at her with haunted eyes, taking in the emaciation, the scars, the empty shirt sleeve. “Oh, honey, what did they do to you?” Seeing her like this broke his heart. Not seeing her for all these years had almost been easier than having her standing before him now. During her captivity, he had at least been able to imagine that she wasn’t being harmed. But now he was forced to face the stark proof that such naïve imaginings had been grossly untrue. Holly’s every scar was a stinging condemnation that lanced him deeply.

  Holly stared at him and it was plain to see that she was no longer a scared little daddy’s girl who needed hugs and solace. That moment had passed. Now she was a survivor. An angry survivor who demanded answers. “Trust me, dad,” she said, “you don’t want to know what they did to me or what they made me do to them. But what about you? What did you do?”

  Larry just looked at her. He had nothing to say. There was nothing he could say.

  “Exactly,” Holly said. “Nothing. That’s exactly what you did. Absolutely nothing.”

  Larry thought about reaching out to her, but decided t
hat would probably be a mistake. Instead, he sat still and tried to offer justification for what he had done. “I did what they asked,” he said. “I sent them people so they wouldn’t kill you. They kept their word, right? Honey, I know they did some terrible things to you, but at least you’re alive…” His voice trailed off as he realized he wasn’t getting through to her.

  Holly looked like she wanted to slap him. “And how many people died to keep me that way?” she demanded. “How many people did you send to be slaughtered and eaten by those … things … so I could stay alive?”

  Larry bowed his head, tears dripping onto his shoes. “I didn’t have a choice, sweetheart.”

  “Of course you had a choice,” she snapped. “You could have tried to save me. His father”—she pointed at Kevin—“saved him. But my father? He did nothing. Nothing! Except send innocent people to be butchered.”

  Her glare cut into him like a scalpel, as if she wanted to peel back his flesh and peer into his soul to see if there was anything in there worth salvaging. Love glowed in one of her eyes while hate burned in the other and plainly etched on her face was a war between two emotional extremes.

  Larry had no response, no words that could make it right. What he had done was unforgiveable. But that didn’t stop him from saying, “I’m so sorry, Holly. But please—please, baby—can you ever forgive me?”

  “I don’t know, dad. Part of me wants to, but the other part of me can’t forget that you left me in a cage to rot and be tortured by those things.” She stared at him, hard and cold, for several long moments before her face abruptly softened. “All I can promise you is this—I’ll try. I’ll try to forgive you, but it’s going to take time.”

  Kevin broke his menacing silence. “And you might not have a whole lot of that left, preach.”

  Larry licked his lips nervously and tried to speak. “Kevin, I—”

  “Save it,” Kevin snapped. “Nothing you can say will make anything right. Nothing will change the fact that because of you, my father is dead. If there were words that could turn back time, I would let you talk. But there’s not, so do us both a favor and shut the fuck up.”