by JJ Lamb
* * *
A velvety layer of green lifted Gina as she moved through tuft after tuft of scattered cirrus clouds. It was a balmy summer day; she was lying on her back, her body spread out in the long, soft grass.
Nice.
A piercing light jolted her out of the peacefulness. She stared out into a telescopic dot of light while spasmodic whispers of pain circled her muscles.
Where am I?
She’d gone to Eddie St. George’s penthouse, been there with him and Megan Ann. And what? The last thing she remembered was the glass of Pellagrino Eddie had served her.
Her mind started to float again, drifted off before she could reason out the details of what had happened, what was happening.
Purple clouds floated all around her and she dug her bare toes into the grass to feel its softness.
Ouch!
Someone yanked her hair, top and bottom. Cold air blanketed her; she shivered so hard her teeth chattered.
Where are my clothes? Need to cover myself. Can’t budge my arms or legs.
An explosion of voices assaulted her, the volume building from near subliminal to something like a sonic blast.
Two people. Arguing. One voice stirred a memory – the crazy one who’d called the Advice Center … called her apartment. What was he doing here?
This is important … have to get out of here … have to tell Yee.
Frigid air fanned her, curling her muscles into tight, painful knots.
Panic roiled over her.
She was back in her apartment, flat on her back. Dominick. had come from New York to kill her.
No!
She wanted to scream. Couldn’t.
What’s in my mouth? Stuck. Big. Like a ball. Oh, God! It’s my tongue.
* * *
Eddie stared at Father. Blinked. Stared harder. Father had changed. When had he become such a little man? He was just a shrunken version of his former self; his face was a chalky, shoe-polish white.
Was this the man who had beat him, made him a slave by promising over and over to tell him where Mother was? Was this the same man who’d raped and killed all those women Eddie lured to the shop? How many women had there been?
He couldn't remember. Didn’t want to remember.
Desperation crawled up his throat. The wheezing became more intense, louder.
He was eighteen when Father forced him to bring the first woman to the shop. Her and all the others were cut up, frozen, and sold. The packages.
Eddie inched around the table, looked at Gina, then peered into Father’s eyes.
“Time to stop, Father. Time to stop the killing. Now!”
The shriveled man expanded to fill his loose, sagging skin; what started out as a roar of anger turned into bellowing laughter.
“Who do you think you’re talking to, Eddie?”
* * *
Gina listened to the exchange between the two men, one on either side of her. She allowed her eyes to slit open when she finally established which one was that voice. She squinted, saw him. Eddie St. George! He was the caller! The room echoed with the wheezing sounds bursting from him – sounds she’d only heard before over the telephone.
On the other side, an older man Eddie called father, stood next to the table. He laughed viciously at the drug rep. At the same time, he looked down at her, poked her with a fingertip from time to time.
Where am I?
She shifted her eyes, moved her head slightly, afraid to draw attention to herself.
Ugly beef carcasses patterned with blue veins and yellow fat hung from hooks only a few feet from her; the fresh smell of blood and the acrid aroma of fear made the frigid air heavy. Next to her was a huge wooden rack of knives and saws.
Butcher shop? Why am I lying here naked in a butcher shop?
“I won’t do it!” Eddie shouted.
The older man ignored the protest, looked down at Gina again. “I need packages for Hiller. Tonight! And not just this one. Go! Bring me that redhead while I get this one ready. There’ll be plenty of money in it for you. You can buy a new Jaguar.”
“I’ve never taken the money, Father. You know that. And I never will; not tonight, never!”
“Dumb ox! Always said you didn’t know your ass from your elbow.”
Gina couldn’t unravel what they were talking about, couldn’t make the day’s events fit together. The father sounded insane as he yelled at Eddie. The words were garbled, difficult to comprehend.
A sharp pain jolted her hip. Eddie’s father had grabbed her leg, twisted it. She pushed hard at his chest with the other leg, surprised that she could move it. The kick barely fazed him except to produce a mild look of annoyance.
“Father! Leave her alone!”
Gina felt the hand release her leg. The older man started around the table after Eddie, who moved in the opposite direction. She inched carefully to one side of the table, eased off the edge, and let herself fall to the floor. Her fingers splayed out in mounds of wet, blood-tainted sawdust.
“Get her back up on the block!” the old man roared. She could see foam bubbling from his mouth, sliding down his chin.
She had to get away from them, had to hide.
Eddie yelled something back, and while the two men screamed at each other, she snaked across the floor towards a large meat locker. The door was open just a crack.
* * *
Jacob glared at his son. “You are telling me no?”
“Father. Let her go.”
“Weak! Just like that whore mother of yours.”
“Leave Mother out of this.”
Jesus, how he’d wanted to kill this whining piece of shit almost from the day he’d flopped out of his mother’s cunt. But torturing him had been almost as good as beating down Lola every time she fought her way up.
“Leave her out of it? She left me, goddam it! She found another man. The bitch left you behind. How many times do I have to tell you that? That ungrateful slut left you here for me to take care of. You belong to me. You’ve always belonged to me. When are you going to get it? Now go bring me what I asked for, what I need. The redhead!”
* * *
A large meat locker, its door barely open, was within inches of Gina’s fingertips; she was certain she could squeeze inside.
Her mind kept drifting, thinking of Harry, her brother Vinny, and Dominick. Their images hung in the air like layers of floating thoughts fogging her mind.
If she could just make it into the locker and close the door, maybe she could keep them all away. Escape when she could think again.
She clawed her way through the narrow opening, was almost inside when she heard Eddie’s father bellow:
“Come out, come out, wherever you are. We need to cut you up for Milty.”
He grabbed her before she could close the door, yanked on one ankle, then the other. She reached out for something to hold onto. Anything!
Her fingers dug into a heavy plastic bag. It didn’t stop her from being dragged out; the bag made no difference at all. It was dragged with her as he pulled her back into the room, into the glaring light.
”Give that to me, you bitch!”
Gina clutched the package, held onto…onto…
“Oh, my God!” she screamed.
The ice-crystal-coated plastic bag was filled with a human head. Large, bulging eyes stared out, framed by a head full of red hair.
The old man let go of Gina’s leg, crawled forward and grabbed the plastic package away from her. He stood and held the bagged head up in the air
“Here, Eddie! I’ve kept my promise. Here she is. At last! Your mother’s been here with us all the time. And you know what? She’s going to stay here. The slut stays where I can see her adulterous face every time I open that door.”
He started to reach down for Gina, stopped, clutched his chest. A grimace contorted his face; his whole body shook as if hit by a powerful electrical charge.
Gina scooted away, watched as he tumbled to the floor, lay there twitc
hing. She stared at Eddie, the caller. She was angry with him, but scared out of her wits by the father, and horrified by what she’d heard and seen. She needed to run, to get as far away as possible.
Eddie reached past her, picked up the bag, looked closely at the contents, and released a bone-chilling scream. Tears ran down his cheeks, his shoulders shook in agony.
“You killed her!” he yelled. He held the plastic bag out in front of his father, shook it at him. “You killed Mother!” His voice was like a huge rasp tearing through the air.
The father slowly raised his head, a look of satisfaction spreading across his face. He rolled over, reached up, grabbed for the cutting block, and pulled himself upright.
“I’d do it again if I could,” he screamed. “She was going to run away with some skinny teacher she met at that friggin’ night school. Wasn’t happy to be a butcher’s wife. Said she never would have married me if she hadn’t been pregnant with you. Both of you are nothing but two putrid peas from the same rotten pod.”
The room echoed with a primitive howl that ripped from Eddie’s throat. He grabbed a large butcher knife, leaped at his father.
Jacob held Eddie’s arm away from him. But Eddie twisted and turned until the knife hand was free.
“This is for Mother.” Eddie plunged the blade deep into his father’s chest. Again and again and again.
Gina watched the older man look down at his wounds; he sank to the floor, a creepy laugh bubbled from his throat.
“Finally did something worthy of a real man. Now you’ll pay the price. Pay in hell for what Lola St. George did to me.”
And then Jacob St. George’s eyes went blank and a final breath escaped his body; A mean smile remained etched on his face.
Eddie was wheezing even harder now, air struggling to get into his lungs as he turned towards Gina.
“You!” she said. “You’re the son-of-a-bitch who called me at the clinic … at home.”
“It had to stop,” Eddie said, sobbing. “I wanted to stop Father from harming anyone else, to stop making me bring him women.”
Eddie’s eyes pleaded with her as he knelt down beside her and collapsed across her lap.
Chapter 39
“Okay, St. George, I’m here,” yelled a gravelly voice. The rear door to the shop slammed closed with a loud bang. “Where the hell are my packages?”
Gina watched a tall, beefy man push a hand dolly through a row of hanging sides of pork on the far side of the room. He came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the shop.
“Jesus!” the man said hoarsely. His eyes bulged as he looked down at Jacob St. George, the handle of the large knife protruding from the butcher’s chest. He toed the body, scratched at a two or three days’ growth of beard.
Gina was still down behind the large, thick cutting block in front of the locker. She pushed at Eddie, tried to budge him off her lap. She didn’t know whether to remain silent and hope the man didn’t see her, or to call out for help. Before she could make up her mind, Eddie raised his head, looked around at the man, and motioned for Gina to keep quiet. He slowly got to his feet.
“There’s nothing here for you Hiller, go away,” Eddie said.
“You and Daddy have a little disagreement?” Hiller said. “Looks like you won. Man, that’s a laugh and a half.”
“Just go away.”
“Don’t think so, Eddie.” Hiller swiveled his head to look around the room, caught sight of Gina. “And who’s this little dolly? Don’t tell me the late, crazy Jacob St. George didn’t get the job done before he went to meet his maker?”
Gina scooted back against the door of the walk-in cooler, tried to cover her nakedness with her arms. Both Hiller and Eddie were staring at her.
“I told you, there’s nothing here for you,” Eddie snapped. “That’s it!”
“Huh! Little Eddie thinks he’s finally got a pair. Well, wrong time, wrong place.” Hiller started toward Gina. “Your old man was supposed to have a delivery for me. Several packages. Wrapped and ready.”
“No!” Eddie shouted and stepped between Hiller and Gina.
“Get the fuck out of my way, kid.” Hiller pulled a small pistol from his coat pocket, aimed it at Eddie’s midsection, and took another step forward. “Unless you want to join daddy in never-never land,” Hiller said, “I suggest you move. Now!”
Eddie glanced back at Gina, then spun quickly around and swung a fist at Hiller’s head. Hiller easily dodged the blow and smashed Eddie’s face with the gun.
“No!” screamed Gina, scrambling up from the sawdust-covered floor. “Leave him alone.”
Hiller looked at her; his eyes glistened. He pushed Eddie aside and started toward her.
“Not Jacob’s usual taste, but a very usable package. And all stripped and ready for the axe. Right, Eddie?”
Hiller reached behind him and grabbed Eddie by an arm. “Got a problem here, kid. The package is still on the hoof, so to speak.” He looked over at Jacob. “We can save your ass. Do big daddy, too.” He yanked hard at Eddie’s arm. “Get busy!”
“Wh … what?” Eddie said.
“I’m telling you, get busy. I got commitments. Your old man made me a promise. And since you got rid of Daddy, it’s up to you to make good on the contract. You dig?”
Eddie’s mouth dropped open; he shook his head rapidly from side to side, his eyes large and terrified.
“Come on, kid. The slicin’ and dicin’ isn’t my shtick. You’ve got to do it. Jog those memory cells … pretend you’re papa.”
Eddie didn’t move; Hiller glared at him. “Hey, if you’re too chicken to make the kill, I’ll shoot her for you. Tell me where so I don’t damage the goods.”
“Screw you, buster,” Gina blurted. She dashed into the cooler, slammed down the long-handled latch, and peeked through the small, heavy glass window in the door.
She watched as Hiller reached the door in three long strides. As he grabbed the door pull, she rose up on her toes and smashed her bare rump against the inside latch bar to prevent him from opening it.
The icy-cold metal impressed itself into her flesh, and stuck. She could feel pressure on the latch from the outside, then came a pounding on the door, all accompanied by muffled, angry shouting. There were a couple of gunshots, one big thud into the door, and a push at the handle, but the door held.
She wanted to look out the window again, but she would have to move away from the door latch, and that wasn’t about to happen.
She waited – seconds, minutes, an eternity.
* * *
The gunshots and flying sparks from the bullets slamming into the door latch sent Eddie charging forward, one shoulder lowered to catch Hiller in the small of the back. When he fell, Eddie kicked him in the solar plexus. The impact knocked the wind out of Hiller and sent the pistol sliding across the floor.
“I told you to go away,” Eddie said to the fallen, gasping gunman. He reached out and tried to open the cooler door. When it didn’t move, he knew Gina was holding the latch on the other side. He tried to peer in the window, but the glass was fogged.
“Gina! It’s okay. You can come out.”
No response.
Hiller, groaning, tried to sit up. Eddie kicked him back down, grabbed the loose end of a ball of twine suspended from the ceiling and wrapped the rough sisal cord around Hiller’s wrists and ankles.
“I’ll … I’ll kill you,” Hiller mumbled.
“Not today, Milty.” He stuffed a wadded paper towel into the man’s mouth and moved back to the door of the walk-in freezer.
* * *
Gina shook, cold, tremors rippled up from blue toes to her pounding head. What if she passed out, couldn’t continue to hold down the latch if there was another attempt to open the door?
Her mind was sluggish; she didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think about anything. But she had to do something. Much longer in the freezing storage room and she would pass out. Already she could barely move her hands and legs
.
She unstuck herself from the metal handle, tearing skin in the process. She massaged hard at her buttock while she looked outside, peered through the tiny window as far as she could to the left, then to the right. No one. Her breath fogged the glass even more.
She heard someone tell her it was safe to come out.
But was it?
She took a deep breath, tried to stop shaking, and unlatched the heavy door. Slowly, trying not to make a sound, she pushed outward. The heavy door creaked open and there stood Eddie St. George.
“Don’t touch me!”
She jumped back inside the meat locker and hit the latch.
“Gina, can you hear me?” Eddie shouted. “It’s okay. You can come out. No one’s going to hurt you.”
Her teeth chattered so hard she almost couldn’t respond. “I … I d-don’t t-trust you.”
“Father’s dead,” Eddie said.
“S-so?” She slapper hands against her upper arms. “Wh-what about th-that other m-man,” she called out. “And.you. Wh-hat about you?”
She felt St. George pull at the door handle.
“Milty’s tied up,” he shouted. “And I’m ...I’m …” A moment passed. “You have to trust me, Gina. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“N-no! I’m not c-coming out. Y-you k-killed Arina and S-shelly.
“No-o-o!” he groaned. “Father! Father killed them. Made me bring them.”
“I-I d-don’t care who d-did wh-what,” Gina said, slapping at her upper arms.
“You can’t stay in there,” he pleaded. “You’ll pass out. Die.”
“In here, out th-there.wh-what d-difference d-does it m-make?”
“The killing’s over,” St. George said so softly she barely heard him. “Never again.”
She knew he was right: she was going to pass out soon. It was either die here or take her chances outside the locker.
“What do you want to do?” St. George called. “You can’t stay in there.”
“Go away!”
“I’m going,” he said. “I’m going to Megan Ann. Count to ten and come out. I’ll be gone.”
* * *
Gina lost track of the count at three, paused, started over again, then again, but couldn’t seem to get past three. Finally, she started shoving on the heavy door, unsure whether enough time had gone by or she had enough strength to open it.
