The Chronicles of Beast and Man

by J. Charles Ralston

  That very same morning at five thirty, several hours before Rod would stop at Steve’s garage, Marcy was up making her kids breakfast. Her husband Matthew on the other hand was still sleeping, he usually didn’t get out of bed until nine or ten. So for a moment she was alone; just her and her coffee. She would have no time to relax and enjoy this time though. There were pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs to be made.

  No rest for the wicked. Marcy jokingly thought to herself.

  Of course every now and then Rod would slip in the back of her mind. She thought about him on top of her thrusting, pushing, pulling, sweating. He still moved his hips the same way that he had all those years ago, when they were teenagers, doing it in the back of her father’s car. The fact that they could have the same fire and excitement that they had when they were kids gave Marcy goose bumps.

  At six o’clock Marcy marched upstairs and woke Candice and Zachary. Candice was eight years old and Zachary was five. They were the light of her life, and her reason for living. She believed that if something ever happened to either of her children, she would just pass out and die there on the spot. Candice quickly ate her pancakes and took a couple bites of her eggs, only because her mom would insist that she did. Zachary munched down his pancakes, eggs, and bacon so fast that Marcy couldn’t believe it. Zachary would then ask for a second helping of bacon, the kid just couldn’t get enough of it. For some reason Marcy always would forget to make enough to satisfy her little bacon-nator. This upset him a great deal, but he would quickly get over it.

  Once breakfast was over, the kids dressed in their jackets and put on their backpacks. Before heading out the door for school Zachary turned to Marcy.

  “Mom, what does a bee sit on?” The boy randomly asked in an adorable voice.

  “I don’t know.”

  “His bee-hind, bye mom!” With that said he was out the door.

  Marcy smiled, she could only assume that her little man must get his sense of humor from his father. Marcy herself had never been very good at telling jokes.

  With the kids gone she now had a moment to prepare herself for the rest of her day. She did her hair quickly, and put on a little makeup. Then she was out of the house and on her way to the Main Street Café, the only place in town where you could buy a hot breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Of course there was Sheila’s Bar and Grill, but they only served dinner, and it was primarily a bar anyway.

  Marcy enjoyed her job for the most part. It had days that were worse than others, but that is to be expected. Her husband had told her shortly after she gave birth to Zachary that she did not have to go back to work if she didn’t want to. He was doing very well, and she could just be a stay-at-home mom and housewife. She refused, and wanted to do something with her time, even if it was just waiting tables at the Main Street Café.

  When Marcy arrived at work it started out as a typical day. There were a few people (in an early morning/zombie like daze) still coming in for their bacon and egg breakfast and large coffee. It wasn’t long before she discovered that no one had taken the time to brew a new pot of coffee. Even though she was being distracted by a customer who felt the need to tell her every detail of his granddaughter’s life, she was still able to make a new pot.

  At around ten o’clock things died down in a major way, but she had very little time to slow down. The lunch rush would start before long.

  The lunch rush turned out to be absolutely dreadful. For some odd reason nothing went as planned. It seemed that every time Marcy turned around there was some kind of issue going on with someone’s food or the service they were receiving. It was not working out to be a very good day for her, and to make things worse, it didn’t look like Rod was going to stop in for his regular lunch.

  Rod could always brighten up her day with a wink and a smile.

  Oh well. She thought. Even though she sent him a message last week that went unanswered, she knew she would see him sooner or later. Why worry about it?

  When two o’clock rolled around, she really felt beat down by the lunch rush. Everyone was completely gone, but she was still feeling it. As she riddled through the pile of receipts to see how well they actually did that day. She started to think more about Rod.

  I’ll be out of here a little before five. I think a little meeting might be in order. Marcy thought to herself with a grin. Marcy retrieved her cell phone from her purse and quickly typed up a text message:

  MEET ME AT OUR MOTEL AFTER WORK! The text read, and without another thought she sent it. Marcy continued on with her work, cleaning tables, and making sure everything was in order for later in the day when the supper crowd would come running through the doors. Marcy imagined some huge crowd running into the restaurant in a mad frenzy and could not help but laugh to herself a little bit. Marcy hadn’t worked an evening in almost three years and didn’t care to do it again. The evenings were never really busy, and the hours just stunk. If she liked sleeping in and didn’t care about being home at night, than she assumed that the evening shift would be perfect.

  To Marcy’s surprise she was told she could go home at three o’ clock, which meant she had two whole hours before meeting with Rod later. She decided to use her time wisely. She would stop and get a few groceries, then go home and clean a little.

  -

  Immediately after walking in the door she began taking care of the little cleaning around the house that she hadn’t done for a while. She thought about the possibility of Matthew walking in. If he would happen to come strolling in after a long day, it would ruin her plans of meeting with Rod later. No such thing happened, nor did Marcy really expect it to happen. Matthew was three towns over in Monmouth assisting on a job to build the city a new hospital. There was no chance that he would be back early.

  Marcy took a quick shower and changed into a sexy little black dress she had been hiding in her closet. She then made a quick phone call to her mother just to make sure she would watch her kids until six. Her mother of course said yes and did not even want an explanation as to why she needed them watched longer. Fortunately for Marcy her mother genuinely loved watching the kids.

  Once that issue was taken care of, Marcy left and instantly drove to the Restful Motel, which was of course the only motel in Medusa. Marcy automatically noticed that Rod’s truck was nowhere to be seen. Rod usually parked a few blocks away in an attempt to not peak anyone’s curiosity. But Marcy was always able to spot the truck, it had almost became a game for her; can I find the hidden police truck?

  She walked up the stairs and came to the room number ten. Marcy turned the knob to the room but it did not budge. It was still locked. Rod hadn’t showed up and he wasn’t going to. An unspeakable feeling of rejection started to fester deep inside Marcy and she walked back down the stairs and to her car.

  Maybe Rod did not know what time to meet, she thought. Marcy knew that wasn’t true, he would have been ready at the drop of a hat. Perhaps their little affair was over, Marcy thought, or what if Rod really wanted more than just a sexual partner? If that were so, then Marcy understood why Rod wouldn’t want to see her. She would never be able to give Rod more than just an afternoon orgasm. She valued her life with her children and her husband far too much. With that thought she wondered how much truth there could be in that statement. If she loved her children and husband so much, why would she cheat? The relationship between her and Rod was not something that she was proud of, but it seemed to satisfy a craving from deep within. The more she thought about what she was actually doing to her family the more it hurt. Tears began to run down her face as she wept. How had she let herself get involved with another man?

  Who was she trying to kid, this wasn’t just another man. This was Rod Truex, her high school sweetheart, the one that got away. It was then that Marcy noticed Rod’s truck sitting in the drive way of the Parker residence. In that very moment everything was once again right in the world. Rod had not cut off contact with her, he was busy with work. Of course he would be busy; a young girl ha
d been murdered. Marcy felt very selfish for only thinking of herself and her sexual needs. Then again she felt relieved as well, this meant that Rod still found her attractive, and he also hadn’t ditched her.

  Marcy wiped away any trace of tears and picked her kids up at twenty minutes after five. It was forty minutes earlier than she had told her mother she would be there, but it was no big deal. After arriving home they found Matthew sitting in his recliner in the living room, watching the evening news, and about to doze off already. He couldn’t have been home for more than ten minutes. Marcy thought to herself.

  Marcy than prepared a quick supper of loose meat sandwiches and a can of corn as their side vegetable. The kids shared how school went that day, what kind of projects they were working on and what they learned. Once the kids expressed themselves, Matthew wanted to discuss the situation in Afghanistan with Marcy. She paused to interrupt a disagreement between the children. She had become very used to being sidetracked by the kids. She then went back to Matthew’s conversation. Matthew never cared to talk about such things until after watching the evening news each night. Marcy would simply nod and agree with whatever position Matthew might think was right at that moment. Watching her kids and her husband sit at the table and eat as a family made her feel whole, but she also had someone else on her mind as well.

  The month of October rolled in, as did another full moon. On this night most people were busy with decorations or planning for Halloween parties. Duane Ensig, on the other hand, was not most people. In recent years Duane had become what most would call “the town drunk.” It seemed that drinking had become the only thing he was capable of doing. As a matter of fact, when he woke up in the afternoon he immediately began drinking. He had felt like he had been dealt a bad hand, that he deserved a second chance. Despite this, he did not want anyone’s sympathy. He only wanted to drown his sorrows (and his emotions as well) in a sea of Budweiser.

  Duane sat at the bar drinking beer after beer by himself watching ESPN, and occasionally making small talk with Eddie Prince. Eddie was the only bartender working that night, as he was most nights during the week. Eddie was not all that fond of Duane, but it was his job to serve. So he made small talk with him and tended Duane his beer. Eddie wouldn’t have been caught dead with him outside of work. If Duane were drowning, Eddie wasn’t sure if he would throw him a life jacket. Eddie didn’t hate Duane. That was just the kind of guy Eddie was, some might even goes as far as calling Eddie an asshole. Of course at work he put on a happy face to keep himself in line with his boss; that is until someone was an asshole to him. In that case Eddie had no fear of letting his true colors shine through.

  It was around five minutes till one o’clock and Duane had just finished commenting on a new sign hanging above the bar, which read “Our beer is as cold as your ex’s heart”. After their brief conversation Eddie let him know that he would have to leave. Duane always hated closing time, it meant that he would have to go home to his small, lonely, wretched apartment. Eddie might not have been the best company in the world, but he was better than no one at all.

  Duane stumbled out of the door and was greeted by a cold October breeze. He shivered for a moment and zipped up his jacket. He lived six blocks from the bar, but he wasn’t worried about making it home. Medusa was not the type of town where you had to worry about getting mugged or anything. Duane had read about the young girl that had been murdered a month ago, but he thought it was just a case of the kid being at the wrong place at the wrong time. He also figured it was a wolf or a coyote that got a hold of her. Wild life like that does not venture into town too often and Duane didn’t think he had anything to worry about. Plus after the fifteen or so bottles of beer he had drank he also didn’t care.

  “Oh, piss, shit, goddamn.” Duane sang the curse words to himself. He had only finished his last drink five minutes ago, and already he wanted another one.

  He then thought he heard a growling sound.

  “Is someone there?”

  The sound came again, and Duane sensed a presence. Without thinking he stumbled half in fear, half from intoxication. He took his attention away from the moonlit pavement and turned to see the beast. It was standing tall, looking down upon him, breathing in and out each repulsive breath that stained the air with its mist. Its dark red eyes were locked on Duane and it made no attempts to hide itself.

  Duane clumsily attempted to run, but fell over flat on his face.

  He struggled to crawl away.

  He looked back to see the beast closing in on him. Frozen in fear, Duane’s muscles refused to move. If he had been able to make his arms and legs move it probably wouldn’t have mattered.

  The massive beast was on top of him within a second and he was dead before his mind had time to react.

  Within five minutes it was all over, and the beast left Duane’s mutilated body lying in the ditch.

  Rod was on the scene by five o’clock that morning. An emergency call was placed by a local farmer named Robert Price. The sight was very vile and hard to look at, even for the most hardened of detectives. Officer Blake Clancy took Mr. Price’s statement and sent him on his way. Both Rod and Blake thought that he had done more than enough just reporting the crime.

  “Damn it, we haven’t even got back the results of the autopsy on the Parker case.”

  Blake shook his head in disappointment.

  “Who is under the tarp?” Rod asked as he approached the covered body.

  “Looks like Duane Ensig.” Blake replied.

  “No kidding? Well, at least it isn’t another kid.” Rod said bluntly.

  A great deal of thought went through his mind at that moment. He wanted to look under the tarp, because he felt that it was his duty as Sheriff.

  Then again what good was it going to do?

  Rod had seen dead bodies before, and the state that the last one was in was something Rod decided he could go the rest of his life without seeing again.

  He glanced over to Blake who appeared to be waiting for him to look.

  Oh, Christ. Rod thought to himself as he slowly lifted the corner of the blue light weight tarp.

  It was a disturbing mess of mangled body parts. Exactly what Rod had expected to find, for a brief moment Rod felt his stomach begin to churn sickly.

  Rod stepped back quickly.

  “You about to lose your guts?” Blake asked sarcastically.

  “Of course not!” Rod fired back.

  “Okay boss, I was just going to say I thought I was going to when I saw it.” Blake replied in a calm manner. “You think a man did that?”

  “Yes, I do. I think whoever it is killed him. Then mutilated the body to try and make it look like an animal was responsible.” Rod didn’t feel like he was lying because he still wasn’t completely convinced that an animal was responsible. “Don’t worry, we will catch this asshole.”

  Blake nodded.

  “Any word from the coroner?”

  “Yeah, he should be here any moment.”

  “Good.” Rod said as he walked to his truck, and quickly drove away.

  “What in the hell was that?” Blake asked himself as he watched the tires on Rod’s truck spin wildly as he drove out of sight.

  -

  I know my parents do not approve of my relationship with Owen, but what can I say? There is something about him that I simply cannot resist…

  Rod read Gabrielle Parker’s words carefully hoping that he might find something that could shed a little light on her murder. He honestly did not expect to find anything, but he still could not let the chance slip by. Unfortunately, so far he had only read about her teenage passion for Owen Kelly, her love of tropical flavored Skittles, and who her best friend was this week, and who she couldn’t stand the next week. None of this was helping the investigation; it was looking as if he was going to have to bring Owen Kelly in for questioning. He would do this not only because Owen Kelly was the only suspect he had, but just to keep up appearances. He could not let the e
ntire town think that he had a murder on his hands and he was not even looking into possible suspects. This was especially true now that he had a second murder to deal with.

  Oh god, poor Duane Ensig. Rod had known him since he was a kid. Duane was ten years older than him, so they were never close or anything, but it still struck a nerve. Rod was well aware of Duane’s constant drinking problem. He had been seen by several officers stumbling around on his way home. He never caused a disturbance, he just enjoyed his alcoholic beverages a little more than the average Joe, in a manner of speaking.

  Owen, Owen, Owen…how I love you Owen

  Rod yawned as he continued to read, for a moment he debated on having Clara read Gabrielle’s diary instead. He pushed that idea out of his mind very quickly, it would be completely unethical to have a dispatcher handling possible evidence.

  Afraid that he might fall asleep in mid-sentence, Rod placed the diary down to take a break. As he sat there thinking of the young Gabrielle Parker and Duane Ensig, all he could see was their dreadful, mutilated bodies. He could not even begin to understand a mind that could commit such horrific acts. Then again, Rod was still uncertain that whatever was responsible was human in the first place.

  -

  The rest of the month passed by very slowly. Rod spoke to Eddie Prince but he had very little to say. He had served Duane several drinks that night, one right after the other.

  But when Duane left the bar at one, Eddie did not see him again. Eddie was the closest thing to a witness that Rod had, despite the lack of usefulness.

  Eventually Rod also spoke to Owen Kelly in relation to the Gabrielle Parker case. A nervous Owen Kelly was also unable to provide any information that brought anything new to the case.