Eyes that do not Open

by Claudio Hernández

  “Tom, don’t make this harder than it is,” Landon said, and he took his microphone back to his mouth. Kind of a gray cigarette package. “Here, Landon again. We need to know when we can send a dead woman to gut her...”

  “Gut her?” Tom wrinkled his entire dried-skinned face and showed disgust. He spat again and this time the phlegm landed like some bird’s shit on Landon’s boot.

  He looked at him with frenzied eyes, even though they were trapped behind the dark shades, but Tom knew what was behind them.

  Suddenly, both rose their heads as they heard quite a peculiar noise, one of a raving tractor crossing the highway. A cloud of dust was swirling behind the vehicle along with the blackish smoke that it was spitting to the air and killed Mother Nature’s entire fragrance.

  Andrew, asphyxiated and ecstatic, was still attached to the wheel that vibrated like a hydraulic hammer. The sweat from his forehead stopped at his bushy eyebrows, he was arriving at the crime scene and his eyes saw those blue and yellow lights drawing shiny ribbons in the trees.

  He was about to see the image he had seen in his visions that morning. It was pure routine for him since he discovered that gift when he was young, even before joining the police corps.

  He didn’t either preach about it publicly, except to Grayson, even though there were voices that whispered things. Andrew was still grabbing the wheel and his flabby thick arms were shaking like butter.

  He reduced the speed in a squawk as he changed gear and maneuvered until his car was parked right next to Tom’s Chevy. In a final purr as if a huge cat were sleeping under the hood, the engine went off loudly. He removed the key from the ignition and took it to his trench coat’s pocket.

  His feet descended from the car like when some feet that travel through the entire world and land from a train’s high stair, in a country where he doesn’t belong. However, this time, the entire country would be his.

  His emerging bald head enlightened under the attentive sight of the sun and the drops of sweat slipped in his smooth skull. He just had hair on the back of his head up to his neck, but it was almost shaved. Leaning on his Ford’s door, he grabbed a white handkerchief and took it to his forehead like a paper towel that gets stuck like a sticker.

  The lights of those vehicles were staring at him and he was staring back at them. He diverted his gaze to the left.

  It was a cabin.

  Suddenly, that image came back to his head.

  A languid body in the window and that cabin.

  Afterward, her.

  Ava Cox, with her blue hair widespread like a rug.

  That electric blue woke everyone’s interest.

  A whistling broke the harmony in the lake and Andrew turned his head towards the dirt path. It was Landon who had whistled as if calling his dog after taking a leak in a university campus or on the precinct’s door. Andrew rose an eyebrow. Only one. He wasn’t in a mood to deal with this but refrained from cursing.

  Sweating copiously under his gray trench coat, he started marching through the brief path of dirt and stones. He could see them, like little tarnished silhouettes, moving from side to side like huge ants. The glare in the sheriff’s glass seemed to shine from afar and right next to him there was a small figure, slightly curved. That was Kevin, Andrew assumed, and he smiled

  Under his shoes, the gravel and the earth eroded by the fall’s drought were crackling. However, on a side of the path, dozens of flowers, weed and small branches seemed to take him by surprise. On the other side, the water was shining under the sun. He looked to the shore and he couldn’t see the water streaming down. As he got closer, the lights became more annoying and the silhouettes were bodies in brown, except for Tom, who was shining like a frog.

  “You can go to hell next time you whistle at me!” Andrew exclaimed with his handkerchief still drying his forehead. His bulgy belly got to the crime scene before his shoes.

  Kevin glanced at him, it had been a while since he hadn’t seen him.

  “See, I didn’t remember your name,” Landon said with a jocular tone and standing in a thuggish way. He was mocking him.

  “What a coincidence.” Andrew put his wet handkerchief in the trench coat’s pocket. He was now in front of Landon and behind him, his men were labeling the place with some stupid tags. Right after them, there she was.

  “You took a long time Andrew. We’ve been here for a while now. There are things we don’t understand...”

  “Like what?” Andrew interrupted as he looked up. Then he saw her bare breasts.

  “Parker Atkinson was sentenced for killing seven women, right?” Landon’s face was all wrinkles. His eyes couldn’t be seen with those fucking glasses, those that Tom would observe all the time and that now were bothering Andrew.

  “I’m not sure about it. He was sentenced for it but there’s something that intrigues me...”

  “Say what?” Landon interrupted this time raising his head.

  Andrew was quiet for three seconds, which he counted with his fingers. There were butterflies, wasps, and birds fluttering around his hand at a respectable height. As if the world would end, he said:

  “I want to see Ava Cox.”

  “You knew?” Landon’s finger was pointing, and his lips twisted in a grimace.

  “I don’t know anything. Just let me see her.”

  Kevin who was almost next to him, laughed stupidly, so stupidly as if whispering to a deaf person.

  30

  After five forty, the sicko was now on his feet and with his naked body, he leaned on the wet rock wall. That place looked like a cave under a hot-water bottle, leaking through the cracks on the walls and the ceiling. He heard the laments and wheezing, and he replied:

  “My beloved ones, I’m on my way, wait a little bit, I only have to put some clothes on. The damn speakers are broken, or the power cable is damaged. Wait for me, my soul mates.” That mellow voice that sounded almost like a whisper, had the ability to go through those thick walls as waves that vibrated just like the speaker.

  Suddenly, he could hear the heartbreaking screams and the uneasy moans that spread horror and fear through those walls. Crossing the inevitable.

  The sicko then ground his teeth and they shone as white as ever even under that spectral red light. His eyes became whitish and his smooth forehead had become wrinkly as a sheet while his fingers were caressing the humid walls.

  He took a deep breath while the time was passing by, somewhere else. For instance, the crime scene, or maybe he should call it Ava Cox’s crime scene.

  31

  He saw her just like he had seen her that morning and he thought: «Fuck, it’s happened again. I’ve seen her this beautiful this morning during one of my headaches. Well, it’s my gift. But I’ve come here to find out what I already knew, and I see her bare chest. At Tom’s sight. »

  And while Andrew thought about that, Tom, the curmudgeon, had directed his eyes to the woman’s naked body that was now showing her erect breasts, with her nipples pointing to the sky. They were hard and brown, and Tom felt as if something underneath his pants was growing. Yes, it came to life from time to time and he discovered that at his sixty-something he still had his libido untouched and he was having an erection. He moved to a side, never without taking his eyes out of those tits, while he touched the solid iron-like piece that had grown under his zipper.

  He thought about her pussy.

  “It’s the woman in blue hair. She was one of the seven who had been considered dead four years ago.” Landon explained putting again his fingers between his pants and his belt. The service pistol leaned back.

  “It’s Ava Cox,” Andrew said, taciturn. After all, he felt like tingling in his head. It was the warning before the damn pain that woke up with discouraging twinges.

  “Now we know that Parker Atkinson was innocent, at least in this case,” Landon said with a scornful voice.

  “Parker Atkinson was always innocent, and I can bet my ass that the other six women will appear.�
��

  Landon stood puzzled.

  “What are you saying?” His voice sounded hoarser than usual. Kevin had raised his head and his glasses shone like two bottles. “What the hell are you saying?”

  Andrew turned to look at him and with inquisitive eyes he said:

  “Atkinson was a sexual predator, I can guarantee that. He raped his little sister when she was eight years old and he was thirteen. I know he raped many women in his short life as a junkie. Facts, unproven so far. That what he has taken to the grave, but not these poor bastard’s fate.” He pointed at Ava Cox’s naked body, exposed to the sunlight like a sardine with its characteristic white belly.

  “I see! And why have you called this morning? Why did you tell me to let you know if something unusual came up? Did you know something? What are you playing at, Andrew?” Landon knew a bit about his past. They had been sharing investigations for more than four years now, just a year before he disappeared from the precinct. They met right when they solved the case of the lost child, Chris. But he had heard something he didn’t believe. That buzzing sound that was in his mind during the first month, dissipated as days went by. It was as if he was always a step ahead.

  “Pure coincidence. I had a premonition and that’s it.” Andrew was lying. He said premonition instead of precognition. And even though they looked like the same thing, they were different. It was right to say premonition since, after all, it could happen to anyone. It was pure intuition.

  “I also have premonitions.” Landon panted as he nervously moved his right leg. He was sweating like in a sauna under his service jacket. Mr. Sheriff’s badge was shining in gold as he moved. “Are you hiding something from me, Andrew?”

  “Sir, people said he has paranormal powers.” Luke suddenly jumped up with his stupid smile drawn on his chubby face.

  Andrew dedicated him a finger up.

  Luke was the oldest in the precinct. Landon was the new sheriff and before him, Luke had had to deal with Jackson, a black man that spent his entire day smoking a huge black wooden pipe. His white curly hair begged him to retire. One day he went out on the street and the next day he was found dead in his chair, in his office. He was with the mouth open and the pipe in it. The device was dangling from his rigid white lips but didn’t fall and was still fuming.

  After two weeks of decontrol, Landon arrived. Andrew had lived his entire life in Castle Lake Hill and he had bidden farewell to the old Jackson, always so taciturn and understanding.

  And even though old Jackson kept Andrew’s secret, there was a whistle that announced that the detective was a bit nuts. Jack managed to proclaim the finding out loud, but he didn’t know neither what was that “paranormal” thing about, nor did he know about his visits to Grayson’s office, the shrink. No, that was something that no one knew about

  “What was that?” Landon inquired as he moved forward.

  “Nothing!” Andrew barked. “Someone has good intuition and you people start talking bullshit.” He lied and let the air in his lungs to get away with a whistling that mixed with the soft breeze. “Are we having this poor girl roasting here the entire day?”

  Kevin threw a catatonic smile.

  Landon touched his neck.

  “We’re gathering evidence,” Landon said looking back at the dead woman. His neck went back to his initial place as if it were a stretched rubber trying to go back to its place.

  “That’s what I’m telling you right now.” Andrew impatiently trying to bend over, but he couldn’t. His huge belly didn’t let him. Even then, he started the ocular observation. “The woman had been dead for very few hours. I imagine that she’s warm due to sun exposure, but her face has been perfectly decorated with make-up. She has pressed powder, concealer, mascara, lipstick, foundation, and blusher and there’s something else: she has been pampered to the last detail. However, she is dead, and I don’t see any bruises around her neck or any signs of violence on any other part of her body. He kills them by asphyxiating them...”

  “He kills them? Have you said he kills them?” Landon interrupted, now, moving his hands. A butterfly flew right next to one of his hands and was pushed by the air his wave created.

  Andrew remembered how the gun powder ran in the entire precinct back in the nineties when he knew or found Matthew’s body, a homeless man. It was a real event and an enigma. The guy in question was buried six feet under the concrete of a well that completely closed. People said that he could have seen it thanks to his great intuition, back then, they didn’t use the word “Paranormal”.

  “Well, I guess everything’s possible. Pure intuition.” Andrew explained with a tired voice. It was a real burden for him to hide from his gifts. It was boring for him to hide it all the time.

  “How do you know about the makeup and her death? Do you have any relative who works on the beauty industry?”

  “I’m alone. Everyone’s dead. My sister included. Ten years ago. She was seven years older than me.”

  Landon stood with his mouth open and his glasses stopped shining.

  The other agents were still putting yellow numbered tags next to Ava Cox’s body and everywhere else within 32 square feet, writing in notebooks as if they were giving a ticket to a bunch of cars that were not properly parked. Their faces were absorbed by their tasks. The conversation between Andrew and Landon were pure buzzes in their ears except for Luke and Kevin who had opened their eardrums wide to receive the sounds.

  Meanwhile, Ava Cox’s body was getting unreasonably wrinkly and becoming a white fish. She had been like that, with her body in the water. Even though keeping the petals in her body, almost the entire day. Only her face and hair remained dry.

  “Well, I’m sorry,” Landon said looking down and the brim of his hat drew a dark shadow from his forehead to his nose. A felt hat that sometimes he forgot to wear but that day he had it on.

  Tom, with his green cap, didn’t stop staring at Ava’s body and his eyes opened wider as he saw her pussy while the iron bar pullulated under his zipper. No one realized about it, though.

  32

  Parker Atkinson’s ashes were gathered in a kind of porcelain bucket and all the bones, white as snow, were thrown in a sack. A few moments later, the employee took the sack with those bones to a shredding machine. The machine had started, and the dance of thumping and almost tinkling noises had begun. It was as if it were crashing glasses. From an open end which looked like a jar, it spat a cloud of fragile dust that got blurred with the air. What remained of those bones was mixed with the dust of the bucket which was open like a mouth in awe.

  With the wind and infinity ahead, the memories took off with that dust that wasn’t hot, but warm to the touch.

  Even though there were DNA prints in the found clothes of those seven missing women, and even though the judge had found him guilty; Parker Atkinson was not the murderer. Detective Andrew always had a bad hunch with him. He was now speculating about reopening the case. Why was Ava Cox, the first missing woman four years back, lying dead on her back bringing back the past?

  Parker, however, had already traveled to the future.

  33

  “It was necessary to perform an autopsy. Thank God we’re near Augusta. We don’t have any forensic sheriff there like in other states.” Landon explained while his agents kept working on the field.

  “Of course. Augusta. The coroner must be tired of junkies. In the last ten years, the number of cocaine addicts has multiplied and there’s a waiting list for a fucking autopsy. Since there’s no death sentence either, we don’t have the facilities to perform the autopsy. You can call yourself a sheriff given that you don’t come to town so often. Maine is a lot different.” When he was done, Andrew realized that the verbiage had nothing to do with what they were discussing before. He grabbed his handkerchief from his pocket and dried his forehead once again. His back was sweating more than his face. “Aren’t you hot with the coat on?”

  Landon gave him a jocular smile.

  “You in
sult me and even wear the trench coat under this wonderful Sun. Remember I’m the authority here.”

  “That’s because the FBI hasn’t arrived yet.”

  “I’ll tell you again, I’m the law here.” Landon’s voice was a bit shaky.”

  “And I’m detective Andrew Moore. The one who faces up to the investigations in this fucking city.”

  “Are we really arguing about who is more than the other?”

  Landon had made the wrong question. He was getting nervous.

  “I’m just keeping you updated. You already know I can deal with the case perfectly well if I want.”

  Andrew’s lips showed a smile from ear to ear, challenging him with his eyes. The handkerchief went back to his pocket.

  Jacob, one of the agents who was writing in a notebook rose his eyebrowless gaze and saw them almost ready to fight like to felines showing their ugly nails. They were six feet from the woman who seemed to progressively get whiter or, even worse, purple.

  The agent stopped the hustle and bustle and delicately observed them with a rictus on his lips. His incipient bald head shone under the sun, just like Andrew’s crown. Jacob, however, was bald and on his neck, a series of wrinkled shapes got together like piled tires. He wasn’t as heavy as Luke, but he had some overweight, even though his skin was a lot tighter. On his right-hand middle finger, he was wearing a golden ring that pressed like a rope to a hangman. He had wide back and long arms that ended up in big hands. Unlike Luke, Jacob didn’t have a big belly and his pectorals were prominent. He used to be very quiet and when he talked, he said truths, strong as fists. However, this time he thought but didn’t speak.

  Jacob had met Jackson.

  “Well, I’m the one leading this investigation! And what’s more, I’ll be the one ordering the pickup of the body!” Landon yelled continuing his tantrum course.

  “Are you taking her in your car’s trunk? Better yet, in Kevin’s seat?”

  He looked at him with his eyes dilated behind the glasses that looked like two lamps that had been shut down.