He called in to let the station know that everything was good and started the car’s engine. Overhead the clear sky was beginning to give way in the east to a swath of tall, ominous gray clouds. Cold and wet, it was not the combination that the Deputy desired on the job. As if it being Halloween was not enough already. At least there would be no snow, that would be a few more months out, if they even got any this year.
“Please hold off ‘til eight,” Deputy Keating pleaded with the clouds. If it was going to rain, he wanted to be home cuddled up against his wife under a heap of thick comforters with the sound of the tiny droplets pinging off the tin roof, not stuck in his squad car with only his jacket and heater to comfort him. He sighed, from the look of the sky he gave himself roughly a five percent chance of getting his way. That was being generous.
He cut the blue lights. The complex descended back into the same shades of greys it had been painted in before he arrived. Then he put the Charger into drive and pulled out onto Bethpage Road. Tonight he was covering the northeastern quarter of the county, Kannapolis and the Concord Mills area. Fortunately most of his calls for the night had come from the rural parts of the county, which was most of it. Keating was guiding the cruiser down the small road when his radio squawked.
“Charlie 270, I’ve got a well-check in north Kannapolis. Subject is a black female, average height, black hair, stocky build. Name’s Tamieka Dula. Her daughter called it in. Said she was heading for the residence of Lenore Summers off Rankin Road a few hours ago and she’s been unable to contact her.”
Deputy Keating huffed and gripped the walkie attached to his uniform.
“10-4. On my way.”
He made a quick U-turn and got back up to speed. At least it wasn’t another stupid kid causing problems.
CHAPTER 17
The faint glow of moonlight had all but disappeared as dark storm clouds rolled in over the lake. Within the walls of the Summers’ home, it felt as though darkness had ruled for far longer.
“Got it,” Freddie assured Bullet, dropping the kerosene can against the door trim of the entrance with a hollow metallic ring. “I emptied the entire thing out. All around the porch, up on the walls, everywhere, just like you said.”
“Good.” Bullet stood with his hands crossed at his waist, blood still dripping from the blade in his right hand and splattered across his shirt and white mask, Lenore’s blood. Deep hues of it mottled the pale earthen brown of the floor tiles. A path of crimson from the foyer over to the stack of three bodies etched the path where Tamieka had been drug to her resting place.
On the couch, Aiden sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Mara. He rocked rhythmically, his moistened honey brown eyes locked on his mother’s body. Her eyes were blank, her form only a crumpled shell next to two other bodies, Nathan and a black woman he did not recognize. All in a bloody mound. In his home.
Mara hugged him tightly, trying to register the impossible reality before her. It was as much for him as it was for her. Guilt washed over her. She could never take back the mean things she had said, how she had locked her mother out of her room. There were so many choices that she regretted.
Feet away, Dalton leaned forward with his face in his hands. The tears had finally stopped. He felt sure his body was incapable of producing anymore. Bullet, Skull-face and Freddie stood huddled in a circle, Bullet’s back to the couch while the other two also kept an eye on their captives. Bullet did not seem happy. He shook his head vigorously, mumbling too quietly for Dalton to make out anything he said.
Finally, Bullet nodded and turned back to face them, followed immediately by his two sheep. He took a step forward, tilting his head to the side and back again as he surveyed his prizes. First Dalton, then Aiden, his lips curled angrily, and then to Mara. He cleared his throat and Dalton knew that something was wrong, something was nagging at the monster. Dalton looked over to his son, confused.
“All right,” Bullet opened his mouth. “Before we continue, Aiden, you have to change. It’s too distracting having you sit down here dressed like Spiderman. It seems like you’re laughing at me. I swear no one is taking me seriously.”
Dalton’s eyes widened at the statement. No one is taking you seriously? A fire burned in his chest. It raged and roiled, begging to break free. How could this boy, this coward behind a mask, think he wasn't being taken seriously?
“You’re going to lead my friend here to your room, change into something less distracting and then come back,” Bullet explained, nodding at Skull-face. “I don’t want any trouble.”
The last sentence almost sounded genuine. Dalton’s brow wrinkled in confusion as he met his son’s worried gaze. Yet, he could find no malice in the boy’s voice. How had it suddenly changed? Why?
“Let’s go,” Skull-face ordered.
Aiden stood up warily. He felt numb to everything around him, his mind stuck on the permanent look on his mother’s face the moment Skull-face had escorted him back into the house. Her face was contorted in pain, mouth wide open, screaming even after her body had become nothing more than an empty shell. Blood drenched her stomach and poured over onto the leather cushions. Splatters of the crimson liquid dotted the couch and his sister. It was everywhere.
He took a step forward, then another, willing himself to move even though his mind barely registered the pressure of his feet touching the ground or his arms moving slowly at his sides. He looked straight forward and moved past Skull-face.
“Change and back down,” Bullet reminded Skull-face, and then emphasized his last command. “Don’t hurt him.”
Skull-face nodded and then took up a position behind Aiden. “I’ve got this, man.”
Nodding with lips pursed, Bullet returned his attention to Dalton.
“It won’t be long now.”
The staircase rose steeply into absolute darkness. Aiden mindlessly took the first step, then the second, the next. Behind him Skull-face flicked the light switch. The dark fled from the gentle glow of the hall’s recessed lighting and then Skull-face mounted the steps behind Aiden.
He poked the tip of his blade between Aiden’s shoulders to remind him not to do anything stupid and then let Aiden put a step between them. Aiden was silent. He just kept moving.
They crested the stairs and moved slowly down the hallway. Aiden felt like he was on autopilot, gliding near weightlessly toward his bedroom door. It seemed so far away, distant and empty. The image of his mother’s empty eyes haunted him.
Unsure which door to take, Skull-face remained a few steps behind, ready.
“Come on, move it,” he complained, pressing Aiden to quicken his pace without any evident response. He shook his head and huffed. His eyes drilled into the back of Aiden's head impatiently. Then his gaze drifted south, tracing the contours of Aiden’s shoulders beneath the blue and red fabric under the subtle light. His eyes continued steadily downward. The skin-tight Spidey suit left very little to the imagination as the boy walked. Skull-face grinned. He stepped quicker to close the gap between them and reached out, planting his palm fully against Aiden’s butt, and squeezed.
Aiden jumped. He snapped back to reality as the unwelcomed hand found purchase, wrenching away from Skull-face. He looked back at the masked boy, fear and confusion in his eyes. What the boy had done had still yet to fully register. His brown eyes looked at the horrid crimson mask. Blood. He grimaced.
“Oh, come on, can you blame me? That costume is so tight,” Skull-face jeered and then changed course. “Whatever, let’s get this over with. Move.”
His trance-like state broken, Aiden turned and walked the remaining distance at a brisk pace. Fear poured through his mind now that the shock had dissipated. It was as if the reality of his situation, his family’s situation, had just dawned on him. The blood, the knives, the gun, the bodies, the masks. All of it in his house. All so close and ready to snap life out of his grasp at any moment.
I’ve got to do something. I can’t just go back down there without a plan. And what the hel
l is wrong with this guy?
Aiden pushed open the door and stepped in to his bedroom. His mind now unshackled by the bounds of shock, he took to scanning the room. There had to be something he could use as a weapon. Anything. A red cup with the NC State Wolfpack mascot splashed across the front sat on his desk with a slew of pens, he hated pencils, too primitive he would tell his mom. His computer monitor, keyboard, mouse. All useless. The mesh metal trash can that weighed all of a quarter of a pound if he was lucky. A pile of unfolded clean clothes laid on the floor next to his obviously slept in bed. Junk scattered the floor, but nothing sturdier than a small pen or heavier than his computer’s CPU, which he doubted he could wield ably.
“All right,” Skull-face said before shoving him forward. “Change.”
He turned to face his captor and pursed his lips, angry at being pushed around like this, at how helpless he was. He took a quick glance behind Skull-face for anything he could make use of. More of the same.
He let go of any chance of a real weapon, there would be no pickaxe under the bed or in his closet. He turned around and rummaged through the pile of clothes next to his bed, silently trying to find both a set of clothes, and maybe a weapon.
What am I going to do, beat him to death with the trash can? He's got a freaking knife.
Aiden pillaged through the mound of clothes. He took his time and acted as though he could not find what he needed. Skull-face waited behind him. Then out of the corner of his eye, something beautiful came into view. His baseball bat. The same wooden contraption he'd used maybe a handful of times during middle school. His eyes brightened and he had to force back the grin that wanted to shoot across his lips. Despite the discovery, he was still at a disadvantage. The bat was out of reach. It would be too obvious a move to get his hands around it. A frown burrowed its way back in as he picked up the closest shirt, a plain black tee, and a pair of faded blue jeans. He threw the clothes onto the bed and then remembered, he needed one more item.
“Come on now, I don’t have all night,” Skull-face complained.
Aiden reached back into the disheveled pile, searching for one last item. Finally, he pulled his arms back and placed a pair of black boxer briefs on top of the shirt and pants.
“Can you at least turn around?” Aiden asked.
“Uh. No.”
“Seriously, man?” His request was met with a brick wall. The masked boy simply stood there, his expression unreadable behind the red skull. “Come on, man, I’m not…I’m not wearing anything under this.”
“And the problem is?” the boy’s voice jeered at him.
A chill ran down Aiden’s spine at the sounds that had come from Skull-face. He swallowed. He stared at the mask for what felt like minutes.
"I don't have all day, Aiden," the boy said. He huffed as if he was the one being inconvenienced.
Aiden squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. Fear began to coarse through his veins. Slowly he turned to face away from the masked figure. He looked down at the set of clothes on his bed and took a deep breath. Just undress, Aiden, and get dressed again. It’s going to be just fine.
Cautiously, he reached down to his waist and lifted the upper half of the costume. For a moment his head turned shades of red and blue as the top passed over his head. He could feel Skull-face’s eyes boring down on him. He took in another deep breath and closed his eyes. It had nothing to with being naked in front of the boy, PE in a public high school had rid him of that fear. It was the voice behind the mask's tone that scared him and the unwelcome groping hand in the hallway.
“Come on,” Skull-face jeered. “Hurry up or I’m gonna help you.”
The words jarred him to action. He grasped the costume bottoms and forced himself to push them downward. He stopped, gulped and then pushed the rest of the way in one quick motion. Rapidly, he lifted his legs out of the pant legs and threw the bottoms to the ground. He grabbed for the briefs laid out on the bed and stepped into them.
“Not so fast,” Skull-face spoke.
The briefs snagged on something just above his knees. Aiden looked down to find a hand gripping around the fabric. Skull-face’s hand. He swallowed and tried to calm his breathing, frozen in place. Aiden tried to go against the boy and yanked up on the briefs, but they didn’t budge.
“Back off!” There was an anger in Aiden’s voice combined with the fear that coursed through his body.
“Shut up,” Skull-face bit back. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
Aiden shivered at the unwelcome sensation of a finger lightly caressing his shoulder. He pulled away, but a hand gripped onto his other shoulder. A finger brushed his shoulder again and moved lazily along his arm. A tremor shot up his spine and he tried to pull away but there was little use.
Then a thought jarred into Aiden's mind. Both of the boy’s hands were occupied. One held the long curved blade braced against his shoulder while the other...while the other lingered along his bare waist. Aiden took in another breath and then wrenched his briefs upward, a sudden relief swelling through him. Before he could move, his body was shoved forward, face first onto the bed. He yelped in surprise.
A hand grasped the stretchy band of his briefs and yanked harshly. He felt a chill as he was exposed again. Skull-face’s hand clutched brashly onto his backside and then the full weight of the boy fell on top of him. Aiden writhed under the boy’s grip.
“Get off—” Aiden yelled, but the sound became nothing more than a muffled grumbling as Skull-face wrapped a hand around the boy's face and covered his mouth. He continued to mumble, trying to scream. He shook and writhed, doing everything he could to get out from under the boy's weight, out from under the dirty wandering hands. A zipping sound sent Aiden’s mind and body into a frenzy of motion.
“Lie still. Everything's going to be just fine, Aiden,” Skull-face said quietly as his lips reached Aiden’s neck.
The bat!
He thrashed from side-to-side frantically, trying to rip his body from the boy’s grasp. He managed an inch to the right. An inch closer to the bat. He could see the butt of the bat leaning against the end table at the head of his bed. He reached out, fingers outstretched. It was only a few more inches. He jerked his body again, managing to move up a fraction of an inch. Still too far.
“Ah, you like that?” Skull-face chided him as his hands and lips moved feverishly.
Aiden clenched his teeth as his body quaked under the foreign skin. His eyes found the bat again. He reached out again. Come on!
Finally, the tips of his fingers found the glossy surface of the little-used bat. He scratched, begging for a grip on the wooden stick as he felt a hand attempting to reach around his waist. Frantic, his mind changed directions. He flailed the other direction, throwing Skull-face off target, and nearly off of him.
“Playing hard to get,” Skull-face sounded giddy. “I like it.”
While the boy enjoyed his moment, Aiden slid forward another inch and grasped the bat in his hand. “How about this, bitch?”
With all the strength he could muster, Aiden yanked the bat from its perch and slung it around, only hoping he would connect. In the second before impact, Skull-face saw what his inattention had wrought and began to move, but it was too late. The thick wooden stick railed into his shoulder. He toppled over, off Aiden’s naked form and onto the floor with a high-pitched yelp.
Planting a hand on the bed, Aiden lifted himself and peered over the edge at his handiwork. The freak was on his side cradling his left shoulder. A glint of metal caught Aiden’s attention. The knife. It was lying on the opposite side of the bed. In all the commotion, Aiden had not realized that the silvery object had taken a backseat to Skull-face’s preferred venture. Aiden glanced back to Skull-face whose eyes went wide, realizing his mistake.
The slim boy in the skull-covered mask lurched forward, but his tight jeans bunched around his ankles kept him off balance. Aiden angled forward and snatched up the long blade as Skull-face shuffled forward, trying desperately
to get the blade. Aiden raised the long blade before his captor, his former captor, its length glinting in the room’s singular overhead light. He let the bat fall back to the floor.
“Stay down,” Aiden ordered angrily. Adrenaline pumped through his veins but he still felt dirty, violated. Skull-face retreated back to the floor, his expression unreadable behind the mask. Aiden wished he could see the person’s eyes. He wanted to know that whoever was behind that mask was scared as hell, just like he was right now.
He reached down and tugged his briefs up his legs. Then, without taking his eyes off of Skull-face, he gathered the disheveled stack of clothes he had laid out on the bed and began to dress. Skull-face twitched forward, but Aiden thrashed and waved the knife wildly at the boy. He moved back but didn't speak a word. Finally dressed, Aiden sighed in relief, if nothing else he was clothed.
“You’re not going to hurt me,” the young voice wrapped around the mask and hit Aiden’s ears like an evil spirit. “You don’t have it in you.”
Defiantly, Skull-face raised to his feet, nonchalantly zipping his pants back up. “Come on, stab me. Shove it through my heart. Kill me. Slit my throat, let me bleed out all over your carpet. Come on! Can’t you do it?”
The demented voice chided him from behind the cold mask. Aiden blinked, his breathing quickened. He wanted to. He wanted to lash out, to spear the knife through the boy’s chest with all the force he could mobilize, to watch the boy’s eyes go blank like his mother’s had. He could see the blood gushing from the boy's chest in his mind. He wanted to watch him suffer. But…but he couldn’t do it. His hands trembled at the thoughts that ran through his mind.
“Just put it down, you know you want to.”
Aiden shivered. He did want to put it down, it was the only thing that stood between him and death, or worse.
To Watch You Bleed Page 18
