Zeke

by Wodke Hawkinson

  Praise for

  Zeke

  When the object of our affection turns out to be a monster, how far are we willing to go to justify the monstrous behavior? In Zeke, Wodke Hawkinson explored that question to its furthest horrific outcome, and that outcome is not pretty or comfortable; but it is absolutely captivating.

  ~Michael K. Rose

  The powerful writing of Wodke Hawkinson is addictive and enthralling. Brought into their world by the novel Betrayed, I was amazed at their innate ability to realize and describe harsh, harrowing and brutal scenes. The book had me turning pages faster than lightening. It also unleashed a new understanding of my voyeuristic nature. Zeke, their latest outing, proved no different. ~Douglas Wickard

  You may find yourself yelling at Sue, “Sue! He’s a bad guy - run from him as fast as you can!” But Sue is already brainwashed. This book will stay with you for days. Pass it on to all the single women in your life. This should serve as a warning. There are many “Zekes” out there, just waiting… ~Kathleen Patel

  ZEKE

  By

  Wodke Hawkinson

  © 2012 by Wodke Hawkinson

  All rights reserved.

  ASIN: B008J9DH2M

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations and events in this work are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  “The basic tool for the manipulation of reality is the manipulation of words. If you can control the meaning of words, you can control the people who must use the words.”

  -Phillip K. Dick

  “I’m not completely emotionless, I’m prone

  to fits of uncontrollable rage.”

  -ZKM

  Foreword

  As we plotted Zeke and Sue’s course, we utilized an atlas. But, if you tried to recreate the trip, it would drive you crazy since we changed the names of not only the highways, but also most of the towns. We took liberty with the buildings and sites in Zeke, most of which are fictitious.

  In Zeke, you will not only journey across a portion of the United States, you will also venture into the mind of a madman.

  Enjoy the ride.

  ~ Wodke Hawkinson

  Table of Contents

  At First Sight

  Moldy Joyce

  Unfulfilled

  ‘Hard’ Work

  Secret Love

  Body and Soul

  Dirty Dreams

  Ménage à Trois

  Lessons in Lovemaking

  Robots to Serve the Collective

  Daddy’s Bed

  Snoopy Sue

  Mean Eugene

  Yellow Ribbons

  Warning Signs

  Big Ben

  Under the Dock

  Lovers’ Reunion

  Gypsies

  Hitting the Road

  Hiring an Investigator

  Partners in Crime

  Unraveling the Mystery

  Zeke, the Stylist

  Ernie the Truck Driver

  They Went That-a-Way

  Skirts and Dresses

  Big Wet Stain

  Incommunicado

  Bumping Uglies

  At Knifepoint

  Clueless

  Hospital Zombies

  The Love of a Good Woman

  The Greater Evil

  Candy is Dandy

  Stuck at the Loony Bin

  Mad Rapist

  Trolling

  Dilly Dally

  Midnight Visitors

  Vacuous Cow-Eyed Moron

  A Really Bad Feeling

  Tied to a Chair

  Calling All the Shots

  Planting Daisies

  Backtracking

  ATM Dream

  Honky-Tonk

  Friendly Vibes

  Blood Games

  Homicide in Four Falls

  Sad Angel of St. Louis

  Superman

  In the Worst Way

  Epilogue

  At First Sight

  Sue’s eyebrows rose at the sight of the new clerk behind the counter at Re-Books. He looked up as her entry activated the bell above the door. Their eyes locked briefly, triggering a slow pounding in her chest. Pretending disinterest, Sue sidled into a row of used books. With the sun shining brightly, only half the lights were on, leaving the aisles in semi-darkness. Once in a discreet position, Sue pushed apart a group of books. Dust motes danced into the air as she peered at the clerk through the gap she’d created.

  He moved with a lazy indifference she found captivating. Dark hair framed his attractive face, emphasizing expressive indigo eyes. His stunning looks and lean, sinuous physique were features you’d expect to see in Hollywood, not here in Cyrus, Maine.

  While handling his next customer with a bored but polite nonchalance, his eyes searched the store. As the shopper fiddled with her handbag, he unobtrusively pocketed a few bills, closed the register, and gave the woman her change. Sue caught her breath in disbelief, and continued her sly surveillance of the sexy clerk. A rebel. Sue was seized by a small voyeuristic thrill, knowing he had no idea she had witnessed his crime.

  After thanking the woman for her business, he picked up the book next to his elbow and began to read. Sue noted his slender hands, his long fingers splayed across the cover. Desire spread through her belly and flushed her cheeks.

  Sue noticed she wasn’t the only young woman inside the shop fascinated by the new clerk. A group of pretty high school girls tittered at the front of the store, trying to catch his attention, but he remained oblivious.

  Grabbing a book at random, Sue slowly approached the counter, at once dreading and craving eye contact. It pierced her when it came and she caught her breath before she handed over her book. He caressed her with his eyes after looking down at her selection, which turned out to be a collection of poems, a subject that had never interested her.

  “Excellent choice.” His voice was soft and low as a bowed string on a vintage cello. “I write poetry myself.”

  “You do?”

  “I do.” His smile was slow and easy. “Of course, I’m not published yet, but when I get back home, I’m going to get an agent to help me out. You know how it is. The business of business is not my forte. How about you? Do you write?”

  “A little.” The lie slipped out before she could contain it; actually, she had never attempted to write poetry. But, she might. Now.

  “I’d love to see your work.” His look was long and penetrating. An innocent statement, but loaded with sensual undertones and implications.

  Maybe she was just reading something into his words that wasn’t intended; she couldn’t be sure. Emboldened by his sheer magnetism, she managed to break through the barrier of her usual insecurity. “I’d like to read some of yours, too.”

  “We’ll have to arrange something.” His voice was velvet as he rang up her purchase and gave her the total.

  Sue fumbled in her purse for money. As their fingers touched, a rush of heat traveled through her. Anxious to prolong the encounter, she stated the obvious, “You’re new here.”

  “That’s right. But this is just a temporary job for me.” He leaned closer. “I’m only in town long enough to get my mom settled in her new place. Then I’m heading back to New York.”

  “New York City?” Sue asked, suitably impressed. A poet from New York. And nice to his mother, too. She was filled with a strange longing.

  “Yep, the Big Apple. I’m just passing through, more or less.”

  Sue stuffed her change into her purse a
nd turned to go, wishing she could think of something to say, disappointed to learn he’d only be here a short time.

  “Hey,” he called to her. “You gonna come back and see me sometime?”

  “Sure.” Her cheeks reddened.

  “How about tonight?” he asked, his eyes smoky with promise. “I get off at nine. You can wait for me outside and we’ll go grab something to eat.”

  “Okay.” As she headed toward the door, the young girls glared at her. But she didn’t care; she was dancing inside, unable to believe her good fortune.

  “Wait.” His voice pulled her back and she was certain he was going to say he was just messing with her; he didn’t really want her to come back. But, instead, he asked a simple question. “What’s your name?”

  “Sue.” Her heart began to beat again.

  “Nice to meet you, Sue. I’m Zeke.”

  Moldy Joyce

  Since she’d told Zeke she wrote poetry, Sue decided she’d better brush up on the subject. She drove directly to the coffee shop to study the book she’d just purchased.

  Rushing through the door, Sue noticed Joyce Mould at one of the tables. Joyce, dubbed Moldy by bullies, was, to put it bluntly, unattractive. Her skin refused to tan and her long, dark, dandruff-flecked hair, restrained by barrettes, hung limp to her shoulders. In fact, everything about her was unremarkable. She was always dressed in knee-length plaid skirts, lightweight sweaters, knee socks and loafers. Joyce’s style did nothing to enhance her looks.

  Sue and Joyce had fallen into friendship accidentally during grade school, simply because neither of them could interest anyone else. They were friends by default.

  In spite of the dubious nature of their comradeship, Sue genuinely liked Joyce and enjoyed her company. They had done the usual things girls do: overnights at each other’s house, long talks on the phone, chatting on the internet in one class or another when they were supposed to be doing schoolwork, whispering and giggling against the wall at dances, hoping for invitations that never came.

  But, all the years together had not made them truly close; they never shared deep, dark secrets. It was purely a symbiotic relationship; each needed the other so that neither would be a complete zero. They clung to their association throughout high school and into college where Joyce doggedly joined clubs, started discussion groups, and volunteered for the school newspaper. None of these efforts produced the acceptance she’d desired. However, Joyce garnered one thing, a following of sorts. She was incredibly smart, and she tutored. Boys only. Cheap. The tutoring kept her in demand. Often, she was too busy to meet Sue for shopping or a Coke, leaving her with only herself for company.

  Sue dropped her shopping bag and purse in the seat next to Joyce and headed to the counter to order a soda and cinnamon roll. She returned to the table and plunked down, tearing off a bite of the pastry. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself,” Joyce said. “You barely caught me; I have to tutor Jeremiah Clark in thirty minutes.” Joyce waggled her eyebrows at Sue. Jeremiah was the hottest boy in college. Sue felt a stab of pity for Joyce, pining after a boy who would never look twice at her in a romantic way.

  Joyce shot Sue a questioning look when she dug out the book of poetry.

  “I know, right? But, I just came from Re-Books. They have the most unbelievable new guy working there. He’s even cuter than Jeremiah.”

  “Cuter than Jeremiah? That’s hard to believe. Although, I don’t believe you have a book of poetry either. So? The world’s ending?”

  “Ha, ha!” Sue said flatly. “But, it’s true; he’s gorgeous.”

  “What about your red-hot crush on Taylor Lautner? Are you giving up on the dream of meeting him someday? He’d be so devastated. If he even knew you existed in the first place.” An annoying smirk spread across Joyce’s wide, homely face.

  “I still think Taylor’s adorable, but he’s a movie star. This is real life.” Sue fought a surge of irritation.

  “Well, maybe I’d better drop by Re-Books later and get a glimpse of this hunk,” Joyce teased.

  Suddenly Sue realized she didn’t want Joyce drooling all over Zeke. Not that he’d give someone like Joyce a second glance. Then again, he seems to be interested in me, and I’m nothing special. She sat back and pasted a look of concession on her face. “Well, maybe I exaggerated just a little bit. Jeremiah is better looking.”

  Joyce gave Sue look of skepticism before changing the subject. “Why do you have a poetry book? I know it’s not your thing.”

  “It just looked interesting.” Sue looked pointedly at her watch. “You’d better go or you’ll be late for Jeremiah.”

  “No chance of that happening.” Joyce stood and slipped on her backpack. “I’m outta here.” She made for the door, pushing her way through the crowd like a small bulldozer.

  Sue flipped the book open at random and read one of the poems. Frowning with distaste, she tossed the book aside. Poetry couldn’t hold her attention right now; actually, poetry had never held her attention. Instead, she anxiously anticipated her date with Zeke.

  Past dating experiences had been few, and all were disappointing. Craig Jennings, a boy at school, had come on to her one day. She’d wanted to be prepared in case they moved to the next step; so, with high hopes she’d visited Planned Parenthood for birth control, her teenage dreams of passion pushing her past the embarrassment. And she had been glad she had, because she had gone all the way with Craig, right in the backseat of his car. And it had been horrible. Not only had the act been unpleasant, but Craig had never asked her out again. Sue had felt humiliated, but she’d moved on.

  She had subsequently fallen for the high school lines of hormonal boys exactly twice more, each time thinking she must be in love, and each time used in a fumbling ungracious way and tossed aside afterward. She kept these encounters a secret, even from Joyce; although, Sue suspected Joyce put out to some of the guys she tutored, with hopes of snagging a boyfriend.

  Slowly, she chewed her sweet roll, and spun fantasies about Zeke.

  Unfulfilled

  Sue waited for Zeke in the soft summer darkness. He swaggered out the door of Re-Books and gave Sue a casual nod.

  “Your car or mine?” He gestured toward a deep burgundy van.

  “Either. It doesn’t matter to me.” Sue giggled nervously, biting her lip to keep quiet.

  “Let’s take mine.” Zeke walked toward his vehicle, not waiting for her.

  Hurrying to catch up, she was disappointed when he didn’t open the door for her; but then she saw the look he gave her as she climbed into the vehicle next to him. Her heart raced. He exuded a sexual magnetism. Even the air seemed to be bursting with his presence.

  She was nervous and hopeful, finding it difficult to make conversation. But he had a way of putting her at ease, pretending not to notice her awkwardness. Chatting amiably, Zeke drove to the Sonic for burgers.

  “Damn, this is embarrassing,” he told her with a self-effacing smile. “I seem to have forgotten my wallet.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” she rushed to assure him. “I’ve got money.”

  His eyes lingered on her face like a caress as she handed over the cash. “I’ll pay you back,” he lied.

  During their meal, Zeke drew her out of her shell. Before long, Sue found herself talking easily with him. His voice flowed like honey and ignited sparks under her skin; she could get lost in the sound.

  As the evening progressed, she tortured herself with questions. Was she talking too much? Too little? Was she coming off childish, uncool, or desperate? However, when he dropped her off at her car he asked to see her again. He didn’t try to kiss her and she was let down, for she had anticipated the entire time they were together how it would feel when he touched his lips to hers.

  Sue saw Zeke every chance she got. She invited him home, but he declined.

  “I don’t like the idea.” He shook his head; frown lines creased his forehead.

  “But my folks are at work; no one would be there but us.�
��

  “Well, you see, Sue, it’s like this. I’m a very private person. You have neighbors, and neighbors watch their little domains like hawks. They keep track. They notice. I hate the idea of other people watching me. I’m sorry, it’s just a thing I have. Our relationship will have to be our little secret.”

  So, they met here and there; they spent a lot of time in her car or his van. Zeke was always such a gentleman that she was beginning to wonder if he was attracted to her at all. Perhaps he only sought friendship. Maybe he was gay, she thought, momentarily disillusioned. Their relationship seemed odd, one she wasn’t entirely happy with, but one she wasn’t ready to give up on either.

  He showed her his poems, disturbing nonsensical things as far as she could determine, but she praised them as insightful and brilliant. He listened endlessly to her, falling headlong into discussions, engaged, and always attentive. At the end of each date, he kissed her chastely on the cheek before driving off to unknown destinations, leaving Sue unsatisfied, craving more, and hopelessly hooked. She already resented her summer college schedule that kept her away from him. She resented both his job and her own. The hours apart were nearly unbearable. She even resented his demanding mother, selfishly intruding on their already limited hours together.

  Several weeks into their relationship, Sue hesitantly broached the subject of Zeke’s home life. “I really want to meet your mom.” She watched his reaction from the corner of her eye. They were sitting in his van near the park fountain. She took a sip from her drink, waiting for his answer.

  He stared out the windshield as if lost in thought.

  “Zeke? Did you hear me?”

  “I heard you.” He sighed. “It’s a bad idea, Susie. My mother is not your typical parent. I won’t expose you to her. Believe me; I’m doing you a favor.”