The Lumberjack

by Erik Martin Willén

  Carlos writhed from the pain and had to bite down hard not to scream, something his pride wouldn’t allow him to do. He crawled on his back, using his legs and feet—not away from but to the side of his attacker. He tried reaching his spare gun in his ankle holster, but the man beat him to it.

  Nero took a final look at his surroundings. He knew there were people in the forest, but he detected no one nearby. He looked at the small revolver, and then went in for the final blow.

  “STOP!”

  The fist stopped inches from Carlo’s Adam’s apple.

  Carlos fought against the tears, trying to hold back the excruciating pain throbbing in his shoulder; he realized that the person leaning over him had punched or kicked him with a force to reckoned with. “Why? Just tell me why?” He squirmed from the pain and bit down hard before he whispered, “Why are you doing this?”

  Nero hesitated at first, but then he said, standing up, “There can be no witnesses.”

  Carlos only shook his head, and then said, “But why do you do it at all? All the killings, and why me, now, after all this time?”

  Nero backed off for a moment, not being in a very talkative mode, and in a hoarse and very frightening voice, replied, “We purge because, because you and all the others out there,” he made a sweeping gesture towards the fairgrounds, and then continued, “…you’re our Frankenstein.”

  Carlos gave him a tired, confused look, and for an instant Nero swore that he had smiled confidently. It made him hesitate for a moment, but finally Nero struck hard with his fist.

  Carlos’s last thought was of his wife and two daughters. Now he would never take his family to the Caribbean. But before he closed his eyes for the last time, he smiled anyway; he had enough in knowing that he had at last closed the case, revealing who had killed most of his family when he was a child. Carlos da Silva left this life as a loving husband, a dedicated father, and a true police officer.

  Nero stared at his primary prey’s corpse, with its taunting little smile, feeling disappointed. He wished he had worn his second skin; doing it this way felt a bit off, and just plain wrong.

  He was about to leave the forest to enter the melee on the fairgrounds, but before he did, he had one thing more he had to do.

  * * * * *

  ANNA-MARIA’S PHONE rang while she was talking with the mayor’s husband, Phillip.

  “One moment, Phillip. Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but the girls have a phone each and are supposed to call if they’re in trouble.”

  “Now, that’s what I’m talking about when it comes to new technology, you see, we need to support it and…”

  “Yeah, well, they probably ran out of tickets and need money or something.”

  “Well, that’s the price being a parent. Are you okay?”

  Anna-Maria saw that the incoming call was from Carlos’s phone and that it was on a Facetime live feed. She smiled and opened it up. It took her several moments before she thought she understood what she was looking at, and then her brain registered everything; but her mind refused to understand it. She passed out, and when she did, her phone slid back into her purse. She hit the ground hard in front of a surprised and shocked Phillip.

  * * * * *

  NERO STOPPED and engraved one word on the giant tree: Cro. He observed his work, and then said, “Grandfather and Father, your purge is complete. Our secret is still safe; you can rest now.”

  He moved away from the body, following the tracks left by Carlos. An average person wouldn’t see them, but Nero was anything but average. Then he froze, realizing he had the stink all over him, and that it would really draw attention to him. He took off his plaid cotton sweater and T-shirt, but the stink was still on him. He had to change his direction, and he had to do it fast; he needed to get away before anyone saw him. This was the reason an evolved being like himself needed a second skin when he hunted: he couldn’t be seen like this, naked like a two-legged. Nero changed direction towards one of the huge parking lots.

  “Hey man, you seen Little Flower?”

  Ted Hagglund stopped in his tracks; he glanced at Carlos’s body and then at the hippy idiot who had popped up from nowhere, and then looked up, rolling his eyes, knowing full well that meeting Carlos in the forest had been too good to be true.

  The Rasta-hippy guy moved like a drunken fool, wearing typical clothing from the Flower Power era. Three fast steps, and Nero was holding the blabbering idiot by his throat.

  “Yo, now hold on, man…”

  Nero twisted Rasta-hippy’s head sideways and looked at the guy’s eyes; yep, high as a kite. No killing required, but he sure needed a new shirt. Moments later, after having to listen to all kind of profound language, he had removed the long shirt with its strange flower print and a T-shirt with Bob Marley on it from the hippy. Both stank of sweat and urine. He gave the guy an elbow under the chin; he dropped like a bad habit. Ted Hagglund was walking away and fixing the shirts when he suddenly rolled his eyes again at the sound of a strident voice.

  “Oh no, oh no, what have you done to my Todd, you bastard!”

  Nero had his back turned, and could see the woman’s position from the side; so he round-kicked her, hitting her in the face. Little Flower dropped like a log next to her Todd. Nero looked at the two idiots, contemplating killing both, but decided against it. He stunk of urine and she of alcohol. He saw a bottle of whiskey lying next to the girl. He took it and rubbed some of the alcohol on his chest, killing most of the stink. After making sure he didn’t leave any prints on the glass, he dropped the bottle on the ground. Now he could go back to his original plan and head to the fairgrounds; but before he did, a grin spread over his face.

  It took some time, but eventually he got his old T-shirt on the Rasta guy.

  For the first time, Nero realized that the forest was too crowded with two-legged idiots, mostly youths, drinking and fornicating. Maybe this hadn’t been his best choice of escape route after all. He tried to fit in with the young people partying all around him, but he still had some of the stink on him; the whiskey had only done so much, and whenever he got close to a group of them, he noticed more than one head turning. He wanted to go back to being Ted Hagglund again, but at the same time he knew it was far too late; he was what he had become, and second skin or not, there would be soon be a purge. The more he thought of it, the more his mind abandoned the little sanity he had left, as the Beast inside took over.

  Sometime later, Todd came to with a splitting headache, still high as a kite; he lifted his head, holding on to his cheek and checking on his jaw. He had no memory whatsoever of what had happened. He shook his head, and then he saw Little Flower lying spread-eagled next to him, her nose bleeding. “Oh, my poor sweet thing!” he wailed. “What have I done to you, my dearest?”

  He crawled up next to her and held her head, trying to focus his eyes, shaking his head more than once. He slapped her a few times, but she wouldn’t wake up. He looked around and saw the whiskey bottle; there was still some booze in it. Todd did the natural thing that came to his somewhat confused mind, and poured the whiskey onto his girlfriend’s face. She coughed and cursed as she came to, spitting and screaming. She saw Todd’s happy and enthusiastic expression, and once she got up on a sitting position, she punched him hard in his face.

  “Fuck you! Knock me out will ya, asshole?”

  “Yo babe, I ain’t been touching you.”

  “Then who did?”

  Todd looked around and saw a person lying a few yards away on his back.

  “Probably that shithead redneck over there… I must have fucked him up, man, defending you and all. So, wanna do it?”

  He gave her a mischievous look, but the normally-peaceful Little Flower was very upset, not feeling peaceful at all. She staggered to her feet and looked at Todd sitting on the ground, trying to light his pipe. “Jeez, man, why do you look like a redneck?”

  Todd took a couple of deep drags from the pipe.

  “I don’t know, man, fucking
cool. Smells even cooler.”

  “Smells like shit to me, man, like cat piss or somethin’. Now gimme some.”

  Todd got up on his knees and started to unbutton his pants.

  “No, fool, not that, gimme the fucking pipe.”

  Little Flower took a few hits off the pipe, and then Todd grabbed the pipe from her. She walked over to the body and looked it over. “Hey, Todd, we got ourselves a drunk pig over here. Motherfucker wears a fucking star, man, probably one of them fucking Texas Ranger whores, remember the ones that got us busted down near Mexico?”

  “Hey, ask him if he got some weed.”

  Little Flower just rolled her eyes. “I tell you what, man, Ima piss on the law. Wanna join me, Todd?”

  “Sure, let’s piss on the system and all these fucking SS. Let anarchy rule, man!”

  Little Flower pulled down her pants and urinated over Carlos’s lifeless body. Todd laughed like a maniac, and fumbled after his phone so he could film the whole thing and put it up on his Facebook page. When he was done, he struggled for a while, getting his own pants down, and then he pissed on both the body and his girlfriend while trying to document everything for all his future children and grandchildren to see.

  “You fucking idiot, you just peed all over me, you strung-out fuck!”

  “Coolness, babe.”

  Little Flower rose, very angry now, and pushed Todd away while he was still pissing. He dropped his phone on the ground, then hit his back on the side of the low ridge below the big tree, laughing out loud from the rush. He turned around and pushed away so he could get back up, and when he did, he grabbed onto the root. He looked a bit bewildered when he found a smartphone in his hand. Not giving it a second thought, he put it in one of his pant pockets. Eventually, Todd and his peaceful girlfriend decided to head back to the fairground, and whenever they met someone they knew or liked, judging them from their clothing, they directed them into the woods, because in there lay a drunken cop and anyone could piss on him. Didn’t take long before the rumor spread like wildfire.

  Nero stood by the edge of a parking lot in a large field, music playing all around him as the crowd of two-legged enjoyed themselves. He stared at some middle-age people working a tailgate BBQ; there were many more people doing the same. Some bikers had built an open fire, and a policewoman was making them put it out. There was some commotion between the police woman and the bikers, so she radioed for assistance while surrounded by half a dozen pissed-off men wearing leather and denim vests with patches on the back. Nero walked by the fire, snagged a medium-size log, and continued his walk. He tossed the log into an open tent. Next to the tent were several motorcycles, and he quickly unscrewed the gas cap on the one nearest the tent. He tore off part of his new shirt and dipped it in. He rubbed the gas on his chest, and as he walked away, a large biker hurried over to him. Nero kneed the biker hard in the groin and, using the biker’s own speed and motion, grabbed his jacket and pulled him forward, very hard, sending him headfirst into the two bikes. Both motorcycles fell like dominos, and the one nearest the tent fell on top of it. More smoke came from the tent.

  Nero sniffed his chest, and found he could still smell the stink. He really needed to get away from here. A familiar roar made Nero turn around, looking surprised. That was definitely a big cat, he thought; and then he saw something that enraged him. At the edge of the parking lot were several large animal crates on wheels, containing wild animals from a circus, lined up in a half-circle. Nero headed to them.

  So, how long are you going to keep the babysitters?” Tammy pointed over her shoulder with her thumb at Kevin and Peter, who mingled with the crowd.

  Christina, attacking her cotton candy like a three-year-old, making sure Tammy wouldn’t get any, stopped and licked her fingers. Tammy saw her chance, but Christina moved away the arm holding the stick loaded with spun sugar.

  “Hey, you could have gotten your own, but what did you say? Too much sugar, too much weight. Tammy dear, I’m totally doing you a favor.”

  “Hey, look, there’s Robert!”

  Christina immediately turned her head. “Where?”

  And just like that, the cotton candy changed owners.

  “You’re such a bitch!” Christina cried.

  “The bitch with the cotton candy!” Tammy poked her tongue out at Christina.

  “I guess they’re leaving soon. I think they’re pretty much done with the security stuff,” Christina said, picking up their previous conversation where they’d dropped it.

  “They like it here, especially your guest suite above the three-car garage.”

  “Funny, I haven’t even seen that yet.”

  “Sure the place isn’t too big for you to handle?”

  “Of course not. I do have some plans, but they’re a secret. You’ll see next year. Besides, Robert and the mute Russian are the caretakers, and I’ll probably keep them both on.”

  “So, that’s all they be doing—you then, huh?”

  Christina just smiled at her friend’s trap. “No, they have more properties they work with. Now give me back my sugar rush, you thieving little shit.”

  “Get your own.”

  “I did.” Christina just shook her head, and then she saw something through the crowd and smiled. “Enough of this. Let’s ride some humps.”

  Tammy stood there watching her best friend with eyes the size of golf balls. “Ride what? You horny toad!”

  They pushed through a huge crowd full of drunk people about their own age. Everyone was focused on a mechanical bull ride, where people took turns making asses of themselves, while in the background a few professional cowboys smirked at the boneheads—until a hot babe got on top of the bull, whereupon they became the loudest spectators. Robert and Pat stood by a railing, arguing, with him gesturing at her clothing. She was dressed like Tammy and Christina, in Daisy Dukes style.

  Christina kicked of her cowboy boots and strolled over on the mechanical bulls barefoot, generating some cheers and wolf whistles. Someone in the crowd shouted out her name, followed by silence; and then came the roar of approval. Peter and Kevin glared at her with irritated expressions, while keeping their eyes on the uproar.

  With music thundering from speakers, Christina rode, holding on for dear life, falling off more than once; but stubborn as she was, she never quit. Eventually, when the person in charge of the mechanical bull would only let her ride slow, for her to be sexy and all, she stopped. Tammy and Pat cheered her on and whistled like mad, and before long both found themselves grabbed by the strong hands of overly-friendly cowboys, who encouraged them to take turns on the bull. Robert just shook his head, and didn’t look all too happy when his sister mounted the bull. When Pat showed up, Robert stood behind the railing, shouting for her to get back, but she waved him off. She got up on the bull, and not long after she was crowned the winner of all three, both from the applause and by a happy guy screaming at the top of his lungs through a microphone.

  Robert gently but firmly escorted her away.

  “What’s up with him?” Tammy wondered.

  Claire showed up from nowhere and said, “He’s very protective of her.”

  Price of being the older brother, I guess, Christina thought, thinking of her own brothers and how protective they could be.

  “Especially since he raised her all by his lonesome.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Christina, both of them are orphans. Their parents died young, and after spending a few years with their grandparents, Robert pretty much raised his sister on his own. Guess she’ll be grounded after that little ride.”

  Christina looked at Robert lecturing his kid sister, and then there were the butterflies. Claire and Tammy noticed Christina’s expression, and smiled to each other. “Why don’t you go over there and ask him to marry you, silly?” Tammy needled her.

  Christina faced Tammy, putting on her sunglasses and correcting them aggressively with her middle finger.

  “Hello there, Mr. H
unk, what’s your name?” Tammy said, accenting her statement with a whistle.

  “Claire, I apologize for my poorly-mannered friend,” Christina said.

  Claire laughed, “Oh, that’s Blake.”

  Christina turned around, and saw the same man she’d seen at the car accident. She noticed the glare Robert and Blake exchanged. Blake was also attractive, but there was something too serious and sad about his features. “Wow, you can really feel the friction between those two.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  Tammy didn’t hesitate, walking over to Blake. They started talking, and Blake smiled.

  “Come on, Claire, you said A, so you might as well say B,” Christina insisted.

  “Well, Christina, I normally don’t spread rumors, but I’ll give you girls this one, because I’m sure you’ll eventually hear all kinds of crap about those two. Years back, a girl got between them. Until then, they were best friends.”

  “What happened to the girl?” Christina asked while looking at Robert and Blake?

  “She left.”

  “What, for another guy? Why do they still hate each other?”

  “Oh, dear. Well, she left all right, but only after she’d thoroughly and deliberately wrecked their friendship, but it wasn’t for another guy. She left for another woman.”

  Christina looked at Claire, and neither could help laughing a bit. “I guess you guys just have to find out why they don’t care for each other yourself,” Claire chuckled, “because this jungle drum will drum no more.”

  Tammy returned, waving a note with a number on it. “This is a real popular celebration, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Tammy, we country folks can party too—but you haven’t seen anything yet. This is just the pre-party. The real celebration and competitions will be tomorrow and the day after. Then there’ll be two or three times as many people here. Frank and I probably won’t attend then. We keep the store open, but only for a few hours in the afternoon.”

  “But where do all these people come from? I’m sure they’re not just from Skull Creek,” Christina said, while looking around at the ever-increasing crowd.