by Joe Zito
“Ok, that’s fine,” Susan said feeling relieved that she had now just a little extra time to prepare herself.
The nurse quietly knocked on the door and then opened it. Susan was shocked that it was unlocked. She didn’t know that Angel was a level 1 patient, meaning she was a low level threat to herself and others, and that they were allowed to have their doors unlocked for a certain amount of time each day. Susan was trembling now. Even at the last minute, she was still thinking about busting out of there, but she had come this far, may as well go all the way. She stepped inside.
Angel was sitting in a big green lounge chair with her knees up to her chest and her black hair parted in the middle and falling around her face. She was staring out the window when she turned her head at the sound of Susan’s footsteps. For the first time in two years, Susan’s and Angel’s eyes met. Angel’s expression was indifferent, a blank canvas free of all feeling or emotion. Susan thought maybe she didn’t recognize her because of the sunglasses and scarf she was wearing. Neither of them said a word, just only stared at one another. Then, Anita sensing the awkwardness, said, “Angel, this is your neighbor. She says she baby sat you when you were a child. She came for a visit.” Right away Susan noticed a black arm brace on Angel’s left hand. The horrid thought of suicide ran through her mind but figured she would have bandages rather than a brace. She let the thought drift from her mind.
Anita smiled warmly at Susan and after asking Angel if she needed anything, exited the room.
Angel was still staring at Susan with that strange, blank look and then after a few tense moments, a quivering frown formed on her face. Susan’s legs felt wobbly, like they could just buckle on her any second, but they didn’t. She glanced around the room and spotted a small round table. She walked over to it and sat the brown paper bag down. She pulled a chair out and took a seat, slowly lowering herself to it. Angel’s eyes followed her with every step as she moved across the room. They were scared cat eyes following a possible predator. The frown still remained on her face. Susan untied the scarf around her head and then took off her sunglasses, revealing eyes that had already begun to well up with tears. It had been two years since she’s seen Angel, much less be in the same room with her. The last time she saw Angel, she was being escorted out of a courtroom full of angry and hostile Bludenhale folk who wanted to see her burn at the stake. Susan remembered that pitiful frown on Angel’s face, similar to the one she has now.
They did make eye contact but Angel quickly averted her eyes away from Susan when they did. After a few more moments of strange and awkward silence, to Susan’s surprise, Angel stood up and slowly walked over to the table and took a seat opposite of Susan. Angel held her head down as if she was ashamed; her long black hair falling around her face in stringy strands. She began crying lightly to herself and then Susan opened up the brown paper bag she had brought with her and pulled out a round pan full of sweet and delicious sugar cream pie. With a nudge she pushed it towards Angel and said, “Here, you forgot yours on our counter, so I made you another one.” She smiled nervously and lit a cigarette. In 1976, there were no rules against smoking in a mental health facility. Many of the doctors themselves smoked, even on their rounds.
“Amy is four now. She’s starting kindergarten in the fall. Tina’s shop is doing well and I hear she might be adding on.”
Angel still had that pathetic frown of guilt and sadness as Susan rambled on about life on the outside but then suddenly she raised her head up to Susan. Two trails of tears fell simultaneously from her big eyes.
“Why?” She said, her voice cracking.
Susan looked deep into her eyes. A strained look was upon her face.
“Why?” Angel said again. “Why are you here?”
Susan gazed at her for a moment longer as if stalling for an answer. Two years’ worth of tears began falling from her eyes, partly because she did miss Angel and really wanted to reach across the table and wrap her arms around her and hug her and hold her because she looked so goddam frail and scared and out of place in this room and building full of crazies. But she knew she couldn’t because Angel was a monster and she killed her Heather, but Susan needed and wanted her daughter back so badly, she would do anything to ease the pain she’s been feeling every day since June 18th 1974, even if it meant reconnecting with Angel.
She reached across the table and put her hands on Angels.
“Because I miss my daughter.”
1997
The hot cup of coffee Susan had started drinking five minutes ago had turned cold. She had been sitting there at the kitchen table, lost in the memory of years ago when she first went to visit Angel. It was the first of many. She would learn the art of being secretive, even though she hated going behind her husband’s back and engaging in such a destructive act like visiting their daughter’s murderer. Every once in a while she would get the sense that Mark possibly knew what she was doing, but never would say anything. And then there was Amy. As she got older, Susan had to take great care in keeping her weekly afternoon visits quiet.
The clock had only moved a full five minutes since her mind started drifting, but the memory of that day seemed to last forever. Susan’s heart was broken and beyond repair at the loss of all her family; her daughter, granddaughter, husband and now Angel, the last person on earth who was the link between her and her deceased daughter. But even throughout all the visits day after day, year after year, Susan always had in the back of her mind that she was befriending and reaching out to a killer. The one who screamed she bathed in her best friend’s blood on the side of the road in 1974.
A hummingbird fluttered wildly in front of the kitchen sink window. Finally coming out of her daze, Susan remembered the air conditioning unit and that it needed to be fixed. She wiped her moist eyes and slowly stood up from the kitchen table. She stretched and yawned and thought about going back to bed for another couple of hours, but decided not to because things had to be taken care of around the house. Before she could give herself enough time to start thinking of Mark and how he should be here at her side on this lonely morning, drinking coffee and laughing with her, she gulped down her cold coffee (once a coffee addict always a coffee addict) and went outside.
The morning was turning warm. Maybe a little too warm for September, but she didn’t mind. She loved hot days and being outside and working in her flower garden. She walked around the house and to the side where the air conditioning unit was running; more like rattling. She sighed and kneeled down next to the hunk of junk. Lady, you don’t know jack about this kind of stuff, so don’t even try messin’ with it. She scrunched her face in confusion and stress of not knowing what to do with the unit, but more of having to fork out a hundred or more dollars for some twenty something kid to come out and look at it. A squirrel ran down the shaft of a tree a few feet in front of her. It stopped, almost right in front of her. It was nibbling on an acorn and looking at her with its glassy, beady eyes. “What are you lookin’ at buddy?” She huffed again in annoyance at the damn noisy unit. A few strands of hair flung away from her forehead. The sun was beating down. It was getting hotter by the minute. Then, as if the magical air conditioning fixing fairy had flew down from the heavens, Susan saw a black leaking tube connected to the unit. “Well hell! I can fix that.” She looked at the squirrel and said with more confidence in her voice, “I can fix this.” She stuck her tongue out at the squirrel and it scurried away from her, off to find more trees and acorns.
The ride into town was only a short distance from her house. She had both the driver side and passenger side windows open, letting in a rush of hot, late summer air. Her hair was pinned back in a ponytail. A country song was playing on the radio. The woman singing sounded familiar. Susan couldn’t quite place who it was but she did know the song. The female vocalist bellowed out how a woman should stand by her man and then Susan glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a flash of a memory of Amy when she was about twelve or so, sittin
g in the backseat. A lump formed in Susan’s throat at the sudden, horrible memory of that day at Sam’s when Red Brown terrified and traumatized Amy with the details of her mother’s gruesome, strange death. Susan tried thinking of something else but them memory was too strong. Realizing that the song was the culprit and trigger for the sad memory, she quickly turned off the radio.
She was in downtown Bludenhale and within a blink of an eye she pulled into a parking space in front of Sam’s Hardware. The place hadn’t changed much, probably because of Sam’s reluctance to update the look of his store. The familiar tone of two round bells clinking together filled the store. Having been to Sam’ literally what felt like hundreds of times, Susan knew exactly where to go to find the replacement part for the air conditioner.
“Hi there, Susan,” Sam said as he was ringing up a customer.
She smiled at him. “How are you, Sam.”
“Still kicking,” he said as he patted his chest with the palm of his hand. Susan winked at him and smiled again but it had a look of pity. The poor old guy had two heart attacks in three years.
“I reckon I don’t need to ask if you need help finding something,” he said.
“Nah,” Susan said waving her hand.
The small hardware store still had that aroma of motor oil and cedar that Susan always seemed to like, or at least she had become immune to it from all the years of coming here with Mark on those Saturday mornings and Amy playing with some toy in the backseat. We’ll head over to Tina’s and get your ears pierced like you’ve been wanting. Susan flinched at the sudden memory of that day. She tried to focus on what she came here for but as she walked down the aisles, she could hear in her mind the sound of Amy crying. Did that girl really suck all my mommy’s blood gone? She felt her chest tighten. Just get what you need Susan and get out, she told herself. But the memories kept attacking her. Her heart began to beat faster and she started to walk a little quicker. She felt a sense of panic coming over her and suddenly forgot where she was, even though she’s been up and down these aisles hundreds of times. It was getting closer and she knew it and there was nothing she could do. That dreaded aisle was in her wake with all its sad and horrid memories. Just go around it Susan. That’s all you have to do, her mind reeled. But it was as if she wasn’t in control her body; like it was leading her to the aisle of pain. Then she saw it: an image of an old man kneeled down next to a little girl with blonde hair, wearing a pink jacket. Susan was the only one standing there in the aisle. She was gazing down at the other end, fighting the demons inside her as she covered her mouth and cried when she saw herself running as fast as she could towards Amy. It was all in slow motion; the painful memory playing back in her mind. Her hands were trembling. She closed her eyes for a quick moment and then opened them and in front of her was just an ordinary aisle in a local hardware shop. No delusional old man terrorizing a small girl; just a bunch of tools and pipes and rubber hoses. Susan lowered her hand from her mouth and looked down the aisle with sad yet angry eyes. Good ‘ol Red Brown she thought. You son of bitch.
And then everything turned red.
1984
Red Brown awoke to the sound of his television blaring loudly in his living room around eleven p.m. The stupid son of a bitch had forgotten to turn it off and he ended up falling asleep, half drunk on his porch with a lit cigarette in his hand. When he awoke, his damaged brain had seen the blackened silhouette of Angel Larson out in his wheat field. Not really though. It was all in his mind, although he would be the last to admit that what he saw back in 1974 in a small, secluded garage in the middle of a cornfield had anything to do with his current state of insanity. It had been an eventful day for Red. The incident with the little blonde headed girl at Sam’s was the highlight of the day. Amy Smith was her name, but he knew damn well who she was. You’re so pretty just like your mommy. He had seen her mother all splayed out in a broken heap of hair and blood on the garage floor in 1974. All skin and bone. He attributes that horror scene to his constant late night nightmares.
But it was the other one. The girl with long black hair and a sweet, pretty face that he would blame for his current mindset. Mainly the story she told him and detective Monroe back in ’74 in that small room down at the police station, where they pushed record on a tape recorder and she told the bloody tale of a scarecrow beast that was eight foot tall and craved the smell of blood and lived in the corn and sucked every last drop of blood from Heather Smith’s body.
His hallucination of Angel Larson had come and gone. Now, the loud as hell TV was giving him a headache. The four beers he drank wasn’t helping much either. He slowly sat up and winced at the pain in his head. He took up drinking in 1978 after he lost his job as one of Bludenhale’s finest. He also lost his lady as well. Maria was her name. She became afraid of him when he drank and after one night in hell where he ransacked his living room and then sat in the middle of the floor in a stupor, staring at nothing, she decided she had had enough and left for good.
He stood up and waivered back and forth, trying to get his balance. Once he did he heard laughter coming from somewhere. That somewhere was in his head and it was two boys cackling like coyotes, terrorizing and mocking him. Angel’s gonna get ya old timer! Red suddenly remembered the second but less eventful incident outside of Sam’s in the parking lot, where two teenage metalhead punks taunted and laughed at him, driving him into a fit of madness. He put his fists to his head as if trying to knock out the laughter. Eventually it went away. He went inside and turned off the noisy television. Sweet silence. His headache was subsiding of which he was very grateful for. He would need all the strength he could get for later. Then he saw the rope and duct tape he had bought from Sam’s sitting on the kitchen table.
And then a devil of a psychotic grin formed on his scruffy face.
Complete darkness.
Confined space.
Suffocating heat.
Faint female crying.
Complete darkness.
Then, a sudden movement in the dark; a male grunt of either pain or confusion or both.
Silence so loud it’s almost painful in their ears. Another sound of a distressed male but different from the other. A thick layer of sweat upon one of the males forehead drips down his face, burns the eyes. The female cries again.
Tight space.
Hands tied behind their backs. No air. Mouth’s taped shut. Dust in their eyes. The odor of earth and ground all around.
The three bodies wrestle around on the dirt floor of an underground cellar. Panic sets in when they become fully awake, realizing that it is pitch black all around them. They pray they haven’t gone blind. Their muted screams were pointless. They were trapped in a dirt pit with dirt walls and a dirt floor. The female let out a taped mouth shriek of horror when two long earthworms roamed the contours of her completely naked body. The two males were also naked. The panic driven shrieks and cries of terror ceased after about five minutes.
The three of them were still; only moaning softly to themselves and then they heard a noise from outside. It was a muffled noise as if coming from a distance. Then a rumbling.
An engine.
They could hear it’s far away roar and the intermittent revving of the engine via a gas pedal.
A Tractor.
Still, in the distance, it idled for a moment. Then more revving.
It’s coming, the female thought, all naked and scared out of her precious mind. Here it comes. The slow growling roar of death getting closer. The girl did a crescendo of a pathetic cry as the sound of the engine got closer. The two males began to kick at the dirt floor as if trying to break free. But they wouldn’t break free. They were trapped with nowhere to go. The thick, rumbling roar of the tractor was getting closer and sounded as if it was right above the cellar door. The female screamed under her taped mouth but her horror was lost in the heavy din of the tractor engine.
And then it stopped.
Th
e tone of the engine still lingered in their ears. The female was whimpering lightly to herself. And then there was a new sound; the squeak of a metal seat of someone getting off the tractor and then a muted thump on the ground.
All three victims were deathly silent as they heard the commotion outside. Then, a loud bang came from the cellar door like something or someone had hit it. The female shrieked again and the banging persisted. There was something on the roof banging and kicking, trying to get in.
Bang!.....Bang!.....Bang!
And then the female let out her loudest scream yet, tearing the tape stuck to her mouth. “Whyyyy!” She screamed. “What’s happening?”
Bang!.....Bang!
The two males kicked at the dirt but their attempts at freedom were futile and worthless. As the moments of terror passed the banging had calmed.
More noise outside beyond the cellar door.
More squeaking.
Clinking.
The metallic chime of chains hitting together.
Then the engine roared to life again.
Bang!.....Bang!.....Bang!
The cellar door came open. The three victims quickly shut their eyes at the painful glare of a bright flashlight piercing their eyes. One of the males vaguely could see an outline of someone looking down on them; although he could not see their face clearly. Then the flashlight moved as the one holding it scurried away and began tinkering with something on the tractor. The rattling of chains was heard and then the figure appeared again above the cellar, but now without the shining flashlight. They were able to see a little better, now that their eyes had adjusted. From what they could see, the figure appeared to be female or at least that’s what on one of the males believed, because of the long hair.
