by Harvey, Red
True's reasons for coming into my room weren’t sexual in the slightest. I realized that after hearing clatters form the master bedroom.
Louise and Michael.
A groan leaked through the layers of sheet-rock separating our rooms. They’re bumpin’ uglies, I thought. Wrong again, though. True wouldn’t steal into my room in the dark of night to inform me Louise and Michael were practicing baby-makin’ techniques. The mind flashes down strange avenues when startled awake.
“What are they doing?” I whispered.
True looked at me, but said nothing.
“True, I know you can talk, so answer me. What’s wrong?”
She didn’t need to answer. Louise’s short but loud scream got me out of bed. I forgot about Mutie and went into the hallway. Behind me, Gloria and True's bedroom door was open. I didn’t need to look inside; I could tell it was empty. In front of me, drops of blood littered the wood floor of the hallway. At the end of it was the door to the master bedroom, which was closed. When I tried to turn the knob, it slipped and wouldn’t open. Blood-smears covered the chrome-plated knob.
I lifted my pajama shirt to wipe away the blood. Then I took a breath and opened the door. If I had ever opened the door to the kill room, I probably wouldn’t have seen as odd and grotesque a sight as the one I did within the master bedroom.
Michael lay against the side of the bed, glass from the table-side lamp all around him. Bits of glass were in his hair and lap. A nasty looking cut was bleeding from the top of his head. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t sleeping by choice. Gloria had knocked him out. The small chunk of skin missing from his upper arm boggled my mind. From the indentations, a knife wasn’t the culprit. The bitch had bitten him.
I scanned the rest of the wreckage: a chair over-turned here, another lamp in pieces over there. The drops of blood from the hallway had graduated to small puddles on the bedroom carpet. On the other side of the bed, Louise was spread out on the floor. Her legs were open, and in-between them was Gloria.
Rug muncher, rug muncher! was the ugly school yard chant that blared in my head. Except it wasn’t a rug Gloria was munching on. It was Louise’s inner thigh.
Suddenly that overturned chair looked pretty good to me. I picked it up and advanced on Gloria, whose back was to me. In her feast, she failed to hear me. Good thing, because the chair was heavy. I was struggling to raise it above my head when she turned around. Before she could think another cannibalistic thought, I brought the chair down on her.
Her side took most of the impact. I heard vicious cracks that had nothing to do with the chair breaking apart when it hit her. Part of her jaw crumpled inward. One arm was dislocated with a wet popping sound.
“Ooof!” she cried (or more like garbled).
Gloria fell down and rolled over to the left of Louise. I got down, putting my head to Louise’s chest. Hearing her slow and rhythmic heartbeat calmed me. I went to check on Michael next. Even though he looked dead, he wasn’t. His heart thumped true. To wake him, I slapped him smartly across the cheek. My blow rocked his head to the side. One eye opened.
“Gloria.” He rasped.
“Don’t worry about her. She’s---” ‘dead’ would have been the wrong word. While I wasn’t a doctor, I knew she was just knocked out and might come to at any moment.
Any moment came true as I saw a shadow moving on the bed. I cursed myself for not hitting her with the chair a second, perhaps even third time. All I could think to do was close my eyes and wait for the end.
Someone gasped, but I can’t say who. Next, there was a whoosh, and a thump. I opened my eyes to see a ball beside my foot. A large, hair-covered ball. A head-shaped ball. With a kick, I turned it over and instantly regretted it. Gloria’s tongue wagged out of her misplaced head. Since she was closest to me (part of her was), I saw a detail about her that I hadn’t before.
“She has one green eye and one brown eye.”
“Had.” Michael said.
“Had.” I said back, looking at the body that had once been attached to the head.
Beyond Gloria’s amputated corpse stood her daughter (her killer), with a katana dangling from one arm. I expected her to say something then. Hell, I think we all did. Even then, or especially then, True had nothing to say.
* * * *
27
Everything had gone smoothly after a while. More than a year passed since Nieto’s death, and it was safe for Juniper to frequent the Coach Inn. Peter had gotten busy with his own affairs. He had forgotten about the girl that had killed his partner. But Juniper had not forgotten about him. In the back of her mind, she had always worried if he could be looking for her. Then, the world came crashing down and she had assumed he would be dead. That was exactly what Peter had presumed about her. They had both been wrong.
Juniper could remedy that. Her husband was dead, her new dog was chow, but she still had a gun.
It took her two days to prepare. First, she buried Christopher’s body. The task would have been out of the question had she not found a shovel in the bed of a pickup truck near their car. Dragging his body was most challenging. Juniper got ten feet with it before she needed to take a break. She was tempted to bury him right by the side of the road. Resolve replaced her exhaustion, and she brought him well into the fields that ran alongside the roadway. In between two large trees, she found a suitable spot for burial. And she dug, and dug, and dug. Her palms weren’t used to the work. They split open easily thanks to the heat and her own sweat. By the end of her task, the blue sky had faded to a light pink.
Time was short. It was almost dark, and Juniper didn’t want to be out in the woods when that happened. Really, she was safer in the woods. The Mr. Hydes of the world stayed closest to the roadways where food was plentiful. And the road was where Juniper planned to spend the night.
She rolled the body into the grave. It landed hard, settling on its side. One leg was bent helter skelter. A eulogy, or saying goodbye, would have been appropriate, but the words weren’t there. Minutes went by. The sky became orange. She glanced at the shovel and decided to finish digging without saying anything.
“No, I have to say something.” She told the field.
Nothing happened. Her mind was empty, but her heart was so full it hurt.
After a few heartbeats, Juniper found her words. “Christopher, I’m glad I met you. Thank you for loving me.”
Juniper picked up the shovel. With every mound of dirt she replaced, she felt a greater desolation. Heavy tears fell as she worked. It was hard to see because she had to keep wiping away tears, and she would accidentally rubbed dirt into her eyes. The luxury of mourning her husband couldn’t last for very long; the sky was purple. It was full dark no stars when she packed on the last bit of earth.
Light from the moon lit her trek to the car. All along the way, her hand remained on her gun. Juniper felt prepared in case of a surprise meeting in the woods. She couldn’t know her surprise meeting was going to happen once she reached the road.
****
The car was as Juniper had left it, with the passenger door ajar. There was blood on most of the front seat. In the dark, it looked like black ink had stained the upholstery. Black chunks hung from the ceiling near the driver’s seat. Another chunk hung from the keys in the ignition. The remnants of Christopher’s murder scene made Juniper queasy, but she couldn’t clean it up. Juniper was tired. Too tired to wipe up blood, brains, and then attempt to drive all night. She was reaching for the unlock button on the passenger door when she heard a whisper.
“Pretty. Young.”
Thing? She finished in her head.
“Fresh.” Was the next whisper. Whomever was whispering to Juniper did not share her love of Michael Jackson songs.
She wanted to ask, “Who’s there?” or “Stay away from me”, but she knew neither comments would help her predicament. The culprit could not be seen. From either direction, the road was still and calm. She wished she could say the same for her nerves. Neve
rtheless, she felt another presence nearby. Juniper heard it breathing behind her, but when she turned back towards the car, there was nothing. She was, as the phrase went, being royally fucked with.
Four bullets. Was that enough?
Out of the darkness, Juniper saw something that seemed beyond the work of bullets. The figure was large, washed white by the moonlight. Where there should have been one face, there were three faces fused together. In the center, there were two eyes, and a flat slope leading to a maw full of stalactite fangs. On either side of its face(s), there was another eye, and the beginnings of another mouth. It’s face..overlapped. The body looked human, but for the wax hard skin.
For all Juniper knew, the creature was a living and breathing thing. Yet, there was no emotional signature coming through. It was an inhuman creature, one made for this after life. When she saw its face(s) come out of the shadows, she forgot about the gun. Her horror at seeing the creature robbed her momentarily of her sanity. Inside, she was as emotionally blank as the demon. She came back to herself when the thing faded back into the shadows.
“Fuck my life.” Juniper said.
She dove into the car, scrambling to get into the driver’s seat. Blood and brains be dammed, she thought. Outside, a loud screech carried on the wind. Another screech answered, and another, but they were further away than the first. The bastard is callin’ in the cavalry. Her hand closed over the keys and she squashed a clot of blood in her palm.
“It’s okay, they’ll be time to freak out later.” She told herself. “Drive, damnit.”
At her own urging, Juniper turned on the car. Directly blocking her escape was the monster. She screamed and hit the gas pedal in reflex. The car’s engine revved, but it didn’t go anywhere. It was a minute before Juniper understood she had neglected to shift out of park.
While Juniper was groping for the stick shift, she watched the monster with one eye. It was standing, waiting. In the full glare of the headlights, the thing didn’t seem to be real. It was a man with a Halloween mask on. An incredibly lifelike mask with four blinking eyeballs. Her hand found the right hold, and she shifted into drive. Meanwhile, the creature made no indication it feared the oncoming vehicle. That was fine with Juniper; she meant to run the motherfucker down.
The demon didn’t go down so much as it went up and over the car. She saw the body fly up, and in the rearview mirror, a tumble of flesh fell behind the car. Her next reaction was to brake. The thing could not be dead. Couldn’t be. To make sure, she put the car into reverse. Before she could crush the monster underneath the wheels, large wings opened up on its back. They were similar to batwings, having the same look of stretched skin and veins. One difference was the silver spokes sticking out of the downward angle of each wing. The spokes were at least two feet long, and they looked sharp.
“Time to go.” Juniper said.
She put the car back in drive, and pushed down hard on the gas. At the speed she was going, she couldn’t tell if the monster was following her or not. It was too dark. Really, she needed to concentrate on going around the few stalled cars in the road. Juniper glanced in the rearview for a few seconds. Maybe fifty feet back were two dark silhouettes. They looked like birds, but that isn’t what they were at all. Ahead, Juniper could see the road was clear. She was in the country, where commuters had been rare. It was alright to accelerate past fifty miles an hour safely.
When she swerved around the last car on the road, Juniper watched the needle on the dashboard jump from 48 to 88. It seemed that 88 miles an hour was too fast for the creatures to keep pace with. In the driver’s side mirror, she watched the demons stall in the sky.
Three winged monsters hovered up high, angry that they had missed their prey. Their wings were almost beautiful against the moonlight. Being so far away, Juniper was fascinated by how closely the trio resembled fairies. It was a thought that calmed her, enabling her to drive on for the next three hours.
****
Because of the windowless driver’s side, Juniper didn’t feel it was safe to sleep in the car. After encountering the pixies from hell, she didn’t feel that it was safe anywhere, which was why she had pulled over and slept in the car anyway. Her plan lasted about an hour, and then she couldn’t abide one more twig snap. Every sound terrified her. She did not get much rest.
Around dawn, Juniper’s gas gauge was below a quarter of a tank. She took the next exit off of the road and hoped to find a gas station. Preferably an empty one, she thought. She drove past three stations before finding one devoid of people. The last one Juniper found gave off no emotional vibes.
By now, she had figured out that her power did not transfer to demons. Therefore, she parked at a gas pump, got out of the car slowly, and took her gun with her. It was odd how much comfort Juniper found in her little instrument of death. Cold steel was the only friend left to her in the after world.
Juniper reached for the gas pump. Her eyes never stopped scanning the space around her. Empty parking lot, empty sidewalks, empty convenience store…Suddenly, a yellow thread of panic lit up from inside the store.
“Damnit.” Juniper said.
How had she not felt another presence? The panic was becoming more amplified; the person was closer. Meeting a stranger was something Juniper would have rather avoided. A panicked person was worse yet. But, she needed gas, and this was the least populated station that she had been able to find. She had to risk it. Plus, there was a chance the person might be normal.
Thump. Thump. Panic was drumming in Juniper’s head. Feeling the panic affected her other senses. The gas pump shook in her hand and she was barely able to fit the nozzle into the car. She began fueling. From the doorway of the store, she saw a short figure staring at her. Not just staring, aiming. It was a girl, maybe a little older than Ashley had been. She was small. The shotgun she had pointed at Juniper looked as long as the girl was tall.
“You gon’ leave right now!” the girl called.
Though panic was strong within her, there was another emotion the girl was feeling that Juniper could tell was stronger. At the center of her panic, there was a void.
Juniper flipped the pump to automatic. Her hands went above her head in a gesture of surrender, but she confused the girl by taking slow strides forward.
“We’ve both lost someone. There’s no reason why we have to shoot each other, too.” Juniper said.
“I’m the one with the gun, crazy.” The girl spoke with an overstated twang that was common to the area.
“I’ve got a gun too.”
“Yeah? Where’s it at?”
Juniper shook her head. “I don’t want to shoot you. All I want is some gas.”
“That’s what they all wanted!” the girl screamed. Inside, her darkness warmed to a deep red. “They killed my mama and daddy just fur some goddamn gas. Thought the pumps were dry, so I hid in the basement. Then, you showed up.”
“Basement.” Juniper repeated.
Of course.
For reasons unknown, the earth limited her abilities. Whenever Chris had been working in his basement, it was like there was a stone wall between them, figuratively and literally. She hadn’t sensed the girl earlier for the very same reason. Now, Juniper felt everything the girl felt. Including the girl’s red-warming heart. Black interlaced with the red, and Juniper could see it reaching out like vines. The dark was growing and twisting inside of the girl.
“Why are you coming closer? I’ma shoot you!”
Unafraid, Juniper continued to move forward. “No you won’t, ‘cause I’m not like them.”
“There were women with ‘em too. Men, women. All bad and selfish fucks. I hate ‘em.” The girl said.
She was crying, and the black vines were growing.
Juniper was only a few inches from the teen. She was fourteen, maybe fifteen. From far away, she hadn’t looked more than ten years old. Up close, there was a maturity not to be missed. If it was an ingrained trait, or one sprung from her tragedy, Juniper couldn’t
be clear. Nor did Juniper really care. One thing was on her mind. Once it was done, the whole world could burn, the girl included.
The girl didn’t know what to make of Juniper. She dropped her eyes for a second, and it was the second Juniper had been waiting for. In a move that was quick and harsh, Juniper wrenched the shotgun from the girl’s hands. She used the butt of the gun to push the girl down onto the ground.
Eyes narrowed, Juniper stood over her and said, “Hate may feel good and it keeps you warm. But it can take you over. You’re already halfway to becoming one of them.”
“One of who?” the girl sniffled.
“You’ll know when you see them. You have the same darkness inside. I’ve got it too. Difference is, I plan on doing something about it.”
The girl’s panic had disappeared. Purple shades of confusion had taken her over.
“What are you gonna do?”
“First, I’m gonna find the man that helped make my life hell, and I’m gonna kill him. Then, I’m gonna kill myself.”
****
28
October 25th
True overslept. No one saw her awake until 12:45 this afternoon. I don’t blame her for sleeping in. If I had beheaded my mother the night before, I would’ve done a fair share of sleeping myself. Then again, I’m not sure I could have slept after a thing like that. ‘Course, that wasn’t really True’s mother, or so she told me later. After knowing what really happened, True sleeping soundly without regret makes a great deal of sense to me now.
Before True woke up, we were all busy cleaning. Michael dug a grave out front in the woods. With my help, he rolled Gloria’s body (and head) up in plastic sheeting, and loaded it onto a wheelbarrow. I hope that’s the last body I help dispose of for a long damn time.
While Michael was finishing his task, Louise was cleaning up their bedroom. I wiped up the blood from the hallway and went to see if I could help her further. I was surprised she and Michael were up and about. Digging must hurt when a good bit when skin is missing from your arm. As for Louise, walking in general can’t be fun.
