by Mark Tufo
"That's over now, sweetie," Dir said in her mind, savoring her inability to do anything but listen and observe as he controlled every part of her. This vessel would do for now, but he needed something more concrete, something with more power.
As strange as it sounded, he missed Trisha already and the fun they could've had together, ruling the world.
The only place he was assured of safety was the barn, back at Zaun Farm. He stretched her leg muscles, jogging as he hit the next street and fell into a rhythm. Dir couldn't remember the last time he'd been free to roam this world. He'd almost forgotten; the wind in the hair, the sensation of movement, the beating of blood through the heart, and the breathing pattern as he moved.
When headlights appeared ahead, Samantha ran across the street, into another yard, and over another fence. A dog barked three houses down but she didn't stop.
Soon the light would come, the sun dragging itself over the horizon. Dir of The Earth had no hatred toward the sun and its rays. It was merely one of those minor things he never thought about until now, feeling alive and free. He imagined a horde of humans, chained and in single file, stepping in tandem toward him as he sat on his throne, the sun shining down on his mighty power.
If anyone had been awake this early they would have seen a teenage girl jogging the streets, her form perfect, her eyes looking straight ahead, and the smile plastered on her face from ear to ear.
Chapter Twenty Three
"Thirsty, Artie?" The waitress poured his third cup of coffee in the last five minutes. "You get any sleep?"
"Not a minute." He added cream and sugar and sighed as she walked away.
The bodies in Cove Springs were piling up. How many crime scenes would they find? Four dead at one location, two dead at another last night. One of the missing boys and another woman found in the last two hours. One of the girls and one of the boys missing, and now the sheriff's office had moved in and taken over. It wouldn't be long before FBI, Federal Marshals, Secret Service, NATO and the Army started trudging through Cove Springs at this rate. He welcomed the help.
Artie understood they'd caught a lucky break when they’d found Benjamin Zaun red-handed with the blood of those two girls on his hands, although the case still threw Artie for a loop. The guy had been genuinely nice, and he missed sitting at the counter here, talking about nothing more important than the ball game last night or the weather.
He glanced at the journal, next to him in an organ folder, and realized he was doing something wrong. Maybe these new murders were tied to them, instead of being dismissed as a copycat. He knew for certain Benjamin's grandson wasn't the killer, and so did everyone else. His movements had been cleared immediately. Artie felt a twinge of jealousy that Becky seemed to be spending so much time with those two young city guys, sure the other one had a thing for her. Who didn't?
Now, here he sat, fresh off seeing four people brutally butchered, sipping coffee, trying to keep his eyes open, with a piece of evidence he'd taken from work that could get him fired.
And for what?
Detective Stone smiled when Becky Watson came into the diner, wearing tight faded blue jeans and a Jacksonville Jaguars T-shirt. That's what.
"Didn't think you were a Jags fan," he said.
Becky smiled and sat across from him. "I'm not. I just haven't had time to do laundry. I stole this from Susan."
Artie grinned. "Confessing a theft?"
Becky put her wrists together over the table. "Cuff me, officer."
So many things he wanted to say ran through his mind, so many sexual innuendoes, but he decided against voicing any of them. She seemed flirty but he couldn’t tell how far her attitude extended. No use in pushing her away with something borderline filthy. Instead, he smiled at her, tried not to stare at her perfect rack, and got the attention of Josephine, the waitress this morning.
"I'll have my usual. For the lady?"
"Are you paying?"
"Of course," he said with a laugh.
"My usual, Joe."
Artie took the organizer from the seat next to him and put it on the table. "Here's the journal, as promised."
When Becky put her hand on the folder, he pulled it back slightly and grinned. "Not so fast. You understand what kind of trouble I might get in if anyone found out I took this?"
"I doubt anyone will miss one file. Don't make this into some important life and death situation. This isn't the Rockford Files."
"How about Mission Impossible?"
Becky taped a fingernail on the organizer. "I doubt this place is even as sophisticated as Andy Griffith."
Artie put his hands on his chest and looked wounded. "That really hurts, gal."
Josephine put two coffee cups on the table and put the coffee and sugar between them. She winked at Becky and walked away.
"I saw that," Artie said as he let her fix her coffee first.
"Saw what?"
Artie pointed at Josephine. "The little girl signal you two shared. I'm a cop, remember?"
Becky glanced back over her shoulder. "By now, everyone in the back knows we're out here drinking coffee together."
Artie laughed. "Yep, Chuck peeked out." When Artie waved at him he ducked back down. "We're the talk of the town."
"Like the old song says, let's give them something to talk about."
Artie felt his face redden and he glanced down. What the fuck did that mean? Was she teasing him again? Just being herself, or was there more to her words?
When he looked up again she was staring at him.
Becky opened her mouth to say something when breakfast arrived.
"That was fast," Artie murmured. Too damn fast.
"How funny. We both got the same thing," Becky said.
"Coincidence? I think not."
"Is that you being a cop again?"
He decided to push. "No, just hopeful."
Becky poked her eggs until they ran, scooping the yolk with her white toast. They ate in silence, the book off to the side.
"Why'd you invite me to breakfast, Artie?" she asked.
He shrugged his shoulders.
Josephine came over and slowly poured refills on the coffee, trying to eavesdrop in on their conversation.
"So, should we start with a big family and six babies, or adopt children from Third World countries?" Becky asked him.
Josephine gasped.
"I think we can kidnap some children, maybe over in Georgia. Then we don't have to pay for them." Artie knew saying that as a cop was oh, so wrong, but it felt good to mess with Joe.
Becky winked at the waitress as she walked away.
“Should shut her up for a bit."
"Or she'll call the sergeant and I'll be looking for a new job this afternoon."
"Then enjoy this last breakfast as a cop, right?"
Artie raised his coffee cup. "Here's to a career down the drain thanks to a pretty lady."
Becky clanked cups with him. "Pretty lady? Thank you."
Now, what the heck did that mean? Was it a 'shit, how awkward' or 'I like you, too' response? He was beginning to doubt his skills as a detective.
"What are you doing Friday night?" she asked.
"No plans," he answered too quickly. He couldn’t remember if he had to work. Right now he was trying to figure out his name. He tried to appear casual, leaning back in the seat and putting his arm up. "Why?"
"Wondering if you wanted to go to dinner, perhaps a movie? I haven't been out on an actual date in too long."
"Then a date it is." Artie knew if he did happen to be scheduled for Friday he'd call in sick or quit his job. Either way, he was going out on a real date with Becky Watson. Holy crap.
They finished eating and Becky stood, thanking him for breakfast.
"My pleasure." As she turned away he called out to her.
"Yeah?" she asked, and he could see she was red-faced now.
"You forgot the book."
"Duh." She came back and he handed it to her.
> "That was what you came for."
Becky shook her head. "That wasn't what I came here for, Artie."
Chapter Twenty Four
"This is crazy," Susan said as she came into the living room, bags of McDonalds in her hands.
"I had to flash ID to get down the road." Becky put their sodas on the coffee table. She sat down next to Larry and started handing out French fries and burgers.
"I've had at least three cop cars in the field all day. A sheriff showed up here as well, asking us questions. The news said they found more bodies, close to here. This is insane." Michael bit into a double cheeseburger with abandon. When he was nervous he ate, and he decided his diet could wait, and eating lightly in front of Susan could take a break. That's why, when Susan called to say they were coming over and if they wanted lunch, he ordered five double cheeseburgers, a large fries, a Coke and a chocolate milkshake and two apple pies.
"What do I owe you?" Larry asked.
Becky laughed. "Nothing. This one is on me."
"I told you on the phone I'd pay for lunch."
"And I ignored you. You guys have paid for nearly everything all week. I have a job, I'm an independent woman, and this one is on me." Becky sipped her diet Coke. "Besides, you'll end up taking us for Chinese food tonight in Orange Park. A new buffet just opened."
"Great, let's take the fat guy to a buffet and watch him eat," Michael said half-jokingly. Already he felt awkward with so much food in front of him.
"Remember the time you pulled up a chair to the buffet table?" Larry asked.
"Never happened." Michael shot him a dirty look. Well, it had happened, but that wasn't something you shared. "Remember when they tossed you out of the strip club because you were creepy?"
Larry grinned. "Bastard."
"I need to hear that story," Becky said.
"No story. Never happened." Larry gave Michael the finger.
Michael leaned forward. "One of the strippers didn't like the way he leered at her."
"In my defense, she was naked and grinding against a stage. How do you not leer?"
"He tried to ask her out on a date when she got off the stage, and wouldn't take no for an answer," Michael said.
Larry waved his hands. "Not true. I asked her out once, I was fucked-up drunk, and she immediately got one of the bouncer goons to drag me outside and beat my ass."
"He did get his ass beat." Michael laughed.
"Where were you when he was getting his ass handed to him?" Susan asked Michael.
Larry and Michael both started laughing.
"They had a buffet setup in the strip club. Michael was knee-deep in a plate of ziti and meatballs."
"Is that when you pulled up the chair?" Becky asked.
Michael put his head down. "No, that was another time. I was hungry."
"You guys are something else," Susan said.
"Neither of you have ever done anything stupid?" Larry asked.
"Nope." Becky shot a look at her daughter.
"I saw that." Michael pointed at Susan. "Talk."
"My mother once almost got married in Vegas."
"I will punish you if you tell this story," Becky said.
"I'm twenty-three. Too late. She met this guy when her and her girlfriends went to Vegas to gamble and take in some shows, about five years ago. She met some gambler dude, who swept her off her feet, and they got drunk and went to get married at the Elvis chapel."
Becky cut in. “Fifteen couples stood in line at this place. As we waited, an hour later, moving up in the line, I suddenly sobered up and asked him if he even knew my name."
Susan laughed. "His answer: I dunno, Great Ass?"
Everyone laughed. When everyone had finished eating (and Michael finished first, even though he had twice as much food), they settled into their familiar spots in the living room: Larry and Becky on the couch, Michael in his overstuffed chair, and Susan opposite him with her feet on the coffee table.
"Oh, shit, let me get the book for you. I almost forgot," Becky said.
Larry glanced at Michael.
"Go, pussy," Michael whispered. "Now."
As Becky walked out, Larry hesitantly followed her.
* * * * *
Becky groaned inwardly when Larry followed her outside. Just my luck, she thought. Now the kid is going to grow a pair. She'd made countless passes at him, countless innuendoes and several over the top moves like sitting close to him, laughing at his stupider jokes and letting on she was a bored and lonely woman. Each time he'd run to Michael like a teenager, instead of taking the bull by the horns. And this bull was horny.
Now, after years of doing the same with Artie, he'd finally stepped up to the plate. Sort of. She had asked him out this morning. Now she didn't know if he would have ever asked her.
When she bent into the backseat to grab the book she realized he was staring at her ass. She always caught him, and now he had a perfect view. She took her time, more for her own ego than for him. Becky was almost sure what was about to happen and she'd have to let the kid down easy now. She wanted to yell at him, punch him, and ask why he’d taken so long to get to this point.
Becky stood and Larry did his best to gaze into her eyes, but he kept glancing away. So shy. And so cute. What a shame. "What's up?" she asked, anxious to get this over with.
"Nothing." He put his hands in his pockets and kicked a rock in the driveway.
"Okay." She started to walk up the steps.
"Becky?"
She turned. "Yeah?"
"Can we talk?"
"Sure, Larry." She tapped the organizer. "Let me drop this inside real quick and we can take a walk."
She moved back inside and gave Susan a glare. She placed the book on the coffee table. "Here's your grandfather's journal. I'm sure Artie will need the book back soon, so you should probably jump right into it."
Susan went over to the couch the same time Michael did.
"Larry and I are going to take a walk," Becky said.
Michael smiled and Susan frowned.
Time to break the kid's heart, Becky thought dramatically. She went back outside to the porch. Larry still stood by the car, looking uncomfortable.
"Let's go this way, and get as far from the crime scene as we can," she said to him. This wasn't going to be fun.
They took a walk around the side of the house, past the kitchen and where the cows used to be, heading toward the chicken coops.
"Did you guys ever clean out the dead chickens?" she asked.
Larry grimaced. "Shit."
Becky took him by the arm and steered him away and toward the barn. "God only knows what that smells like now."
"We’ve been busy lately," he said. "You know, eating McDonalds and watching illegal movies."
"Hey, I understand. Your time is very valuable. I get it. Who has the time to clean up dead chickens when there's a new Bruce Willis movie to steal?"
Larry nodded. "Exactly."
"How long are you planning on staying?" she asked.
"That really depends on a few things."
Shit. She realized too late her small-talk to push his asking away had just set him up for the big question, and she didn't want to hurt him.
Larry stopped her with a gentle hand on the shoulder. "I like it here. I like you."
"I like you, too, Larry. In the short time we've known each other you've made me laugh and we've had a great time. I'll honestly be sad when you go back to New York."
His lips moved and he stared into her eyes, but no sound issued. Instead, looking frustrated, he started walking again. "I'll miss this place, too. Michael and I have been friends forever. When he told me he was moving on such short notice, I was upset. To be honest, I rushed down here to see him as soon as a few personal things were put into motion. I need to head back but I really love it here."
"What's not to love? Dead cows, dead bodies, dead chickens."
"Once again: exactly." Larry laughed.
They came to the weathere
d barn and stood in the shadow, blocking out the afternoon sun. The main door hung wide open, old hay pouring from it. Larry sat down on an old overturned wheelbarrow and plucked at the hay around him.
Becky sat next to him and stared across the open fields, to the woods, specks of Zaun Estates houses visible as the slight wind shook the branches.
At this moment, she felt horrible. Whether she was doing it on purpose or not, at this point she was leading this poor guy on. He was probably about to throw up, wondering what to say to her. It would be better to end this now, before things went on too long.
Or was she being egotistical? What if he wasn't going to ask her out, but talk to her about something else? Shit, what if he had a crush on Susan? She was closer to his age than Becky. A lot closer. This guy was in his late twenties and probably had a crush on her twenty-three year old, and here she was, acting like an asshole and thinking she was the fucking prom queen. What an ego!
"What did you want to talk about?" She turned back to him.
Larry lay next to the wheelbarrow, eyes closed, his entire body shaking.
Chapter Twenty Five
It was dirty and blistering hot, the air stagnant in the hay loft. The heat mattered not to Dir of The Earth, but it did to the body he occupied. She needed water, something to eat to replenish her energy, and he needed to think.
Initially he thought about wreaking havoc and turning the world into his playground, but he forced that down. Look what had happened the last time. He needed to plot, make some minor moves, and figure out what the Zaun kin knew.
Samantha stood and stretched, feeling the cracks and pops after sleeping on the wooden floor and piles of old hay. She was young, lithe, and strong for her age. An athlete. A smart girl and what other humans would say 'going places in life'.
But was she strong enough for him? Even now he sensed her trying to surface, her psyche swimming in her mind, but unable to fight him. She was stronger, by far, than Jim Rutan.
Samantha would do for now, but another vessel would be needed sooner rather than later. Dir decided he'd play by his own rules when he made the next jump, and simply destroy her mind and body. He didn't think he'd have time to watch what he'd done to Jim. A shame, but in the grand scheme of things, did they matter? Why would he care about any of them? They were like cattle to him, playthings and slaves, those that would serve him until nothing survived, this world stripped of anything worth his energy.
