by Kirk Alex
“Please don’t say that. . . . It isn’t true. . . . You did everything that you could. . . .”
She embraced him again, and rose. It soon became obvious to Pearleen that Olivia Duarte’s parents were not to be approached: the mother, if not hysterical, was getting there, nearing a serious emotional meltdown and might require restraining, calming down and restraining, which is what Rafael, the husband, and others around her were prepared to do.
Yolanda was standing on the sidewalk, at the front yard fence, sobbing into a handkerchief. Pearleen went to her with the ring. Said a comforting word or two, then held the ring out to her. She explained that Rudy’s brother Monroe suggested she give it to Olivia’s surviving family.
Yolanda nodded. Accepted the ring. Thanked Pearleen Bell, and the two embraced. Pearleen left her standing there, and returned to be with her friend Patience.
CHAPTER 643
Yolanda held the engagement ring in her hand. Looking at it. She lifted her head. Saw that Monroe had risen and walked to his truck parked at the curb in front of the Roscoe residence. She saw him get in.
Roe reached for a handful of tissues in the glove compartment to wipe his eyes and blow his nose. Had needed to get away from everyone and cry in peace. Rested his forehead against the steering wheel, sobbing, sobbing and saying his brother’s name over and over again. The deep ache within was just too much to bear; it was too much; so much anguish to have to cope with.
He grabbed more tissues. Wiped his eyes. He did his best to compose himself . . . and failed. Time and time again. There was nothing to hide; the pain much too strong to keep a lid on. He was a man, not a wimp, but the tears had to come up. . . .
They were tears for the brother that he loved, tears for their parents Gil and Nevada, sister Quintana, Aunt Mercedes . . . tears for his brother’s sweetheart Olivia. . . . It struck him like a sledge and further pushed him toward this notion that he had of doing himself in. He should have carried their remains out of there. He should have taken care of it himself. No excuses. . . . No one had expected Biggs to start fires and sprinkle them with bullets . . . no one had, and maybe they should have. That was a gross misjudgment on everyone’s part, especially his.
He held the .38 in his hand. Checked it for bullets. Reloaded, and kept the gun down on his lap, with the barrel pointing up toward his Adam’s apple. His own death would make all the pain go away. . . . He deserved to end it; he owed it to his brother—and if he didn’t owe his life . . . he felt it would solve the agony and pain of it . . . the memory of what he saw inside Biggs’s torture dungeon. . . . It would take care of the suffering for him. . . . He doubted he could go on. . . . He seriously doubted there was a reason to go on living . . . because you died anyway. Death always seems to win, no matter who you were or how you lived your life. . . . Death won every time.
Might as well concede. Why bother fighting it?
CHAPTER 644
Thought he heard, or maybe sensed, someone walk up on the passenger side. A woman maybe? He did not bother to turn his head in the direction, or even look up.
“I want to thank you. . . .” It was Yolanda, after all. She held the ring in her open hand. He nodded his head, without looking at her. Stared straight ahead.
“It belongs with your family, Landa.”
She looked down. Saw the gun. “What would it do to your grandparents?”
“Only thing stopping me. . . .”
“I’d like to sit beside you. . . .”
“Suit yourself. . . .”
She opened the truck door. Climbed in.
“How do I tell them that Rudy’s gone? How do I explain it to them—after what they suffered through already?”
“My family is there for you. . . . You won’t be alone, Roe. . . .”
He looked in her direction at last, but said nothing. She held the ring up. “It’s a beautiful engagement ring. . . .”
“It is. They would have made a great couple. . . . He would have made her happy. . . .”
“I don’t doubt it. . . .”
“Rudy had eyes for your sister only. . . . He was true, you know. . . . We talked about him going back to school, maybe even some college courses at night, possibly full time eventually . . . finances permitting.” Monroe cleared his throat. “He was special. They both were. Special. Nowadays, people run around. Men and women. . . . Cheating is in. . . . I don’t think it’s right. . . . Rudy wasn’t like that. . . . We’re a flawed family; we’re not perfect. . . . We never claimed to be this perfect family. . . . We don’t steal. We work for what we have. . . . Live by the rules. Our father never ran around; our parents didn’t cheat. . . . Rudy and me, we’re the same way. . . . That’s why it hurts so much. . . . To see good ones taken. . . .”
She nodded. Knew he told the truth about all of it, and she also realized that she had been wrong, so wrong about things.
“Can you forgive me?”
He looked at her. “There is nothing to forgive you for. . . .”
“All the pain I caused you and your brother. . . .”
Monroe could not offer a response. He didn’t think she needed to apologize and felt no animosity toward her in any way. He missed his brother. All he wanted right now was to see his brother’s smiling face . . . to assure him that everything would turn out all right in the end.
“Rudy loved my sister so much. I just refused to see it. I’m sorry. . . . I was such a bitch to you both. . . .” At this point Yolanda’s sobbing was overwhelming. There was no holding back anything. “Please forgive me. God forgive me for the way I behaved to two of the kindest boys ever. . . .”
He could not help himself. Embraced her. They held on, both sobbing uncontrollably.
“What hurts the most, I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t do anything to help them. I was too late. I tried, but I was too late. My brother had needed me . . . and I let him down. I wasn’t there for him . . . and I should have been. I should have been there for him and the girl he loved. That’s what an older brother is for . . . to look after the younger. . . .”
“Don’t blame yourself. Please, Roe. . . . Please, don’t. . . .”
“I was all he had, the older brother. I let him down. . . . It just hurts too much. . . . The pain is too much. . . .”
“You did what you could. You did all that you humanly could.”
They separated briefly. Monroe looked at her. Held her face between his hands. “There’s nothing left for them to bury. We can’t even give them a proper burial . . . not without the bodies. . . . We all knew Biggs was psycho. . . . We knew it. . . . We should have stopped him somehow, thought of a way, a system. . . . Society should have a system in place to keep them away from the rest of us, from destroying families. . . .”
She clung to him, sobbing against his chest.
As bad off as they were, as heavy as their grief was, it soon became obvious to him now that he could see what was taking place with Sarah Duarte up ahead, about half a dozen parked cars up ahead. Leaning against Biggs’s front yard fence, Mrs. Duarte was taking it much harder than anyone else. Rafael Duarte was there with support, physical and emotional, as were other family members who did what they could to contain her anguished cries and rage, lest she hurt herself in some way.
Monroe sat there, his right arm around Yolanda, staring at it all: the blaze, the survivors, family members and friends of those who did not survive, and he did so through streaming tears.
CHAPTER 645
Pearleen Bell had made it back to be at her friend Patience McDaniel’s side as she was helped onto a gurney. There was one minor problem: the clucking chicken. She would not be allowed to take it with her inside the ambulance.
Patience refused to let the hen go and it was up to Pearleen to convince her to relinquish it. Brenda, being the only available person, was the recipient.
“Don’t cook her. Please, please, don’t let Wilburn cook her. Don’t beat it. Don’t eat it. Don’t eat my chicken.”
“Eat the chicken? My brothe
r never eats chicken. He won’t eat fowl. Only likes eggs. He’s weird that way.”
Accompanied by her good friend Pearleen Bell, Patience McDaniel was wheeled away to the ambulance, passing out from all the strain and burning fever.
Wilburn Claude helped his grandfather Lloyd walk to the waiting ambulance. Brenda was wiping some tears away. Did what she could to help out.
“You still charging me rent, Gramps?”
“And utilities.”
“I don’t even have a job.”
Lloyd said nothing.
“All right. I’ll get a job. You happy?”
“You’ll do more than that. You’re going back to school—then start thinking about getting into a trade, or college. Got to figure out how you’re going to support yourself after we’re gone. You’ve got your sister to think of. And you got to stop writing to serial killers. Take down all them posters you got up on your walls of those cretins. Stop tearing the heads off Brenda’s dolls, stop badgering Bentley, stop going out Halloween night, stop taking dumps on people’s porch and—”
Wilburn yanked and tugged at what remained of the black T-shirt with Manson’s image on it until he had it completely torn off. He then blew his nose into it. Tossed it aside.
“How’s that?”
“It’s a start.”
“I can get a job.”
“Correction: You will get a job.” Lloyd held his elbow out. “Give me a hand over here, son.”
Wilburn and Fontana both assisted, and climbed in with the highly decorated, old World War II vet. She poured lemonade into a cup and handed it to Wilburn. Lloyd waited for his cup of lemonade. The pitcher was empty. Wilburn offered him his. Lloyd thanked him with a nod of the head. Drank some down. Lemonade never tasted so good. He handed the cup back to his grandson and the remaining lemonade.
The ambulance drove off. The fire continued to blaze.
Other bodies had previously been carried out in a hurry. Five black-and-whites were parked at the curb. Additional ambulances and fire trucks approached in the distance with sirens wailing. A police helicopter circled overhead.
CHAPTER 646
Mrs. Duarte’s condition had escalated into something close to hysteria. Monroe Perez, in a state akin to a daze, stared at the scene through his windshield. Thought to nudge Yolanda, who could not keep from sobbing.
“Your mother . . .”
She did look up momentarily, unable to move. She nodded her head, but could not gather up enough strength or find the motivation to budge.
Monroe walked around the front of his truck. Opened her door, and helped her disembark. He grabbed a few more tissues, handed them to her, then helped her walk to where her mother was.
Mrs. Duarte was sedated and carried to one of the ambulances on a gurney. Monroe stood on the sidewalk in front of Biggs’s crumbling chamber of horrors. He stared at the blaze.
Life knocked you down and kept knocking you down; and just when you thought and had yourself convinced that you might be strong enough to raise your head a little finally, rise above it, make another effort at a new beginning, another try. . . .
People wept openly. There was shock and dismay. There should not have been, but there it was. Mrs. Duarte was not the only one who had succumbed to a state close to hysteria. In his own case, it was not so much a howl, but closer to a brewing, primal, deep-rooted surge of rage and gasp that could not entirely be suppressed through clenched jaw and determination.
With it he lost all sense of himself and his surroundings and collapsed against the chain-link fence and would have bounced off it and landed on the ground if not for Yolanda Duarte who was there to catch him in her open arms and hold him up. Even so, he could not stop himself from repeating his brother’s name.
Fire raged; flames, bright orange and red: not unlike forked tongues belonging to some rapacious, multi-headed Hydra beast, darting, flicking out through various basement windows. Progressed to the first floor rapidly enough, as well as other sections of the house and attic, turning everything in its path to crackling bright sparks and eventual black death.
By the time enough fire engines arrived and firemen were positioned, there was not much left of either the house or the garage in back that was worth saving, other than perhaps souls belonging to the victims inside, victims first destroyed by Bishop Cecil Omar Biggs and his demented followers, and subsequently by the blaze itself, souls you hoped had already ended up in a better place than the one they had known in this world, a peaceful place, a place free of pain and sorrow, a place where tears of sadness were never shed. Tears of joy yes—sadness never. Somehow you hoped such a place existed for those who were clearly deserving.
This is what went through Monroe Perez’s mind once he had sufficiently recovered and calmed down. Wished more than anything that this is where his younger brother had gone on to to reunite with their parents, their sister and aunt . . . his sweetheart Olivia. That’s where souls belonging to the good ended up. He needed to believe it, as flames continued to lick the sky.
THE END
About the Author
Kirk Alex’s novel Lustmord: Anatomy of a Serial Butcher was a finalist in the Kindle Book Review’s Best Book Awards of 2014. He is also the author of Zook, Fifty Shades of Tinsel, the story collection: Ziggy Popper at Large, the Love, Lust & Murder series: Throwback & Backlash, the Eddie “Doc” Holiday Private Eye Series, and a few other novels & shorts.
http://www.kirkalex.com
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 253
CHAPTER 254
CHAPTER 255
CHAPTER 256
CHAPTER 257
CHAPTER 258
CHAPTER 259
CHAPTER 260
CHAPTER 261
CHAPTER 262
CHAPTER 263
CHAPTER 264
CHAPTER 265
CHAPTER 266
CHAPTER 267
CHAPTER 268
CHAPTER 269
CHAPTER 270
CHAPTER 271
CHAPTER 272
CHAPTER 273
CHAPTER 274
CHAPTER 275
CHAPTER 276
CHAPTER 277
CHAPTER 278
CHAPTER 279
CHAPTER 280
CHAPTER 281
CHAPTER 282
CHAPTER 283
CHAPTER 284
CHAPTER 285
CHAPTER 286
CHAPTER 287
CHAPTER 288
CHAPTER 289
CHAPTER 290
CHAPTER 291
CHAPTER 292
CHAPTER 293
CHAPTER 294
CHAPTER 295
CHAPTER 296
CHAPTER 297
CHAPTER 298
CHAPTER 299
CHAPTER 300
CHAPTER 301
CHAPTER 302
CHAPTER 303
CHAPTER 304
CHAPTER 305
CHAPTER 306
CHAPTER 307
CHAPTER 308
CHAPTER 309
CHAPTER 310
CHAPTER 311
CHAPTER 312
CHAPTER 313
CHAPTER 314
CHAPTER 315
CHAPTER 316
CHAPTER 317
CHAPTER 318
CHAPTER 319
CHAPTER 320
CHAPTER 321
CHAPTER 322
CHAPTER 323
CHAPTER 324
CHAPTER 325
CHAPTER 326
CHAPTER 327
CHAPTER 328
CHAPTER 329
CHAPTER 330
CHAPTER 331
CHAPTER 332
CHAPTER 333
CHAPTER 334
CHAPTER 335
CHAPTER 336
CHAPTER 337
CHAPTER 338
CHAPTER 339
CHAPTER 340
CHAPTER 341
CHAPTER 342
CHAP
TER 343
CHAPTER 344
CHAPTER 345
CHAPTER 346
CHAPTER 347
CHAPTER 348
CHAPTER 349
CHAPTER 350
CHAPTER 351
CHAPTER 352
CHAPTER 353
CHAPTER 354
CHAPTER 355
CHAPTER 356
CHAPTER 357
CHAPTER 358
CHAPTER 359
CHAPTER 360
CHAPTER 361
CHAPTER 362
CHAPTER 363
CHAPTER 364
CHAPTER 365
CHAPTER 366
CHAPTER 367
CHAPTER 368
CHAPTER 369
CHAPTER 370
CHAPTER 371
CHAPTER 372
CHAPTER 373
CHAPTER 374
CHAPTER 375
CHAPTER 376
CHAPTER 377
CHAPTER 378
CHAPTER 379
CHAPTER 380
CHAPTER 381
CHAPTER 382
CHAPTER 383
CHAPTER 384
CHAPTER 385
CHAPTER 386
CHAPTER 387
CHAPTER 388
CHAPTER 389
CHAPTER 390
CHAPTER 391
CHAPTER 392
CHAPTER 393
CHAPTER 394
CHAPTER 395
CHAPTER 396
CHAPTER 397
CHAPTER 398
CHAPTER 399
CHAPTER 400
CHAPTER 401
CHAPTER 402
CHAPTER 403
CHAPTER 404
CHAPTER 405
CHAPTER 406
CHAPTER 407
CHAPTER 408
CHAPTER 409
CHAPTER 410
CHAPTER 411
CHAPTER 412
CHAPTER 413
CHAPTER 414
CHAPTER 415
CHAPTER 416
CHAPTER 417
CHAPTER 418
CHAPTER 419
CHAPTER 420
CHAPTER 421
CHAPTER 422
CHAPTER 423
CHAPTER 424
CHAPTER 425
CHAPTER 426
