by Jeff Strand
Darren selected a hypodermic needle from the shelf and turned back to face Melanie. He kicked her, knelt down upon her, and slammed the needle into her.
As she took another swing at him, the hammer dropped out of her hand.
Tracy ran for the doorway, and Darren easily caught her by the arm. She bit down on his hand, hard enough to draw blood but not hard enough to keep him from slamming the needle into her shoulder.
He shoved her to the ground. She didn’t get up.
“Shit!” Darren screamed, kicking the side of the metal table. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”
He picked up Melanie’s claw hammer, turned it claw-side down, and began slamming it into Mr. Grove’s body, screaming obscenities with each blow. He slammed it over and over and over, splattering my boss’s face and chest. After nearly a minute he began to strike with a sideways motion, tearing off chunks of flesh with each swing.
Finally he flung the hammer as hard as he could against the shelf of tools, knocking several of them to the floor.
None within my reach.
“Why would she do that?” Darren wailed, digging a finger into the bullet wound in his side. “Why would she do that? Why couldn’t she see?”
He grabbed Melanie and roughly dragged her out of the torture room and into the bedroom. He stormed back into the torture room, picked up Tracy, and carried her into the bedroom as well.
“Don’t hurt them!” I begged. “Please! I’ll do anything you want!”
I heard the bedroom door slam. Darren returned to the torture room and sat down on the corner of the metal table, facing me. “I thought we were friends.”
“Darren…”
He jammed his finger into the wound again and bellowed with pain. “I should take everything away from you! I should!”
“Darren, please! Just give Melanie and Tracy back to me!”
“Why?”
“Because they’re all I have!”
“That’s a trite fucking answer! I should kill them!”
“No!”
“Give me a reason not to fuck them up.”
“Because this is all my fault! Not theirs! I shouldn’t have lied!”
“When?”
“When I said that cutting off the woman’s head didn’t feel good.”
I had him. I knew I had him.
“It felt incredible, Darren, the way drugs probably feel. And it scared me. I should have listened to you, but I was scared. I’m sorry for being scared.”
Darren stared at me, his expression now blank.
“But, please, don’t hurt my family. We can hide all of this. That thing you saw in Tracy, that cloud…I saw it, too, and I was scared by it, but you were right!”
Darren lowered his head. “I think I was wrong.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”
He stood up and slowly wandered over to the shelf, moving like a zombie.
“Darren, please, you can’t hurt them! You can’t hurt my family!”
Darren selected a small knife. “I don’t know…shit, I just wanna go to sleep…”
He walked toward the doorway.
“No, don’t leave!” I screamed, tugging on the handcuffs. “Talk to me! Let me make you understand!”
Darren walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
I screamed after him, begged him, threatened him. Then I screamed at myself. At my parents. At my teachers. At God.
When I could scream no more, I just wept.
The bedroom door opened. Darren didn’t even look at me. He just kept his head lowered and went down the stairs.
I heard a car drive away.
The keys that Tracy had dropped rested next to my leg. Picking them up with my toe was easy; stretching out on the floor and moving them up my leg with quick jerks of my body was not. It took all night to get them into my mouth.
I just kept telling myself the entire time that Melanie and Tracy were fine. No, not fine. Alive. Alive was all I needed.
After freeing myself from the handcuffs, I staggered out of the torture room, opened the bedroom door, and knew that I would never, ever stop screaming.
Chapter Twenty-three
I remember very little of the next few weeks. The hospital stay, the funerals, Melanie’s parents, my parents, the police…just a blur.
I do, however, very clearly remember the Christmas morning when I climbed into my bathtub and put a gun in my mouth.
PART FOUR
* * *
SOUL MATES
Chapter Twenty-four
The bag of bullets kept me going through those next one hundred and fourteen days. A bullet a day. A date scratched into the casing. One more day I hadn’t killed myself.
I wondered if Darren would consider that the ultimate victory. I mean, how much more control could you possibly have over somebody than to drive them to take their own life?
Sometimes I feared that he was still watching me, ready to strike at any moment, ready to burst into my home wielding a scythe and just start lopping off body parts, cackling in malicious glee. Most of the time I didn’t care.
I certainly didn’t care as I lay there on the cold ground, colder than a spring evening in Arizona should ever be, shivering, unable to see anything beyond my breath misting in the air, trying to remember if there had ever been happier times.
Maybe there hadn’t. Maybe I’d hallucinated it all.
No, there’d been wonderful times.
I closed my eyes and just lay there, right on the sidewalk, thinking about my beautiful Melanie. My beautiful Tracy Anne. I could feel Melanie’s touch on my chest. Her warm breath on my neck as she slept. Her slobbery tongue on my eyes.
I opened the eye that was not currently being licked by a slobbery tongue. The tongue belonged to a dog that bore minimal resemblance to my dead wife.
“Kassie, stop that!” said the dog’s owner, tugging on the leash. Kassie, a miniature schnauzer, resisted these efforts and desperately struggled to continue with the licking, but was defeated in her goal.
I almost wished he hadn’t pulled the animal away. Its warm tongue felt kind of nice in the cold air.
“Sir, are you okay? Do you need me to help you find a shelter?”
I shook my head.
“Are you sure? I’m not from around here, but I could probably…” He trailed off for a moment. “Is that you, Alex?”
I opened my eyes. Whoever this guy was, I didn’t recognize him. Probably somebody who’d followed my story in the news. I’d nearly lost it near the beginning when some sick bastard asked for my autograph.
“It’s Peter. We were roommates at Branford Academy.”
I gaped at him. His face had gotten chubbier and his glasses had gotten thicker, but he did sort of look like…
As soon as he smiled, I recognized him immediately.
“Peter! Oh my God!”
He took my hand and helped me up. I started to brush off my clothes, more than a little embarrassed by my appearance. “Wow, this is…this is just completely bizarre. I wish you’d seen me looking better.”
“I’ve seen worse. Not much worse, though. You’ve got blood around your eyes.”
As I dabbed at my eyes with my fingers, Peter took a handkerchief out of his pocket. I reached for it, but he shook his head. “Let me do it. It’s hard to see your own eyes.”
I let him wipe the blood away, feeling like a helpless child. “What are you doing here? You don’t live around here, do you?”
“No, I’m here for a dog show. Kassie here is going to win this year.” He folded up the handkerchief and petted the schnauzer, which bounded happily around on its leash.
“So you’re a professional dog trainer?”
He shook his head. “It’s just a hobby. I thought about breeding them, but then you have to sell them, and I couldn’t bear to give up any of my babies.”
“So what else have you been doing?”
“You’ll never g
uess.”
“You’ve become a coal miner.”
“Aw, you guessed.” Peter frowned in mock disappointment. “No, I’m studying to become a minister.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. And I’m only a couple of years away.”
“Wow. So you’re living a life of celibacy and all that?”
Peter laughed. “Not quite. I have a lovely wife named Debra, and God has seen fit to bless us with five children.”
“Five? Wow, you have been keeping busy!”
“Yeah. Of course, Satan possesses at least two of them on any given day, but he’s kind enough to rotate so that Debra and I don’t go completely bonkers. What about you?” he asked, noting my wedding band.
“Things…they haven’t been good.”
“I figured that when I found you lying on the ground.”
I started to tell him what happened, but I couldn’t say the words.
“Why don’t we sit down?” said Peter, leading me to a bench. My side was covered with bird crap, but it wasn’t like I was looking my most dapper this evening. Kassie sniffed an aluminum can with great interest.
“She died,” I told him. “My daughter, too.”
“Oh, Alex, I am so sorry to hear that. Did they go peacefully?”
“No. No, they didn’t.”
“What happened to them?”
“They were murdered. Butchered.”
Peter closed his eyes. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through. If this helps in any way, please know that they’re in a better place now.”
“That does help,” I lied.
“I’ll pray for them. And you.”
“Darren killed them.”
Peter’s eyes flew open. “What?”
“Darren Rust. You remember him?”
“Of course I remember him! He killed them?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s…that’s…my mind is reeling. Listen, my hotel is only a few blocks away. This sounds like it might be a long story, so why don’t we hang out there and get some room service?”
“I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”
“Okay you do remember that I said I was becoming a minister, right? Listening to people’s problems is part of the job description.”
“Yeah, but we’re not in a church. I thought, y’know, it might be like asking for free medical advice from a doctor at a party. Doctors hate that.”
“Don’t be a dork.”
“Is a minister allowed to call somebody a dork?” I asked, surprised that I was able to ask such a light-hearted question. Seeing my old friend again was a wonderful jolt to my system. I wasn’t ready to dance or sing a merry tune, but I could get through this night without my bullets.
“I’m not a minister yet.”
“Is an aspiring minister allowed to call somebody a dork?”
“No. I’m likely to burn in hell. Thanks a lot, dork.”
Peter told me all about his post-Branford Academy life as we walked to his hotel. He’d met Debra in college when they fell asleep in the same economics class. They’d gotten married two months later, making both of their families incorrectly believe that Debra had to be pregnant. “But she got pregnant right after that,” Peter said. “And again, and again, and again, and again. We could name each of our children after a failed form of birth control. But each of them is a blessing, even with the whole demonic possession thing they’ve got going.”
At the hotel, we ordered a pastrami sandwich for me and a chicken Caesar salad for Peter. As we waited for the food to arrive, Peter brushed Kassie while I told him the whole macabre tale. He listened, fascinated and horrified, as I took him all the way up to this evening.
“I don’t even know what to say,” Peter admitted. “I don’t pay much attention to the news, or you know I would’ve been there for the funeral. Funerals,” he corrected himself. “I wish I could have helped you before you felt like you needed to give up.”
I shrugged. “Not your fault.”
“I know. I can’t imagine that Jeremy knows about it, either. I’d think he would have called me about that if he’d heard.”
“You talk to Jeremy?”
“Not often. He, uh, hasn’t exactly followed God’s path.”
“Did he ever become a stand-up comic?”
“No. I think he tried amateur night once and it didn’t work out. I wish he hadn’t quit so easily. Two marriages, two divorces, no kids. Lots of anger, and I don’t know why.”
“Darren is a pretty good source of anger.”
“Yes, but it goes beyond that. Jeremy is just…angry. I haven’t spoken to him in a few months. We trade phone calls around the holidays and that’s about it. I’ll give you his number. He’d love to hear from you.”
“Thanks.”
“Why don’t you fly back with me, Alex? You can meet my family and relax for a couple of days. Debra’s a fantastic cook and she’ll make you eat your own weight at any one given meal.” He patted his belly. “She’s given me this fashionable gut. Speaking of which, when is our food going to get here?”
“Can’t you ask God to put a rush on that?”
“I could, but I never know how much to tip.”
“Listen, I appreciate your offer, but I don’t want to impose.”
“You wouldn’t be imposing. I’ve got five children. I won’t even be able to see you through the blur.”
“What if Darren follows me?”
“I don’t let fear come between me and my friends.”
“I do.”
Peter considered that. “So you’ll stay at a hotel. Under a fake name. He doesn’t have a league of undercover agents, or satellites watching our every move from the heavens. He’s just one man.”
“One man who took everything from me.”
“Not everything. You’ve got friends, and you’ve got your life. And pretty soon you’ll have the biggest piece of cherry-rhubarb pie you’ve ever seen. I’m serious. She uses radioactive cherries or something. Anyway, you’re meant to be there.”
“Says who?”
“Says God.”
“Ah.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to preach to you…too much. But I have faith. Jesus has never shown up on my doorstep, and the Voice of God didn’t whisper in my ear that I should become a minster. I’ve seen the image of the Virgin Mary on a department store window and suggested that they buy better glass next time. I haven’t witnessed any miracles that can’t be otherwise explained, but I do believe that God has a hand in our lives, and that he gives us little gifts, to do with as we please. Like when I found you tonight.”
“Coincidence.”
“Probably. I was out walking my dog in a strange city, and I just happened to come upon my roommate from, what, fifteen years ago? It could be coincidence. Stranger things have happened. But I have faith, and I think that God may very well have wanted me to find you.”
“So God made Kassie have to go potty?”
“He might have. And he might have given you that birthmark so that I’d recognize you. Or maybe God has no particular interest in my dog’s bodily functions and tonight was just one of those weird things you can’t explain. Why not embrace it either way? I’ll embrace it as a gift from God, and you can embrace it as a wacky coincidence that resulted in you getting some awesome cherry-rhubarb pie.”
“I don’t think anybody has ever marketed a piece of cherry-rhubarb pie like you just have.”
“You’re flying over for dinner, right?”
“Sure.”
The next day, I cheered on Peter and Kassie at the dog show. They came in second.
“Do you believe in doggie heaven?” I asked, as we waited for the plane to take off. I’d hoped that God would allow his ministers-to-be and their guests to fly first-class, but we were stuck back in coach.
“Of course. It’s like human heaven except that you’re encouraged to piddle in the streets whenever you want.”
“
And do you believe that it’s blasphemy against the doggie gods that poodles be given such ridiculous haircuts?”
“You need a dog of your own,” said Peter. “I’d donate one of mine, except that I’ve already planned to sneak a couple of my kids into your baggage when you leave.” He suddenly looked distraught. “I’m sorry. That was a horrible thing to say. I shouldn’t be making jokes about kids when you…I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t. I can’t believe I did that.”
“Peter, it’s okay. But I will be searching my baggage before I get on the plane.”
“I’m an efficient packer. You’ll never find them.”
“We’ll see.” I tried to think of something much funnier to say, but my repartee skills had rusted with age, and instead I just settled back in my seat and enjoyed my friend’s company.
“Welcome to the zoo,” said Peter as we walked into his home.
He wasn’t kidding. Though I thought that saying his children were possessed by Satan was a bit harsh, they certainly were possessed by the spirits of long-dead monkeys.
Debra was an absolute sweetheart. She gave me a huge hug and said how sorry she was for my loss.
Dinner was delicious and voluminous. It was the most I’d ever eaten in my life, and my futile attempts to explain that I was completely full were met with great amusement by Peter.
Right as Debra got up to retrieve a dessert that would certainly cause my body to explode if I so much as inhaled the aroma, the doorbell rang. The four children old enough to talk simultaneously screamed that they wanted to answer it.
He didn’t look anything like his twelve-year-old self, but I immediately knew it was Jeremy.
“Am I allowed to smoke in here?” asked Jeremy, as he, Peter, and I relaxed in the living room.
“Sure, if you want to face Debra’s wrath.”
“How does that compare to God’s wrath?”
“Smaller scale but much more frightening.”
“I’ll skip the nicotine. I’m supposed to be using those patches anyway.” He looked at me. “So tell me how you ended up tangled up with that sick…Peter, are your kids listening?”
