by J. Thorn
“Have at it,” Drew said to Gaki. The creature scuttled to Brian’s waste, where it began consuming the final remains.
Drew flopped backwards, the back of his head striking the wall of the cave with a powerful thump. He lifted forward and then drove it backwards again. Several more attempts made him drowsy, but he was unable to knock himself out. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his head between his knees in an attempt to block out Gaki’s feast.
“Enough,” he said. “We need to get to the park so I can fulfill my responsibility and free my children.”
Gaki snarled.
“Now!” Drew shouted. He walked toward the creature until Gaki stood to face him. “I let you have Brian. Finish what you must and get me to the park.”
“You are in no position to make demands.”
“I’ll do what I want,” replied Drew.
Gaki kicked at Brian’s leg, rattling the shackles. Drew looked at the pile of flesh that used to be his best friend and forced the bile from his throat.
“I am finished,” said Gaki.
Drew blinked and he was back in the driver’s seat of Brian’s Jeep. He heard sirens, but they sounded distant, moving in the opposite direction. He did not recognize the street they were on and saw no evidence of the reckless chase interrupted by Gaki’s morbid feast.
“Where are we?” he asked, looking in the rearview mirror into Gaki’s face. The swirling mixture of blood and feces masked the creature’s gray complexion. It’s thin, serpentine tongue shot out to lick its lips. Drew heaved but managed to keep from vomiting.
“Other side of park. Hide the vehicle. We have only minutes before we are discovered.”
Drew slid the Jeep into gear and moved forward. The residential street wound through turn-of-the-century houses. Ornate ironwork bordered front doors with high-peaked eaves. The street was devoid of pedestrians and other traffic.
“Where is everyone?” he asked. Gaki did not reply.
Drew continued toward the end of the street, where he turned left at the stop sign. The view greeted him with a row of magnificent oak trees wearing a hint of the green buds that would soon sprout. A chain-link fence sat at the base of the trunks. Bars of red and yellow broke through the leafless branches. Drew realized he was at the back end of the park, facing it from the north side.
“How?”
“Get out,” Gaki said.
Drew pulled up to the curb, opened the door, and stood on the sidewalk littered with the dirt, garbage, and the dead leaves of a long winter. He kicked a flattened aluminum can into the chain-link fence and turned around to see Gaki standing before him with his thin grin and tubular appendages. The Jeep was gone.
“Where is it?” Drew asked.
“No longer of use,” Gaki replied. The creature motioned toward the fence and the park inside. “Go.”
“I need a guarantee that our deal is good. If I kill her, my kids are free of the curse.”
“Sealed,” Gaki said.
He grabbed Drew’s wrist and turned it to reveal the soft, white underside of his forearm. Gaki slid his hand over Drew’s skin, the thin nail on the creature’s finger slicing a fine wound in Drew’s arm. Bubbles of blood rose from the surface. Gaki lifted the arm and held it over his own. He turned Drew’s upside down. The blood gathered at the lowest point, releasing one drop onto Gaki’s skin, where it sizzled. It opened a black hole and the smell of burning, rotting flesh filled the air. Drew stepped back from the stench as Gaki writhed in pain. The creature fell to the sidewalk and thrashed until the curling smoke from his arm evaporated. Gaki stood and held his arm to Drew, a gaping, ragged hole where his blood had seared through the creature’s flesh.
“Your bloodline burns Gaki. Finish the woman and your children will be free.”
Drew stood and shook his head. He wiped the blood from his arm, climbed over the chain-link fence, and wove through the trunks of the ancient oaks until he passed from Gaki’s view.
Drew felt the branches crack beneath his feet. He had taken Billy and Sara to this park many times, but he had never entered from the north side. It felt like walking through a room in his house where the furniture had been rearranged. He heard sirens in the distance, and wondered where Gaki had placed Brian’s Jeep and how long it would take the police to find him. Drew pushed Brian’s memory from his head and shook the worry of arrest from his mind. He focused on getting to the place in the park where he would meet his wife. He doubled over and collapsed under a tree, turning his head to the side and trying to vomit into a pile of leaves and discarded beer cans. After several seconds of vertigo and a burning sensation in his throat, he stood and grabbed hold of a sapling to keep from falling again.
The park appeared deserted. Drew did not see a jogger, a dog walker, or even a squirrel. The few robins that had returned in late winter fluttered in the bare branches but remained silent. More like a cemetery than a park, he thought.
Drew found the asphalt walking path that meandered through the park, usually full of Rollerbladers and skateboarders. Again, the vast emptiness of life in the park made him shudder. Drew picked up the path going east that would eventually lead to the meeting place. He visualized the cabin in his mind. He thought back to the first time he had been in the park. Drew took a moment to read the placard, the one declaring the cabin a national historic monument. Several pioneers used the structure for three years as they moved across the Midwest toward the ultimate Garden of Eden, California.
As the inscription indicated, four families had used the one-room structure, and they had buried five children during their stay. He felt a tug at his heart and quickly banished it. If he was to save his own he could not become emotional about them. The hearth in the cabin held relics and replicas of the simple tools of survival the pioneers had used. Drew had stood inside it while a man from the local historical society explained the tale. His trip with Billy’s class—his first experience inside the cabin—and all the others melded together into a blurred memory of time and space. Drew shook his head and realized he had not taken a step during the daydream. He shoved his hands into his pockets and continued on the asphalt path leading closer to the cabin.
Chapter 14
Molly looked in the mirror while sitting at the red light. The near side of forty crept around the corners of her eyes. She looked down at the ring finger on her right hand and the glowing, white ring of skin near the knuckle. She held it up to her face as if the ring would reappear. It did not. She fixed her hair and redistributed the lip gloss with a quick pucker. As Molly drove for the park, she replayed the conversation with Brian in her head for the fourth time.
“Shit! It’s not on my finger.”
“I’ve got it in my hand,” Brian said.
“Did I leave it at your place?”
“I know! Crazy, right? I had no idea the ring was yours when I found it in the bowling alley.”
“What’s going on, Brian?”
“I was about to call the desk manager, but then I recognized the engraving on the inside. It had to be yours.”
“He’s there, isn’t he? Drew is with you.”
“Of course,” Brian said. “I always take East 112th Street home from the alley.”
“Are you in trouble? Has he lost his mind?”
“Right! People lose things all the time. How about I meet you at Centennial Park?”
“Is he going to be with you? Does he know about us?”
“I’m pretty sure it will,” replied Brian. “So you might want to bring an umbrella.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” she said.
“Great. See you there in about thirty minutes.”
Molly turned right. She flipped the windshield wipers up to medium speed as the early spring rain pelted the window with teardrops. She turned on her headlights, which cast a glimmer off the wet road like a sheet of fresh ice. At the next stoplight, Molly opened her purse. She had her wallet, a container of tissues, her makeup, and her phone. She hit the button on t
he trunk release and flung the door open. Her foot slid on the slick pavement and she held a hand over her head to prevent the rain from completely destroying her hair. As she reached the rear of the vehicle, she shuffled through the papers and empty bottles of windshield-washer fluid until she spotted the tire iron nestled in the corner, sitting on the flap that hid the spare tire. Molly grabbed the cold, metallic wrench and looked at it.
“If it comes to that,” she mumbled as her left hand slammed the trunk closed.
The light turned green as she stepped into the car and the line of vehicles nudged her with blaring car horns. Molly’s purse came alive with the sound of “It’s a Small World.” Drew hated that ringtone. She fished a hand inside, flipping the phone open and putting it to her ear in one motion.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, Moll.”
“Hi, Mom. You got the kids?”
“Yes, hon. What’s this all about? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, Mom. I’m fine. What are Billy and Sara doing?”
“Well,” said Molly’s mother, her voice trailing as her mouth moved away from the phone for a second. “Billy is doing his homework and Sara is watching television.”
“Thirty minutes. That’s all. Any more and she starts living in her own fantasy world.”
“Stop worrying, Moll. They’re fine.”
“And no cookies. It’ll spoil their dinner.” Molly waited, hearing her mother breathing but not responding.
“Mom!”
“I just gave them a small plate. What are grandmothers good for if they can’t spoil the grandkids?”
Molly hissed and shook her head. “Mom, if I’m not there in an hour, call the police. Tell them I was at Centennial Park.”
“You’re worrying me. I’m calling your father—”
“Listen! I can handle this. Don’t get Dad involved. You know somebody would end up with a bullet hole in the chest. Please, do this for me.”
Molly’s mother paused. Molly could hear the cartoons coming from the television in the background.
“She gets one more episode of SpongeBob. That’s it.”
“Are you sure you’re not in trouble, Moll?”
“I’m fine. I’ll be there in an hour or less. Tell the kids I love them and I’ll see you soon.”
“Is it Drew? If you’re going to meet him I’m calling the police. The news is saying he’s killed three people and that he’s dangerous.”
Molly swallowed. “I’m not meeting Drew. I need to get something from a friend. If Drew shows up at the house, call the police. Don’t let the kids out of your sight.”
“You don’t have to tell me. I’ll dial nine and a one and wait for him to show up.”
“That was not funny,” Molly said while smiling, “when Chris Rock said it fifteen years ago. And Drew’s not black.”
“Get here quickly, sweetie. The whole situation has everyone jittery.”
“Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you too, Molls.”
The line went dead. Molly flipped the phone shut with one hand and tossed it back into her purse. She had made three turns during the conversation and could see the wrought-iron fence of Centennial Park at the end of the block.
The rain turned from a pelting storm to a consistent, miserable downpour. She looked at the cars parked at the curb. Two sat with white papers flittering underneath windshield wipers, probably heading to the impound lot soon. Another pulled away from the curb and reentered traffic. No sign of Brian’s Jeep. Molly saw the gate open on one side, the other side still locked in place. She zipped up her purse and pulled her hoodie over the top of her head. So much for the hair, she thought, angry that she still cared how she looked for Brian.
She turned the ignition off and sat in the solitude of the car, listening to the ping of the engine and the thunderous tapping of the rain on the metal roof. Molly heard her mother’s voice in her head and felt the unmistakable knot in her stomach that served as an internal alarm, the sense of danger all humans come to recognize innately. She opened the car door and stood. The rain pounded her body, drenching her to the core in seconds. She slammed the car door shut and used her remote to lock it. The parking lights flashed, answering her command while the double chirp was lost in the cacophony of water falling from the heavens. Molly pulled up her shirt up and shoved the end of the tire iron into the waistband of her jeans. The cold, greasy feel of the tool made her shiver. She pulled her shirt back down to hide the slight bulge.
She took two steps toward the gate and stopped. A jogger came around the corner and almost knocked her over. He sidestepped at the last moment, sliding down the asphalt path and grabbing on to the gate to keep his balance. Molly saw the rage in his face but the rain swallowed his angry words. She stepped onto the path and went to the right, following the trail that would eventually loop back around to the gate.
***
Drew sat beneath the cabin and watched the water gushing from the roof and splattering on the muddy ground below. He had seen only one person on the path, a jogger. The man passed him twice but did not come by again. Drew pulled his shirt up to his neck in order to fight the chill creeping into his bones through the wet soles of his feet.
“She is here.”
Gaki’s voice rattled Drew. He put his hands up to his ears to fight off the greasy sounds of the creature. Drew looked around the cabin and into the trees of the park, but did not see Gaki.
“As soon as she sees me, she’ll run. She’ll know something is wrong.”
“I will handle the bait, you will handle the hunt.”
A bead of rain water dropped from Drew’s nose and ran down the middle of his chest. He shivered, his body unable to fight off the chill.
“She’s coming,” replied Gaki.
***
Molly saw the figure waving from the front of the cabin and recognized Brian’s frame. Even in the cold chill of the park on a rainy afternoon, she felt a twinge of excitement. No, she thought. I’m here to get my ring and be grateful I can retrieve it without any drama with Drew.
He stopped waving and opened the door. Molly saw deep blackness inside and wondered why the handoff had to be in a dark cabin. She kept moving forward with the help of storm gusts that pushed at the back of her legs. The rain drenched her jeans, which now clung to her skin.
Molly stood in front of the old cabin, the rain continuing to pummel the earth. She glanced at the asphalt footpath in both directions and saw nobody. She reached out and pushed the door inward. The smell of mildew and rotting leaves struck her. She put a hand to her mouth and saw a single candle burning on the mantle of the hearth. Brian sat on a chair, his back to her, facing the phantom heat from the fireplace. The air felt colder inside the cabin than outside.
The log construction left gaps in the walls that the historians had filled with plaster. Cobwebs sprawled from corner to corner, covering most of the cheap replicas placed to instill a sense of authenticity. A blue, plastic bag hung from a loose nail on one wall, dog feces now fossilized inside.
“Hey, Bri,” she said.
The figure turned and Molly froze.
“Hey, hon,” Drew responded.
“I—I thought I was meeting Brian here. He found my ring. I must have left it on the table at the alley the other night. You know how hard it is to bowl with—”
“You’re rambling.”
Molly put her chin to her chest and then looked up at Drew through the flickering candlelight. “The police are looking for you. Did you kill those people, Drew?”
Drew shook his head. “Doesn’t really matter what I say, does it?” he asked.
“I know you’re not a killer.”
“The cops have me for this,” he replied. “And I’m sure they’ll have the physical evidence they need.”
“Why did you get me here, Drew? What is it you want from me?”
Drew stood and walked to Molly. He smelled her conditioner and saw the light tangle with her hair. Drew put a hand to
her face and caressed her cheek.
“Remember when we used to run around, back in college? We’d work until ten or eleven, go out drinking, get food, mess around in my car, and then get home as the sun was coming up. The next day, we’d do it all again.”
Molly opened her eyes and looked into Drew’s. A tear fell from his face.
“Yeah, I remember that.”
“Feels like another lifetime ago, eh, Molly?”
“We can get you help. My mother knows a great attorney and he’s been very successful at—”
“I miss that look in your eye, the way you used to look at me.”
“Drew, listen. You have to pull it together and do this for Billy and Sara.”
“Yes, for the kids,” he replied.
Drew removed the tire iron from Molly’s waistband and tossed it to the corner of the room.
Molly nodded, a nervous smile sprouting.
Drew took Molly by the shoulders and guided her to the chair he was sitting in when she arrived. She sat down and knocked a cloud of dust into the air of the musty cabin. Drew walked behind her, his hands on her shoulders. He knelt down, buried his face in her hair, and inhaled.
“What are you doing, Drew?”
He stood and put the rope around Molly’s wrists and tied them behind her back. He laced several loops around her ankles.
“Drew, wait,” Molly started to say.
Drew put a finger to her lips and shook his head. “Why Brian?” he asked.
Molly curled her bottom lip under her top one. She opened her mouth and closed it several times before giving up on words and shaking her head.
“He’s gone, dead,” Drew said with an indifferent tone.
Molly heaved and then shook. “Did you kill him?” she asked.
Drew laughed and held his hands in the air. “Yes. No. Maybe. Who the fuck knows? Does it matter if it was by my hand or Gaki’s?”
