Elmer smirked. He couldn’t believe this dumb bitch; she was flaunting her body like a freebasing whore. He wondered if she was on a low dosage of MDMA; he wondered what it would be like to watch her die.
“Jennifer,” Elmer laughed. “I’m in a bit of a spot. My car… well… it’s a chunk of crap.” And with that, Elmer laughed again. He laughed like he had said the funniest joke of the day.
Jennifer’s smile expanded. She lifted her cigarette from the tray and closed her eyes while shaking her head playfully. “A chunk of crap huh? Well… that’s not too good, is it?”
“No, I suppose it isn’t.”
“Where’s the car? Down the road?”
“Yeah.”
“And you need a ride, is that it?”
Elmer pointed. “You see those trees up there? You see that big tree… it looks a little bigger than the others?”
Jennifer squinted, looking at the trees swaying in the wind. “Yeah, I think so.”
“The one with the… ah…” Elmer’s words trailed off. Frustration began to boil. He didn’t have time for this shit, not with James getting away. He needed to make a move. He needed to get going.
Jennifer said, “I’m not sure where you’re pointing, but I can help you out, I guess. If you need a ride.”
“Yeah. A ride would be great.”
Elmer smiled––and suddenly Jennifer’s smile fell from her face.
There was something wrong with this man, she realized, something dreadfully wrong. His eyes looked dead, and maybe they were. He looked like a corpse, like his insides had begun to rot and stink––and the eyes are the windows to the soul. She had heard that many, many times. And this man had the eyes of the dead.
A moment of insight came: this man isn’t a corpse, she thought, but a ghost. He died a long time ago. Or perhaps he died today, and that car he’s pointing at is wrapped around a tree. And he’s inside the damn thing, bleeding from the stomach with a broken neck and chunks of his skull smashed into his brain. But why would Jennifer think this way? Because something was wrong here. She could feel it. Hell, she could almost taste it.
Her eyes shifted; she looked at Elmer’s shirt. It was covered in blood.
“Oh shit,” she said, fearing the absolute worst. “What are you?”
Reading her face adequately, he said, “I am your death, my dear. But you know that. Of course you do.”
It was a miracle she hadn’t figured him out earlier.
63
Elmer reached inside the car and grabbed Jennifer by the hair. He cranked her head to the left and pulled as hard as he could. Jennifer’s cigarette went flying and she screamed, thinking her skull would tear from her body. With her feet kicking the pedals, the floor, and that thing between the seats that guys working the automotive line call ‘the doghouse’, the car lurched forward and stalled. As it did, Elmer slammed Jennifer’s face against the window casing. Her nose broke and her sunglasses fell from her face. A thread of blood and snot gushed down her chin in a long pink runner, splashing against her white bikini top. The exposed portions of her breasts became shiny and red.
Elmer twisted Jennifer’s head in an awkward, unnatural circle. Then he released his grip and opened the door.
Jennifer, crying and panic-stricken, scrambled to the far side of the car. Her neck was on fire and her eyes watered. Her nose was flowing blood, which rivered through her fingers abundantly. “Why are you hurting me?”
“Am I hurting you?” Elmer mocked with a heartless tone. He grinned like a shark. His eyes were coiled snakes. “I’m just getting started.”
Jennifer begged and Elmer dragged her from the car by her feet. Her ankle bracelet broke and fell to the ground in a ball, a tiny mountain of gold. He straddled her, pinning her shoulders beneath him. As he punched her face and neck she cried and screamed at the top of her lungs––but it was useless. Elmer wouldn’t stop. He punched her until his knuckles were raw; he punched until he felt tired. And in time, when his muscles were sore, his stopped his battering and stood up. She didn’t. She lied in a pool of her own blood, quivering and shaking. He began kicking her then; he kicked her as hard as he could, again and again. She did nothing to stop him; she didn’t even raise a hand. He kicked until his feet felt numb––and when he finished he spat in her face and screamed in victory.
Elmer, panting, walked to the car and found the cigarette Jennifer had been smoking. He lifted it to his mouth and inhaled. The smoke didn’t taste great but he didn’t care. He earned it.
He looked at his victim one last time. She was lying at the side of the road, unconscious. Her breathing had grown unstable and wheezy. Elmer assumed she was dying.
“Sorry darling,” he said, standing above her, not feeling the least bit sorry. “But I’m in a bit of a hurry here. If I wasn’t we could spend all night together. I’d slice you into pieces.”
He dropped the cigarette on top of her. Then he slid his fingers beneath her bikini-top and pulled on it with brute, careless force. Her top came off with ease and her breasts bounced free.
Jennifer’s eyes opened. She mumbled, “What are you…”
“Shut up bitch,” Elmer said. He slapped her in the face with the back of his hand. Blood from her broken nose squirted into the air in a thin red line.
Elmer felt himself getting excited. He ran a hand across her skin and pinched her nipples. He slid a hand beneath her shorts and assaulted her briefly, but he didn’t have time for this. No. Time was short. He needed to get moving.
Elmer dragged Jennifer away from the road. Her heels scraped along the asphalt; sandals fell from her feet. Blood clogged her nostrils and drained from her mouth. With five broken ribs and one bruised lung, she fell in and out of consciousness. Elmer released his grip; she fell, becoming submerged in the long, unkempt meadow.
He kicked her twice more and returned to the car. An eighteen-wheeler roared past, followed by another. Elmer didn’t care. The truckers probably thought he was taking a leak, if they thought anything at all. He considered waving but decided against it. Unnecessary attention could only bring unwanted trouble.
When he sat behind the wheel he found a huge ball of Jennifer’s keys hanging from the ignition and a pack of cigarettes sitting on the passenger seat next to an iPod. He lifted a cigarette from the pack and lit it. “Nice meeting you Jennifer. You’re a stupid slut… your mother would be proud.”
He drove down the empty road, scanning through radio stations. Most stations played garbage: Celine Dion, Eminem, Garth Brooks, Madonna, Mariah Carey––it was all the same pointless crap, just different genres. He hated it. All of those lying assholes with their cowboy hats and leather pants, their satin and silk, their bling-bling and their ching-ching––that shit made him sick. Thank fucking God there was one or two stations that played something good, he thought. And on the edge of that notion he found AC/DC. It wasn’t great but it wasn’t bad either.
The song was Girls Got Rhythm.
64
Elmer drove to King’s Diner. He pulled off the highway, turned off the radio and nuzzled the car next to a pump. Even though he was in the middle of nowhere, the air didn’t smell like nature; it smelled like cheap gasoline and greasy french-fries. He wondered which smelled worse.
Ignoring the oily scent, he pumped gas and sized-up his surroundings: there was an old woman with a dated yellow blouse sitting on a bench reading a C. S. Lewis paperback: The Silver Chair. There was a group of teenagers hanging around a dirty minivan. The van had a faded collection of Pearl Jam, Nirvana and STP stickers pasted to the back windows. He labeled the teenagers pot-smokers. Any other day he would have approached with an ounce or two, flashed it and offered a phone number. Not today though, not today. He saw a dog tied to a flagpole with no flag, and a young couple that seemed to be lovers. The couple walked hand in hand, strolling past the only eighteen-wheeler in the lot. The guy looked about twenty, maybe younger; he entered the restaurant first. And as his girlfriend followed him inside,
Elmer saw the last thing he expected to see: his car sitting near the front door. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
But where was James? he wondered. Where has that psycho bastard gone?
Elmer paid the gas-attendant with ten bucks he had tucked in his back pocket. Thanks to James stealing his wallet, it was the last of his money, not counting a hand-full of change.
A gust of wind nearly blew the bill from the attendant’s hand.
He started the car, cruised across the parking lot and parked next to a dirty white pick-up that had seen better days. The pick-up sat next to a pay phone.
He stepped out of the car, keeping an eye on the restaurant’s large windows. He dialed directory assistance and began sinking change into the slot.
How many germs are on this thing? he wondered. Must be a hundred million of them.
The operator came onto the line sounding like the live version of a bleak recording. “Business or residential,” she said.
“Residential.”
“City?”
“Martinsville.”
“Who are you trying to reach?”
“Donald McGivney.”
“One moment please.”
As Elmer waited, he pumped more quarters into the phone. From where he was standing he could see James.
James was sitting in a booth eating lunch, drinking a beer and looking out the window. He was dressed the same. He didn’t bother putting a clean shirt on. His hair was messy. His eyes were wild. He had dirt all over himself. In short, he looked like a maniac.
Elmer smiled.
The operator returned. “Hello, sir?”
“Right here.”
“I have the number, would you like me to put you through?”
“Yes please.”
“One moment.”
Elmer heard the tone adjustment in the line before the phone rang twice. “Hello?”
“Is Don there?”
“Yep. You’ve got ‘em.”
“Hey Switch, it’s me.”
“Steel! Is that you man?”
“You know it.”
“What’s going on, brother? Hey, I saw you a couple hours ago.”
“Yep.”
“You were getting on the highway. Did you see me?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Well thanks for waving, buddy. What’s up with that? You’re too cool for me? To cool for school… is that it? We used to be tight, remember…”
Elmer interrupted. “Switch, I need your help.”
The two men fell silent. Then Switch said, “You do?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time. I’m waiting for my coffee to brew.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah man. Let’s hear it.”
Elmer took a deep breath, wondering how to explain the day’s events. He wasn’t sure if he could do the story justice; everything had been too crazy. He said, “You know what’s been happening today, right?”
“No, what?”
“You don’t know?”
“You mean around town?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh… yeah, I know a little, but I don’t know much. I saw a couple cop cars with their cherries flashing. Why, are you in trouble again? You did something bad and you need a place to hide out. Is that it?”
“I’m not in trouble, not this time.”
“Well that’s good.”
“Switch,” Elmer said, shuffling his feet beneath him. “I need your help. I need to kill a man.”
65
Switch chuckled. “Oh man… it’s like that, is it?”
“It’s like that.”
The conversation fell into an awkward lull. Then Switch changed his demeanor and spoke like a disgruntled high school teacher that was giving the gears to the school bully.
“Get your head out of your ass,” he said. “The last thing you need is another murder rap. You want that kind of heat, really? What are you, stupid? Forget it man; forget it. Burn the fucker’s house down if you have to but don’t kill him. It’s not worth it. Trust me on this, will ya? Right now you’re not thinking straight.”
“I have to kill him. There’s no other way.”
“Why?”
“I just do.”
“No you don’t, you can walk away. Remember all those books and seminars that we––”
“Fuck that,” Elmer retaliated. He suddenly felt a surge of anger.
“Why?” Switch asked with a voice that was forceful and controlling. “You can walk away man, you know you can.”
“Not this time.”
“Okay,” Switch huffed. “Fine. But you can do this without my help.”
“Sure I can, but I don’t want to. I want to make it last, you know what I’m sayin’? I’m going to enjoy killing this bastard, and I wanna share the moment with a friend, with someone I trust.”
Switch laughed and softened his approach. “Holy shit man, you’re pissed.”
“Yeah. That’s why I’m callin’ you.”
Taking a deep breath and the time to reconsider his values, Switch said, “You know I’ll be there when you really need me. I’m always there for you. You’re like a brother to me, and my mother thinks the world of you. But… I need a good reason to help you out on this one man, ‘cause I’m clean, you know? I’m not risking my future the way you’ve been. No offence, but you know what I mean. I’m not buying, I’m not selling, and I’m not wearing any colors. I’m clean man; I’m clean. They’ve got nothin’ on me these days. Nothin’ real anyhow… and it feels good. I feel like I’ve got my life back.”
“Yeah right.”
“Honest.”
Elmer rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s good to hear. Good for you, brother. Good for you.”
“So tell me… what did this guy do?”
“Say hello to your mother for me.”
“Fuck,” Switch said. “You’re impossible. Don’t give me that courtesy bullshit and don’t change the topic. What did this guy do to get you so upset?”
Elmer raised an eyebrow and looked across the parking lot. His car was in the same spot as before. It was unoccupied, and James was still inside. Things were still in order; he had time.
“The asshole put a gun to my head and threatened my life. Then he killed two people and lifted my wheels.”
“He killed people?”
“Killed the girl I was hangin’ with right in front of me, the fuckin’ prick. He’s going down. With or without your help, I can’t let this one slide. This bastard has got to go.”
“He killed your girl?”
“She wasn’t my girl, but he didn’t know that. He thought the bitch was with me and he didn’t care. He smoked her with a shotgun.”
“Oh man… that’s crazy shit!”
“That’s what I’m tellin’ you. This motherfucker… you know what else he did? The prick took my phone and my wallet. He probably snaked a thousand bucks!”
“For real?”
“Uh-huh. I made a couple sales today. There’s no doubt about that.”
“Oh shit, did you see him do it? Kill the girl, I mean––did you see him?”
“I was standing right there, man. I was standing right fucking there. This is front-page news, you know what I’m sayin’? He probably killed five people today. The guy’s a psycho.”
“Fuck me.”
“That’s right, now you’re getting’ it. Now you’re catching what I’m telling you.”
Switch had to admit, he was beginning to see a whole new picture. “Okay, okay. So, assuming I help––do you know where this guy is?”
Elmer laughed. “That’s the good news bro. He’s right in front of me.”
66
James finished his meal, scooted out of the restaurant and drove.
Elmer followed at a safe distance, making directional notes along the way. He checked Jennifer’s purse, which had been sitting in the backseat
. It was loaded with all kinds of junk including a wallet and a cell phone. The phone had plenty of juice. The wallet had sixty-five bucks and a Visa card. Elmer figured the Visa would be safe for a day or two, if he was smart about it.
After an hour, James made two sharp turns within a mile of each other and pulled the car onto a dirt road that led to Debra’s cottage. Elmer trailed him until the very end. Then he called Switch.
“Hello.”
“Hey Switch. It’s me.”
“You get there yet?”
“Yep.”
“Great… where are you?”
“It looks like I’m at this guys cottage. Have you left yet?”
“Yeah,” Switch lied. “I just walked out the door.”
“Did you get everything?”
“I got everything you asked for and a whole lot more.”
“Nice. I’m guessing you want directions, so call me when you’re closer and I’ll give ‘em to you.”
“Sure buddy. Whatever you say.”
* * *
After the conversation, Switch called his mother. He told her the situation and she gave him some advice. She was good like that, always had been. She said, “Donald, I love you and I don’t want to see you getting in more trouble. But you should do what’s right and calling the police is something that needs to be done. This is a police matter; it’s big-time. Problem is, the police aren’t going to be careful or delicate. They’re going to jump to some unmerited conclusions and connect poor David (she knew Elmer as David) with these murders and the press will have a field day. His life will be ruined… again. And he’s come such a long way since they’ve released him. He’s tried so hard, you both have. Calling the police would be like sending your friend back to lockup. Somehow it doesn’t seem fair. But like I said, this is big-time. I think you should try to talk some sense into him. Go to the cottage and straighten him out. And if that doesn’t work, do what you must… call the cops before he does something he’ll regret forever.”
The Dead Parade Page 13
