Evil Origins: A Horror & Dark Fantasy Collection

by J. Thorn

“She wouldn’t cheat,” Drew said.

  “She already has,” replied Gaki.

  Drew shook his head back and forth, tears cascading down his face.

  “Another one of your tricks, you evil fuck.”

  “You have witnessed the infidelity with your own eyes,” said Gaki. “You deny what you see.”

  Drew shook, sobs holding his chest tight.

  “Her and her lover must be punished. Then your duty will be fulfilled and your line released.”

  He took his foot off the brake and slammed the accelerator. Drew swerved back onto the highway with gravel spewing from the tires.

  “Where are we dumping the body?” he asked Gaki.

  The creature grinned, its thin tongue sliding out of its mouth like a diseased serpent.

  ***

  “I still can’t believe you parked on our street. What kind of dumbass move was that?”

  “He didn’t catch us.”

  Molly shrugged her shoulders as she put her arms through the bra. She reached around and fastened it in the back. “Thanks to me and my vibrator.”

  Brian smiled. He watched her dress from his bed with a sheet pulled up to his waist, a cigarette between his fingers and a lighter in the opposite hand.

  “Don’t light that. I don’t want to have to explain why I smell like an ashtray.”

  “You know how much I like to smoke after getting pussy.”

  Molly rolled her eyes and let a hiss escape her lips. Brian reached for the remote on the end table and turned on the television. A tired game show featuring contestants with plastic faces came to life, the audio muted. He watched the manicured moustache of the host twinkle at a female contestant. Molly got dressed and fumbled to put an earring back in place.

  “No more today?” he asked with a sly smile.

  “We need to stop this, at least until the shit with Drew settles down. And I need to pick up the kids.”

  He shook his head.

  “I mean it. I’ll get in touch with you. No more calls or any other bullshit from your end. Got it?”

  Brian held his palms up, feigning innocence. “You can’t deny my rod,” he said, grinning.

  “Fuck off, Brian.”

  Molly slammed the door, shaking the Led Zeppelin poster on the wall. Brian put his hands behind his back. He shoved the cigarette between his lips and snapped the flint on his lighter.

  ***

  “Thank you, and welcome to Channel 7 News. I’m your anchor, Melanie Sampson, and this is our top story. Things seem to be getting more bizarre in the Crooked Tail River murder investigation. In addition to the two bodies discovered last week, a local woman has now gone missing. Let’s go back out to Nan Roles, who has been covering the story for us.”

  “Melanie, authorities are not releasing information other than the woman’s identity. Twenty-nine-year-old Rachel Merinshore was reported missing by her friend several hours after she failed to show up at a book-club meeting that evening.”

  “I thought the police did not consider a person missing until they were gone for twenty-four hours. Why are they releasing this now?”

  “They are worried that her disappearance is suspect and could be related to the other murders. Merinshore’s car is also missing, and she lives in the same housing plan as one Drew Green, a man the police considered a person of interest, but who now seems to be the primary suspect.”

  “Nan, do you have information on this Drew Green?”

  “Yes, Melanie. He is a thirty-nine-year-old husband and father of two. He is employed by Rede Design, the same office where the two victims were employed. One neighbor told us that that there was a foot chase this morning, but that the police lost the suspect. You can see the patrol cars over my shoulder that have staked out the house and have been searching the neighborhood for the man that is now a fugitive from the law.”

  “Is he wanted for questioning, or has an arrest warrant been issued?”

  “There is a warrant out for his arrest, Melanie. Police are cautioning people, saying that the man could be very dangerous. They’re asking anyone that has any information to call the tip hotline, and under no circumstances should they confront the suspect.”

  “Wow. What a tragic and frightening story. Thanks, Nan.”

  “You’re welcome, Melanie.”

  Brian aimed the remote at the television and thumbed the power button in one motion. He ran a hand down his face, cupping his chin. The smell of Molly lingered on his hands. His chest ached. Somehow, the old adage of putting your buddies before women never shook out. Brian had always found Molly intoxicating, like his favorite beer. He could never stop at one, could not keep it to flirting or friendship. She was not completely innocent, either. Brian surmised that he was able to do something to her that Drew could not. He reached a primal, primitive place that excited and satisfied her to the point of risking marriage and family to see him.

  Brian’s phone buzzed on the table next to his bed. He reached over and looked at the icon of the caller.

  “Hey, man. Where the hell are you?”

  “Riding. Taking some time to think.”

  “Your face is all over the fucking news. Molly is worried sick about you.”

  Brian winced at the slip of the tongue and felt a pang of guilt before Drew responded.

  “I’m sure she is.”

  Brian thought he heard a whispering sound. “Got a passenger?”

  “Of sorts.”

  “Who’s with ya, bud?”

  “Speaking of Molly,” said Drew, ignoring Brian’s last question. “Seen her lately?”

  Brian forced the lump in his throat down in order to keep his voice from wavering.

  “No, man. Why would I? Been at home watching movies and drinking beer since Rede shut down. Got some bitchin’ zombie movies. Wanna swing by and watch Zombieland? Bill Murray is in it. A fucking riot.”

  Silence hung on the line. Brian looked down at the phone but saw that the call counter continued. Drew was still there.

  “Ain’t that the one where he’s not a zombie, but they think he is and so they shoot him? He plays himself, right?”

  Brian’s face lit up and he rocked back into the headboard, smiling like old times. He looked to his left and saw the depression in the mattress left by Drew’s wife and the smile dropped from his face. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “Seen it.”

  “We could watch it again?”

  “Is she still there, Brian?”

  Brian took the question like a blow to the midsection. He stood and straightened the sheets as if disposing of evidence in the investigation of infidelity.

  “Who?”

  “Remember that time we went to Ocean City? I think it was after our junior year of high school. Do you remember that?” Drew asked.

  “Yeah, how could I forget? We banged that surfer chick, the one working the Italian ice stand on Pennsylvania and 13th Street.”

  “Janice,” replied Drew.

  “What’s that, bro?”

  “I said ‘Janice.’ Her name was Janice. You always have a hard time remembering the names of the women you fuck. Why is that, Brian?”

  He stood and split the blinds with two fingers. Brian scanned the street below for Drew. He looked at the sidewalk on both sides for any sign of his friend. He saw none. “Do you remember them?”

  “Yep. Easy.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Cause it’s only Molly.”

  Brian laughed and shook his head. “We fucked many hos, man, you and I.”

  “Did ya ever see me ‘fucking the hos’?”

  Brian stopped and turned away from the window, his eyes locked on the peephole of his front door. He thought he heard the muffled puff of air trapped when a car door shuts. “That’d be gay. I wouldn’t stick around to see yer schlong.”

  “Well, there ya have it, Brian. I lied about the other women. Never even touched Viv. Don’t get me wrong, she wanted me to plow her, but I couldn’t do it. It’s a
lways been Molly for me. Molly, and only her.”

  Brian thought he heard the door on the stairwell hit the bumper on the wall. Footsteps echoed off the tiled floor.

  “Yeah, right. What about the chick on Fat Tuesday, the one you left with from the Irish Pub on Forbes Avenue?”

  “Walked her home. She stuck her tongue in my mouth and I turned and vaulted over the hedges and onto the sidewalk. I fucking ran from her sorority house like I was on fire.”

  Brian stood with the phone held to his right ear. He shuffled across the room toward the door, keeping his eyes locked on the doorknob. The button appeared to be depressed, but he could not be sure until he took another couple of steps.

  “You still with me, Brian?” asked Drew, his turn to make sure the conversation had not ended prematurely.

  “Yeah, man. I’m still here,” he replied. “Where did you say you were?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “So where you headed?”

  “Thought I’d swing by, hang with you for a bit.”

  Brian reached for the doorknob and felt the cool, brass button flush with the knob. The knob was locked, for what it was worth. “Okay. I mean, that’s cool. I thought you didn’t want to, but that’s fine.”

  “I said I didn’t want to watch zombie movies with you. That didn’t mean two old, loyal friends can’t hang out, right?”

  Brian stepped back from the door and pulled a tissue from the box on the bookcase. He used it to wipe the sweat from his face.

  “Unless you’ve got someone over there right now. That would be embarrassing, me showing up while you’ve got one in the sack, sucking you off.”

  “Nope. Nobody’s here, Drew.”

  Brian heard a deep breath along with footsteps in the hallway.

  “Great.”

  The front of the apartment door shook. The knocking rattled the door and several of the framed pictures on the thin walls. Brian dropped the phone on the bed and stood in the middle of the room. He grabbed a pair of athletic shorts off of the chair and a dirty T-shirt from the floor. In one motion, Brian pulled the shirt over his head and straightened his hair.

  “Yeah?” Brian asked through the locked door.

  “Made it. Came to hang.”

  Brian winced. Drew’s voice sounded heavy, strained, as if he were covering his stress with slang. It was not working. “I’m coming.”

  “That’s what she said, eh?”

  Brian shrugged at the tired joke and reached for the doorknob. He opened it. Drew stood before him. Brian recognized his friend, but barely. Drew’s hair lay plastered to his forehead and the back of his neck. His eyes darted back and forth, set in their sockets like two hardened glints of obsidian. Several puffy lines ran along his cheek, with a dark line of oozing blood in the middle, as if someone had clawed at his face. Dried blood filled his nostrils. Drew’s T-shirt clung to his frame with a slick covering of sweat. The shirt had many small holes on the chest and stomach. Drew’s arms hung listlessly at his sides.

  “Hey, Bri,” Drew said. The words came out slurred and fuzzy, as if Drew were sporting a two-beer buzz.

  “‘Sup, man. C’mon in.”

  Brian stood aside and held the doorknob in one hand. He used the other to wave Drew into the apartment. Once Drew shuffled past, Brian stuck his head into the hallway. It was empty except for a bag of trash Ms. Zuckerman had set outside her door. The old bitch was constantly stinking up the hallway with her cabbage leftovers and the super never did anything about it. He tucked the complaint into the back of his mind for the next time rent was due and pulled the door shut.

  Drew stood in the middle of the room, his eyes fixed on Brian’s bed. His breathing was slight, as if he were sleeping.

  “Have a seat, bro,” Brian said.

  Drew looked at him and it made Brian shiver. “On the bed? In your cum stain? Don’t think so.”

  He walked over to the kitchen area and sat down at the table. The rickety chair crackled with protest, the 70s vinyl hissing as the air escaped from the foam cushion.

  “Got a beer?”

  Brian nodded and walked to the fridge. He opened the door and reached in for the last bottle on the top shelf.

  Got nothing to offer him after this, at least. Maybe he’ll go, Brian thought. “Here, man. Twist off.”

  Brian watched Drew’s fingers wrap around the bottle. He took it to his mouth and drank. Drew’s throat constricted and he coughed, spewing a fine mist of ale into the air.

  “Easy does it, man.”

  Drew’s eyes filled with tears and he coughed again. “Got some shit in my lungs still.”

  Brian turned his head sideways and looked at Drew. “Smoke?”

  “Nope. Chemical burn.”

  “What you been up to today that gave you chemical burn in your lungs?”

  Drew waved his hand as if whisking another round of gasping coughs through his system. “Disposal,” he replied.

  Brian stood, not bothering to ask for clarification as he the odor of bleach hung in the air.

  “Can you see him?” Drew asked.

  Brian giggled and looked around the apartment. The news ended and one of the afternoon talk shows was beginning. With the volume muted, he imagined the sound of the host’s voice as she interviewed another woman, much like two clucking hens. He turned back to Drew. “See who?”

  Drew laughed, which triggered more coughing. He tipped the beer bottle back, took another swig, and then threw it at the wall next to the refrigerator. The glass burst like a balloon and shards ricocheted off the other appliances. The neck of the bottle landed on the floor between them and spun clockwise until it stopped, aiming at the stove.

  “Spin the bottle,” said Drew.

  “Fuck, man. I’m gonna have to clean that up.”

  Drew straightened his back and bared his teeth. He slid both hands into his pockets. “Better get rid of that stench, too. You know, the one of stale pussy and cheating whores.”

  Brian stepped backwards until his heels hit the leg of the table. The collision knocked a salt shaker off the edge. It tumbled to the floor, spilling its contents in a comet tail of white next to the remains of the broken bottle.

  “Have a seat on the couch,” Brian said. He turned his back on Drew and sat down. The second it took before he could face him again felt like an hour. “Say what you need to say. I’m tired of the games.”

  Drew snickered and walked to the other side of the couch. He sat at the opposite end and swung his feet up to face Brian. Brian moved his eyes back to Drew’s face, hoping to play dumb as long as he could.

  “You’re my best friend, Bri. I need someone to talk to.”

  “Here I am.”

  Drew sighed, tears streaming down his face. “I think Molly and me are done.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She’s fucking around on me. I came home from work, you know, before the incidents. Came home early and she was in bed. It was like mid-afternoon, and she was in bed.”

  Brian looked at the clock on the wall. 1:30.

  “A woman’s got every right to jack it, but something told me that wasn’t what was going on. Didn’t think she was diddling herself. Somebody else was there. In my house. I think he got out before I found them, and I think he was fucking my wife.”

  “Did you confront her? Did you find the guy?”

  Drew shook his head. “I went into the bathroom. Didn’t even want to deal with it. I’m sure I gave whoever was nailing her the chance to get the fuck out, because she had a robe on when I came out, but it was pretty clear that she was in the act. You know that look they get, right? It’s that crazed, primal vibe, when nothing short of a good hammering will satisfy.”

  Brian nodded.

  “She denied it. Made me feel like a lunatic, one of those husbands crazed by jealousy and paranoia that ends up killing his entire family.”

  “That’s not going to happen, man. You’re a good guy. You love your family.”

  “I
do, Bri. I feel like my entire life is oozing away. It’s like having a slow leak of your sanity. You can see the water covering the floor, from one side to the next, but you can’t stop it. Hell, you can’t even redirect the flow. That water is going to go where it wants to go. That’s where my head is right now. It’s going where it wants to, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  Brian wrung his hands together and wiped sweaty palms on his thighs. “You could just let it go.”

  Drew stood. He grabbed the edge of the mattress and flipped it into the air. Dust and dirt filled the air as it came crashing down onto the frame. “Someone is fucking my wife,” he said, dragging each word out like a tethered stone.

  Brian backed up to the kitchen window. He felt the cool glass on his back and wondered if he could survive the fall to the sidewalk below. “You’re right, man. You’re right. You need to get to the bottom of that. Maybe you should talk with Molly, clear shit up, you know?”

  Brian watched Drew’s face contort in thought. The rage subsided as he considered the idea.

  “Do you think she’d talk to me?” he asked Brian.

  “Oh, yeah! She loves you. She loves the kids. There’s nothing more she’d want to do than get your lives back together.” Brian hoped Drew would hijack the idea as his own and continue to ignore the obvious complications of the situation, such as the warrant out for his arrest.

  “Well, I can’t exactly get her to come here. I mean, that would be really awkward. My wife, showing up at your apartment to talk about the fact that she’s fucking someone behind my back.”

  “That probably wouldn’t be a good idea,” replied Brian. He pacified Drew, walking on eggshells and hoping for one slim chance of escape.

  “When’s the last time you saw her?”

  The question made Brian fumble his words. He looked at the floor and then at the ceiling as if doing complicated mathematics in his head. “Bowling. Yeah, I think it was the bowling night last week, the fundraiser for the new community center.”

  “Yes! You’re absolutely right,” said Drew.

  Brian smiled, allowing a slim ray of hope to find its way into the conversation.

  “What could she have left there that you picked up for her? She would have remembered her ball or shoes, and she’s probably used her phone since then.”