She bit down on his tongue. It tasted like rancid meat and she gagged. He locked his arms around her, holding her to him in a bear hug. Overpowered by his reeking odor, she lost consciousness.
Chapter 27
Gary pulled into Karen’s driveway and switched off his truck’s ignition. What a fucking day, he thought as he shuffled through the snow to the house. It hadn’t been easy to deodorize his locker before the cops brought the dogs to school. Good thing Old Man Bower left his janitorial cart unattended in the hall while he changed the garbage bags in the cafeteria after the students had been dismissed.
Gary knocked on the door, and when it opened, Karen gazed out at him. She wore a tight pink sweater and tighter blue jeans. He liked the hungry look in her eyes.
“Did you get it?” she said.
He patted his breast pocket. “Right here.”
She stepped back from the door, allowing him to enter. “Come on in.”
Turning sideways, he slipped inside, and she closed the door behind him.
“Can you believe what happened to Todd?”
Gary rested his hands on her shoulders. “I know, it was awful. But at least it took everyone’s attention off Johnny. We’re in the clear.” He’d already decided not to tell her about the surprise in his locker.
Karen turned away from him. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
He followed her into the living room and sat beside her on the sofa. A playing card lay on the coffee table, next to a spoon and half a straw. He reached into his pocket and took out a foil packet, which he handed to her.
She peeled back the foil lips, revealing three small rocks of cocaine. “That’s it?”
“Hey, this stuff isn’t cheap.” Make her appreciate you. “I gotta sell a lot of weed to pay for that.”
Her eyes wilted, and she pressed her lips together in disappointment.
He set his right hand on her left thigh. “But tomorrow is another day.”
Her lips parted, and she pushed her tongue against her teeth. This time, as she chopped up one of the rocks with the spoon, she left Gary’s hand alone.
Feeling cold tile against her face, Carol stirred. She lay naked on the floor, coiled like a wounded snake. A white shape came into focus before her: the toilet. Turning her head, she gazed at the light fixture in the ceiling. Her temples throbbed and her throat ached. She blinked several times, sorting the sights and sounds that lingered in her mind. She tried to dismiss the nightmarish images that assailed her, but she could not dismiss the rotting stench that filled the damp bathroom, clinging to her flesh, or the nauseating taste in her mouth.
Johnny—!
Bolting upright, she became dizzy all over again. Lurching forward on her knees, she slammed the door shut and locked it. Gooseflesh covered her naked body and she pulled her robe around her, kneading the fabric with trembling hands.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but rage burned within her: rage, disgust, and disbelief. How could this possibly have happened? Crawling to the toilet, she vomited her lunch. When she finished, she sat back on her heels, staring at the apple Johnny had left on top of the toilet tank. A bite had been removed from the apple, and brown phlegm covered the exposed portion.
She vomited again.
Standing, she examined herself between her legs. At least he hadn’t raped her. But she believed that had been on his mind. What had he said as he left? She tried to remember.
Was it, “It’s good to be back”?
Or, “I’ll be back for more”?
Slumping to the floor, she cried, deep, quivering sobs that shook her entire frame. Pulling her body into a fetal position, she closed her eyes.
Matt …
Chapter 28
Eric sat at his bedroom window, his left hand holding one curtain aside as he stared at the driveway. The oily handprint still clung to the glass, reminding him of his experience the previous night. He wondered if maybe it had been there a long time and he just hadn’t noticed it. Perhaps the sounds he’d heard on the roof were nothing but the wind blowing a limb from the apple tree against the house.
Two parallel beams of light sliced the driveway, and he jumped from his seat, allowing the curtain to fall back into place. He rushed downstairs and pulled his jacket from the closet.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Pat said, cornering him at the front door.
He zipped his jacket. “I’m going out with Rhonda.”
Pat cocked one eyebrow. “Oh, is that what you think?”
He had expected this. “We’re going to study.”
“I’m sorry, but you’re not going anywhere. Not after what happened today. She can study here if it’s that important.”
“Mom, they arrested Darryl Bower. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Her expression wavered.
“I won’t be late.”
She sighed in resignation. “You mean you’ll be home early.”
He nodded. “By ten.” He kissed her cheek. “Thanks.”
As he exited the house, the headlights blinded him. He hurried around the front of the Neon, almost slipping on the ice. As he opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, he saw Rhonda’s face illuminated by the overhead light. She smiled at him and he felt his stress evaporate.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hey.” He closed the door and the light went out, the fragrance of her perfume stirring his senses. On the CD player, Ani DiFranco vocalized her rage at various political atrocities.
“Ready?”
He nodded. “Let’s go.”
She backed out of the driveway, and he thought how strange it felt to be driven by someone other than his parents or Johnny. The car crept toward the blackness at the end of the street, its headlights piercing the brush there.
“You listen to metal, don’t you?” Rhonda said.
“Not really. Not when I have a choice, anyway. I like regular rock.”
“Me, too.” She raised the volume as darkness enveloped the car.
Eric’s body grew tense as they passed behind the high school on Route 20.
Rhonda glanced at him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
She turned left onto Willow Road. “I’m sorry. I wish there was another way to get there.”
“It’s okay.”
A minute later, the headlights bounced off the BRIDGE MAY BE ICY sign, and the bridge loomed before them. Rhonda accelerated the car and Eric knew she wanted to put the bridge behind them, but the increased speed only caused him to dig his fingers into the armrest. To their left, thick cables extended from the ruptured barriers, a temporary repair. The Neon ascended the hill, with the steep embankments of snow arching toward them like twin waterfalls. Darkness crushed them, and the incline grew steeper. The lights of a single house came into view, followed by a giant satellite dish.
“I don’t know how people live up here,” Rhonda said. “It’s so isolated, especially in the winter. I’d go crazy.”
“I know what you mean.”
A quarter of a mile farther, she turned left again, and the car bounced along a bumpy dirt road. They saw the cars at the same time: over a dozen of them, parked in the makeshift lot, surrounded by trees. Rhonda pulled next to a red SUV and switched off the ignition. They got out and closed their doors.
Rhonda scanned the tree line. “Where do we go from here?”
Eric pointed at a path through the snow, created by pedestrian traffic. “Just follow those tracks.”
They traced the footsteps. Moonlight reflected off the snow until they reached the trees. Penetrating the darkness, they stood at the crest of a small valley. Far below they saw a bonfire burning in the center of a clearing.
“Come on.” Eric held out a gloved hand and Rhonda took it. They descended a steep flight of steps, tree limbs creaking overhead. “Careful, these steps are slippery. They’re carved into the side of the hill.” Halfway down, they heard music rising toward them. “We’re almo
st there.”
The steps ended and the ground leveled off. Eric guided Rhonda toward the bonfire, visible through the brush, and they heard mild laughter. He pushed branches aside and they emerged into the clearing. Twenty students stood in a circle around the fire, many of them clutching beers. Flames rising ten feet into the air illuminated a long yellow metal shape behind them: The Bus.
“Bus parties” had been around long before Eric had reached high school. Henry Norton, a high school wrestler back in the ’80s, had never left town and had chosen to remain at home with his parents. When they died, he inherited their house and small dairy farm. He frequented town on rare occasions, like wrestling matches or a meal at Shelley’s Diner. Only he knew where the old school bus had come from, and how he’d moved it into the valley. The Red Hill High students knew only that Henry enjoyed a good party following a home wrestling match. He served as host and chaperone, providing a location but never the alcohol. He sat at his usual spot, an immense tree stump he had carved into a poor man’s throne. The flames reflected on his forehead, emphasizing his receding hairline.
Eric loosened his hold on Rhonda’s hand and felt a warm sensation when she tightened her grip in response. They approached the bonfire, each attempting to be inconspicuous. Eric saw all of his varsity teammates and many of the junior varsity wrestlers. Henry usually limited attendance—for boys, anyway—to the varsity members, because he didn’t believe in allowing the younger kids to drink on his property. On this night, due to the circumstances, he had apparently made an exception.
“I’m the only girl here,” Rhonda said.
Surveying the small crowd, Eric nodded. Usually at a team party, the number of young women equaled that of their male counterparts, with the couples making out inside The Bus. “It’s okay.”
They joined the circle, feeling heat on their faces. Eric found himself thinking of Johnny and Charlie as much as Todd. Three deaths in one week. What if Gary was right, and Todd’s murderer had intended to send him a message? No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t rationalize a connection between the two murders.
“Carter, what are you doing here?”
Eric turned as Cliff circled the fire, Derek at his heels. He waited for them to reach him before he spoke, so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice. “I’m part of the team. I have a right to be here.”
Cliff stepped closer to him. “You never came before.”
“This is different.”
“You didn’t even like Todd, you hypocrite.”
Eric kept his voice level. “That doesn’t mean I wanted him dead.”
Cliff’s eyes darted to Rhonda. “What about her? She’s not on the team. Does she have a right to be here? Look around. Do you see any bitches here? This isn’t a party; it’s a memorial.”
“I needed a ride,” Eric said. “She did me a solid and drove me.”
Cliff looked at their clasped hands. “I bet she did. Is she going to do you a solid later, too? Maybe you’ll get lucky on Todd’s account.”
Rhonda released Eric’s hand and touched his arm. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted.”
“Okay, sure. We paid our respects.” As he turned to go, Cliff shoved him from behind.
“Not so fast,” Cliff said.
Eric spun around, his anger rising. “What’s your problem?”
“Maybe I don’t want you to go now.”
“Maybe you should make up your mind.”
“I was looking forward to tonight’s match. Now I’ve got all this energy pent up inside me, just bursting to get out.”
Eric looked at Cliff in disbelief. “You want to fight me at Todd’s memorial?”
“Not fight. Wrestle.”
Eric shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.” He turned to leave again. “Let’s get out of here.”
Rhonda nodded, but Cliff stepped after them. “Oh, sure. Run away now that Gruesome isn’t around to protect you.”
Eric whirled back. “Leave Johnny out of this. It’s got nothing to do with him. I’m not going to fight you tonight, or wrestle you, because it’s stupid.” As he stepped away, he heard Derek’s voice.
“Cliff, just leave him alone—”
Footsteps mashed the snow behind him, and he sensed Rhonda looking back.
She squeezed his arm. “Eric—”
Cliff slammed against his back, driving him forward. Arms flailing, he fell face-first into snow, with Cliff on top of him. He heard the rustling of winter fabrics as his teammates jostled for position around them.
“Call it,” Cliff shouted.
Derek said, “Takedown, two points!”
Cliff seized Eric’s right wrist in a two-on-one hold, intending to roll him onto his back.
“Boys!” Henry’s voice rose above the excited shouts.
“It’s okay,” Derek said. “They’re just blowing off a little steam.”
Eric worked his way up onto his hands and knees, his arms straining from the weight on his back. Cliff tried to wrap his right leg around Eric’s, but Eric extended his leg, making that impossible. Then Eric locked his left arm around Cliff’s elbow and rolled, throwing Cliff over him and onto the ground.
Playing referee, Derek danced around them for a better view. Still clutching Cliff’s arm, Eric pivoted on one heel so he faced Cliff and pressed his chest down on his opponent’s.
Derek rolled his hands around each other, then raised two fingers, an incredulous expression on his face. “Reversal, two points!”
The teammates continued shouting, and Eric looked in Rhonda’s direction, expecting to see disapproval on her face. Instead, he saw her cheering him on. Encouraged, he slid his left hand onto Cliff’s shoulder and forced it to the frozen ground. Then he whipped his right arm around Cliff’s neck, using his elbow to raise the back of Cliff’s head off the ground. He arched his back, pinning Cliff.
As Derek crouched low to the ground and slid his hand beneath Cliff’s shoulder blades, feeling for a pin, Eric glanced in Rhonda’s direction again, his chest swelling with pride. A sudden gust of wind blew the fire behind her, revealing the bus beyond it. Eric flinched as if someone had slapped his face, his body going rigid and his blood turning cold. A boy stood on the far side of the fire, his back to The Bus, watching Eric’s contest with great interest.
Not just any boy.
Johnny.
He wore his familiar black leather jacket, which looked worse for wear, weathered and beaten, over a black T-shirt with bright green ribs printed on it. Firelight rimmed his soggy, discolored flesh and watery eyes. The right side of his face bore four deep gouges and sagged on his skull. Grinning, he raised a beer in toast to Eric, then tilted his head back and took a swig.
Jesus Christ no fucking way not possible—
Eric’s muscles melted like cheese on a grill and he lost his grip on Cliff, who sensed his competitor’s distraction and bridged up on his neck.
Derek shook his head and raised two fingers. “Two back points!”
Eric lost all immediate interest in the match. Draped over Cliff’s rising body, he continued to stare in Johnny’s direction. The wind lessened, and the fire returned, blocking his view. Cliff pivoted on his head, dumping Eric onto the packed snow, and climbed on top of him.
Derek rolled his hands again. “Reversal, two points!”
Cliff threw his arm around Eric’s neck and pinned him to the ground. Eric saw only the crackling flames. He heard Rhonda’s voice, shouting with the wrestlers, encouraging him to fight. He rocked his body back and forth, trying to break free of Derek’s grasp.
Johnny!
Too late: Derek slammed one hand on the ground. “That’s it!”
Cliff leapt to his feet, punching the empty air as if he’d just won the state championship for wrestling. “Yeah! Yeah! ”
Eric stood, his breathing ragged, and brushed snow off his clothes, mud clinging to his jeans. His mother would have plenty to say about that. While his teammates greeted Cliff wit
h victorious cheers, Rhonda came to him. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with cold air, and his nostrils flared with a familiar scent.
Chlorine …
“Are you okay?” Concern filled Rhonda’s eyes.
“Yeah.” He feigned a smile. “Nothing’s broken.”
“Wrestling is horrible!”
“I’m not too crazy about it myself right now.”
“Can we leave?”
“In a minute. Wait here.”
Eric circled the fire, avoiding the other wrestlers. At that moment, he harbored no interest in them, nor anger toward Cliff. He stood between the flames and the deserted bus, gazing at the woods. Trees bowed in the wind, teasing him with their silence. Johnny had disappeared, if he had ever really been there. Eric inspected the ground where he believed Johnny had stood. Footprints covered the earth—many footprints, which proved nothing.
I imagined it.
Of course he had. What other explanation could there be?
“You okay, Eric?”
He turned around. “Yeah, Henry. I’m fine.”
“I wanted to stop it, but Derek said you guys were just playing—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Eric returned to Rhonda. “Let’s get out of here.” They entered the woods, heat from the fire on their backs.
Johnny …
Chapter 29
Drip, drip …
Carol lay in the bathtub, her shoulders pressed against the tiled wall and her eyes fixed on the locked bathroom door.
Such a feeble lock.
Earlier, in the bedroom, she had pulled on jeans and a sweater with frenzied movements, only to freeze as she faced the door. What if Johnny still lurked somewhere in the house? She backed away.
Twice she’d picked up the phone and dialed Matt’s number at the station, only to hang up after the first ring each time.
Johnny Gruesome Page 16
