Merchandise - A Short Story

by Michael Wright

crunching the sand underfoot. “I know there’s a couple of you.”

  Beverly tapped him on the shoulder, and nodded, squeezing his shoulder with her small hand. Thanks for trying, it said.

  Jim stood with Beverly at the same time, raising his hands for a moment to show that he was unarmed, and then dropped them by his sides. They were empty, depressingly so. He was out of things that he could do.

  “Well, Jimmy. Nice to see you, albeit, at this late hour.” Bram’s tone was unmistakably mocking. Condescending, and even hateful, he took a look at Beverly, in the dim light, chuckled. “Well, well. Am I interrupting something here? Seriously, Jim, if you just woulda said that you wanted her she could have been yours for the right price…”

  “She’s not for sale, anymore.” Jim said.

  “Everything’s for sale.” Bram countered. “Ask anyone, everything’s for sale. Morality, purity, even innocence—all you gotta do is name a price.” He held the gun at chest level, pointed directly at Jim. “Some come cheaper than others, but everyone has a price.”

  “Not everyone.”

  Bram laughed again, that sick, full laugh. He looked at Jim and burst into another fit of it. “You’re kidding. Have you looked around lately, Jimbo? How many kids do you suppose have tried drugs? How many do you suppose haven’t messed around and slept with each other, stolen something—all for a moment of pleasure, a little thrill? For some, that’s all of the price they need.” He looked at Beverly and then cut his eyes back to Jim, that cruel smile on his face. “Some girls will let their boyfriends take it to the next level all because they’ll ‘love them forever.’ Other kids, they’ll do some pot because everyone else does, the price for acceptance and they’re willing to pay. Seriously, Jim, have you even been paying attention?”

  Jim was silent. The darkness was still surrounding them. The shotgun barrel was bright in the light, limited though it was, reflecting across the silvery surface. Jim could see the way it was held so steadily in Bram’s hands, like a toy.

  “Come over to the carport. We’ll chat over here.” He gestured with the shotgun to signal that this wasn’t optional.

  Jim looked at Beverly, and she nodded, moving slowly, with him, her hands on his forearm. She wasn’t squeezing, it was more like a light touch, the calm assurance of a loved one after a bad dream in the middle of the night.

  They walked slowly and ever so carefully, trying not to make any quick movements that would give Bram a good excuse to shoot them on the spot.

  He stopped and they did the same. Daring not to move any farther, the threat of hot lead enough to make them stop.

  “So,” Bram asked, “to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  Jim said nothing.

  Bram smiled, and gestured—with the gun—to Beverly. “Lemme guess.”

  “She’s not for sale. She’s not a sale item, Bram, you’ve lost your mind.”

  “That requires having one in the first place, Jim. But I assure you that I am perfectly sane, in fact, I have the experience of years over you on my side, so not only am I sane, but full of wisdom as well.”

  “Just how many years would that be, Bram? Decades? Hundreds?”

  Bram remained silent.

  “I know what you are. I know what you and Linda both are. I guess I knew since the first time I saw you, I just didn’t want to believe it. Sometimes we like to try the think the best of people, silly how people are, I guess.”

  Bram smiled again, “Time to pay up, Jimbo. Got news for you, she’s stolen property. You gotta pay us back for her.”

  Jim moved in front of Beverly. “She’s not for sale. She’s a person, not a piece of merchandise.”

  Bram ignored him. “We have had a hard time selling her, because she is worth so much. In fact, she’s worth more than you could pay—ever. So, we’re going to have to charge you the same, Jimmy. And I’m afraid that if you can’t pay that up front, then we’ll have to put you on the payment plan option. Or, we’ll just save time and take you, right here.”

  Jim nodded. “If she goes free.”

  Bram shook his head. “You’re really dense, aren’t you?”

  “Then no deal.”

  “Really?” Bram laughed again. He dropped the barrel, pointing it at the ground. “I really hate to break it to you, Jim, but you’re not in a negotiating position here. You do what we say or you don’t live to reconsider.”

  “I don’t come quite so cheap, Bram.”

  The gun was raised, pointed at his head. “How’s your life?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Can’t threaten me with death. I know what’s waiting for me on the others side. I think you do, too, don’t you?”

  Bram nodded, gave an approving expression. “Fine.” He shifted the barrel’s position. “How about hers?”

  Jim stopped. He had no reply, and Bram knew that he had him; he had him pinned to the wall. There wasn’t any reply that he had for that, and he knew that Bram knew that.

  Bram grinned. “You know, she’s damaged goods. I might have to lower the price on her. How about for her, we take just you? She gets to go wherever she wants. I just want you.”

  “I can’t make a deal, Bram.”

  An eyebrow rose.

  “I’ve been bought out already.” Jim shrugged and pushed the barrel away from them. He glanced back at Beverly.

  The door rasped open again and Linda stepped out, dressed for bed, but sauntering up in her usual fashion. She took a look at Jim and Bram, knowing exactly what was going on, but choosing to play dumb. “What’s going on?” She was asking Bram.

  “Just haggling, dear,” he said, “nothing much.” Bram took a look at her and grinned, gestured to Jim. “How about it?”

  “What?” This time Jim responded.

  “I know you got a thing for my wife, Jim. It’s hard to miss, well, it was, I was told you gave her a funny look when she got after, um, her.” He pointed to Beverly. “How about that? Enough of a down payment for you?”

  Jim looked at Linda, an arrow of shame at what he had thought before shooting through him, and realized that she had no hold over him any more. He was free from that sin of lust that had tempted him for that short period of time. “No. I was paid for by a lot more.”

  “What?” Linda said, coming up by her husband.

  “In fact, it was a price of infinite value. More than I could ever pay. It was paid long ago, about two thousand years to be honest.” Jim looked down at the gun and didn’t feel the slightest sliver of fear anymore.

  Beverly gripped his arm behind him. Her hold was suddenly a light tighter, unsure of where he was going with it.

  “Paid for by the highest Royalty ever. Perhaps you’ve heard of Him, name was Jesus.”

  At that Bram’s eyes flamed, and he pointed the gun back at Jim. “Don’t…”

  “Don’t what? Rebuke you? I wish I could, but I think that He already did, a long, long time ago.” Jim pushed the gun aside, and it fell down on the concrete below them both. Linda glanced down at it, and when she looked back up, her appearance had changed a lot. Two protuberances stood out on her forehead, and her entire face had grown tighter and wrinkled, all of the uncannily youthful beauty departed. The charade was over, no more put-on faces. He knew that he was seeing them for what they truly were.

  “You’re kidding.” She said. “You know that He’s dead. There’s nothing for you that He can do.”

  “On the contrary, in dying, He did everything for me.” Jim looked at Bram and saw that his appearance had changed a lot as well, into a wrinkled, heavy-looking old face, one that was slowly decaying at the edges, rimmed by a thin line of long, white hair; pus oozed out of an open sore. His true face. “And I don’t have to answer to you. I don’t even have to fight you.”

  Bram grinned a toothless, rotten grin. “Then this will be easy.” He drew back and arm and threw Jim to the ground, backing him into Beverly who was dashed in the other direction.
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br />   Blood was oozing on Jim’s face. He realized Bram had long nails that had slashed him. The thick teardrops of blood slid slowly down his cheek.

  Beverly stood, and Bram took one look at her, and slammed a folded fist into her skull. She took another hard landing on the concrete, this time she did not stir as before.

  Jim only half-processed that before Bram was on him again, kicking him with old, curling boots, completely different than the ones he had on before. The ratty clothes that the man wore were a far cry from the usual attire that he had on, they looked years old and never cleaned.

  Jim rolled into the next kick and tried to grab Bram’s foot, but the touch of it burned, scorching his palms and he had to quickly let go. The thick odor of sulfur was in the air, as if someone had just opened a sulfur spring right in front of him.

  “Everyone has a price, Jimbo. I named mine a long time ago. I’m gonna live longer than you can even dream! Perpetually young!”

  Jim looked up at him. “At what price? Your soul?”

  “Everyone’s going somewhere. Mine is just guaranteed in advance, no interest. No payment down.”

  “What happens when it’s time to pay up?” Jim asked, rising to a crouch.

  Bram grinned, that same rotten, empty grin. “Guess we’ll find out when the time comes. It’ll be some time though; I don’t have to pay up for a lot longer. Well, a lot longer than you.”

  It was then that Jim noticed the hammer in Bram’s bony hand. The handle was still firm, the head bright, even in the dim light.

  “Cheesy as it is,” Bram said,