Penance

by Rick R. Reed

  And now Dwight knew.

  It was too late to do anything else now but try to finish this. Richard supposed that he could go and call the police, but he was so close now. Maybe there would be a way to end this.

  He pictured rescuing Jimmy, earning the boy’s gratitude.

  He pulled his car out a second after Dwight started south again.

  Up ahead, Dwight turned, and with growing uneasiness, Richard did, too. Barely giving the car any gas, Richard rolled slowly down the quiet residential street, thinking how strange everything was…how the cold and darkness made the houses look even more comforting. They looked like refuges, sanctuaries. Many of them had Christmas lights up and their bright colors filled the street. In some, Richard could look into picture windows and get glimpses of lives he would never know.

  Dwight had turned into the driveway of a white brick ranch house, so like all the others on this street. Except Dwight’s house was dark and devoid of Christmas decorations.

  Richard pulled over to the curb, trying to quell his trembling. From here he could see the house and the truck, and he’d be able to watch Dwight’s and Jimmy’s movements.

  *

  Dwight looked to his right and saw the car that had been following him about three house lengths up the street. The lights were off, but a small plume of exhaust came out of the tail pipe, indicating that someone was waiting.

  “Well, boys, what do we do now?”

  Dwight looked over at them and they looked back, their expressions numb, lacking emotion or understanding. He shook his head. “What am I asking you for? You’re as good as dead, anyway.”

  A voice, piercing, rose up from the back of the cab. It was full of sarcasm and disgust. “Why don’t you just sit here a little longer, Dwight? Give the law a chance to get here.”

  Dwight turned and looked back. He saw the form of a woman in the shadows and the orange glow of a cigarette tip.

  “Just do what you were gonna do, boy,” the voice continued. “Get the damn deal over with.” Dwight whispered, “Right.”

  *

  Richard sucked in his breath as the garage door opened.

  Bright yellow light spilled out. Dwight pulled forward.

  This is it. Richard switched off the car. It suddenly seemed very quiet.

  He wished he didn’t have to do this.

  He wished there were someone to help him.

  “There is,” he said to himself, opening the car door and breathing in the air, crisp and cold, filled with the promise of snow. “There is.”

  *

  “All right, my little darlings, time to come out.”

  Dwight’s face had a big grin plastered across it. The grin was at odds with the sweat on his forehead and the spastic way he moved.

  Jimmy squeezed Avery’s hand. The guy’s obviously freaking out. He’s nervous as shit. Maybe that’ll work in our favor.

  He wondered who’d been following them. Jimmy couldn’t believe there was help of any kind out there. It must have just been coincidence.

  As he scooted off the seat, Avery in front of him, Jimmy thought, Who would want to help us?

  Dwight was pointing the gun at them. “I’ve got to check some things out outside. You boys will behave yourselves in here if I leave you alone for a minute or two, won’t you?”

  Avery spoke right up. “Of course we will, sir.”

  Jimmy looked over at him and thought: How lame.

  Dwight nodded. “Right. You’ll just stay right here and wait patiently for me to come back here, won’t you?”

  Avery said, “Yes, sir. We won’t go anywhere.”

  Jimmy couldn’t stand it. “Cut it out, dickhead. Can’t you see he’s not serious?” He wished Morris would just fire the gun into his damn head and have it over with.

  What was wrong with Avery? He should have been smart enough not to play Dwight’s stupid little game anymore.

  Dwight walked to the other side of the garage and pulled down a big length of clothesline, looped onto a nail sticking out of the wall. “I know you boys would be well behaved if I left you here to your own devices.” Dwight began pulling out lengths of rope and cutting them off with a pair of grass shears, which had also been hanging on the wall. “But I just have to take this measure as a precaution.”

  Jimmy shouted, “Just shut the fuck up!”

  His answer was a backhand across the face that sent him reeling across the floor and crashing into a cinder-block wall. He lifted his hand to his face and it came away bloody: his lip felt raw, stinging. Dwight came after him. “You keep quiet, you little bastard.” Dwight looked upward and whispered, “Forgive him, Father, he knows not what he does.” He stopped for a moment to set his gun down on a box by the door and scoop up a big roll of duct tape. “This will make sure.” Angrily, he unrolled a length and ripped it off. Dwight was whispering to himself, the words coming out in an enraged torrent. “Sick little fuckers never give me a moment of peace. Why can’t they just go along? Can’t they see I’m just trying to help them? Sick little fuckers will never even know what a good thing it is I’m doing for them.” Before Jimmy could protest, the tape was over his mouth, tight, pressing against his cut lip. Dwight grabbed his ear and brought him back over next to Avery.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Dwight whispered, his breath coming harder. “No time at all. I shouldn’t have kept them here in my house. They befoul it. Why did I keep them?”

  Silently, he turned Avery around and bound his wrists together with a square knot. “Lie down.” Avery did what he was told and Dwight lifted his ankles and tied them together.

  Jimmy’s eyes met Dwight’s. Dwight said, “You’re next.” Jimmy knew there was nothing left to do other than lift his hands to the man. He watched, in mute horror, as Dwight wrapped the clothesline around his wrists, around and around, finally securing them with a knot so tight Jimmy wondered how any circulation would reach his hands. Without being told, he managed to get down to the floor and lie on his back.

  “You’re good at that, aren’t you?” Dwight smiled and began to bind his ankles.

  As he did so, he tensed.

  Someone was pounding on the front door.

  Dwight’s muscles clenched, bunching up. His face looked kind of funny: his eyebrows were all screwed up together and his mouth was open, like he was going to drool or something.

  Jimmy didn’t dare hope that the insistent pounding at the front door was anyone who would help them. Even if it was, Dwight had a gun.

  It took Dwight only seconds to tie the knot around Jimmy’s ankles. He stood and was ready to go into the house when he turned back. “Can’t forget our little friend.”

  Avery, wide-eyed, got his share of duct tape. The pounding continued.

  Dwight fluttered his hands around him. “For heaven’s sake, I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  *

  Richard half hoped that Dwight wouldn’t come to the door. That way he could return to the safety of the world as he knew it and use a neighbor’s phone to call the police.

  But as soon as he thought this, a light came on inside the house and a pair of eyes peered out at him through the small, diamond-shaped pane of glass in the front door.

  Those eyes made him want to turn and run.

  But even though his knees were shaking, Richard returned the stare.

  In a moment the door opened. Richard looked through the storm door at Dwight Morris. He was no different from Richard’s memory: a slight man who wore his hair too long in the back, dressed like a teenager in a Guns ‘n Roses sweatshirt. The sweatshirt only made him look older.

  But his pale eyes seemed to see things the rest of the world couldn’t. They were different. And terrifying. “Can I help you?”

  Richard cleared his throat. He hadn’t really thought about what he’d say.

  “Could I come in? I need to talk to you.”

  “I don’t even know who you are, sir. Why sh
ould I let you in my home?”

  Richard could tell one thing when Dwight opened the door: that Dwight recognized him.

  “I think you know me. From SAA?”

  Dwight stepped back. “What do you want?”

  “I told you. I want to come inside.”

  “What for?”

  “Why don’t we talk about that when I come in?”

  “I don’t have to listen to you.” Dwight began to close the door.

  Richard put up his hand and held the door open. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  “I don’t care what you’d do, sir. I’ll thank you to leave me alone.”

  Richard pushed the door a little against Dwight. “Listen: I know what’s going on in there.” He watched as Dwight’s face changed: his determination disappeared, replaced by a look of surprise and then suspicion.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Richard gave off a short laugh, even though every fiber of his being wanted to turn and run into the night. But he’d come this far, and besides, Dwight couldn’t see what was inside of him. He continued, “You know what I’m talking about. Jimmy told me everything…even about the letter.”

  “Look, mister, I think you’re crazy. I don’t know a Jimmy and I know nothing about a letter.”

  “I saw you with Jimmy just a little while ago. Him, and a big boy that I don’t know.” Richard paused. “I followed you here.”

  “So I gave a couple boys a ride…”

  Richard put up his other hand to quiet Dwight. “Look, we don’t have to do this. I’ll just go. The police are the ones you should be talking to, anyway.”

  Richard turned, praying that his trembling didn’t show in his stride, and began to walk away.

  “Wait a minute. I think you’ll want to come in after all.”

  When Richard turned around, Dwight was waiting for him, a grin playing about the corners of his mouth. Richard started back toward the house, certain he’d done the wrong thing.

  *

  Jimmy and Avery stared at each other in the harsh light of the garage. It was a way of communicating. In each other’s stare, there was hope and a shared bond.

  Each of the boys lay on his side on the rough concrete floor of the garage. Each boy was moving rhythmically as he rubbed the rope that bound his wrists against the raw concrete of the floor.

  Neither would know if the rope was getting any thinner until the bind snapped and freed them.

  *

  Richard wondered how Dwight lived this way, in this mess of newspapers and cardboard boxes overflowing with old letters, magazines, and books. Dwight stared at him, expectant.

  “So what did you come here for?”

  Richard wasn’t sure what tack to take. He wished he had prepared better. “I came here as a friend, someone who knows you from SAA.”

  Dwight cocked his head.

  “I didn’t come here to condemn you.” Richard’s mind was racing, praying for the words to come. “I came here as someone who understands. We both know there aren’t many people out there who understand what you and I go through every day…”

  He noticed the grin spreading across Dwight’s face; it made his mouth grow dry and his pulse pound. This isn’t working, flashed through his mind, but he continued anyway. “I know what you’re going through and I know, too, that you don’t really want to be doing to these kids what you’re doing. Do you?”

  The grin had broadened into a smile. Dwight snickered and rolled his eyes dramatically, shaking his head, “Oh, no.”

  Richard licked his lips, knowing the path he was taking was wrong. “Good. I didn’t think you did. None of us really wants anything like…” Richard’s mind seemed to be going more and more blank. “None of us wish for anything like what’s going on in our lives. I mean, I fight against these feelings every day.” Richard moved closer to Dwight, put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I can help you out of this, Dwight.”

  Dwight shrugged the hand away. “I don’t usually curse, my friend. Bad manners. But you’re full of shit.”

  “No, Dwight, you’re wrong. I don’t even think you believe what you’re saying, and I know you don’t really believe in what you’re doing.” Richard felt sick; he wanted out of this dark house, which seemed to be growing smaller with each word he said. He whispered, “I know you’re a good man.”

  Dwight stared at him for a long time, his expression not telling Richard anything. Then he said, “With all your Catholic bullshit, I don’t think you’d know a good man if one was looking you in the eye.” Dwight met the priest’s eyes in a pointed stare.

  Richard looked to the door, wondering if he could make a break for it, get out of here before it was too late.

  Dwight moved in close to the priest, so close Richard could smell his rancid breath and the sweat from his body. “Do you understand at all what I’m trying to do here?”

  “What?” Richard tried to make eye contact with Dwight, but the man’s eyes were glazed and he stared at a point beyond Richard, somewhere the priest couldn’t see.

  Dwight shook his head. “You’d never understand.”

  Richard felt as if his legs would no longer support him. He whispered, with what little breath he could find. “No.”

  “A good man, Father, wouldn’t feel any regret, not for helping in the way I have. And I don’t feel bad for what I’m about to do, which is kill these kids, burn them up, so there’s no trace. Because I know what I’m doing is helping them. C’mon, you’re a priest. Surely you know the concept of penance.”

  Richard felt sick, his stomach folding over on itself. “Penance is voluntary,” he whispered, unable to find his voice. “But it’s not too late for you. There’s redemption,” Richard said. “Grace for all of us…”

  “Dream on, Father. You’re living in a fantasy world. I’m the one who’s about to do something positive here. And you’re detaining me, sir.”

  Dwight seized Richard’s throat…and tightened.

  This can’t be happening. Richard’s breath vanished. He yanked at Dwight’s hands, but they were like vises, un-movable.

  He kicked wildly at the man, making contact with Dwight’s shins, but it seemed to make no difference. He dug his nails into Dwight’s claws, pulling, pulling, trying to stave off the darkness that closed in on him as his breath got shorter and shorter, disappearing finally into a dry gasp. His hands dropped to his sides, limp.

  The darkness at last became complete, and Richard surrendered himself up, thinking If this is His will, so be it.

  *

  Dwight let go of the priest, and he dropped to the floor. “If you’d have only learned to mind your own business somewhere along the way, this wouldn’t have happened.” He nudged the priest’s stomach. “It’s all your fault, Father. I can’t be held responsible.”

  “You’d better make sure that fool is dead.”

  “Aunt Adele, I’ve already thought of that.” Dwight headed toward the garage, where he’d left his gun. Surely, the man was dead, but it was better to be sure.

  And a slug in the brain made everything take on a very satisfying air of certainty.

  Dwight opened the garage door and reached in for his gun, which he’d left on a box by the door.

  The first thing he noticed was that the gun was not where he’d left it.

  The next was that both boys were gone.

  Chapter 31

  “This can’t be happening.” Dwight rushed into the garage. A quick glance at the floor showed that the rope and tape he’d used to bind them was there, in a mound on the floor. How did they get loose?

  He bolted for the door leading to the basement, hoping the two pieces of garbage would maybe, just maybe have enough decency in them to free their friends before they got out of there. As he opened the door, he realized that, decency or not, if the boys were smart, they would have left and gotten the police instead of trying to handle things themsel
ves.

  And as he confronted this question, another one hit him as he threw open the door and halted at the top step leading to the basement: What if they’re down there now, waiting for me with my .357 pointed right at these very stairs?

  Dwight stood at the top of the stairs, staring down into the glare of light, which showed nothing but stairs leading into darkness. It would make me an easy target.

  Dwight stepped back out of the doorway.

  Was it over then? Were all of the plans he’d so carefully made, dreamed about, ended so quickly?

  Dwight retreated away from the stairs. Once in the garage, he slipped off his shoes. The only way to enter the basement was quietly.

  Even then, the little monsters might still blow his head off.

  He stood in the middle of the garage, wishing there was a way he could trap them all in the basement and set the house on fire, have it done that way. But there was an exterior door in the back, leading out to some steps that went up to the backyard. He couldn’t possibly have time to block them both…

  And even if he did, what would that accomplish? He had worked so hard to get the little demon, Jimmy.

  “If you had an ounce of sense in that head of yours, you’d jam a wedge under the door in the kitchen and another one outside, then burn the whole place down, be done with it.”

  Dwight bit his lip, hearing his aunt’s voice behind him. He refused to respond to her. She didn’t know anything about what he was doing. How could she understand?

  He’d never given her problems like the little monsters below gave him.

  No, he would not be denied his final confrontation with Jimmy.

  The boy needed to see him once more, to hear the wisdom Dwight could bestow.

  Otherwise, what was the point of the punishment?

  Dwight shook his head. There was no other way than to try to face these monsters on their own terms. And besides, he was stronger than they were.

  And certainly a lot smarter.

  “They can’t best me,” he said out loud, moving toward the circuit breakers mounted on the garage wall. He opened the little grey metal door and flipped the switch for the master circuit breaker.