She continued screaming, and he strangled her.
never
aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh
He looked at the crook of her neck, her sightless open eyes, and the pool of blood around his knees. He let her go, fumbling with the hatch release, falling out onto the gravel and dirt when it gave way. He got up, naked and filthy with her blood, and leaned over and vomited until there was nothing but dry heaves. His brain short-circuited; with effort he attempted to gather his senses, clutching his throat and gasping for breath.
Donna
His stomach heaved again as white fireworks exploded in his vision.
car filled with her blood
He dropped down, curled up into a fetal position, and sobbed – oblivious to the cold and sharp stones.
Moon and stars were positioned differently when he came around. He dressed, retrieved the seat he’d removed, and positioned her body into a neat ball behind it once he had it secured. He covered her snugly with the less-soaked blankets. He looked around for the beer bottles, retrieved them, and eased into the driver’s seat. Retracing the route he’d taken to the construction site, he returned to the highway. Instead of turning back toward town and the restaurant, he headed left toward Johnson Creek and the bridge. As he reached the span he drove to the center, stopped and cut his lights, and got out and looked over the edge of the concrete balustrade. He was over the deepest part of the chasm. Pausing, he peered up and down the road, straining to hear any approaching sounds. Alone in the darkness he walked to the SUV, opened the hatch, protected himself with a clean blanket, unbundled Sally and gathered her corpse in his arms.
He heaved her over the side of the bridge, watching her plummet and be swallowed in a thicket of new forest growth. He checked to make sure he’d left no trace of anything on the bridge or road and casually shut the hatch as he tossed the blanket inside, wincing as he got back in and sat down. He made a u-turn in the middle of the span and drove away.
An hour or so later he arrived in Longview, stopping at an all-night convenience store to purchase a box of trash bags and a cheap pair of work gloves. He tossed the carton of empty and full beers and Sally’s torn shirt into their dumpster. He drove around until he found a deserted car wash and proceeded to scrub the truck inside and out, rear carpeting included. He rinsed the back end until the water ran clear, lifting the edge of the rug to pull out the drain plugs. A couple of times he paused to watch approaching vehicles, resuming his task as they passed. He purchased disposable rags from a vending slot and continued to wipe and polish. He took the blankets and Sally’s other clothes to the Laundromat next door and washed them, completely unobserved due to the time of night. As he pulled one of the blankets from the dryer and realized the wool had shrunk, he dismissed the thought of his sister ever noticing. He wadded Sally’s clean clothes into the bottom of a large trash barrel inside the laundry and mixed them well with lint, candy wrappers, and empty detergent bottles. Outside, beneath a parking lot light, he double-checked his work. Approval met with his crooked half-grin.
As a final touch, he dropped her purse into the dumpster of a nearby grocery along with his work gloves, observing as the items slowly sank into a sea of rotting vegetables. He wearily rubbed his eyes and the back of his neck to help his massive headache.
Dawn was breaking by the time he coasted into Jenny’s driveway. He checked to see if Andy’s patrol car had moved from the position it was in when they’d had dinner. He silently padded up the steps and into the house, happy for the favor he’d left himself by leaving the house unlocked in his earlier stupor. Rebecca brushed out past him as he entered; in his fatigue he failed to notice how she pressed herself against the door frame to avoid his touch. She dashed away with her tail brushed out and hid beneath Andy’s cruiser.
He tiptoed toward his room without turning on any lights, glanced up at the loft, and checked that Jen’s door was shut. He eased his own door closed, slipped off his shoes, and in the dark felt his toes crack as they hit the edge of the bed frame. He cursed silently as he stripped off, stashing his clothes in the trash sack he’d tucked in his pocket. He felt around the closet shelf for his sweats. He lay on the bed, wincing from the tenderness of his skin.
Not long after, Cook was awakened too early by the irate owner of the Village. Rudely informed Sally had not shown up again, he was ordered to get up there and cover for her. As he crawled from his warm bed, he fumed aloud about how Sally had pulled this stunt more than once, most often due to that worthless prick biker boyfriend. He muttered threats – firing to strangling her if it happened again. As he dressed, a small smile cracked his grizzled face. “Vengeance is mine, saith the cook,” he grumbled.
Unlocking the door a half hour late, several scathing remarks from waiting regulars trailed him through the doorway. He in turn brightened their days by referring them to personally investigate places untouched by the sun.
Chris was sound asleep in the early morning when the monitor screen began to glow. In accord the fine strand of blue light materialized at the mouth of the desktop. It groped toward the keyboard, joining a single ray of blue jutting from the tiny gap behind the ENTER key. As the key depressed itself, the strand slowly arched through the air and the end gently came to rest on his forehead, just above the bridge of his nose. Deep in exhaustion, he was undisturbed. The luminous strand separated into two delicate threads, each creeping slowly toward the inner corners of his eyes. Pausing momentarily, they passed through his tear ducts and violated his brain.
The digits on the meter blurred and a wisp of smoke floated from the rear vent of the computer tower.
The photo glass became a maze of infinite blue cracks, the white spot covering Donna from breast to knee.
His dream took him back to the crystal bed. As he entered the room, his naked skin was bathed in the same blue luminosity that filtered across the bedcovers. The frame of the bed sparkled as if inlaid with diamonds and sapphires; the fabric panels billowed gently from an unfelt breeze. He could see through the sheers a woman sitting on the side of the bed and an infant lying in the center. He wanted to go to them.
His steps fell one after the other, but he was never able to close the distance. He stretched forth his arm and tried to call to them, but no sound escaped his lips. He watched as she tenderly lifted the baby and cuddled it, placing it to her breast to suckle. His mouth watered and his penis swelled.
Wrestling with himself in the dream, he finally progressed in making his way to the bed. He stood watching the mother and child, clearly hearing every suckle of the infant. He ran his tongue across his lips with desire. Able to reach out and grasp one of the posts of the bed, it was cold as ice and his skin froze to it. He worked to free himself and realized he was in turn being watched.
He slowly raised his gaze to the mother and child. In the same instant he recognized Donna he saw neither she nor the infant had eyes.
He screamed as his own sight went black.
Chapter Seven
if Andy was still asleep. Easing out from under the covers, she silently opened her closet door and grabbed some clothes. She padded to the door and opened it a crack, looking and listening. All clear, she scampered to the bathroom. Safe from scrutiny she enjoyed a soothing bath, renewing herself from the previous evening. She applied a minimum of makeup and thoroughly brushed her hair, smiling at the finished image. Tidying the bath, she headed for the kitchen to begin breakfast.
Grateful to see they’d left things fairly clean in proportion to the amount of alcohol consumed the night before, she readied the coffee maker and wandered into the living room, lured by warm rays of morning sunlight. Streaming in through the windows, they painted colored patterns on the rug as they passed through her stained glass pieces. She gazed at the stillness and beauty of the lake. Hazy mist hung suspended over the water surface with a silvery glow. Returning to work, at the table she arranged plates and silverware with flair. Raiding the pantry for some of her homemade plum jelly, she prodded the
depth of the fridge for some genuine butter she’d been hoarding. She’d just placed her hand on a pound of cold bacon when a knock on the kitchen door startled her.
Delbert James stood outside, apologizing to her as she opened the door. He looked relieved when she asked him to come in. He seated himself at the dining table and accepted a cup from her, repositioning his butt on the seat cushion as she sat across from him. Shirt button strained fabric over his prominent belly.
“Real nice place here, Jenny. I remember when your folks got it when it wasn’t much.”
“Thanks.”
He sipped his coffee. “I know you’re wonderin’ why I come by.” He took another sip. “Well, I’ll tell you. You know how careful I am about my meter readin’s. I gotta tell you, when I came by here yesterday mornin’ to read your meter it was actin’ mighty crazy. I watched it for a few minutes and it seemed to sorta straighten out, but since I didn’t know how much or long it mighta been actin’ up I decided I’d have the office specially pull your bill and check it out. And, well, to be honest, after I seen it I thought I should bring it out here in person and see if I could do anythin’ to help.” He reached into the breast pocket of his uniform jacket and withdrew a paper.
Taking it from him, she gasped when she saw the ‘amount due’. Her cozy home was fairly efficient and normal bills ranged from fifty to seventy-five dollars; this one was almost three hundred. “Are you sure this is right?”
He shook his head sadly. “I double and triple checked. I even checked Andy’s meter next door to see if something might be wrong all ‘round. The only thing I could think of was to ask you if you had any old appliances in here that might be fixin’ to go out. This place ain’t young anymore, you know.”
“I do, but most all the appliances are only five or six years old. Mom replaced them as a gift for me one year.” She stared at the bill, as if the numbers might somehow transpose themselves into a smaller amount.
“I really don’t know what to tell you.” He set his cup on the table and folded his hands together. “If you’d like I’d be happy to come back out here on my own time and check things out.”
“Maybe that would be helpful.” She shook her head. “There must be something wrong. I think the hot water tank’s the oldest – I just don’t know. What I do know is how limited my budget is.”
Delbert stood and hitched up his pants, the legs necessarily baggy from the girth required to span his waist. “I’ll try to stop back by soon to see if I can find any drains. I wish I could do more, but at least if I can help you find somethin’ then maybe your next one won’t be such a whopper.”
She trailed him to the door as he turned to face her, an unusually serious expression on his face. “I’m really not kiddin’. You be careful, cause if somethin’s drainin’ that much juice it could be a fire hazard.”
She smiled bravely and patted his arm. “Thanks for your concern, Delbert. I really appreciate it. See you soon.” Closing the door behind him, she turned around to find Andy had sneaked into the kitchen and stood right behind her. She jumped with a little yelp.
He grinned, reached for her, and kissed the top of her head.
A short time later, Chris awoke. He rolled over in the bed and sat on the edge, feeling awful, head throbbing. He stood and abruptly sat down as his stomach lurched in protest. He tried again, this time a little more slowly, and succeeded in remaining upright. Stepping to the door, he opened it and heard Jenny laughing somewhere beyond the kitchen. He eased down the hall, glimpsing her and Andy at the table. Using the wall as cover, he raised his voice as much as his head would permit and said, “Morning. Just going to take a quick bath.”
Jenny looked in the direction of his voice, frowning. “That’s fine, your breakfast will wait – anything wrong?”
He attempted to sound casual. “Nah, I’ll be there in a few.” He didn’t want to tell her his stomach would not allow him to even consider the idea of putting food into it.
He started a warm bath and went back to his room. As he was making the bed, he bent over to inspect some tiny brown spots that weren’t part of the pattern of the sheet. They seemed to be loose dirt and he flicked them away. When he finished he noticed the trash bag in the corner of the closet and absently wondered what it was. He stooped to open it and gagged from the stench of the dirty garments inside. A wave of recollection flowed through his mind but receded quickly, as something remembered but not important enough to be filed for retrieval. Stomach acid tried to rise in his throat as he stuffed the sack back into obscurity. He covered it with shoes, boots, and other dirty clothes, making a mental note to put everything in the washer after his bath and before his sister chanced upon the nasty surprise. He swallowed hard, wincing at the taste.
Returning to the bath, he locked the door and shut off the faucet. As he stripped, he was frozen by his reflection in the full-length mirror. From mid-chest to knees he was smeared with caked, dried blood. Once again that intangible feeling teased him, part of him knowing where the blood came from but the rest unwilling to acknowledge. He turned his sweats inside out for inspection, and saw they were soiled with only the dried flakes he’d discovered in his bed. He concluded that wherever the blood came from, he’d gotten into it while dressed in the other clothes. A knot twisted into the pit of his stomach. Righting the sweats, he dropped them in the corner and then lowered himself into the steamy water. As he soaked he took a washcloth and began cleansing his face. When he touched the corners of his eyes the knot in his stomach went into a spasm. Shit oh shit oh shit. He cried out very softly. Folding the cloth into a damp rectangle, he applied the warm compress, and with some relief the soreness and spasm began to ease. The blood disintegrated; he lathered with soap, wincing at the tenderness and the myriad of tiny scratches on his skin. What the hell.
Wrapping a large bath towel around his waist, he went through the motions of shaving as he tried to rethink the amount of alcohol he’d consumed the night before. He made sure the bathroom was tidy and picked up the soiled clothes, striding across the hall and locking his bedroom door behind him. Retrieving the bag from the closet he added to it his sweats and the towel, keeping the bag out of range of his nose. Once dressed he hefted the filth and carried it to the utility room adjacent to the kitchen. Hearing him, Jenny asked, “Feeling better? You didn’t sound so good a while ago.”
He situated the clothes in the washer, certain that the worst were at the bottom. “Yeah, the bath helped,” he called back. He added an abundance of detergent and started the machine. He twisted the trash bag into a tight wad and thrust it deep into the garbage can beneath the kitchen sink.
He faked a smile as he joined them. “Good morning – how are you two?” while he stifled a sour belch.
“Pretty good. Breakfast?”
“Just some coffee for right now, thanks.” He helped himself to the pot, and as he paused for the cup to cool he pressed his eyelids with his fingertips, grateful that the soreness was easing. He sighed and looked out the window.
“We were just talking about having a cookout on the beach today. What do you think of that?” said Jenny.
He said with a sigh, “Sure. I need to go over there anyway. There’s still something I have to do.” His voice was softer, a little sad.
“I’m sorry,” his sister said as she rose and went to him. “I didn’t forget either. It’s best that you get it over with, you know.” She brushed the hair from his forehead.
They sat back down at the table together and planned the day. Chris began to relax, the knot in his stomach easing and the conversation lightening his mind. He ventured a laugh, but it made his head throb. “Ahhh . . . got a beaut of a headache. Got anything extra-strength? Am I the only one with a hangover?”
She looked at him, reminding him of the way she looked when he was seven and she nursed him through colds and flu. “In the cabinet over by the sink. I’ll get it for you.”
Karin came down the loft steps, her sweats rumpled and her hair
disarrayed. “I need some too, Jen. I’ve had this damn headache for two days.”
“You never have headaches,” Jenny said as she put a couple of tablets in Karin’s hand.
“I know – weird, huh? I fell asleep on the floor by the fire last night and woke up sometime and went to bed. Maybe I have something out in my back.”
“Want a neck rub?” offered Chris. He moved to stand behind her after she’d nodded and began a gentle massage.
“Ow!”
“You’ve got a neck full of knots,” he soothed. No more sleeping on the floor for you.”
“Yeah, well, I still feel like I could throw up. I’m supposed to work the afternoon shift today, too.”
Chris rubbed and held her head gently to stretch out her neck muscles. “Why don’t you call in sick and come to the beach with us instead?”
Blue Macabre Page 7
