Before leaving, Connor turned the car on, exposing Addison to the heater. He turned around and headed back into the woods.
He found the cocksucker right where he left him. He had regained consciousness, but was just lying there, wheezing and looking up at the sky. There was a knife nearby in the snow. He picked it up and walked over to the monster. There were no words to say. There was nothing. He grabbed the guy’s hair and yanked his head up, then slit his throat and watched as all of the life drained from his body.
Connor tossed the knife in a bush and returned to the car. He drove away without saying a word, Addison in the back, equally quiet.
DAY
TWO
MAGGOT
Chapter Twelve
Wherein We Meet the Fly
Johnny was in the kitchen the first time he saw the Fly.
He was standing at the counter, drinking a glass of water. It was pretty late, around three in the morning. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately. Mostly just bouncing back and forth against the walls in his room, singing old TV theme songs, and smacking himself across the face. It was his little way of clawing the bad thoughts from his mind. So far no success, but there was still time.
He took a sip and it caught in his throat. He gagged, wrenching, and coughed out a glob of purple phlegm.
And the Fly. Came buzzing right out of his throat.
It landed on the brim of his glass, just staring at him.
When It spoke, it was hell trying not to drop it.
“Hello, Johnny.”
He wasn’t sure how to respond, or if he should at all for that matter. Conversing with insects was a whole new territory for him.
“It’s okay, I’m not used to conversing with humans, either.”
It seemed almost as if the Fly’s words were forming in his head. But he wasn’t the one thinking them up. Or was he?
“If I were to speak aloud you would never possess the precise hearing functions required to understand me. Instead, I am sending my thoughts directly to your brain, and vice-versa. I think it is much easier this way, do you not?”
This was just a figment of his imagination. Ever since those grape-throwing Goths had introduced him to the purple, he’d been seeing a lot of weird shit. Just hallucinations. Johnny scratched an infected sore on his neck and wondered why it had to be a fly of all things.
“Why, of all things, do you have to be a boy?”
“Touché,” Johnny whispered.
He stood there for a while, just looking down at the Fly, wondering if It was going to say anything else or if he had only imagined the whole thing after all. So he said, “Well, what do you want?”
“Ultimate destruction.”
“Yeah, who doesn’t?” Johnny sniggered. Then he thought if anyone were to walk in right now, they’d catch him standing there in the middle of the kitchen, holding a glass of water and laughing at nothing. He did his best to form a straight face.
“I also want to save the world, though I can understand how those two goals could contradict themselves. But what do they say about sacrifices? Yes. Sometimes tragedies are necessary to prevent complete horror.”
Johnny wasn’t sure what to say about that. He just wanted to go back up to his room and sleep. Maybe do some more purple first. Jerk off a little.
“Imagine your life existing within the confines of a sandcastle.”
“A sandcastle?”
“Yes. And one day the tide washes it all away. All that hard work is now nothing, thanks to one little wave.”
“’Kay.”
“But let me ask you, what if that wave hadn’t been so innocent? What if, instead of merely wiping out your puny sandcastle, it had grown to the colossal proportions of a tsunami, and it destroyed an entire city? A state? A country? A world?”
“Tsunamis aren’t that powerful,” Johnny pointed out. “You are one ill-informed bug.”
“You’re missing the point, Johnny. What would you rather have happen? The destruction of the sandcastle or the extermination of the city?”
“Uh, I don’t know, probably the sandcastle.”
“Right. So, let me ask you this question again, a little differently.”
“‘Kay.”
“Would you be willing to sacrifice your life, along with others, for the greater good?”
“The greater good?”
“Yes, Johnny. The greater good.”
“What’s the greater good?”
“It means you’d be saving the world, dummy. Don’t you want that?”
“I don’t know.” Johnny thought about it for a moment. “Saving it from what?”
“Demonic possessions, among other things. Mainly you would be dealing with the highest ranks leading Lucifer’s army of evil.”
“Whoa, man, hold up, that sounds kind of dangerous.”
“It’s highly dangerous! You would have to sacrifice yourself! You do know the definition of the word ‘sacrifice’, right?”
“Wait, you mean I’d have to die?” All of a sudden Johnny did not like where this was heading. This insect was nothing but bad news.
“Yes, you’d have to die. You’d have to kill. You’d have to serve your planet for the greater good.”
“Or what?”
“Or else all is lost.”
“Which means?” It was amazing to him how bugs always beat around the bush like that. Why couldn’t they just come out and say what they were getting at for once? Jesus Christ.
“Which means the world ceases to exist! The Army of the Dead prevails and everything succumbs to darkness!”
“And that will happen unless I kill myself?”
“In so many words; yes.”
“Oh.” Johnny took his eyes away from the glass of water and examined the empty kitchen. He wondered once again if he was still dreaming. He returned his stare back to the Fly in the water. “Well, I think I’m gonna have to pass.”
“What? You can’t pass.”
“Sorry, dude.” Johnny raised the glass to his mouth and finished off the rest of the water, swallowing the Fly along with it. It screeched in agony as It was dragged down his throat into the acidic purgatory of his stomach.
“I gotta stop taking drugs,” he whispered to the refrigerator, and went back up to his room to sleep. In the morning he had forgotten all about his late-night encounter with the Fly. It was a Saturday, so he spent most of the day taking hits of Jericho and playing the piano in the living room. It didn’t occur to him until later that his family didn’t own a single musical instrument. What the hell had he been playing?
Chapter Thirteen
Dirt that Doesn’t Wash Away
Addison awoke early in the morning, curled in Connor’s arms. She tried to convince herself last night was just the scene of a very nasty nightmare, but it didn’t do any good. She lay there in bed and didn’t move. Her stone cold eyes stared ahead into the darkness. The warmth of her boyfriend’s arms gave little comfort.
She hadn’t even moved yet and was already feeling the pain. She wondered how badly she was torn, how much damage there was. She had bled between her legs for a while. Everything had gone so bad so fast. It was all fucked.
Last night after leaving Walgreens, Connor had driven straight to the hospital. He parked in the lot and just sat there, staring at the steering wheel for a while. Addison was still in the backseat, whimpering. She sat up, gasping at the pain and the shock of the situation.
“Did you kill him?” she had asked. He didn’t answer. She leaned forward and saw his hands still gripped around the steering wheel. They were covered in blood. “You killed him.” This time it wasn’t a question.
“I couldn’t let him be,” he whispered. “I just couldn’t.”
She squeezed his shoulder. Tears blinded her. “Thank you.”
Connor cleared his throat. “Can you walk, or do you want me to go get a wheelchair?”
The idea of going into the hospital made her shake. She thought about all the nurses
and doctors putting their hands on her. Like the guy in the woods. He’d had his hands all over her. Grabbing her. Rubbing her. Squeezing her. Now she was expected to go inside this building and let others grab her. No. Fuck that. She couldn’t do it. No way.
“I don’t wanna go.”
Connor looked over his shoulder at her. “You have to go. You’re hurt. You’ve been attacked.”
She trembled harder, lips quivering. “Please. Don’t make me go. I don’t want them to see me.”
Connor rubbed his eyes, then winced. He held his hands out and stared at the blood. He looked back at Addison. “I don’t know what to do, Addy. I just don’t know.”
“Neither do I.”
“I think we need to go inside the hospital. This isn’t right.”
Addison stared at the building outside the car window. The rain had let up some, albeit a little too late. She tried visualizing walking into the hospital lobby and approaching the front desk and telling the clerk that someone had just raped her. That someone had chased her through the woods and violated her. Then, afterward, her boyfriend had killed him. She tried to imagine what kind of reaction the front desk clerk would make and every possibility made her want to vomit.
She turned back to Connor, crying harder now. “Please…can we please just…just go to your place? I…I can’t…I can’t fucking do this…I just can’t…”
“Yeah.” Connor stared at his hands again. “Okay. We’ll go. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Addy.”
He drove back to his house. Connor had helped her into the shower and, following her wishes, left her alone while she tended to her injuries. Every muscle she moved sent a volt of pain through her body. It was like walking on knives in a room swallowed by fire.
It took her forever, washing all that blood off. Some of it crusted onto her skin, not wanting to come off for the life of her. Afterwards she inspected herself in the mirror, wiping away the fog and wincing at the beaten girl it revealed. Her eye was severely swollen, black and blue—nose just as bad. At least it wasn’t bleeding anymore, wasn’t broken or anything. She was lucky her nipple hadn’t been ripped completely off.
She stood there awhile, just looking at herself. The tainted touch of the monster glowed over her skin. A radioactive infection of disgust. She saw the trails his hands had made, where they had squeezed. She saw where he had entered her, where he had licked her. Addison turned around and hurried back into the shower, twisting the knob frantically until the water was practically steaming. Her flesh became red as she washed all the filth away. But no matter how hard and fast she scrubbed, the shame wouldn’t leave. It remained there, eating at her soul—a stigma of the worst sort.
There was an embarrassing limp to her walk as she left the bathroom and headed to the bedroom. Connor was in there waiting. He helped her into bed and crawled next to her, holding her. An hour or so later she managed to find sleep. It was a sleep fueled by the same scene stuck on repeat. Over and over, she felt the pain, the fright—the horror.
Now it was morning and Addison was still just as traumatized from the night before. She hadn’t so much as changed her pattern of breathing yet when Connor asked, softly, “You’re awake, aren’t you?”
“You sure he’s dead?” Addison said.
Connor’s arms tense around her. “We gotta talk.”
“Not yet.”
“Okay.”
“Wanna be quiet for a little longer.”
He kissed the back of her head. Her body shivered at the brief contact. The gesture was faint, but still present: she had pulled away from him. She hoped he hadn’t noticed.
They lay in silence for about an hour longer. There was the sound of the front door opening in the living room, and Connor said, “I think my dad’s home.”
“Yeah,” Addison said.
Ten more minutes passed.
Then he said, voice kind of cracking, clearly fed up with the silence, “What can I do for you, Addy? I just don’t know what to say. I think you should go to the hospital, something. Let me drive you.”
She stayed quiet. She didn’t want to talk. Why couldn’t she just lie here in silence? How fucking difficult was that to understand?
“Will you at least let me look?” Connor asked. “I don’t even know what all he did to you.”
“What do you think?”
“I know, but it was dark. Did he cut you, too?” He paused. “I…I found a knife.”
“No, no cuts. Can we please not talk about this?”
“Okay,” Connor said. “But we’re gonna have to, you know? Something has to be done.”
“What’s done is done,” she said, trying not to cry again.
“I’m not so sure about that.”
There was another lingering moment of just lying there, thinking about last night, about life in general. Then she said, “You killed him.”
“I had to,” Connor said.
“I know.”
“Okay.”
“Are you sure he’s dead for good?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“How did you do it?”
Connor paused. “Let’s just lie here for a while.”
* * * * *
Later in the afternoon, Addison woke up to an empty bed. It felt colder in the room without him there. Made her feel silly for pulling away from his kiss earlier. It wasn’t that he repulsed her or anything, it was just the gesture in general. Too soon, she thought, way too soon. All it did was bring back the crazed man from last night, how he had kissed her too, but instead of affection it had been out of greed. And so much more.
Evil.
So much evil.
She shivered.
Addison slowly worked her way out of the bed and walked with a slight limp to the bedroom, wincing with each step.
Connor was in the kitchen, hands folded out on the table, staring at the wall in concentration.
She sat down across from him and gave a weak smile. “Hi.”
“How’re you feeling?”
She didn’t see a reason to hide the truth. “It hurts,” she said. “Bad.”
“I’m sorry. Let me take you to the ER, okay?”
Addison sighed. “Connor, I don’t want to do that.”
“Why not?”
She looked at him.
“I’m just worried something bad will happen if you don’t get some treatment, you know?”
“Something bad already happened.”
He made a grimace like he was choking back a tear. “The bleeding stop?”
“Yeah.”
“Addy, tell me the truth. How bad are you hurt?”
She thought about it for a minute, remembering her inspection in front of the mirror from last night. “It’s pretty ugly, but I think it’ll heal by itself. Maybe some ointment, I don’t know. Hurts worse than it looks.”
She lowered her head. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, for Christ’s sake. Didn’t he understand that she just did not want to talk about this, ever?
“You’re positive you don’t want to go?”
“Connor, please.”
“Okay, I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “You want some coffee?”
“That’d be nice. Your dad sleeping?”
Connor’s dad worked a night job. He was a good man, but mostly kept to himself. Hardly said anything to Addison; same went toward Connor. He was a man in perpetual mourning; the death of his marriage still hit him as if it had happened only yesterday.
“Yeah,” Connor said, pouring two cups of coffee and stirring the necessary cream and sugar in it. He set one down in front of Addison and placed three pills beside it. “The ibuprofen…from last night. And a Vicodin that I stole from my dad.”
“Thanks.” She swallowed the tablets. She noticed he was just standing there, looking at her. “Connor, please, I’ll be fine. It’s just going to take a little bit for me to recover from this, okay? I’m alive, the guy’s dead. There’s nothing else anyone can do about it.”
; “Well…” He trailed off and pointed at her chest.
She looked down, saw the circle of red forming at the tip of her nipple, and frowned. “Oh.” She sighed. “Can you please get me a couple Band-Aids and some peroxide? Maybe a bag of ice for my eye, too?”
He didn’t say anything, just remained where he was, face slack, his eyes red and sore. This was one of the main reasons she didn’t want to go to the hospital. She hated that look. She’d experienced it enough last time she was stuck in the emergency room.
“Connor? Hello?”
He snapped out of it and wiped his eyes. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “Anything you want. I’m here for you. Always.”
* * * * *
After tending to her wounds, Connor drove her home. Neither said anything. He pulled to the curb and just parked there, both of them sitting still, thinking.
Then Connor said, “I think I’m gonna have to hide out for a while. Maybe leave the state.”
Addison turned her head. “What? Why?”
“I killed someone, Addy. Sooner or later they’ll find the body.”
“Yeah, but I was being attacked. You saved me…”
“An attack we still haven’t even reported? Kinda suspicious, don’t you think?”
She closed her eyes. She hadn’t even begun to consider what would happen to him as a result of all this. “Well, if it comes to that, then I’ll show them what he did to me.”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “I know,” he said, “but there’s something else.”
“What?”
“There has to be a camera outside of Walgreens, right?”
“Yeah, so it has the recording of that creep chasing me,” Addison said, a little hopeful.
“But it also shows us coming to the car and me leaving you in the backseat. It’ll show that I went back to finish the job. They’ll know we could have gotten away without killing him, but I still went back, anyway. I could get convicted of murder. I can’t go to prison, Addy. I just can’t. You know?”
She didn’t say anything at first. If it wasn’t one thing it was something else. The passenger window was frosted over, shining her distorted reflection back at her. This was the same place she’d been sitting when that monster had grabbed her. There was still blood on the seat. She wondered how much of his cheek was scraped into her fingernails.
Toxicity Page 8
