Toxicity

by Max Booth III

  “SHE’S GONE! NOW WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?”

  “There’s no need to be so hostile. Just make sure you report to work tomorrow. Eight o’clock sharp at the Booth Bacon Packing factory. Be there or be…in jail.”

  Maddox hung the phone up and tossed it on the counter. “Benny, are you going to heat that knife or what?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m doing it, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Benny flicked on the stove and ran the blade carefully through the blue flame until it glistened into a charcoaled black. “Why am I doing this again?”

  Maddox soaked his flesh with more of the whiskey, pouring the last quarter of the bottle down his throat. It was a blissful burn. He grabbed the knife and exhaled. He pressed the burnt end of the blade against the bullet hole, which had widened considerably during his metallic scavenger hunt. A crazed yell escaped his lungs as he cauterized the wound, leaving behind a messy, raggedy scab.

  Maddox dropped the knife and backed away, collapsing down at the kitchen table. He leaned his head back, eyes closed, panting, trying his best not to think. Thinking about not thinking—an agonizing paradox.

  “Benny.”

  “Yes, Mads?” Benny was still at the counter, gaping at all the blood staining his sink.

  “You got any gauze or anything?”

  “I think so.”

  “Get it.”

  “’Kay.”

  Maddox licked his lips, wishing he hadn’t wasted those cookies. His shoulder still hurt like a sonofabitch, but he knew it would recover with time. Given the circumstances, he thought he did a pretty good job. Maddox had learned a lot of valuable info in prison.

  He glanced over at the phone on the counter. It’d been nearly twenty-four hours since he’d last spoken to his daughter. He suddenly felt a strong urge to call her. But she would probably only ask about money. How was he supposed to break it to her that he was practically a dead man? That he wouldn’t be able to free her like he had promised, after all? This realization hurt a thousand times more than the hole in his shoulder. He couldn’t let it happen. He didn’t know how, but he would find a way out of this jam. He would not disappoint his daughter again.

  Benny entered the kitchen carrying a roll of gauze. He caught Maddox staring at the phone. “Expecting a call?”

  “Not really,” Maddox said, taking the gauze and wrapping it around his arm. He felt like a mummy.

  “You know,” Benny said, sitting down across from his brother, “I forgot to tell you, but earlier this morning some chick called asking about you. It was like really early, though, and you were still sleeping, so I didn’t think you would’ve wanted me to wake you up…”

  Maddox’s head shot up. “What? When was this?”

  “I dunno, man. Way early. Like, almost nine.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She asked to speak to you. I said you were sleeping and you needed to rest because you had a big important job later, so I wasn’t allowed to disturb you until it was show time.”

  “I never once said that, Benny.”

  “But it was implied.”

  “How the hell was it implied?”

  “I dunno—it just was. Anyhow, I tried telling her you’d call back but she had already hung up. Who do you suppose that was, huh? You do have a girl waiting for you, don’t you, you sly dog you? Shit, man, why didn’t you say something in the first place? I would have never had to rent that fuckin’ bitch succubus if I’d known that. Just think, you’d still have your car!”

  “That was my daughter, you idiot,” Maddox said.

  “Oh, right.”

  “What’s today? Sunday?”

  “I think so.” Benny nodded. “I’m pretty sure my Starbucks suspension ends this week. Or maybe it was last week. Who knows. Why?”

  Sunday meant no school, which meant that Addison would most likely be home. He thought it’d be a nice surprise to drop over unexpectedly. He didn’t think he’d have the heart to break the bad news, but at least they’d be able to spend one last moment together. Maybe they could go out for coffee again. That had been nice last time. He did have about eighty bucks left from his change at McDonald’s.

  It might also be his last chance to murder the hell out of that bastard Del.

  The little things in life, that’s what kept you going.

  Chapter Thirty

  An Asswarts T-Shirt Can Only

  Get You So Far

  Connor swung the Ford Fiesta into the parking lot and pulled to a stop next to a dumpster. It was filled to the brim with moldy furniture. It was always like that. Even after garbage day, not even two days later and someone was dragging out an old broken chair or a loveseat some dog pissed on.

  “Why’d you park way over here?” Addison was asking.

  Killing the engine, Connor said, “For all we know, your parents were discovered and the police already have an APB out on you.”

  “What the hell is an APB?”

  “All points bulletin.” He gave her a pitiful look. “Have you never seen an episode of COPS?”

  Addison craned her neck to the windshield and peered toward the apartment building. “No one is here.”

  “Exactly. Makes me suspicious. Ten bucks says there’s a Green Beret or something hiding over there in that bush, waiting for you to walk past so he can inject you with a sleeping tranquilizer.”

  Addison snorted. “You definitely need to stop watching so much TV.”

  “Yeah, well, you need to, um, shut up,” Connor countered.

  They got out of the car and approached the building, pausing at the door. Addison tiled her head up, spying on the third-story window of her living room. The room appeared completely dark, as if some great devil had taken over as tenant. She cleared her throat, gaping at this distressing darkness, this cave that seemed to welcome her with cold hands, and she suddenly had an urge to flee back to the car.

  And she would have, too, if Connor hadn’t sneaked his arm around her. “You all right?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t go up there.”

  “Well, why don’t you just wait out here then? I’ll go in,” he said. “Tell me what you need.”

  “You sure?”

  “Of course.” He kissed her on the side of the head, strands of hair sticking to his lips. “I wouldn’t want to go up there, either.”

  But he went up there, anyway. He left Addy waiting outside, leaning against the residential mailbox with a light gust of snow whirling in the air. She noticed someone had scribbled on the metal, in sloppy block letters:

  JEROME WAS HERE! NO LONGER LIVES THE WHITE MAN! BLACK POWER!

  And below that, in a different colored marker, was:

  NIGGERS LYNCHED 5/18

  And then, below that, was:

  BELLA FANGS EDWARD (AND SO DO I! OMG!)

  God, she hated this neighborhood. For the seven or so years they’d live here, she couldn’t remember it being nice at all. Nothing but crack dealers, junior KKKs, and Twilight fanatics. Despicable.

  She stood there in the cold with her arms crossed, shivering, wishing he would hurry up. They didn’t really need to come here, but he had insisted. He told her she couldn’t live the rest of her life with just the clothes on her back. An Asswarts T-shirt could only get you so far.

  “I’ll buy more,” she said.

  But he said they were going to need to save all the money they could get their hands on. Anything they could salvage for free, they must. It was going to be a long, bumpy road ahead, and they needed all the breaks they could manage. According to Connor, it was a tad bit difficult to get away with murder.

  How could that be considered murder? They were just kids, for Christ’s sake. In the wrong place and the wrong time. They weren’t murderers.

  “Yeah,” Connor had chuckled on the drive over, “try telling a judge that.”

  Now here they were, a body count of two. Both monsters. Both deserved what they got. She thought about it and decided it was a pity the deed ha
dn’t been committed sooner.

  They needed money. It wasn’t like they could just hop on the back of a train and go wherever it took them. She didn’t want to turn out to be some lousy panhandler. Addison was better than that.

  So where would they go? She had never even left the state before, travelled only through magazines. She remembered seeing numerous photos of this beach somewhere in California. It’d looked absolutely beautiful. She had never seen the ocean in person before, but judging from the pictures, nothing else compared.

  She wanted to be on that beach, wherever it was. She wanted to kick her shoes off and feel the hot sand pounding into the soles of her feet as she ran toward the sea. She wanted to dive into the water and float with the fish, and then she would finally know what freedom was.

  She could practically smell the salt from here.

  Standing there outside the apartment building, thinking about California, Addison smiled.

  It was then she heard the footsteps gaining in on her, heavy in the snow, and a voice: “Addy? That you?”

  Addison snapped out of her reverie just in time to spot a man in a black T-shirt and blue jeans walking her way. It took her a minute to recognize him without the Cubs cap and jean jacket. Either way, it was still her father.

  Leave it up to her luck to have a convict as a dad. An ignorant heroin addict as a mother. An abusive molester as a stepfather. A dead baby whom was doomed right from the womb as a little sister.

  Hell, this guy may have been her only living relative in the world. And she barely even knew him.

  Addison cleared her throat. “Da—Daddy?”

  He paused a moment, probably waiting for his heart to catch back up to him, and continued toward her.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” Maddox said, smiling. “What’re you doing out here? Aren’t you cold?”

  “What about you?” she asked. “At least I have a hoodie.”

  He looked down at his own appearance and shrugged. “The walk kept my blood running.”

  “You walked here? Where’s your car?”

  Maddox studied his frosted-over boots. “Stolen. It’s a long story."

  There was a bulge under his shirtsleeve. It revealed a tiny snip of what could only be a large bandage. A dark brownish splotch was staining through.

  “What happened to your arm? Are you hurt?”

  “Nah, I’m fine. Just got shot.”

  “What? Who shot you?”

  “My brother,” Maddox said. “Like I said, it’s a long story.”

  “I see.” At least he wasn’t the only living relative left. Or, on second thought: “What’d you do to him?”

  “Do to who?”

  “Your brother.”

  “Nothing,” Maddox said. “Where’s Del? I need to speak to him.”

  Addison tried to clear her throat but only ended up choking on her own air. “Why? Do you have the money?”

  He shook his head. “I just have to talk to him.”

  “About what?”

  “Never you mind.”

  Then she had an idea. “Are you going to kill him?”

  “What if I am?”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  “Why not?”

  Addison struggled with what to say next. She thought about telling him the situation, spilling the beans and showing him the corpses upstairs in the apartment. But what if he freaked out and called the police? How would he look at her knowing what had been done?

  “Just…don’t,” she said.

  She broke down in tears. Maddox stepped forward and she allowed him to hug her. It was surprisingly comforting.

  “Killing him is just going to make things worse,” she said. “You’ll go to jail. I’ll be sent to a home. I can’t do this. I just can’t do this. Please. Just, just get the money, okay? I don’t want anyone else dead. I can’t handle this anymore. I just want out. I want to be free.”

  Maddox gently patted her on the back. “I will, sweetheart,” he said. “I promise you I am going to make everything okay. I’m on my way now to this man who might be able to help us. It’ll be all right, Addison. Daddy is here for you.”

  She returned the hug, squeezing him for dear life. For a moment, it felt like he had never gone to prison, that he had always been there for her.

  “I should probably be leaving now,” Maddox was saying, drawing away. “I’m sure he’s expecting me.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be back, sweetheart. I love you.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Benny Gets an Idea

  People were becoming smarter with their cars. There were just way too many goddamn alarms on these things. Maddox tried almost the entirety of the Wal-Mart parking lot before giving up. He started walking down the street and, to his amazement, spotted a cab passing by. He hailed it down and gave the cabbie his desired location and off they went.

  He stepped inside the Sting knowing there was a good chance he’d never leave it again.

  Sorry, Addy, he thought, as the desk clerk led him downstairs to the lair of King.

  The boss himself was already sitting at his desk waiting for him. It only took a second to see that Maddox’s hands were empty. No Jericho, no money, no anything. Just a soul for the killing.

  Vincent King sighed. “You screwed up, didn’t you?”

  Maddox nodded. “Kind of.”

  * * * * *

  Benny heard a rumbling and ventured out on his porch just in time to see the giant yellow Hummer pulling to a stop in front of his trailer.

  And to his astonishment, his older brother was stepping out of the passenger seat, completely alive.

  Zombie? Benny wondered hopefully, but decided against it..

  “Mads?” He watched as his brother and a muscular black man walked toward him. He didn’t know this guy, whoever he was. He wore a white tank-top, tinted sunglasses, a black fedora, and gray dress pants. He looked like a man you didn’t want to piss off.

  “Who’s this?” Benny asked. They just pushed pass him through the door and headed straight for the kitchen. “Well, all right,” he said, following them inside. They were already at the fridge, drinking all his beer. People were always drinking his beer. And they weren’t even ghosts!

  Unless…

  “Mads, tell me the truth.” Benny sat down at the table. “Are you a zombie?”

  “Benny, shut up.”

  “Okay.”

  Maddox grabbed two more beers and joined him at the table. The black man remained standing by the fridge, ready to tear both their heads off at a moment’s notice. Benny now understood how his brother had felt when he introduced him to that deceiving bitch of a lot lizard.

  “So…what’s going on?” he asked, breaking the irritating silence. He hated not being filled in on a situation. It made him feel like a child.

  Maddox took another swig of booze. “Well, he gave me twenty-four hours to come up with the money…or else.”

  “Whoa,” Benny said, “that was nice of him.”

  “It’s a million dollars, Benny.”

  “Oh.”

  “Twenty-four hours, that’s all we have. If I don’t have the money by then, I die.” He gestured over to the fridge. “You see that guy there? His name is Winston. He’s King’s personal bodyguard. He’s going to basically be babysitting us until this time tomorrow. If we’re still a mil short, he’s the one that gets to kill us. Isn’t that right, Winston?”

  Winston nodded.

  “I think he might be a mute,” Maddox said. “Guy hasn’t said a single word the whole drive over here. I don’t know what’s with him.”

  “He scares me,” Benny said.

  “Me too.”

  “How are you gonna come up with the money?”

  “Well, I figured we’d go out and rob ourselves a couple of banks.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah, Benny, ‘we’.” Maddox finished off his beer. “Don’t you remember that little talk you gave
me before? This is a ‘we’ situation, correct? Then we are going to go rob some banks. And we’re not going to stop until we have a million dollars, understand?”

  “Dude, it’s Sunday,” Benny said.

  “So?”

  “So, the banks are closed.”

  “Oh,” Maddox said. “Well, shit.”

  And just like that, their plan was ruined.

  They were stumped. Doomed. Well, at least Maddox was. Benny didn’t see any reason why Mr. King would kill him, as well. He was innocent. He just wanted fries, for Christ’s sake!

  Then Benny had an idea. And it was actually a good one.

  “What about one of those currency exchange places?” he asked. “Maybe not as much money as a bank, but I’m sure it’s still a lot, right?”

  Maddox raised his eyebrow. “Whatever you’re doing differently,” he said, “Keep doing it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Obey the Fly or All Will Die

  Johnny sat in his chair, staring at the computer screen in disbelief.

  He had to hand it to her—the bitch was fast. He guessed that came with the territory of being the Lord of Darkness.

  He sat there, eyes draining into the monitor, at the image on the screen. It was a photo of himself, in bed. Zooey Deschanel was lying there next to him.

  There was a blurred spot at his crotch where his dick was hanging out from his zipper.

  A talented observer would have spotted the dark wet stain between them on the bed sheet.

  Johnny sat there looking at this, knowing full well he was fucked.

  He cringed.

  His name had been tagged in the photograph. A notification was sent to him via Facebook. There was already a mountain of comments below it. None of them were pretty. All of them had claimed to be his friend at one time or another, yet he didn’t really know any of them, did he? Hell, he didn’t even recognize their names. Their avatars were distorted. You couldn’t make out anything.

  Who were these people, these betrayals, these demons?