Let’s do it.
He hit send, immediately hating his choice of wording. No worries. This dating stuff would take time. And Kieffer knew that. He only hoped Ashley was willing to wait it out with him.
As Kieffer quietly stood up and collected his books, he felt his phone go off again in his pocket. Ignoring the text for now, he cradled his homework under one stickly arm and slowly weaved his way towards the first row of tables by the front of the cafeteria.
Sitting alone, hiding behind a standing sheet of ink-dotted newspaper, was his study hall teacher Mr. Hitchcock.
Much like the famous director, Simon Hitchcock was an aggravatedly bald man with swollen wrists and round, hairless cheeks that always wobbled like gelatin when he spoke. His beachball stomach and flat face often expressed more disdain than his words ever could. Always carrying himself in the vain of a professional whose precious time was being wasted, Hitchcock’s teaching career began in math, but ended in supervisional hell. He was forever doomed—within the walls of Hampden Academy, anyway—to monitor every study hall of every day throughout the year. Too many complaints to the school board about his salty rhetoric with students cost him his title, but it was his many years of experience and the school’s overall lack of staffing that kept his pension alive. Hitchcock didn’t mind the demotion and over time had come to see it as a bonus. He was making the same pay sitting here drinking coffee and reading the paper as he had drilling long division into the thick skulls of dozens of impotent little cum-stains who could barely work calculators. Had he known that sooner, he would have done his spot-on impersonation of Eddie Murphy's stand up Delirious more often than he had over the years.
“Got somewhere to be, Mr. Halpern?” Hitchcock asked, not bothering to put down the picked-apart remnants of his morning paper. His tired stare studied the pale young man as his soft, lunch lady hands held open the Sports Section in front of him.
Putting his slender fingers to his stomach, Kieffer stood on the other side of the table and spoke with a low sternness that sounded completely new to his own ears. “I feel sick,” he said, his nerves unusually steady for such an evasive act. “Could I go see the nurse?” Their stares collided, both sets of eyes trying to read the other’s from across the table. Hitchcock’s right hand left the sagging paper to retrieve the blue Bic pen at his side. He jotted something down on a pink sheet of padded paper. “Here’s your pass. Make sure you get a returning pass from the nurse when she sends you back. I don’t want to have to send your ass to Vice Principal Combs. Talk about a real see-you-next-Tuesday,” Hitchcock joked, and with that, he passed the note onto Kieffer and returned to his paper.
Walking out into the deserted halls, Kieffer quickened his pace as he fished out his phone.
YAY! it read, his hollow steps bouncing off passing lockers as he worked his way towards the gym, meet me by the baseball field. I know a back trail to my house.
As Kieffer pushed through the back entrance into the student parking lot, he went to dip his phone back into his pocket, but again felt it shiver. He stopped among the rows and rows of shiny graduation presents, so new that some still had the glue from the dealership sticker on the front windshield, and quickly tilted his head to the screen.
On it was a single symbol:
<3
And with that future form of romantic primitivism solidifying his position, Kieffer sprinted towards the empty dugouts of the snow-spattered diamond. There, he would find his star.
***
Hand-in-hand, Ashley and Kieffer walked the muddy backtrails of town.
Even though winter had lingered far too long into spring, everything around them seemed unusually floral and green. The small tufts of snow still left on the skeletal limbs of the overhanging trees twinkled and shined in bursts of hidden light, forcing their eyes back onto each other. And in these moments, they would exchange warm kisses; their hearts melting with the slush.
An immeasurable time later, but still much too soon, Ashley paused at the crest of a slope in the trail. “Over that hill ahlittle ways connects to my backyard. We have to be careful, though. Wayne leaves traps back here for his weird projects.”
For a split second, Kieffer heard a single taunting voice pop out through the cracks and say,
...Doll Man, he’s gonna be…
Ashley’s hand clasping his own shoved the ghost back into its cell. The dominating flood of pink light melted the rest away. It allowed no time for worthless speculation. Bouncing up to kiss Kieffer lightly on the cheek, Ashley led him over the hill and off the trail. They walked through the frozen tufts of bushes, all the while keeping an eye on the ground in front of them. About ten yards in, Kieffer could make out the shape of a white gazebo through the tangle of trees. Nearing the house, he started to feel a hard knot of pain in his stomach. The rancid lump twisted his intestines into a ball like a fork in spaghetti. His free hand went to his abdomen and rubbed absently. By the time they walked past the tree line and to the back door, the fork had become a knife—the dark red noodles his guts.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Kieffer scowled in his head. I know I want this, so why is my gut telling me I don’t? I might as well just grow a clitoris if I’m going to be such a pussy all the time.
Kieffer’s own interior voice wasn’t usually heard at all, but now that it had center stage, it ended up sounding just like the Others. Probably had gone too long sitting on the sidelines listening to the river of voices babble and flow. By the time it was his turn to be heard, all he could remember was what he had been forced to hear for years. Ashley led Kieffer through the backdoor of the house and into the spotless white kitchen. The sound of his own chastising voice stopped immediately when she halted, one foot inside the next room. “Did you hear that?” she asked, her hand leaving his to grab the frame as she stepped back and peeked slowly out into the sunlit living room. Ashley flung her body back behind the wall and gasped, “Ah, shitballs! Wayne’s car is out front!” She looked around the room as if Wayne might be hiding on top of the fridge or peering out through an open cupboard behind stacked cans of ravioli. Pushing herself off the wall, Ashley ushered Kieffer back outside, practically shoving him out onto the back lawn.
“Okay, okay,” she panicked, “if I say they let us out early, he’ll probably believe that, right? I could make up some bullshit holiday like National Rectal Cancer Awareness Day or something.” Kieffer nervously stood watching her pace, footsteps wearing a line in the wet dirt. He could see her mull over passable stories in her head, eyes and hands fluttering at the capacity of her thoughts.
Forcing grace, she composed herself and said, “Okay, this is the plan. I’m gonna go find Wayne and give him the fake story. I’m pretty sure he’s in his hobby room, but in case he’s not, wait out here until I come back. Okay?”
Thoughts still clouded with pink mist, Kieffer bravely nodded, assuring her he would stay.
“You promise you won’t leave?” Her eyes begged. “Even if he’s here, I want you to stay. I just want to avoid a whole surprise freak out like last–”
“I promise I’ll stay,” Kieffer interjected, and with that he leaned over and kissed Ashley as she stood in the doorway. He felt her silky skin meld into his own, leaving a cool wetness against his face when they were forced to part.
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Ashley then turned towards the kitchen and shut the door. Kieffer watched her leave through the glass, his already love-starved heart begging him to chase after her. Needing to move his feet, Kieffer paced about the backyard.
Okay. When you see Wayne, be cool. I mean Fonzie cool. But not too cool. Don’t want to give the idea that you know. Remember, he can’t know that you know.
As he passed the back of the attached garage, his peripherals picked up subtle movement to his right. Turning, he found himself looking through an un-curtained window.
On the other side of that window stood Wayne.
Kieffer’s spine cracked at the sudden steel jolt o
f fright that struck him upon the realization. He went to duck out of sight when he realized that Wayne had no face. All that was there was a black and white square of trimmed hair. Rebooting his brain, Kieffer slowly realized that Wayne's back was turned to the window. Fear level subsiding, Kieffer moved in closer, careful not to drag his feet through the layers of scattered leaves.
What’s he looking at? Kieffer wondered.
The walls of ignorance were holding, but the cracks swelled. Whatever had the man’s attention was hidden from view. Curious, Kieffer moved quietly about the window frame trying to get a better angle, but couldn’t. Wayne stood facing something on the long wooden bench in front of him, thin tails of smoke trailing from the cigarette pinched in his left hand. Unsure of what to do, Kieffer stood at the window watching Wayne smoke patiently.
Alright, you found Wayne. Good job. Now, go find Ashley and tell her where…
The thoughts crumbled apart as Wayne took two steps to the left. Kieffer’s mouth dropped. All the blood in his body slammed to his heart.
There, hanging by its head in a pair of blood-caked tabletop vice grips, was a black and brown Manx cat. Body opened wide like a kite, guts unraveled to the pavement like knotted coils of pink box string. The pain on its otherwise careless face was so intense from where Kieffer stood that he could feel its cries of mercy through the heavily insulated walls. Bloody mitts twirled themselves through the slimy ropes of string, turning its own spilled carnage into a broken harpsichord. Shreds of gelatinous goop showered to the floor, where several other hollowed cats lay like makeshift carpeting. This viewing window before him was the wrecking ball that tore down the wall. It took no time for the darkness to come rushing back in; reclaiming the land that had never been rightfully theirs in the first place.
Oh, my sweet baby Jesus… You were right! This isn’t proof, but goddamnit, it’s certainly very fuckin’ unusual! If this guy isn’t The Doll Man, I’ll be the first to shove sewing needles up my pisser!
Real objective snapped firmly back in place, Kieffer came to and quickly ducked under the window. He squatted nervously, back against the outer paneling, and went through his options. Gripped with panic, he could only come up with two actions at this point:
Kieffer could either run back through the woods and find his way home, or he could stand up and go find Ashley. Both options weighed heavily in his mind, neither one tipping the scales enough for a definitive answer.
Leaving isn’t an option, my friend. You promised you would stay. PROMISED.
He did. And it was a promise he intended to keep.
Finding the courage to rise to his feet, Kieffer took one last look back through the window. Now back in front of the vice, Wayne could be seen unclamping the dead cat, allowing its body to flop onto the small pile. Another colorful square of shag carpeting. Seeing Wayne was still distracted, Kieffer made his move. But, as he took a blind step back towards the house, his footing slipped, accidentally kicking over a rake that had been propped up against the wall next to him. Flinching to catch it, the wooden handle clattered against the siding before slipping between his hands to the ground.
At that moment, Wayne pivoted towards the noise outside, looking directly out the window above Kieffer’s head. Kieffer hit the ground and hugged his knees. Hugged them so tight that his chest couldn’t properly expand between short quivering breaths. Each still second that went by convinced him that he was caught. Wayne was coming to get him. His head would soon meet the clamp.
Like the others.
Kieffer waited, nerves almost snapping under the strain, until he was sure Wayne wasn’t coming. Problem was, he didn’t dare stand up. Getting on his hands and knees, Kieffer army crawled through the mud along the side of the house. Once reaching the back door, he stood back up just in time to see Ashley re-enter the kitchen.
“I couldn’t find him, maybe he’s in the garage,” Ashley said as she leaned out the open door. She stepped out and started her way to the garage when Kieffer locked a hand around her shoulder. “No, he’s… he’s not in there,” Kieffer sputtered, nerves still trembling. “I already looked.”
Ashley regarded him suspiciously, clearly taking in his sudden change in demeanor. Thankfully, she didn’t look for very long before saying, “Oh, okay. I’m sure he’s out baiting more traps or whatevs. If that’s the case, then he won’t be back for a while...” That sparkle of mischievous intent gleamed in her eye before she noticed the mud smeared all over the front of Kieffer’s clothes. “Did you fall down or something?”
Confused, Kieffer looked down at the mud streaked pants and shirt clinging to his clammy skin. “Yeah, tripped on that rake as I was walking by the garage.”
“Oh, well, I can’t have you getting my mom’s furniture all muddy. I mean, I like you Kieff, but you ain’t worth that ass chewing.”
They laughed, both forcing it more than they should’ve, and stood quiet for some time. When Ashley spoke next, she had a slightly sad undertone in her voice. “Probably wouldn’t be a good idea to sneak you in here, anyway. Who knows when Wayne will be back.” She glanced out past the gazebo into the woods, studying its thick lines of rooted camouflage for movement. Accepting that now would not be a good time, Ashley mercifully ended the conversation. “Please get ahold of me tonight. I want to plan our next hangout so we don’t have to end things like this again. Oh, and thanks for skipping with me.” She pulled Kieffer in for a long kiss before sliding back into the house and out of sight.
***
The light and dark were battling again. Behind his tired mind, an explosive feud that only got stronger with the long walk ahead of him.
You won’t be able to solve the mystery AND have the girl, dummy. If you try, you’ll fail. Just expose Wayne and ruin Ashley’s life, or keep the secret and keep the girl. Your choice.
But Kieffer had to solve the mystery, and he most definitely had to have the girl. But at the same time, he couldn’t figure out how to obtain one without destroying the other. He wrestled with every scenario and angle until finally one of the Others presented a plausible solution.
Bear with me here, but what if you got the evidence to prove Wayne’s The Doll Man and sat on it. Kept it secret. That way, you and Ashley can have a relationship. If things between you guys work out and you end up getting married, you can send in the information anonymously and watch the whole thing unravel from the backseat. It’s not like Wayne’s gonna be going anywhere, right? And besides, if you find out that Ashley just had a case of puppy love and doesn't really like you that much, then you have a means of getting her out of town and out of your life. You’ll have no more reminders of lost love plus the additional prize of singlehandedly taking down one of the worst murderers in American history. Your train of luck might just have a few extra cabooses on it after all.
Kieffer had to admit, the idea wasn’t bad. By far the best presented. Both scenarios ended with Wayne being caught and one even had Kieffer living the life he most wanted. The odds of him getting that life were fifty-fifty, and that was only if he could find the proof he needed. Kieffer decided once and for all what would be done.
More than ever, he was determined to have his cake and eat it too.
Chapter 5
April 10, 2006
4:41 p.m.
Hampden, Maine
Even in his glory days, Wayne could never get used to hurrying with these sorts of matters.
His gloved hands stiffened as he bagged then stacked the feline corpses into the garage’s chest freezer; mild arthritis in both wrists and knees. Peeling out the skeletons wrapped in floppy skin was easy enough; they lay so flat that he could fit four to one bag. It was the hardening pile of entrails that posed the problem. Wearing thick gloves, Wayne first tried scooping them up by hand, but it was like grabbing the tentacles of a jellyfish. The lengths and chunks of goop just shifted and fell through his grip. The aftermath of the kill had always been his least favorite part, but something that was the most important if you
didn’t want to get caught. Any killer worth his salt knows that everything leaves a trail. The human body is like those ink packets the banks put in random bags of money. As soon as a person dies, their body lets go of skin, hair, feces, and just about everything else at an accelerated rate. Anywhere you move the thing, it leaves clues. And anyone who's seen any type of crime show within the last ten years knows that forensic science has gotten a lot better since the 80’s. If Wayne was going to make a successful comeback, he’d need to be at the very top of his game. That meant he couldn’t be drunk while hunting, and most importantly, he had to get the right kid.
This by far was the hardest element of the chase.
Eventually finding an old aluminum snow shovel in the toolshed out back, Wayne scooped up the congealed mess and slid it into a heavy-duty garbage bag. Tying it shut and placing it in the freezer, he took off his tunic and gloves before checking his wristwatch. He had roughly fifteen minutes before Sharon would be home and he couldn’t remember if he heard Ashley come in yet. At one point he did hear a noise, a quick rattling from outside, but dismissed it as the wind. It sounded like the rake he had left out from yesterday being blown over onto the lawn. No need for alarm. If Ashley had come home, she probably went straight to her room anyway. She knew better than to disturb Wayne when he was working on his “crafts.” With school being over for a couple hours now, she was undoubtedly upstairs watching MTV or listening to rabid weasels skull-fuck each other or whatever passes for music these days.
Wayne then felt a twang of paranoia. He wasn’t usually home this early and wondered if Ashley had bothered to notice.
Ionic Resurgence: Book Two of The Doll Man Duology (Volume 2) Page 4
