Obviously Carla’s pregnant friend, Irene, was more persuasive with her husband. Even though she was already having complications with her pregnancy, she insisted on having the baby. I told Carla the whole thing was a bad idea and it would come back to haunt her one day.
I liked Irene but, honestly, I had my worries about her. I saw the way she looked at me. Her eyes clearly revealed the sin in her heart; she had adulterous thoughts about me. About us. At first, I tried to pretend the looks meant something less harmful—like maybe she just thought I was a great guy. But after a while, I couldn’t deny the truth any longer. She desired me.
I gave a hell of a lot of thought to the subject of how to handle that situation. I didn’t necessarily want to punish her. But since the time of Eve, people have sinned. And because of those sins, people faced the vengeance of their Gods. That was just the way life worked—all you had to do was read the Bible for proof of that. So why should Irene be any different? And seeing as how I was working on joining the God race, and punishment was the Gods’ big thing, my hands were tied. It wouldn’t be easy, though.
Irene was always nice to me. One of the few people who were. I wondered how the Gods handled the dilemma of punishing their favorite children. Interesting how the Bible never covered that little topic. But whether they struggled or not, the fact remained that bad things happened to good people, so the acts of punishment must have been justified. Yes, of course it was justified, because only through punishment was the soul cleansed. So in the grand scale of things, even though the human mind deemed it severe, the Gods actually healed the souls of the sinners through their acts of punishment. They were definitely a very wise race.
The day before Jenny’s body was discovered, I dropped Carla off at work—I needed the car so I could grab some more employment apps—and parked a block down from the convenience mart. When Irene left for the day, I followed her home. She lived about five miles east of town, in the middle of nowhere. Her husband, Al, had business in Dallas for the next couple of days. This information had been relayed to me by Carla.
Irene turned into her driveway and I pulled in behind her.
“Samuel, what are you doing here?” She had a confused look on her face as she climbed from her car and saw me walking up the driveway. It wasn’t hard to interpret; she was nervous because of her unexpressed feelings. Irene was a married woman with a baby on the way, and it must have scared her to think of me the way she did. She obviously didn’t trust herself, especially with her husband out of town. It kind of made me mad, thinking Irene would jeopardize birthing her child through a canal contaminated with the sin of adultery. I hadn’t gone out there to give her a lecture on right from wrong, however, so I held my tongue.
“Carla said Al was in Dallas. I just wanted to make sure you made it home safely,” I said, and then smiled.
“That’s very nice of you. Thank you.” She returned my smile and then shifted toward the front door. “As you can see, I made it. Drive safely on your way back and tell Carla hey for me.” She unlocked the door and opened it.
I’m not stupid. She wouldn’t have opened it so blatantly wide with me standing there had she not wanted me to come in. I took her up on her invitation and followed her into the house.
“What? Samuel, what are you doing?”
Her feelings for me were obviously stronger than I thought. She looked downright frightened—like something was going to happen between us, something she would regret later—as I entered her living room. She had nothing to fear; I wouldn’t let that happen.
“Don’t be so nervous, Irene. Geez, I’m just your company picnic three-legged partner, remember?”
“I have a lot to get done, and Al’s supposed to be back any time now.”
It was probably hard for her to go against her feelings, the feelings that told her to ask me to stay. She obviously wanted me to catch her in her lie.
“You have anything cold to drink?” I asked.
“I’m not sure what you’re doing, Samuel, but you really need to leave, okay? Al will be here any moment. And I’m telling you right now, he’d be more than a little mad to find you here.”
I moved toward her. “I don’t think so, Irene. You’re not a very good liar. Carla already told me Al won’t be back for several days.”
She backed away, unsure of her ability to control herself if I should touch her, her sexual desires probably pushing at their boundaries. I reached for her, but she spun away. Good job, girl. Fight the desire. She moved into the kitchen and darted for the phone sitting on the countertop. I moved quickly, not wanting her to make the mistake of calling somebody. In her nervous state, she must not have been thinking about how she would explain why she had invited me in.
“Irene, you can relax. I’m not here because I want something illicit to happen between us.”
“Then why are you here?” She backed against the countertop. Her hands swept the area around her. I wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for, but the pan she grabbed just made her look ridiculous.
“Seriously, Irene? What are you going to do, smack me over the head with a frying pan?” A fleeting thought of Brutus passed through my mind. “Put it down.”
She shook her head. “Samuel, you’re scaring me. Please leave.”
“I will, but I have to do something before I go.”
“No, Samuel, you don’t have to do anything. I’m not kidding. You need to leave right now.” She raised the pan over her head like it was a battle ax.
“Do you know how silly you look with that pan over your head?” I moved toward her. “Put it down.” I’m pretty sure I looked a lot tougher when I had the pan raised over my head, ready to turn out the lights on Carla’s mutt.
“Don’t come any closer, Samuel—I’m warning you. Get out of my house or I swear to God I’ll crack your head wide open!”
Her words were big, but the fear behind them was even bigger. Was she that terrified of her feelings for me? “You really shouldn’t use the Lord’s name in vain.” I didn’t have time to explain that there was actually a race of them.
“Please, Samuel, please leave,” she whimpered.
“Okay, okay.” I held up my hand and took a step back. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll leave now.” I felt bad about her inner struggle. She was definitely caught in a serious conflict. I took another step back, ready to ease her turmoil.
Irene slowly lowered the pan, but did not set it down.
“Now, let’s just calm down,” I said, suddenly stepping forward and reaching for her. She swung the pan and I ducked out of the way just in time. “Jesus, Irene! Are you crazy! That could’ve really hurt!”
Her eyes grew wide and she threw the pan. Her aim was terrible. It crashed into the counter behind me. She tried to run past me. I reached out, caught her by the hair, and pulled. Her feet shot into the air and her head snapped backward. She landed hard on the linoleum floor, flat on her back. She fought to take in air. I shook my head. Just be thankful you don’t have asthma.
I bent down, leaning on one knee next to her and looking into her scared eyes. “You’ve got to relax, Irene.” I helped her into a seated position. “Now seriously, you’re way too uptight. Take in deep breaths. Slow and easy. Just breathe, okay?”
She caught her breath and immediately put it to use with wasted words. “Please don’t hurt me or my baby.”
“This has nothing to do with your baby. It’s about you. It’s about consequences. About sin. You have sinned. The Seventh Commandment: thou shalt not commit adultery. You’ve broken that one.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t committed adultery with anyone!”
“Maybe not physically, but you have committed it in your mind and in your heart. And sin in the heart is sin in the spirit. Irene, you’ve contaminated your soul.”
“You’re crazy! Please, Samuel, please le
ave me alone!”
“Are you going to sit there and tell me you haven’t had immoral thoughts about me? About us?”
“What?” she asked in a high-pitched voice. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Hey, that’s enough, okay? No more lies. I see the way you look at me. The way you’ve always looked at me. I’m a smart guy, Irene. You don’t have to say the words. And you know what, if I weren’t married, I definitely would’ve taken you up on your offer. But I didn’t because I have standards and morals. Something you apparently don’t have. And now, because of that, you have to be punished.”
“I never offered you anything. I’m happily married. Samuel, I love my husband. Please don’t hurt me!”
I dropped to my ass, sat directly behind her, my legs straddling hers, and pulled her up against me, my chest to her back. I wrapped my arms around her and felt her warmth in my embrace. It was nice, except for her shaking. But I understood. To be so close to someone you’re not supposed to be close to. To touch them but not get to feel them, it would be hard.
“Please, Samuel,” she sobbed.
“Shhhh, it’s going to be all right.” I gently caressed the side of her face. Her skin was soft. But she didn’t relax. Instead, she pushed my arms away and tried to jump up. I threw an arm tightly around her neck and pulled her back. I reached into the pocket of my shorts and pulled out my Uncle Henry. During the many years of possessing the pocketknife, I had practiced opening it with one hand just in case of an emergency, like if I was attacked by a gang of drugged-up Hell’s Angels. With my left arm wrapped around Irene’s neck, my right hand snapped the blade into the open position. The steel reflected the light from the kitchen ceiling.
Irene must have seen the knife, because she started screaming for all she was worth. I was forced to move my hand over her mouth.
“Irene, you have to be punished,” I said, resigned. “And believe me, these aren’t just empty words when I say this is going to hurt me more than you.”
She wasn’t listening. She only screamed louder. And then she bit my hand, really hard. I yanked it away, losing a small chunk of flesh.
“Owww!” I screamed, just before pummeling her on the top of her head with my fist.
She had a damn thick skull. Either that or her adrenaline was jacked through the roof due to all the excitement, because she didn’t even seem to notice the blow. It did hurt my hand, though. I guess so far I was right—it was hurting me more than her.
“Don’t do this! Oh God, Samuel, please don’t do this!”
She was only making everything more difficult. I was working a lot harder than I wanted to, not to mention quite possibly at risk of infection because of her bite. Didn’t she know how dirty the human mouth was? My hand bled from her teeth marks. I would have to treat it with rubbing alcohol when this was over, just to be safe. I moved out from behind her and shoved her backward, to the floor. She lay flat, looking up at me as I straddled her, pinning her to the floor, her arms by her sides. Her eyes became impossibly wide.
“Irene, you need to be very careful, now. You don’t want to make me angry, okay?” I found my words suddenly funny and I almost started to laugh as I thought about an old TV series, The Incredible Hulk with Bill Bixby. You wouldn’t like me angry.
“Please, Samuel…please don’t hurt me. I never did anything to you.”
“I know.”
“Then let me go, okay? I won’t tell anyone about this. I won’t even tell anyone you were here. I promise. Just go away and we’ll forget this ever happened, okay?”
“Don’t worry. I will as soon as I’m done.” I gave her a comforting smile and then I plunged the Uncle Henry into her right eye.
Her scream sliced through the kitchen. If she had any fine crystal glasses in the cabinet, I’d bet they all shattered. Her arms escaped me and her hands shot to her face, frantically grabbing for the knife. Before she could get hold of the blade, I yanked it out. It actually made a weird sucking sound. The whole thing was pretty interesting. I wondered why we never dissected an eye in high school biology.
“Irene, you can’t sin against God and not expect to face the consequences. You’ve got to be smarter than that. Everyone pays the price sooner or later.”
She tried kicking her legs; her arms flailed, trying to strike anything within reach. She found her mark several times, hitting me in the face and on the shoulders. I stabbed the knife into her left eye.
I didn’t think I stuck it deep enough to hit her brain, but her entire body suddenly went into violent spasms. So I don’t know, maybe I did. Bloody foam sprayed from her mouth, snot ran from her nose, and a mix of blood and slimy goo flowed from both eyes. I could smell the goo. Smelled like rotten chicken. I didn’t remember Billy’s eyes stinking. Maybe they did, but I was just too caught up in the moment to notice. Or maybe I did hit Irene’s brain and that’s what stunk so bad. I quickly removed her eyes. Her ears went next. I followed by cutting out her tongue.
Irene’s whole body went into crazy spasms, like she was having a seizure or something. I wondered if she was one of them epileptics. I remember having one of them in our junior high. What was her name? I can’t remember, but she really creeped me out. Watching her flop around on the floor one day in class was gross.
Irene tried again to climb out from under me. I was surprised by how much strength she still possessed, especially with all the blood she had lost. It took a long time for her to quit thrashing around. Finally, she went limp.
I exhaled loudly, relaxed a little, and looked around. The kitchen was a terrible mess, like a giant water balloon had been dropped from the ceiling. Only filled with blood instead of water.
Another good pair of clothes ruined. As my dad would have noted, clothes don’t grow on trees.
The first thing I did was pull off my shoes and then strip completely naked. I dropped my clothes into her kitchen sink, pushed in the sink plug, and filled the basin with cold water. I found a bottle of bleach in the cabinet and poured some into the water. Next, I grabbed the dishtowel that was wrapped through the refrigerator door handle and wiped my body, especially my feet, until they were clean. I dropped the towel on Irene’s body.
I found what I was looking for in the hallway closet: bed sheets. I grabbed two and headed back to the kitchen, careful to avoid all the blood. After laying the sheets next to Irene, I lifted her onto them. Man, she must have put on some serious pounds since becoming pregnant. And she sure as hell couldn’t blame it all on the baby. I wondered if Al had a problem with that. I rolled her up in the sheets, hoisted her into the air, and carried her out the back door as if she were my new bride. Now getting a full appreciation for her weight, I definitely would’ve told her to slow down on the pickles and ice cream.
Wearing nothing but my birthday suit, I crossed the yard, hoping not to step on any stickers because those damn things really hurt. I headed out to the field behind her house and laid her body in a patch of weeds. So there I was, standing buck naked with the sun hovering just above the horizon. I looked around and saw nothing but flatness for miles. I had nothing to worry about. As a matter of fact, I enjoyed the freedom from my clothing, existing as Adam and Eve had in the sacred Garden of Eden.
I unrolled the bed sheets from around Irene and then undressed her, placing her clothes in a neat little pile next to her. I stood above her naked body, viewing her swollen breasts and even more swollen belly. The late evening sun felt good on my back and probably would’ve felt good to Irene. Too bad she was dead. I studied her body, appreciating her beauty. She was way prettier than Carla.
The dark mound between her legs brought about the familiar tickle in my stomach. I grabbed myself, stroked myself. And just as I had with Jenny, I sprayed my seed on Irene. I looked skyward. Nothing. No punishment coming my way.
My heart pounded and I breathed heavily. I wanted to stay and stare at Irene, now covered with bl
ood and my semen, but it was time to go. I stared a moment longer, and then turned from her, now heading for the shed in the backyard. I found a shovel. I also found a pair of work boots caked in dried mud. Irene’s husband had much bigger feet than I did, but the boots did the trick. I had to admit, I must’ve looked pretty silly digging in that field, naked except for an oversized pair of muddy boots.
The hole I dug ended up being only a few feet deep and not quite long enough. I had to fold Irene’s body into a fetal position. I stuffed her in, stomping on her a couple of times to make sure she would fit, but I didn’t bury her just yet. I had some cleaning up to do first.
I went back into the yard, kicked off the boots, and returned to the kitchen. I squeezed as much water as possible from my clothes and examined them. The bloodstains weren’t completely gone, but they had faded to a brownish color. I found Irene’s dryer in the utility room. While my clothes dried, I spent more than an hour cleaning the kitchen with bleach and rags. I swabbed the floor, the cabinets and countertops, the walls, and even a few places on the ceiling. When I finished, I put the rags into a plastic trash bag and carried it to the backyard. I put the boots on again and headed for the makeshift grave. I stuffed Irene’s clothes and the sheets into the trash bag, dropped the bag in with Irene, and stomped it flat against her. Then I grabbed the shovel.
After Irene was completely covered, I trampled the mound several times, packing it down until it was solid. I pulled a few weeds from the surrounding area and dropped them haphazardly over the grave. Blood coated the weeds where I had set the body, so I filled a five-gallon bucket—also from the shed—with water from the backyard spigot. I splashed the weeds, returned the bucket, shovel, and boots to where I had found them, and headed back to the house. I wondered why anyone would kill someone for no good reason. It took way too much work to cover everything up.
Criminal Zoo Page 14
