Fook

by Brian Drinkwater

  “You think?” Derek again scanned his surroundings.

  “He’s not letting her go tonight. She has to stay home and rest.”

  “Great! That should buy you a little bit of time. Jason seems to want me involved. He wants me there to witness it. You need to get your sister as far away from me as possible.”

  “But, what are you going to do? You didn’t commit those murders.”

  “The evidence seems to say otherwise,” Derek sighed. “Listen, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Something tells me that Jason’s not going to want me in here permanently. He’s just toying with me. Like I said, he’s going to want me there when it’s time, which is why you and your sister need to leave, now.”

  Sarah didn’t know what to say. She knew the truth. She didn’t want to see Derek charged with crimes that he didn’t commit, but she also wanted her sister to be safe.

  “Go,” Derek insisted.

  Reluctantly, Sarah took a step back, sensing that there was more on Derek's mind than just her sister's safety. “What else happened in Tampa?” she asked.

  Derek just lowered his head, ashamed of what he’d done, but more ashamed that he’d failed and that Sarah’s sister was still at risk. Without looking up, he simply said, “Go.”

  FORTY-SIX

  The sound of the doorbell echoed throughout the house. Its first chime instantly grabbing the attention of the impatient father waiting in the armchair in front of the dark and silent television. There would be no need for a second.

  Leaping from his seat, Phil all but flew to the front door, expecting to find his oldest daughter standing on the other side. Why she was ringing the doorbell and not using her new key would be a question, but it would have to wait in line behind some much more serious and worrisome ones first.

  “Where have you been?” Phil yanked open the door, surprised to find a boy on the other side.

  He was dressed in what appeared to be a tux, though it’s loose fit and strange blue hues made him look more like a clown or someone who might belt out a singing telegram at any moment. At his side hung a large black duffle bag, in which were probably a bunch of helium filled balloons that he’d probably set free at the finale of his song.

  “May I help you?”

  “Mr. Bishop?” the entertainer asked.

  “Yes,” Phil answered apprehensively.

  “My name is Mark.”

  Phil just stared at him confused.

  “Mark Fossy,” the kid clarified.

  “Oh, Mark,” Phil finally recognized the name. “Katie’s Mark,” he smiled, though instantly wanted to cringe after playing back what he’d just said.

  Mark smiled and bowed his head.

  "He's obviously much more timid than his obnoxious brothers" Phil thought, as he stared down at the awkward looking kid before him.

  “Is Katie here?” Mark finally managed to harness his nerves and make eye contact again, though barely.

  “She is but… Didn’t she tell you that she can’t go to the dance tonight? She was in the hospital yesterday.” Wow, this was going to be awkward if he was the one breaking this news to the kid, Phil thought.

  “Oh, I know. I was there. I know she can’t go. She told me and I understand completely. Whatever’s best for her and the baby.”

  “Maybe this kid’s not so bad after all”, Phil thought.

  “I just wanted to stop by and bring her something,” Mark held up the bag.

  “And what’s in the bag?” Phil questioned, his suspicious police nature picturing a bag full of cocaine or fire arms, even though he knew he was being absolutely ridiculous.

  Knowing what Katie’s father did for a living and noticing the look of suspicion on his face, Mark placed the bag on the threshold between them and pulled back the zipper, revealing the bag’s contents.

  Phil, seeing what was inside, instantly shot the nervous kid a puzzled look.

  *****

  Knock, knock, knock.

  “Daddy, since when do you knock?” Katie questioned from her bed, her eyes fixed on 'Saved by The Bell’s' Screech. “Don’t turn out like him,” she whispered to her stomach.

  Realizing that he still hadn’t entered, Katie sighed and meandered over to the door, her eyes still fixed on the T.V. nerd’s wild antics.

  “Finally believe in privacy?” she greeted her father as she opened the door but instead of the familiar, parental figure she’d expected to find on the other side, in his place stood Mark. Caught off guard by his presence and his colorful outfit, she did a quick double take of the television, and for the first time realized that she had a thing for Dustin Diamond.

  “Hey Katie.”

  “Mark. What are you doing here?”

  “I just wanted to make sure you were feeling alright.”

  “I’m okay. Listen, I’m sorry about the dance,” she apologized again for the last minute cancellation but stopped in her tracks as she stared at his outfit. “I did tell you, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Phew,” she breathed an internal sigh of relief. She already felt bad enough for canceling their date. She would have felt horrible if she’d then forgotten to tell him about it.

  “If I told you, why are you all dressed up then?”

  “May I come in?” Mark avoided the question.

  “I guess so, but leave the door open. My dad has an open door policy,” she rolled her eyes as she returned to her bed, sitting down on the edge as Mark moved into the center of the room and placed the black duffle bag on the rug in front of him.”

  “What’s in the bag?” Katie questioned curiously.

  Anticipating the question, “I need you to close your eyes.”

  Confused and still staring at the bag, she wondered what was inside, cocaine or maybe firearms, she thought, then laughed at herself for how obvious it was that she was her father's daughter. “You’re not going to chloroform me or anything, are you?” she joked.

  “Just close your eyes,” Mark repeated.

  “Okay,” she complied. “Because my dad’s on high alert tonight. Apparently my sister is dating a mass murderer or something, which could go one of two ways for you, depending on whether or not you’re suspected of murder as well.”

  “Open them,” Mark interrupted her rambling.

  Opening her eyes she instantly saw the clear plastic container which Mark had placed on her lap and the gorgeous orchid corsage within it.

  “It’s beautiful,” Katie looked up, the smile already beaming from her face doubling in size as she saw Mark kneeling before her, a mirror ball dangling from one hand and in the other, a flashlight, the reflections of its beam dancing around the room.

  “I know you can’t go to the dance but that doesn’t mean that the dance can’t come to you, right?” Mark smiled.

  Katie’s face glowed with excitement as her eyes welled. “Yes,” was the only response she could muster through her overwhelming emotions as she leapt forward and threw her arms around the amazing man before her.

  “I really hope you two didn’t just get engaged,” Phil spoke from the doorway with a smile.

  “Daddy,” Katie let go of Mark and took a step back.

  “It’s okay,” he approved the show of affection. “I’d say he earned that one.”

  Katie just smiled as Mark put down the flashlight and took her hand.

  Staring at the young couple, Phil dreaded what he was about to do but realizing that his little girl was growing up, he felt confident in his decision. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” he asked his daughter.

  “What do you mean?” Katie questioned, confused.

  “The dance. It starts soon. Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

  Her lips finding even more elasticity to expand the already ear to ear smile on her face, “Really?” she squealed.

  Phil just smiled and nodded as his daughter traded Mark’s hand for a running hug with him.

  “Thank you Daddy. I love you so much. Thank you.”

>   “And I love you, now hurry up. You don’t want to keep him waiting,” he whispered in her ear.

  With one last squeeze, she released her grip and turned back to Mark. “Just give me ten minutes, fifteen tops.”

  “I’ll keep him entertained downstairs while you get ready,” Phil motioned for Mark to join him.

  “Daddy, be nice.”

  “What? I’m always nice,” Phil grinned as Mark slipped past him, into the hall and the door swung shut.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Staring at the caged clock on the wall, all Derek could think about was Sarah and her sister throwing things into a suitcase and loading up the car for their impromptu trip. More likely though, Sarah was in the middle of an argument with her father, trying to convince him of the unbelievable truth that was the last couple of days. All he could hope was that she would have better luck getting through to him than he had.

  “Almost time,” a voice suddenly arose to his back.

  Turning, Derek’s heart dropped. Sitting on the bench on the other side of the cell, holding the same hunting knife on his lap that he’d used to carve up Mrs. Tillmore, sat Jason. Beside him, passed out on the bench, was the disheveled man the cops had brought in only twenty minutes earlier and who had since been filling what had been a peacefully silent cell with eardrum rattling bouts of snoring.

  “Did I snore like that when we were roommates?” Jason asked.

  Derek didn’t answer.

  “What, no hello?” Jason smiled.

  “You son of a—,” Derek took a step toward him.

  “—Ah ah,” Jason lifted his finger as his other hand moved the knife from his lap to a precarious position over the throat of the sleeping man; the tip of the blade resting ever so delicately against his Adam’s apple as he playfully twirled it back and forth between his fingers.

  Derek stopped. “What the hell do you want?”

  “An apology for one.”

  “An apology!?” Derek snapped, realizing how well his voice carried in his concrete surroundings. There was no point in alerting the officers upstairs. If he called to them, yelling that the killer was in his cell, Jason would just disappear and he’d be made to look even more crazy than he already did.

  “Yes, an apology,” Jason insisted.

  “I’m sorry you’re an asshole.”

  “Not exactly what I was looking for,” Jason shook his head.

  “Well sorry to disappoint you. How about you settle for a simple fuck you then.”

  “Derek. Derek, Derek, Derek. So vulgar,” Jason continued to spin the knife, the man’s skin twisting beneath the blade ever so slightly. “Then again, what else should I expect from a baby killer?”

  He didn’t think his heart could fall any further from his chest, but now he wouldn’t have been surprised to look down and find both his heart and stomach lying on the cold grey floor beside him.

  “Surprised? How’d I know?” Jason guessed at what his former friend was thinking.

  Derek didn’t have a response.

  “I was there. Remember? Sure you do. It was only about…,” looking at where his watch would have been if he wore one. “That’s right, we don’t really use watches anymore do we?” he joked, knowing that Derek, like most of their generation, relied solely on his cell phone for just about every bit of daily information. “How are you getting by without it?” Jason smiled.

  “I’ve managed.”

  “I’m sure you have. You always do.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that no matter what unfortunate situation good old Derek finds himself in, he always seems to come out on top.”

  Staring at Jason, Derek had no idea what he was talking about, but was sure that he’d elaborate.

  “He sleeps halfway through a midterm after an all night rager and still manages to ace the test in the twenty minutes he has remaining. Even after getting his ass beat by a girl’s much larger, linebacker boyfriend, he still manages to take the girl home and not only does he fuck her for the next three weeks, but he also receives a hefty, ‘I’m sorry,’ check from the athletic department to ensure that the incident never found its way to a court room or the media. And my favorite,” Jason chuckled, “He gets stranded twenty three years in the past and what does he do?…No, he doesn’t find himself in jail or living on the streets with no real identity, other than the one he shares with the child version of himself—”

  “—Jason, what are you talking about? I am in jail.”

  “Only because I chose to put you here. Do you want to know what I’m really talking about? Her.”

  “Who?”

  “Who do you fucking think? Her. Sarah. That bitch you’ve been running around with trying to figure out how to stop me.”

  He still had no clue what Jason was talking about, but he didn’t like Sarah being brought up in the conversation.

  “You think I just ditched you here and forgot all about you?” Jason continued. “No. While I spent the next two years trying to harness the full potential of my gift, I still had to use the machine and while it somewhat limited my ability to travel to any point I desired, it did get better. I continued to find minor tweaks in the programming that broadened my options when it came to jump points. I used those advancements to check in on you from time to time; a year after I left you here, two years, then five, ten, you get the point. And do you know what the common element was every time I watched you?”

  Derek had a guess.

  “Her. Every time, there she was, right by your side, devoted and as loving as a wife could be.”

  “Wife?” Derek asked surprised.

  “And two rat kids,” Jason added.

  Derek didn’t know what to think. He knew he had strong feelings for Sarah and he suspected that she felt something for him, but he never would have guessed that she’d be the one he’d finally settle down with, especially given the extremely odd manor in which they’d met.

  “It was then that I realized that, no matter what I did to you, you would always find a way to turn it around and show how much better you were than me.”

  “Jason, I don’t think I’m—“

  “—And then you had to go and do it,” Jason interrupted.

  Derek was again confused.

  “Sure, I might have pushed you to take such a drastic measure but I never had any intention of harming you. As much as I’ve always hated you for being smarter and more popular and better looking, I would’ve never done what you tried to do.”

  “Jason, you killed those people. You were going to kill Sarah’s sister.”

  “Oh, I still am. I assure you of that. But I never would have killed you. And as much as I might want to right now, I still don’t think I have it in me to kill my lifelong friend.”

  Though still worried about Katie and whomever else might be on Jason’s list, Derek breathed a sigh of relief as something in Jason’s eyes told him that he was telling the truth.

  “Jason, you—“

  “—do you love her yet?”

  “Jason—“

  “—Do you love her?” Jason insisted.

  “I don’t know, I—“

  “—I sure hope so, because I can’t wait to see the look in your eyes when I cut out her heart,” Jason sneered, raising the knife into the air over the snoring man.

  “No!” Derek leapt toward Jason just as he disappeared, the knife remaining behind, falling through the air and sticking into the bench, millimeters from the sleeping man’s throat.

  Plucking the knife from the bench, Derek turned to see Jason now standing on the other side of the iron bars.

  “Sorry to chat and run but I’ve got a prom to attend,” Jason smiled as he looked up at the ceiling overhead. “But since I can’t have anybody interfering with my date,” he returned his evil gaze to Derek and smiled just before vanishing once again.

  *****

  “Ruth, did you get that notice from town hall?” Michael asked as he entered the dispatch room whe
re sixty two year old Ruth Mater had spent the last thirty two years acting as the police department’s dispatcher, 911 operator and front desk receptionist.

  The room wasn’t anything impressive. Though there were two stations with matching equipment, Cannon being the small town that it was, there had never been much need for more than one dispatcher to be on duty at a time, so as usual, Ruth manned the space alone.

  “Ruth. The notice from town hall. Did Gerald bring it by yet?” Michael repeated the question, this time looking up from the papers in his hand and noticing the woman’s arm across the desk, her head nestled in the crook of her elbow. “Another headache?” he asked, knowing her history of migraines.

  It wasn’t often that she got one at work so debilitating that she couldn’t perform her duties, but it did happen on occasion.

  “Do you want me to give Abigail a call? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind coming in a bit early,” Michael approached the woman, placing his hand on her shoulder. The moment his hand made contact with the grey haired woman’s spring colored sweater, he knew that it wasn’t a headache that she was suffering from.

  With the slight pressure of his touch and the imbalanced weight of the slumped woman, the rolling chair on which she sat began slowly moving away from the desk, revealing a steady stream of blood, flowing over the edge of the desk and onto the vinyl floor below.

  “What the…?”

  Stopping the rolling chair with his foot, he grabbed both of the woman’s shoulders and pulled her upright in the chair. The river of blood, pouring from her neck onto the desk, now began turning the bright yellow sunflowers of her sweater a crimson hue.

  “Shit!” he exclaimed as he turned to call for help from the other officers down the hall.

  “Hello Officer…,” Jason greeted the panicked cop as he buried the blade of the blood stained knife deep within Michael’s belly. Reading the officer’s name tag, “…Lucern,” he finished his greeting with a smile.

  The shock of the unexpected attack causing his body and vocal chords to seize, all Michael could do was stare into the sadistic face of his attacker as he twisted the blade and pushed it even further into his abdomen.