Something_Violent

by Rufty, Kristopher

  A few feet away from the dad’s outstretched arms, my foot snagged a root. It jerked my leg out from under me, throwing me to the ground. My chest pounded hard earth, knocking my breath out. Wheezing, I dragged myself along the ground. Now I should look really beaten and battered, and the pain was no longer an act.

  The dad crouched beside me, holding his hands an inch or so from me, as if afraid to touch me. “Are you… What happened?”

  “In the woods…” I said in a choked voice. “He…he’s after me.”

  “God,” the dad said, head whipping toward the woods. He looked from side to side. “I don’t see anybody after you.”

  “He’s there,” I said.

  “Richard?” A woman’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think she was attacked,” he said.

  Nodding, I said, “I was. Out there…”

  I felt hands softly rubbing circles on my back. They weren’t Richard’s. His still hovered above me.

  “Let’s help her up,” said the woman.

  “Okay,” Richard said. “Get her under the arms, Eve. I’ll get her hands.”

  The hands moved from my back, slipped under my arms. Tugged me upward. I helped them by shoving with my legs. When I was halfway up, Richard grabbed my hands and pulled.

  On my feet, swaying, I looked at Richard and Eve. “Thanks…”

  “Where is he now?” Eve asked.

  “Somewhere in the woods…”

  Richard gave a terse nod. “Okay.” To his wife, he said, “Take her to the camper, with the girls.” I glanced at his daughters. They stood by the fire, fists to their mouths, eyes wide and filled with fright. “Lock the door,” he continued.

  Turning away from us, Richard walked back to the fire. He patted the ponytailed daughter’s shoulder as he passed her. Kneeling, Richard took a thick log from the top of a small pile.

  “What are you doing?” Eve asked.

  “I’m going to check things out,” he answered. When he stood up, he held the log in one hand like a rolled newspaper. In the other was a flashlight.

  “No,” I said. Shaking my head, I made sure my hair flapped wildly. “He’s out there. He killed my boyfriend!”

  Standing by the fire, Richard seemed to be reconsidering his plan.

  “Listen to her, Richie,” said Eve.

  “Yeah, Dad,” said the daughter, whose shoulder he’d patted. “Don’t go.”

  Richard nodded. He looked as if he’d changed his mind. “I’ll just be a minute. Get the camper ready to leave.”

  Groaning, I shook my head. “Listen, you dumb fuck! I didn’t risk my ass coming out here to save you just so you can go hopelessly wander around the woods and get killed. We’re all heading to the camper. You included. And if anybody disagrees, I’m going to knock them on their ass. Got me?”

  Though I got a lot of weird looks, nobody disputed me. As a group, we made our way to the camper. Reaching the fold-out stairs, Richard turned around and held out his arms to stop us. “You all wait here. I’m going to check on Hogan.”

  Eve opened her mouth. Richard stopped her by waving his hand.

  “Don’t argue with me on this, Eve. If you hear any commotion, run. If I’m not back in one minute, run.”

  Staring up at Richard, I felt tight and sick inside. The protective idiot meant well, but he was well on his way to getting his family—and me—killed by a hockey-mask-wearing douchebag.

  “Be careful, Dad,” said the other daughter.

  “Maggie, Malinda?” The girls stared at him. “Protect your mother.”

  Both girls nodded.

  “I love you all,” he said.

  The women of his life returned his affection. Then he slowly opened the door and went inside. I figured he’d be all right. Zach, more than likely, had run off into the woods. I was pretty sure he had, at least.

  I hoped so.

  Richard’s angels stared at the camper door, waiting. All looked on the verge of having a mental breakdown. To keep their minds occupied, I asked them questions. I learned the ponytailed girl was Maggie, sixteen. And the other, whose hair was down, was Malinda, fourteen. Hogan was five months old and their second son. Their oldest kid, Brett, was away at the beach with his college friends.

  “How long has it been?” Maggie asked.

  “Not that long,” I said.

  “A minute?”

  “More,” Eve said.

  “But Dad…”

  “I know,” Eve said.

  “Let’s get going,” I said. “If we hurry, we can make it back to my car in an hour.”

  Eve turned around, giving me an appalled look. “I’m not leaving him…or our baby.”

  “Your husband said—”

  “I know what he said.” Turning away from me, she started up the steps.

  I reached for her as she pulled open the door, but wasn’t quick enough to stop her. The door swayed wide. Eve jumped back with a startled gasp, her back bumping into me. I stumbled down the steps, knocking against the girls. I didn’t fall, though I came close.

  Richard stood in the doorway, holding Hogan in one arm. The little baby was wrapped in a blanket, his tiny head bobbing against Richard’s shoulder, arms out and bouncing.

  “Richard,” said Eve, relief in her voice. “We were so…”

  Richard held Hogan out to her. He looked to be having some trouble holding him up. “Take him,” Richard said.

  Eve reached out to him with trembling arms. “What’s wrong?”

  “Take him…”

  Eve did and Richard smiled. A goofy look on his face, Richard dropped forward. Eve had to turn to keep from being knocked down as Richard fell. Landing facedown at our feet, I saw the back of his head was a dark, pulpy crater. Gooey red filled the inside, oozing down the nape of his neck. It looked as if somebody had punched through the back of his skull to squeeze brains.

  Screams erupted all around me, which triggered Hogan to wail.

  Grabbing Eve by the shoulders, I shook her until she stopped screaming. “Get out of here. Take your family and go!”

  “Wha…?” Eve shook her head, looked at Richard. Her jaw quivered. “Richard…”

  “He’s dead. And if you don’t get your family out of here, all of you will be.”

  Closing her eyes, Eve turned her head. Nodded. “Okay.”

  “Now, listen. Do you have a phone?”

  “No service out here. And…it’s in the camper.”

  “Then fuck the phone,” I said. “Get to the road. Flag somebody down.”

  “What about you?”

  I stepped back. “I’m going to keep him busy.”

  Eve stared at me like a parent who knows their kid has stolen money from her wallet. “You know him, don’t you?”

  Looking down, I nodded.

  “Did you bring him here?” Eve asked.

  “No,” I said. “He brought me here. Now go.”

  Eve stared at me a few more moments.

  “Come on, Mom,” Maggie said, grabbing her by the elbow. “Let’s go.”

  Eve turned away without another word. The three women hurried off. Hogan, wailing, bounced in Eve’s arms. I waited for his cries to fade before I turned to the camper.

  “All right, Zach,” I said. “Come on out. Enough is enough. We should probably wrap this up.”

  The deep stomps of Zach’s languid footsteps were muffled inside the camper. They grew louder as he neared the door.

  27

  Jody

  Zach’s wide shoulders were broader than the small width of the doorway. The largest blade I’d ever seen on a machete protruded from the darkness like a gleaming penis.

  Masked head slouching, he peered out at me.

  “Ah. Silent treatment again, huh?” I said. “Now, Trish might get off on that shit, but I don’t.”

  Reaching up to his face, Zach lifted the mask. His normal, handsome face was blotchy in shadow. “Why?” he asked.

  “Why what?”

  “Wh
y come out here if you weren’t going to go through with it? I thought you were like us.”

  “I am,” I said. “But this…” I twirled my finger to indicate the campsite. “…this isn’t right.”

  “Isn’t that the point of it all?” He walked down the steps, onto the ground. Walking backward, I kept my eyes on him. “Have the things, the people you’ve killed, has that been right?”

  “It’s sure felt like it,” I said.

  “Oh?” Zach seemed surprised by my answer.

  “Why else would I do it?”

  “Instant gratification, I’m sure.”

  “Maybe some of it.”

  “Masturbatory waste of time. This here…” Zach spun around. “This is the thrill of the hunt, and the gratifying release of the kill. Why wolf down your food if you can savor each bite. Chewing slowly. Tasting every morsel of it?”

  “That almost sounds poetic.” Zach looked proud. “But it reeks of bullshit. You’re just a cold, callous son of a bitch. There’s no art in any of this. No passion. No foreplay. No release. Just brutality. I’ve gone down that road recently, on the other side. So I understand it now from all angles, and I don’t like it like that.”

  “Sad to hear. Trish will be disappointed…”

  “I messed up tonight. My husband was right. This was a bad idea. I should be out somewhere, killing with him.”

  “But you’re here with me.”

  “You’re right, I am. But here’s the thing Zachy-poo: When I kill, it’s with him. And only him. You? You’re a roommate in college I fooled around with a few times when I was drunk. A good idea at the time, but also an experiment I already regret.”

  The last bit of humor in Zach melted away. His eyes turned black with malevolence. Glancing down, I saw his hand flexing around the handle of his machete. It made popping sounds as the veins above his knuckles bulged like thin cords.

  Sighing, I looked him in the eye. “This can go two ways, Zach. One—we walk away from this, calling the night a failure.” I glanced at Richard’s supine body. “Well, a complete failure for me. Or two—we stay here, and finish it. Only one of us leaves.”

  “I don’t think you have it in you to even attempt the second option.”

  “Maybe not. But I’ve probably already ruined my marriage by coming out here. So if you finish me off, well…maybe it’d be for the best. But if I finish you off. Well, you’ll leave behind a very unhappy—and probably disappointed—wife. It’s your call. Me? I vote for the former. I’m tired. These damn boots are killing my feet, and this damn humidity is giving me swamp-ass.”

  Zach stared at me. Swallowing the cold lump in my throat, I hoped he didn’t notice how nervous I was. Zach was a big guy, and Seth wasn’t here. To take him down, I’d have to really delve deep inside to be any kind of challenge to him. And thanks to the Wilsons, what I had left inside wasn’t much.

  I almost prayed that Zach would just turn around and walk away.

  He pulled the mask down over his face, his head never turning.

  “Shit,” I said.

  Then I turned around and ran. Steeling glances over my shoulder, I saw Zach coming after me. His pace was slow and steady, his arms stiff at his sides. The dwindling campfire glinted off the machete’s blade.

  The fire!

  I skidded to a halt, crouched, and reached into the ember pile. I grabbed the closest log I could find that was entirely consumed by a lava-like glow, and pulled it loose. The wood seared my hand. Screaming, I held the log above my head.

  Zach was already on top of me, the machete poised above his head. It came down at my face.

  Stepping back, my face barely missed the machete’s slash. But the hair it sliced through floated through the air in a clump of black. I spun around, bringing the log in as if I’d swung a baseball bat.

  The flaming tip whacked Zach’s stomach. As I kept spinning, Zach doubled over, grunting behind the mask. When I stopped, I held up the log. It was broken. Only a few inches of charred, smoking wood remained in my hand.

  Throwing it down, I reached behind my back to pull the knife from my backpack. If I was quick enough, I might’ve been able to slam the knife into the top of his skull. My hand slapped bare skin on my back, where the tank top didn’t cover.

  The backpack was still in the woods!

  “Damn!” I screamed. Preparing to run, I threw one foot forward. As I brought the other one up to throw myself into a mad dash, I felt a large hand grip my ankle.

  And pull.

  My legs flung behind me. Slamming the ground, the wind gusted out of me. Coughing and hacking, I clawed at the ground as I tried to crawl away. Zach tugged back, yanking me backward. My fingers left marks in the ground. My breasts bounced over hard bits, were jabbed by sharp objects.

  Rolling onto my side, I saw Zach leaning down. He gripped my ankle in one hand, and was swinging the machete down with his other. Twisting around, I tried to jerk my leg back. I wasn’t quick enough. The blade chopped into my thigh.

  I screamed.

  Zach wrenched out the blade. My blood seeped down the glossy metal. Warm wetness cascaded down my leg, soaking my skirt. A stain began to spread on the fabric.

  Zach let go of my ankle. My leg dropped to the ground. It felt useless and weak, like a log attached to my hip. I flipped onto my stomach, pushed myself up, and got to my feet. I hobbled a few steps before dropping again.

  My leg was holding me back. Running would be impossible. But I had to try.

  Another attempt to get up led to the same result: me flat on my stomach. Slapping at the ground, I managed to pull myself a few feet before my arms gave out. Chin on the ground, I twisted my head to see behind me.

  Zach stood a few steps away, watching me. Probably enjoying what he was seeing—a wounded animal, desperately trying to get away from its predator. Must’ve been hilarious to somebody like Zach.

  I bet that was why he’d only hurt my leg. He easily could’ve killed me right then. I supposed he got his kicks by watching his victims’ desperation as they tried to survive.

  A stick was within easy reach. The length of a paper towel roll, it had the girth of an umbrella handle. Grabbing it, I heaved it behind me. The stick spun through the air, heading for Zach. As it reached him, Zach swatted it to the ground.

  And he kept coming.

  Checking the ground for more things to throw, all I found were leaves, pine needles, and acorns. Nothing big or solid that would hurt him. I wanted a rock, anything hard enough to cause pain.

  Finding nothing, I gave up. There was no point in keeping this up. All I was doing was wearing myself out while Zach watched. Giving him quite a show, I’m sure.

  I flipped onto my back. Digging my elbows into the ground, I shoved upward with my left foot. It got me a few feet before the effort wore me out. I stopped trying. On my back, I looked down between my parted legs. The right had a gory gash the length of a hot dog on the outside of my thigh.

  From this angle, Zach looked small enough to fit between my thighs, his head reaching the top of my knees. But with each step closer, he grew, reaching high above me. Soon I had to tilt back my head to see him.

  This is it, I thought. Me and my stupid ideas…

  Should’ve listened to Seth.

  Seth.

  I wondered how his night was going, and realized I would never know.

  Zach stood over me, looking down. His eyes were dark pits. His breaths hissed through the holes in the mask.

  The machete rose.

  Huffing, I nodded. “Guess you got me,” I said through heavy breaths.

  “I guess so,” Zach said. His voice sounded flat behind the mask. “To think what it could’ve been.” Zach sighed. “Shame.”

  “Up yours.”

  Laughing, Zach tensed as he prepared to swing. I closed my eyes just as the machete came down. I heard the juicy crunch of the blade hitting meat. I felt nothing, and though I thought it strange, I didn’t dwell on it. Probably killed me instantly, a blade
like that. Thankfully I didn’t suffer.

  Something pounded the ground beside me. I felt dust spray against my face, felt wind stir my hair.

  I was alive.

  Cracking my eyes, I looked where Zach had been standing. In his place was a smaller frame, hair pulled into a tight ponytail. Strands dangled loosely, swaying in the mild breeze.

  “Maggie?” I asked.

  The teenage girl stepped forward. Spatters of blood left red dots on her face like bad acne. Raising a hand to her mouth, she nibbled on her finger. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “More or less,” I said through gritted teeth. Sitting up wracked me with pain. My hacked leg felt hot and cold at the same time. Whenever it moved, I felt a pinching sting that spilled more blood down my thigh.

  “Want me to help you up?” she said.

  “Give me your hand.”

  Nodding, Maggie leaned over, holding out her hand. I grabbed it. Maggie pulled as I pushed. I stood up with a deep groan. Feeling my balance shifting, I started to stumble. Maggie grabbed my sides, holding me up.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Did…I get him?” Maggie’s gaze was aimed at the ground.

  Turning around, I saw Zach on the ground. He lay on his side, his arms splayed in front of him. The machete jutted from the ground, the blade stabbed deep into the earth.

  Sticking through his stomach was a small spike. The tip was slicked with blood. I glanced back at the tent beside the camper and saw it now sagged on one end. Of course it did. One of the stakes that held it up was lodged through Zach’s midriff.

  “I’m impressed,” I said.

  “He was going to…kill you too, wasn’t he?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “He killed Daddy…”

  “I know. That’s a bummer. And I’m sorry for that.”

  “If it wasn’t for you, he’d have killed all of us.”

  I felt uncomfortable hearing her say those things. She had no idea how many people, like her, I’d butchered. If she knew I might’ve been assisting Zach had her father not given her pretty mom that look…I was sure Maggie wouldn’t have saved my life.