by Sean Platt
Charlie looked back at Boricio and his giant grin. Adam was staring next to him in the doorway, in wide-eyed disbelief.
“You hear me? I’m gonna hunt you down and fucking kill you!” Bob cried out, head down, staring at his broken hand.
“You’re not killing anyone!” Callie said, as she marched forward and put the gun to the top of his head.
Bob looked up, stared at her, his eyes equaling the hate he held for Charlie. A sick smile spread across his face. He turned. “Gonna let a girl do your job for you, Charlene?”
Why the hell is he goading us? Shut up, Bob. Goddammit!
Charlie couldn’t understand why Bob was pushing his buttons. Didn’t he realize what was happening? How much the odds were stacked against him? He was backing Charlie into a corner, forcing him to respond. Though Charlie had come here seeking revenge for all the shit Bob had ever done, now that he was staring down at the crippled version of a pathetic man, his hunger for vengeance had soured.
If Bob would just shut his mouth, Charlie would be happy to leave with Callie, even if it meant disappointing Boricio.
Callie looked at Charlie, as if waiting for approval. He shook his head no. “Let’s go.”
“You’re not gonna finish the job?” Boricio said. “Goddamn, kid, you’re a better man than me.”
“I just want to leave,” he said, taking the gun from Callie and hugging her. It felt so good to have her in his arms, even if they were just friends. “He’s not worth it.”
“But this fucker raped her,” Boricio said, “And he ruined your mother’s life. You said it yourself! You’re just gonna let that go?”
Boricio’s eyes looked like those of a child who’d just been told on the night before Christmas that Santa wouldn’t be making the rounds this year.
Charlie felt pangs of guilt. They’d driven all this way with Charlie all pumped up to take care of Bob once and for all, and now he was letting the team down. And though he barely knew Boricio and Adam, their bonds were forged in fire at the compound.
“He ruined your mother’s life,” Boricio pleaded, working Charlie’s guilt.
Boricio was the first man since Charlie’s father to show him respect. But when it came right down to it, Charlie wasn’t a murderer. While he’d fantasized many times of shooting every bully in school, he’d never actually plotted to do it. Despite his bravado and his darkest fantasies, Charlie didn’t think he could snuff out someone’s life unless he was defending himself or someone he loved.
He handed the gun to Boricio and started toward the bedroom door with Callie behind him.
“He said I ruined his mother’s life?” Bob said, laughing.
Why won’t he just shut the fuck up?
“I was the best thing that ever happened to that bitch. She was a goddamn mental case when I met her! Always whining about her dead fucking husband and shit. What guy wants to hear that kinda crap?”
Something shifted in Charlie. His blood ran cold, and his skin started to tingle. Tears glossed his eyes with everything he’d been holding back for too many years.
He turned to Bob, jaw quivering, “You shut your fucking mouth.”
“About your bitch mom or your dead bitch daddy?”
“Whoa!” Boricio said sounding like Al Pacino. “You did NOT just say that about the boy’s daddy!”
Charlie swung the bat and hit Bob in the left knee. It popped, and Bob screamed.
“You aren’t even a 10th of the man my dad was, you piece of fucking shit!” Charlie screamed, spit flying from his mouth at Bob.
“You sucked the life out of my mother like a fucking vampire! She didn’t love you. She was scared of you, you piece of shit!”
Bob laughed.
“Stop laughing!” Charlie screamed, tears streaming down his face.
Bob looked up at him, eyes wild, manic, chest heaving in mocking laughter.
“Stop fucking laughing!” Charlie said, swinging the bat again, this time hitting Bob’s left arm above the elbow.
Bob screamed out, but still forced a laugh from his lips, meeting Charlie’s eyes. Daring him to strike again.
“Let’s just go,” Callie said from behind, putting a warm hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “He’s not worth it.”
Charlie glanced back at Boricio, who smiled and nodded approvingly. Adam’s eyes were wide, scared. Callie’s were sympathetic, sorry for Charlie.
But he didn’t want sympathy.
As Bob’s laughter grew, it dug into Charlie’s core, pulling a plug on a bucket of memories. As the self-denial and selective amnesia flowed down the drain, Charlie was forced to remember all the shit Bob had ever done. All the little insults, orders, exploitation, and the many ways he slowly murdered his mother — a woman who had been so sweet and full of life. Charlie remembered a time before Bob, when he was putting on a puppet show for his mom. She laughed so hard. Smiled at him. Yeah, she missed her husband, and Charlie missed his daddy. But they had each other. And that was enough.
Until Bob.
Bob’s laughter mocked everything that was pure and good in Charlie’s mother. Mocked his father’s memory.
Charlie turned to Boricio, Adam, and Callie, and said, “Get out.”
“What?” Callie said, trying to meet his eyes. But he couldn’t look at her.
“Go out there and wait for me. Bob and I have some shit to work out.”
Boricio smiled the widest smile Charlie had ever seen, as he put his hands on Adam and Callie and led them from the room. “Come on, team; let’s give our boy some privacy.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Callie said, looking back.
Charlie turned away. “Please. Leave.”
Boricio led them out and shut the door softly behind him.
Charlie turned to Bob. They were alone.
And only one would leave the room.
Seventy-One
Luca Harding
“Boy, your dog was really getting worked up,” Paola said.
“He didn’t mean any harm. He’s a good dog,” Luca said, arranging his battleships on the board.
“He’s cute.” Paola said. Luca looked up to see her smiling. She had a pretty smile.
“What was school like where you were from?” Luca asked Paola, trying to make small talk and avoid any more conversations about scary stuff.
“Sort of boring,” she said. “I just started middle school. I sort of liked it better because we changed classes and teachers, plus the school was bigger so there were more friends to talk to and play with at recess, but it’s still pretty boring.”
“Why is it boring?” Luca asked. “Didn’t you get to learn neat stuff? I was already in division for my Rocket Math. I was almost on Q.”
“No, not really,” she said. “I mean, I guess you’re supposed to learn stuff. But most of what we learned at my new school I already knew when I got there.”
“How come?”
“Because I used to go to this school called Oak Hill, kindergarten through fourth grade. It was really good, but I stopped going two years ago.”
“How come?” Luca asked.
“Because my dad said that only rich people went to that school, and he didn’t want me to be a spoiled brat like most of the girls who went there. But that wasn’t the real reason. Almost all of the girls at Oak Hill were actually really, really nice. I think my dad didn’t want me to go there because he couldn’t afford it, which meant my mom had to pay for it. I don’t think he liked that, even though he wouldn’t admit it.”
“You liked your old school?” Luca asked.
“Actually, I really like my school. The people are nice and I have, or had, a lot of cool friends. It was just boring. I couldn't learn anything there that I couldn't learn from reading books, and I’ve been reading everything I could ever since I knew how.” She looked at Luca. “Do you like to read?”
“Yeah, I just started reading chapter books this year,” he said.
“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite?”
“I started reading Harry Potter, but I didn’t like it very much.”
“You don’t like Harry Potter? Something is definitely wrong with you! What are you reading now?”
“How to Eat Fried Worms. Have you read it?” Luca said.
“No, but I saw the movie. Is the book any good?”
Luca nodded. “Yeah, I liked the book better than the movie.”
Luca felt Paola trying not to stare, could feel her thinking how odd it was that they looked the same age.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” she said, as though reading his mind. “I know it’s strange, but whatever happened to you only happened because you helped me. That makes it a good thing, right?”
Luca nodded, but felt like he was going to cry.
“It’s okay!” Paola laughed and gave him a playful slap on the knee. “Everything will be fine.” She changed the subject. “What do you think Dog Vader was so upset about?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll be able to find out as soon as I fall to sleep.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh,” Luca said. “You didn’t know? Dog Vader isn’t really a dog.”
“What?!”
“Well, I guess he is a dog, but he’s not just a dog. He’s also an Indian.”
Paola looked at Luca cross-eyed. “An Indian?”
“Yes,” Luca said, “but only when I’m sleeping.”
“If you’re not messing with me, then you’ll have to tell me everything, starting from the beginning.”
“Dog Vader is a dog and an Indian. Not the kind from the other country, but the ones you’re not supposed to call Indians, Native Americans. He’s the one who led me to Will.”
“And he talks to you in your sleep? Like you and Will talk ... and like you talked to me?”
Luca nodded, staring at his shoes, still embarrassed, though not quite sure why.
“How do you know you’re not just dreaming something that isn’t really true?” Paola asked.
“Because he’s always right.”
“Oh,” Paola said. “So he’s a psychic dog/Indian?”
“Lunch!” Paola’s mom called from the bar.
“What do you think we’re having?” Luca asked.
“Not sure, but I’m guessing something from a can.” Paola gave Luca a weak smile, then said, “Ready?”
“Yes.” Luca slid from the chair and started walking toward the bar beside Paola, when John and Jimmy entered the lobby from the hallway.
Dog Vader started barking again.
BARK ... RUFF ... BARK ... RUFF RUFF
Luca pet Dog Vader. “It’s okay, boy” he said. “Everything’s okay.”
“Maybe we should put the dog in one of the rooms,” John said.
“No, he’s okay, right, boy?”
BARK ... RUFF RUFF ... BARK ... RUFF RUFF
Desmond said, “Maybe John’s right. Just for lunch. Okay, buddy?”
“Okay,” Luca looked down, then over at Dog Vader. “Come on,” he said, leading him away by the scruff of his neck.
John said, “I’m going to keep watch on the second floor if you don’t mind. I’m a bit worried about what’s happening outside, and not too hungry.”
“Sure thing, John,” Desmond nodded.
Luca led Vader to the kitchen, opened the door, gave him a final pat on the head, then said, “See you soon!” and closed the door behind him.
Luca returned to the bar and picked at his food. It would have been good if he was hungry, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Dog Vader, or tease his appetite long enough to swallow.
“Food’s probably going to be a problem, isn’t it Mom?” Paola said.
Mary said, “Maybe, but I think we’ll be able to manage. We have a ton of stuff in cans, and as long as the population is as small as we think it might be, grocery stores will have plenty. We’ll just need to stock up when we can.”
“Are you worried?”
Mary smiled at Paola. “Yes, of course, but I also think we’re going to get through this.” She shook her head. “No, I know we’re going to get through this.” She stopped spreading peanut butter and set the knife on the bar, then reached across the counter top and kissed Paola on her forehead. “I promise, everything will be fine and I’ll always make everything taste as yummy as I can.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about, Mom! You could make anything taste good, even if we have to start eating squirrel!”
“I don’t think we’ll be eating squirrel any time soon, at least I hope not!” Mary looked at Luca’s plate. “You’re not eating anything, sweetheart,” she said. “Just tell me what you want. I’ll make you anything I can.”
She leaned across the bar but Luca only shook his head and said nothing.
Mary’s voice dropped to a whisper and she put her hands over Luca’s. “It’s okay,” she said in a nice mom voice. “Everything will be fine. Are you worried about your dog?”
Luca nodded.
Mary smiled. “How about I make a delicious meal for Dog Vader and something else for you? I’ll put his food in a doggie bag and yours on a tray, then you all can eat in the kitchen with him. Or,” her voice dropped even lower, “if he’s stopped barking, you can bring him out here and he can eat next to you on the bar. Sound good?”
Luca smiled and said okay, then made small talk with Paola while Mary gathered food for the boy and his dog. Cocktail wieners and canned ham for Dog Vader, mac ‘n’ cheese and chips for Luca.
“Thanks, Mom. That was really cool of you,” Paola said.
“Thanks, Mrs. Mary.” Luca said.
“Just Mary,” she said, pushing the lunches across the counter.
“Do you want to come with me to get Dog Vader?”
“Of course!” Paola said.
They crossed the lobby and entered the kitchen, but Dog Vader wasn’t inside.
“Lord Vader!” Luca called.
Nothing.
“Where do you think he went?” Paola asked.
Luca looked around the room. Dog Vader wasn’t sleeping, and he wasn’t hiding. The freezer door was sealed, but the door leading outside looked like it was open a crack.
“Look!” Luca pointed at the door.
“I see it,” Paola said, her tone making his sad spiders start to crawl.
They heard noises from the other side of the door.
No barking, no growling and no whines. Only the sounds of tearing, like reams of paper being pulled apart, punctuated by splashes from something thick and wet, and ... chewing.
“Do you want me to go get Desmond?”
Luca shook his head and started walking toward the door.
“Are you sure?” Paola repeated.
Luca didn’t answer, just kept inching toward the door a half step at a time until he stepped outside to find his dog.
Outside, Luca didn’t cry. He couldn't; the horror was too much to react in any way other than stare.
Dog Vader was in a dozen pieces, with everything from his head to paws getting torn, chewed and mangled, before being cast to the concrete in bits of meat and bloody fur. Two of the monsters were fighting over what looked like Lord Vader’s front leg, while another was crouched on its knees, dipping its face into the dog’s guts.
Pools of blood ran from Vader to Luca’s feet.
The monster that was eating Dog Vader’s stomach, stopped, then looked at Luca and smiled, revealing dozens of sharp, blackened, blood stained teeth. It suddenly shot up to a standing position. It was at least 7 feet tall.
Paola screamed. “Come on, Luca, we have to go now!”
Luca stood frozen.
Paola wrapped both arms around him, pulled him into the kitchen, then slammed the door behind them and slid the lock closed.
“Mommy!” she screamed.
Luca sank to the floor and cried.
Seventy-Two
Edward Keenan
Ed opened his eyes to a new visitor.
Two people were in his room, Sul
livan and someone new. The new man was short, older, with graying, curly hair and dark, brooding eyes beneath thick, dark glasses. He wore a long-sleeved, light-blue shirt with gray slacks.
Scientist. Name is Williams.
Wait, how the fuck do I know that?
“Hello Mr. Keenan,” said Sullivan. “How are you feeling today?”
Today? A day has passed?
“This is Mr. Williams. He’d like to ask you some questions.”
“Great, my favorite game,” Ed said, as he pondered how he knew the man’s name. “And I’m still waiting for answers. Where is my daughter? Where is ... ”
Shit, what is her name?
Ed’s head was fuzzy. The pregnant girl’s name was on the tip of his tongue.
Tongue ... Tuh ... Teagan!
“Where’s Teagan?”
“I’m afraid we had to move her somewhere ... safer.” Williams said in a slight British accent. “As for your daughter, she’s nearby. Don’t worry; we’re taking great care of her. We told her you were receiving a few medical tests and some treatment, so she isn’t too worried.”
“How thoughtful of you,” Ed said. “Where are we? Where’s Teagan? What’s the danger here?”
“In due time, Mr. Keenan. It is Mr. Keenan, correct?” Williams said, peering down at his clipboard and flipping to the next page.
“Yes, Edward Keenan.”
“And you’re certain of that?”
“Of course,” Ed said, annoyed, rubbing his temples raw.
“Are you okay?” Williams asked.
“Just a headache, it’ll pass.”
“Do you get headaches a lot?” Williams asked.
“What are you, some kind of doctor?”
“Actually, yes,” Williams said, “you can say that. Now, about those headaches. Do you get them a lot? How long have you been getting them?”
“I dunno, on and off most of my life. Migraines, a doc told me. Used to be worse when I was younger.”
“Do you have any other symptoms?”
“Is this a fucking physical?” Ed asked, agitation growing. “I told you my name. Said I’ll cop to whatever you want. Toss me in lockup; throw away the key. I don’t give a shit anymore. Let’s get on with it already.”
