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Killer

Bizarre
2005-06-16

Prologue:

 

Moonlight dappled the dark, smooth surface of the lake, and something large made a quiet plunking sound as it broke the still water, somewhere out in the blackness. A huge, naked man dragged the brutalized carcass of what was once a pretty teenage girl named Jessica carelessly along a rotting old dock that jutted out over the water. The full, silvery moon gave him light enough to pick his way, carefully stepping around loose, spongy boards to avoid falling through.

 

There were things in this lake even he was wary of.  

 

He came to the edge of the dock and inhaled the night air deeply, expanding his massive chest. Except for the water lapping at the dock, all was quiet. Few animals ever snuck out of the woods to drink or hunt here, and those that braved the lake only did so out of desperation.  And the people that built the camp where he lived, and this dock; they all disappeared long ago.

 

Another human hadn’t willingly stepped in these still woods in years.

 

A sharp, gore-stained hunting knife glittered in his free hand. More drying blood covered his naked body from head to toe. The faint smell of the blood and the dead meat he carried would attract those that lived in the lake, driving them into a blood-frenzy; but that was expected. The man was not afraid or overly concerned; he had made the offering many times before.

 

The scars covering his body would protect him with their magic, for a time. Not long, but time enough to finish his grisly chore, and keep the nameless things he served appeased for yet another day.

 

The splash came again, but louder, and now joined by another, and yet another, jarring the man from his reverie. He shook himself from the daze and reversed the knife in his grip, then bent over the body and stabbed the blade deep into the dead girls’ cold, mutilated flesh.

 

Her glazed eyes seemed to stare up at him, pleading. Vexed, he cut the eyes out of their sockets and threw them into the water for the waiting, hungry things to fight over. Then he gutted the body like a fish, working slowly and methodically, hacking off thick chunks of the pale flesh and tossing the offal into the water.

 

Instantly, the mirror surface around the dock turned into a frothing, churning mass of gnashing fangs.

 

The whorls of scar tissue covering his hairless body glowed red, then white-hot as the things fed. He whistled to himself while he finished his grisly chore, finally filling the corpses’ empty belly with heavy stones, and tossing the remains into the lake.

 

He watched her sink in a bloody cloud. He knew that even the bones would be gone by morning.

 

The man wiped sweat and blood from his eyes and started back to camp. The work had aroused him. The moon was still bright, calling him, and he still had two more pretty toys to play with before eventually, they too would find their ultimate fate at the water’s edge.

  

***

 

            “There’s a rest stop up ahead. ”

 

            Mary’s husband Gus pointed at the faded, bullet-pocked green road sign as they passed.

 

            “Half a mile. ” He turned to her and stretched, scratching at what was left of his wispy-grey hair. “Up for a break?”

 

            “I sure am. ”

 

            Mary rubbed her tired, drooping eyes with the heel of her hand, trying to wipe away the scratchy, itchy-burning sensation that felt like sandpaper under her eyelids. It didn’t help. Hadn’t for hours, really. She was half-asleep, driving by instinct. Only Gus’s rip-saw snores from the passenger seat had kept her awake these last several miles.

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   He’d finally mumbled something incoherent about pumpkins and woke up when she rolled down her window to get some fresh air.

 

            It was dusk; the purple streaks from the sunset were fading black, and the thick growth of trees lining the steep embankment blotted out what was left of the sunlight. She inhaled the cool night breeze blowing through the car and smelled the moist air from the creek running along the bottom of the hillside to their right.

 

They were on their way back North to Seattle from California, after a two-week visit with their daughter Jenny and her family. They loved the kids dearly, but after two weeks of hyper, sugar-fueled grandchildren; the non-stop, go-go-go to every theme park, marina, and beach in the state, as well as all of the other things they had cram in on the visit…

 

Mary knew they were finally getting old. Maybe they didn’t need the bifocal reading glasses yet (well, not her, anyway. Gus had his reading glasses stuck on top of his head and was rubbing the sore-looking red welts at the bridge of his nose), but they were both definitely on the cusp, on the slow downhill slide after fifty. And after two weeks away, they were both flat-out exhausted and perfectly glad to be getting home.

 

And to top it off, as if someone had to prove the point, just as they were crossing the border into Oregon, Mary took a wrong turn. They’d wound up winding through the mountains instead of going the easy way, straight up I-5.

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   They just laughed when they finally figured out what happened. Not too big of a deal – they were still heading in generally the right direction, and the drive was nice and scenic.

 

Mary smiled at the memory of her grandkids as Gus pointed out the entrance to the rest stop. Gus grinned back at her with his own crooked smile; the very same one that had charmed her so when they met, way back in college. The only difference being that now, when Gus smiled at her, his face wrinkled up like a prune.

 

            Good Lord, she realized. We’re already old farts. . .

 

            “Penny for your thoughts?”

 

            He reached over the cup-holder and patted her hand. She looked down and was happy to note that the skin on her arms and the backs of her hands was still smooth and soft, tanned an even nut-brown from lying by the pool in Jenny’s backyard. No age spots yet.

 

            “Just wondering: why is it that I’m always more tired when we get back from a vacation than I was before we left?”

 

            Gus laughed.

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   “Nobody ever said vacations were relaxing. ”

 

            Mary giggled and pulled into an open space not far from an old brick bathroom and stopped the car next to a new, reflective sign set into the curb that listed the rules of the rest stop: No skateboarding, No overnight camping, No alcohol. All animals must be leashed. Above the sign was a map showing the layout of the area. The parking lot was shaped like a U, with another, larger parking strip hidden behind, back through the trees, past the day park and picnic tables.

 

            She turned off the ignition, sank back in the leather seat and sighed. Except for their car and a large 18-wheeler idling near the exit, the rest area was empty. Not a lot of traffic followed this route anymore. When the last of the sunlight faded away, automatic lights ticked on, illuminating the bathrooms and the parking strip. They opened the car doors and stepped out into the night air.

 

            “Oh, that’s better,” Gus groaned with relief and knuckled the small of his back.

 

            Suddenly, Mary’s bladder was near to bursting. All the coffee she’d sipped during the drive was ready to gush down her legs if she didn’t get to a toilet, fast.

 

            “I’ll be right back,” she said over her shoulder.

 

            “H’okay.

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   I’ll just mosey around out here a bit. ”

 

            The restroom was gloomy and dark and stank of old urine.

Years worth of graffiti and old, brown cobwebs defaced the brick, the mirrors above the chipped sinks were just broken frames, and most of the lights were either flickering or out altogether. Moths and gnats swirled around the one steady bulb encased in a protective mesh above the door.

 

            Mary wrinkled her little nose. How quaint, she grimaced. It’s worse than going camping and having to poop out in the dirt.

 

None of the stalls had doors, two of the toilets had overflowed, and all of them faced the open doorway leading out to the parking lot.

 

            Eww. Yuck, yuck, yuck. Mary sighed and checked the last stall.

 

To her amazement, it was relatively clean and almost seemed in good repair.

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   At least there wasn’t a pool of smelly brown water that she’d have to wade through in order to do her business, like the others. There were even a few scraps of rough brown toilet paper left on the roll. On the off-chance her luck would hold up, Mary checked, but there were no paper seat covers left in the dispenser. Not that it really mattered anyway. What was left of the lid to the toilet was cracked and chipped, and half of it was torn away.

 

            Oh well, she thought, pulling the hem of her light summer dress up to her hips. Beggars can’t be choosers.

 

            She pulled down her panties, and holding her dress up with one hand, squatted; awkwardly bracing herself by holding onto the paper dispenser and trying to lean over the bowl without actually touching it with her butt. And of course, she managed to lose her balance and almost fall in.

 

            Mary caught herself before there was any damage, and rolled her eyes.

 

            If Gus could see me now, I’d never hear the end of it.

 

She balanced on the lip of the cold, slimy bowl and sighed as the aching pressure in her bladder eased. While she pee’d, a toilet in the men’s room flushed, and she heard water running through the old pipes in the wall behind her.

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Someone whistled and a long shadow slipped past outside, pausing at the open doorway. Mary closed her eyes and folded her dress over her knees, hoping no one would peek through the door while she tinkled. Anyone walking by the restroom door right then would get an eye-full, and the glare from the outside lights blinded her to anyone who might be watching.

 

            The whistling continued outside, and there was the click of a lighter, and a quick flash of light. Mary sniffed, smelled cigarette smoke. Then she heard heavy footsteps on the cement walkway, receding away from the restrooms towards the back parking lot.

 

Mary wiped quickly with the remaining bits of toilet paper and flushed. A few minutes later she walked briskly back to the car, shaking cold water from her hands. Gus was waving at the truck driver, who honked back and pulled the noisy rig out onto the old highway.

 

            She glanced around, feeling strangely uncomfortable, like she was being watched. But the lot was completely deserted now, other than Gus, who scratched his bald head as she approached.

 

            Leave it to Gus to make a friend out here in the middle of nowhere. I wish I could do that.

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Mary smiled at her husband, attributing the feeling to coffee jitters and the long drive. She nodded at the truck as it melted into the darkness. “New buddy?”

 

            “That was a fella named Max. Max Davidson. Used to work at the railroad with old Elmer Cole, back when I was stationed in Tacoma. Small world, huh?” He grinned at her over the roof of the car. “Ready to get moving?”

 

            “Yep. Did you take a potty-break?”

 

            “Potty-break?” Gus laughed out loud. “Hon, you’ve been around the grandkids too long. ”

 

            She laughed too, and unlocked the car. Gus looked concerned as she fumbled with the keys.

 

            “You want me to drive for a spell?”

 

            “I think I’m okay. ”

 

            “Okey-dokey. I’ll keep the coffee coming just in case.

 

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            “Good. I knew there was a reason I kept you around all these years. ”

 

            They laughed together and buckled in. Mary turned the key in the ignition and they eased back onto the highway. In the rearview mirror, Mary noticed another pair of headlights flicker on and follow them out of the parking lot. Barely a mile down the road, she heard the siren wailing. Blue and red lights suddenly spun in the rearview-mirror and headlights flashed, making her squint with the glare.

 

            “Oh, no. ”

 

            “What?” Gus turned around in his seat to look.

 

            “The police, or a sheriff, or whatever. We’re getting pulled over. ”

 

            “That’d be the state police, I think. Well, that’s a damn fine thing. What’d we do? Make an illegal turn?”

 

            “I don’t know. ”

 

            Mary eased to a stop on the lip of the road.

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   Gravel crunched under the car’s tires, and she set the parking break. Next to Gus on the passenger side of the car was a sheer drop; easily a hundred feet straight down to the creek gurgling in the darkness below.

 

The other vehicle pulled up about twenty yards behind them, and a bright spotlight illuminated the interior of their car, blinding them both.

 

            “What the hell. . . ”

 

            Gus lurched back down in his seat, blinking spots out of his eyes. Mary jumped as someone smacked the butt-end of a flashlight on her window. She groped blindly until she found the switch and rolled it down. She squinted, peering out at the huge, tall man standing next to her. She held up a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the spotlight, but he snapped on the flashlight and Mary found herself blinking again, unable to see anything but the vague outline of his face behind a pair of dark glasses.

 

            “Can I help you officer?”

 

            She was greeted with stony silence as the officer played the flashlight over Gus and the front seat, then the back of the car.

 

            “Turn off the car and take the key out of the ignition, please. License and registration, ma’am.

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            “Um, okay. Let me find it. . . ” Mary turned the key in the ignition. She dropped the key-ring in a cupholder and flipped down the sun-visor. “May I ask what the trouble is. . . ?”

 

            The flashlight snapped back to her, and then to Gus, who was rooting around in the glove compartment. “Sir, keep your hands on the dashboard, please. ”

 

            “Oh, sure. Sorry, but I thought we stuck the new registration in here. . .

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            “Just keep them where I can see them. ”

 

            Gus looked at Mary, who shrugged. She found the paperwork and handed everything to the officer through the window. He snatched them from her and the light danced back and forth, from her face to her license and back. The officer grunted.

 

            “Stay in the vehicle. I need to…call this in. ”

 

            He spun on his heel and stomped back to his car.

 

            “Gus, what’s going on? What did we do?”

 

            Mary was shaking.

Her husband smiled reassuringly.

 

            “It’s probably just a routine stop, hon. Don’t worry. We didn’t do anything. It’ll be fine. I.

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  . . ”

 

            Heavy footsteps crunched outside the Mary’s window.

 

            “Ma’am? Please open the trunk of the vehicle. ”

 

            “Wh-what?”

 

            “Pop the trunk please. The back of the car. ”

 

            “But. . . why? I don’t understand. ”

 

            “There was a drug bust at a truck stop on Highway 84 about an hour ago. Several vehicles carrying suspects were seen leaving the scene. Witnesses described one vehicle with an older man and a woman driving that match your descriptions, and your license plate number. Now, please pop the trunk. ”

 

            “This is absurd! Officer, we haven’t done anything wrong!”

 

            “Ma’am, I won’t ask you again.

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   Pop the trunk. Do it now, or I’ll arrest both of you. ”

 

            Gus shook his head, dumbfounded. Mary reached between her legs, found the trunk lever with trembling fingertips, and pulled. The blinding light eased as the trunk opened, and both Gus and Mary sighed with relief. They listened to the officer rooting around in back. The trunk slammed shut a moment later, and they were blinded again.

 

The officer stomped back. He held several small plastic baggies in a gloved hand, all of them full of fluffy white powder. He unholstered his weapon with his free hand.

 

            “What’s this?”

 

            Gus stared open-mouthed, flabbergasted. “B-but. . .

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  that’s not ours! We didn’t. . . ”

 

            The officer pocketed the baggies and yanked open Mary’s door. He waved at her with the gun. “Ma’am, please step out of the car. Sir, stay right where you are, keep your hands on the dash. Do you understand?”

 

            Gus gulped and nodded. He was shaking as Mary stepped outside. The officer took her roughly by the arm and spun her around.

 

            “Both hands on the car. Right now. ”

 

            Mary burst into tears, but bent at the waist and did what she was told. Her feet were kicked wide apart, and then a gloved hand was moving over her body, under her armpits, down her sides, over her hips and back up again. The officer bunched up her skirt and patted between her thighs, ran his hand over her stomach, up to her breasts.

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            “S-stop it! Please! We didn’t do anything! We. . . ”

 

            Inside the car, Gus watched the officer frisk his wife, watched her cry with shame as he groped her full breasts. He pounded his fists on the dash, feeling totally, completely helpless. The officer yanked Mary’s arms behind her back and handcuffed her, grinning lewdly as he locked the metal bracelets tightly around her wrists.

 

            “Goddammit, you bastard! I don’t care who you are! Leave her alone, or I’ll. . . ”

 

            Gus opened his door and tried to step out, but Mary had parked so close to the cliff his foot dangled out above open air. Vertigo made his head spin as he leaned out over the precipice. Gus jerked back inside and tried to crawl across the seat, but the officer was already there, waiting for him.

 

Gus froze, the cold barrel of the gun pressed hard against his forehead.

 

            “Oh.

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   Oh no. ”

 

            Gus blinked once before the officer fired. His head exploded like a ripe melon, splattering blood and brains out the open passenger door and all over the interior of the car. What was left of Gus jerked backwards, then slumped forward into Mary’s seat, blood still spurting from the ragged wound.

 

            Mary screamed and fell to her knees. She crawled through the dirt and the gravel, scraping her knees raw trying to reach her husband.

 

A heavy boot planted itself in the middle of her back and pushed her flat to the ground. Vaguely, as if from far off, she heard someone whistling. Then a strong, gloved hand clamped a smelly rag to face, covering her mouth and nose. Mary screamed again, inhaling putrid fumes, and her world slowly turned black.

 

            The officer grinned and bent into the car, casually pushed the corpse out of his way. He found the keys and stuck them in the ignition, then started the car and braced the gas pedal down with a stick. The engine revved loudly. He put the car in gear and unset the hand-break.

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   The officer calmly lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, blowing smoke out his nose as the car rolled off the embankment and crashed into the creek below.

 

            He smoked the cigarette down to the filter and tossed the burning embers after the car. Then he picked up the old bitch and threw her lightly over his shoulder. He whistled as he carried her back to his cruiser.

 

            A fireball exploded into the night sky, and the ground shook as he drove away.

 

***

 

            Mary woke up with a pounding headache, handcuffed and gagged in the filthy back seat of a car. Her feet were bound loosely and someone had thrown a dirty blanket over her. The car was moving slowly down an old, unused dirt road.

 

Mary bounced around uncomfortably as they seemed to hit every pothole in the road. The rough jostling had aroused her out of her drugged stupor. She could see stars through the treetops, the moon full and luminous in the clouds above.

 

            Eventually, they stopped.

 

            The officer got out of the car, and Mary listened to him light a cigarette and walk around to the side door. A few moments later the door by her head opened, and she was being dragged out of the backseat as if she weighed no more than a child.

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   The officer set her on her feet and gave her a shove.

 

            “Walk, bitch. ”

 

            She tripped over the ropes around her ankles, but managed to stumble forward towards a rotten wood overhang above dilapidated old benches, tables and fire pits. There were a few small A-frame style cabins scattered around the site, their moss-covered roofs caving in.

 

The officer guided her to one of the picnic tables. A small lantern hung from a peg in the wall, illuminating the area for a few feet. He made her walk up to the edge of the table and spun her around.

 

            “Sit down. ”

 

            Mary sat on the edge of the rough wood, and he pushed her back onto the table. She shook her head, moaning into the gag.

 

 The officer took a large hunting knife from a sheath at his belt and sliced through the heavy rope binding her ankles. The cigarette dangled from the corner of his lips as he worked, smoke drifting up, obscuring his features. Mary grunted again through her gag and tried to kick at him, but the officer punched her hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

 

  

 

He sneered and brandished his blade, scraping her cheek with the sharp edge.

 

.

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