[WIP] Otto's Eyes

October 29 –Purgatory, The Need to Know.

Rain poured down in near horizontal sheets as the cross country bus I was riding on skidded through a red light and nearly hit an oncoming semi-truck. For a second, I held my breath. The whole ride had been madness. A few days before, we were passing through the Rocky Mountains and nearly slid through the guard rails. We would have all plummeted to an icy cold death if it weren’t for the driver, as he snapped awake at the last possible moment.

The day after that, the driver had to kick a violently angry man off the bus for threatening a pregnant woman and punching her husband in the face. I remember that man’s glare as we drove off from the bus station. The cops were slapping the handcuffs on him and tossing him in the back of the squad car. He kicked and shouted in anger behind all that bullet proof glass. It was kind of comical and I couldn’t stifle a small chuckle.

Today, we nearly got near turned into street grease. Most people’s lives flash before their eyes before they die or think they are going to die. All I could think of was how fucked up it would be to come all this way, having already dodged a bullet on the mountain and possibly a literal one by the man that got kicked off the bus, just to get smashed by a semi. But my fears passed shortly after the semi swerved. No one on the bus seemed to care or pay attention but me. Everyone was involved with their little lives; Living in their respective bubbles. Like normal people do. All oblivious to the world around them, just waiting for someone much like me to come along and save them from themselves. I went against every urge I had to go up and talk to the driver about his crazy driving. Instead, I would just wait for the next stop; my stop.

The driver pulled up, stomped on the brake and waited a moment to release the air brake. Once he did, I stood and grabbed my suitcase. As I passed the driver I reached into my pocket. Part of me wanted to pull out my .45 and blow his brains over the windows of the bus and that sweat stained steering wheel but I didn’t want to ruin the mood I was in. Plus, I had to think, I just got here. He's not one of your marks. Instead I pulled out a little red medicine bottle and tossed it to the man.

“Here” I said with a sleepy and gruff tone, “You need these more than I do.”

His eyes said Sir, are you crazy? I can't accept this. Or maybe he was just surprised because the driver's body language said much different. He licked his lips, almost mumbling. Maybe it was a prayer. The curtain of sweat on his brow grew bigger, dripping down his face like Seattle rain. Shoulder's twitched with just the smallest hint of lack of self-control. After a moment, there was thousand yard stare in his eyes as he nodded. His body said yes, please.

I stepped off the bus and took a big, fresh breath of air. I felt good. I had finally made it out here…But where was here? I was confused. Being on the road sometimes made me forget where exactly I was. This time I was in a little town called Merrymaker. What state? Hell if I know. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out a small note. It read “223 Palm Ave.” I looked around at street names, at addresses. I asked for directions from some of the face-less townies. I hated working in little back hill towns. My stomach growled but I was too focused to eat.

I marched the streets of this Purgatory for two hours, and then lit a sweet cigarillo as I reached my destination. 223 Palm Ave. Palm fucking Avenue? This place was dreary and ominous, like the scene out of bad horror movie. There was never a palm tree in this town unless it was one of those little plastic shits that people use in their offices to raise Morale. Look at our new plant! Work harder! Or the kind the poor girl in our horror movie trips over before she meets her maker. I'm sorry, I digress.

The house was small, only one floor with a basement. Cozy. It was painted the color of pea soup and the shutters were a deep navy. I flipped to the back of my note. It said “Key under Rug.” I gave a nod to no one. I liked when instructions were written out for me. Though, sometimes, I do tend to get a little creative with my work. So I grabbed the key from underneath the rug and unlocked the deadbolt and knob both. Pushing the door open, I was greeted by darkness and dust. The kind of dust that settles after someone abandons their house. It smelled like rat shit and stale air.

Flicking the light switch on, the old bulbs buzzed to life and I made my way into the living room. The decor of the house was somewhere between grandma’s house and mid-seventies funk. The chandelier with fake crystals blended in well with the little art-deco owls hanging on the walls. Next to them were mass produced paintings of flowers, faded over the years due to sun exposure and age. Peeling wallpaper sagged down to the old, baby shit green shag carpeting that looked like it hadn’t been vacuumed in years. It was really my kind of place.

I threw my briefcase on the table and popped it open after putting the combination in. Five, Three, Seven and pop, I threw it open and looked over the contents: Extra magazines; check, Five hundred thousand dollars in traveler’s checks; check, Twenty thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills; check; Then the various medicine bottles and bags of narcotics; check, bottle of extra dry gin; check, carton of sweet cigarillos; check, three changes of clothes; check. And my current orders; check.

Taking the folder with my orders in one hand and the bottle of gin in the other I searched the kitchen for a glass. Scraping some ice off the inside of the freezer, I made my drink and went to sit on the nasty looking couch. You know that couch, the one with the flower pattern in red on a brown background. Faded wooden accents faced out on the front of the arms. Dust puffed up from the old cushions and I gave a sigh. Setting my drink down and tossing the folder on the table, I stood back up. I beat the dust out the cushions of the couch before sitting back down. Now comfortable, I looked over the dossier before me.

Bridget Brown. Hgt.: 5’8 Wt.: 140 lbs. Age: 37 Occupation: Orthodontist. Children: 0. Kenneth Brown. Hgt.: 6’1 Wt.: 180 lbs. Age: 39 Occupation: Police Officer Children: 0. Address: 544 Palm Ave.

Great, they were right up the street. And one was a cop, no less. Fuck. Attached was a small picture of the couple. The woman was very attractive. She had high cheek bones, a thin nose, a dainty cleft in her chin and scarlet red hair. Her face was thin and told that she was a woman of distinction. Her eyes were “brighter” than the average hit. Pouty pink lips gave the prettiest of smiles. The man was tall and lean. I could see muscle tone in his shirt. He was in uniform. What I found amusing was that he wore the typical cop mustache. I prayed the mortician would be able to match the beauty in the picture, for their family’s sake. I always try to keep it “open casket.” I slid the picture into my pocket. I would add it to my collection later. I read the specifics of my mission once again:

Terminate Bridget and Kenneth Brown by any means necessary. Be discreet and do not alert the local authorities. When you have completed your task, and we will know when, meet with the man in the gray coat outside the only gas station in town. He will have your ticket, your pay and your next mission.

Dammit. I hated it when they were so vague. Why was I going to kill these people? Were they running a drug ring? Were they running a doomsday cult? Sometimes they gave me information, sometimes they didn’t. It was a “Need to Know” thing, I guess. I lit up one of my cigars and I thought to myself “What could this poor, beautiful Orthodontist have done to make the Shit List?” I put the thought out of my mind as quick as it arrived. No matter what their transgressions, I was going to do my job. I always did, no matter how morals, conscience or logic tried to direct me. No matter the job, I was always the tool for it.

This would be a short and easy job. At least that was my initial reaction. First thing in the morning, I wanted scout them out. Get onto their daily routines. Follow them to work. Hell, maybe even make an appointment with the Fiery Orthodontist. Closing the folder, I took a long swig of my gin and popped a couple pills. I needed them to sleep. Without them, I wouldn’t make it through the week without fucking up some way. I needed to stay low, and mellow. I took the last few drags of the cigar, turned the heat on and found an old blanket. It was almost like this was setup just for me. I cuddled up on that couch; my mind swam and slowly faded into the Aether.



October 30-The Menace

I woke up in a cold sweat and with my stomach in knots. Memories of dreams and faraway places melted away and the sun shined into my eyes like some celestial flashlight. I had to look around the room to remember where I was. My eyes fell on the clock. It read 7:37AM. My heart raced and my fingertips felt numb. I would reach into my briefcase, grab a Valium and wash it down with the last bit of gin from the glass on the table. My stomach growled and it tasted like stale, rusty refrigerator water. That is what I get for using the frost on the sides of the freezer as a cooling agent for my drink. Necessity is the mother of invention, I suppose.

I leaned back and looked out the window. Kids skipped down the street, probably on their way to school. Some of those kids might grow up and find themselves in similar situations as I find myself. Well, that was unlikely. Seeing those children reminded me that all innocence is lost in time. I stared out that window for a good half hour. Once I felt the pill kick in, I knew it was time to start the day.

I checked out the bathroom. It was a small, efficiency type bathroom with an antique claw foot tub and barely enough room to take a shit, let alone take a bath. There was a half bar of soap on the sink that was cracked from lack of use. All dried out and flaky. I shook my head with a sigh as I began to take off my clothes. I liked to dress kind of nice but not overtly conspicuous. Slacks, button down shirts. I liked to keep my boots shiny, also. A nice black leather zip up number with buckles on the side. Stepping into that old claw foot tub, I let my muscles relax. Lighting one of my cigars and my lips went numb. I turned the hot water all the way up and the cold all the way down. My skin was like ice it seemed and I couldn’t get warm. I let it go till it was just about to over flow. I started to make my itinerary in my head.

First, I would have to hit several stores for supplies. Besides the obvious things like food, a new fucking bar of soap, and other toiletries, I needed a carpet cutter, some lighter fluid and a rental vehicle. Maybe even a few other things. I’d let my imagination decide. After that, I would scope out the targets’ home. Maybe walk by a couple times, or park up the block and just watch. I wasn’t entirely sure how I was going to go about this one. Sometimes I followed my targets for days, weeks. Some I even got to know on a personal level before I killed them. Sometimes I went straight in and did what had to be done without uttering a word. It all depended on how I felt about the situation, or about my target.

Crawling out of the tub, I dried off and looked at myself in the mirror for a long while. My once raven black hair was going gunmetal silver in spots. Just short of the shoulder but at least I kept it manageable. The bags under my eyes looked heavier than cinder blocks. Crow’s feet and laugh lines gave me distinction, but also made me look old. I sighed and gave myself a wink in the mirror, reminding myself that all great works of art eventually fall apart. I still had my masculine charm, a rather imposing physique and a wallet bigger than Jesus.

Not that I do what I do for the money. No, I rather enjoy it.

Heading down stairs, I would slip into some fresh clothes. I had to buy new clothes often, which I detested. Besides having to deal with the people in malls and department stores, you have to deal with their children too. No one looked after their children these days. Spoiled rotten brats, asking and begging for things they haven’t earned. It’s all the same, no matter where you look. Then there are the people that WORK at those stores. Barely getting by and have absolutely no interest in helping someone in any form or fashion unless their useless manager is riding their ass. You know the kind of people only doing the bare minimum to get their paychecks. Plus, I never got a chance to fully break in a pair of pants or a nice shirt before I got it all spattered in gore and had to burn them. My temporary armor.

Taking one more Valium before I hit the door for the day, I made sure my gun was loaded and stuck it in the inside pocket of my overcoat. It had a nice little pocket just for that reason. A CCW holster. Grabbing a few hundreds and sliding them into my wallet, I wouldn’t bother locking it behind me. If someone wanted to rob the place, they could be my guest. In a small town like this, though, I knew nothing would happen.

I was the menace in this town, now. No one could touch me, even if they didn’t know it, I did. I was the humble and kind Angel of Death, sent to dispatch those that have wronged the Great Magnet, Architect, Satan, Krishna, whoever. Okay, maybe I wasn’t exactly the Left Hand of God, but I felt I served a purpose. The majority of the people I have done away with were bad people. Then again, I don’t believe in Good and Evil.

The school kids had long passed and the first thing I thought was I need sunglasses. I may have said this out-loud because a pair of middle-aged women out on their walk gave me a strange look. Fuck, was I “suspect” already? I let my imagination get away with me sometimes. Maybe I was just paranoid and hungry. I’ve let myself get strung thin before. It was bad for business. It was time to eat. Maybe read a newspaper. Act like a normal human being.



October 30- The Angel

As I walked down what seemed the main thoroughfare of this little town, I spotted something out of antiquity: A diner. My heart warmed just a bit. I missed the days of old diners before every Waffle House or IHOP muscled in on the old Ma’s and Pas’.

A wide, precious smile swept across the face of the young woman that attended the counter. She had shoulder length black hair, like a velvet curtain that sharped around to her chin. I knew it was dyed. She was probably a red head, by the freckles on her face. Her eyes were “bright” and the deepest shade of jade. Her eyeliner and shadow accented that. My heart raced for a moment as I took in her physical attributes. She had an ample bosom that was still very attractive in her green polo shirt. Her round hips were accented in the black pants that were held up with a knock off military style belt. She couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and thirty pounds. Even if she was spattered with egg remnants and pancake mix, none of it bothered her. None of it bothered me. She was an angel in my eyes.

“Hello sweetheart. I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before. New to town?” Her voice was sweet, a tone of innocence left in a world losing it rapidly.

“Actually, yeah, I just got in last night.” I smiled back in kind, wide and toothy. There was gentle nod, as to affirm what she was saying to me. I came up with a story on the spot. I did it all the time: Where I came from. Who I am. Things most people need a few hours to a day to figure out. “I lived here when I was real little, but my parents and I moved away. I always remembered this little town and just had… to come back you know? Since my wife left me, anyway. Call me nostalgic…” I gave a friendly shrug.

“Oh you poor thing!” She had a genuine look of shock on her face. Fuck, I was a great actor. “Please, sit down, doll. I’ll get you a menu. What would you like to drink?” I liked the way she called me doll. She was rather young, maybe mid-twenties, but she had the friendly, flirty lingo down.

“No menu for me, honey. I’ll take a coffee and a plate of biscuits and gravy” I could smell it in the air. See it on unwashed plates. I didn’t need a menu. I knew what I wanted anyway. Nothing can beat a good plate of biscuits and gravy. It’s heavy with starch and grease. It sticks to the ribs. It’s wholesome food. Plus, what good diner wouldn’t have biscuits and gravy?

She gave a sly smirk and a very cute wink “Oh, you are a smartass, too. I think we will get along just fine. My name is Alice by the way.” With a shift of her heel and a swing of her hip, she turned around, almost dramatically. Off to make my order. Alice was showing off. I kind of liked it to tell the truth.

“Alex. Alex Bridges” I spoke with confidence.

I gave a look around the diner. It was old school. The floor was a red and white linoleum checker pattern that matched the red tables. Old tables with curved backs and hard seats with no cushions. There were only a couple other patrons in the place. Two old men, that I just noticed, had been staring at me since I walked in.

One had a long, brown beard that was unkempt and was moist from drips of coffee. Tall and lean like a tree. He had a sour look on his face and his eyes seemed to peer into my soul. They were not “bright” though. This made me feel a little better.

The other old man was shorter, his hair gray as coal ash. A strap of a beard came down his face and lined his chin. No mustache lined his upper lip. This man was well groomed but still wore hillbilly overalls. His gaze was less serious, a small smile on his face as he raised his coffee my direction. Almost like a welcome. Friendly old man. This man had very “bright” eyes, though, which made me worry.

“Alex,” there was that divine voice again. Alice. She had put my plate in front of me with a cup of hot coffee. Her face looked worried. The way a true friend looks at someone when they say they are going to kill themselves. And the razor is in their hand, already cutting into the skin. “Alex, are you alright?”

“Sorry. I was day dreaming a bit. I have a long day ahead of me. I wanted to be up earlier, know what I mean?” I flashed that smile again, making eye contact with her. She was a gorgeous girl and if I were fifteen years younger, I would have been all over her. I could have fallen for someone like her.

Alice smiled with a look of relief on her face. “Well eat up, sugar.” She leaned in a little closer and gave a whisper. Her breath smelled like peaches and cream. “It’s on the house today, okay?” She gave that cute wink and walked away to help a couple that had just arrived. She seemed to know the couple from their chit-chat. I only heard tones and laughs. Inflections.

My stomach took over and I powered down my meal hungrily. I couldn’t remember my last meal. I think it was before the bus ride. Alice came over and slipped me some napkins before going back to managing the cooks. I dropped a few sugar packets into my coffee and sucked it down. I was so busy with the biscuits that the coffee was almost cold. I grabbed one of the napkins and wiped my mouth. The napkin underneath had something written on it. A smiled a just a bit and pulled it under the counter to read.

I get off at noon. Give me a call, maybe we can catch lunch. Or dinner. –Alice

Her phone number was there, of course. I shook my head with a smile and tucked the note away next to my gun. I wanted it to be safe. I don’t know why now. Maybe I had a little infatuation with her. Maybe I just needed to connect to someone for a while instead of disconnecting someone from the mortal coil. The idea of any relationship, though, was impossible.

I stood and began to walk out when of the corner of my eye I saw something. A flash, a reflection. Maybe it was instinct. I can’t explain it. I focused in on the source… and it’s a badge. A shiny star of authority, sitting on the chest of the man that had come in with his wife.

My heart sunk just at the sight. I wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me, or if my targets really just sit down for breakfast. I reached into my inside pocket and gripped the holster of my gun. Every instinct, every urge in me told me to get it over with now, kill them all. Even poor, angelic Alice. But I resisted. I resisted till I was bleeding from my bottom lip and I realized my grip is not only on my gun but on that note from Alice. I walked out of the diner, smoothly, but my heart in my throat, like a cat fighting to get out of a bag. I started down the street like a deer that looks like it had just been nearly hit by a semi. I panicked like a rookie.

October 30- The Filth and the Fear

Three hours later and I finally found a rental car place. The only one in a two hundred miles, or so said the salesperson. A portly, balding man that stank of Rueben sandwiches and stale smoke. I flashed him some “fake” ID and the credit card to go with it. Everything checked out, as it always did. He gave me a wet handshake and I could feel how intimidated he was by me. His limp wrist trembled. I gave him a smile and a hundred dollar tip.

“Thank you Mr. Gustafson”

I got a cherry red; drop top Cadillac with bells and whistles that I would never touch. An Ode to Hunter Thompson, I told myself. I drove it like I owned it; cruising down back streets and back onto the main drag. I was trying to get a feeling for the town and its simple layout. No one batted an eyelash at me. People even waved and smiled as I passed them. I felt like a ghost, a lizard-man, a shadow killer. I was the kind of Filth that makes a person disappear with a smile and no one knew the better of it. I took that feeling and I owned it.

As I came across what seemed the only hill in town, I saw one of the many corporate sell-all stores that dot our country side.

Supplies.

I pulled into, probably, the Wal-Mart. One can never be sure. I made haste in picking up what I needed. I knew just the carpet cutter and lighter fluid looked suspicious so I picked up a few more things; A few cans of beans and a pack of hot dogs, some charcoal, a zippo with an ironic “No Smoking” sign on it, a roll of garbage bags, my fucking soap, and to round it out, paper plates, napkins and a small outdoor grill. One that barely stood a foot tall. Plus, a burner phone with a few hundred minutes on it. That looked much better. I got a weirder look from the cashier for the charcoal, grill and hot dogs than I did for the carpet cutter and lighter fluid.

“You’re gonna cook-out in October? It gets a bit chill at night.” A short, older woman looked up at me quizzically. Her hair was probably a wig and her glasses were thicker than a cellphone.

I offered only a smile and paid in cash. I headed back to the car and put the goods in the trunk except the carpet cutter. It found its way into my pocket. What time was it? The clock in the car said 1:12pm. Alice had gotten off work an hour earlier. I fought every urge I had to call her but after twenty minutes I gave in and pulled out that little phone

“Hello?” It was the sweet, heavenly tone of Alice. My heart jumped and I almost hung up.

“Hello, is this Alice?” My voice was inquisitive and inviting. Not quite sleazy but almost. I knew I should have been tracking my targets. I knew I should have been preparing myself for what was to come. I didn’t care. I wanted to get to know Alice, if only for a day. “This is Alex, from the diner.”

There was a small laugh from the other end, almost giddy. “Yes, this is her, and yes, sugar, I remember you. I was wondering when I was going to hear from you!” She didn’t sound like the average girl being called by a desperate man. But this was a small town. I imagined that every dip shit in this town has tried to date her. That she has had her fill of small town men. That I am just fresh blood for the shallow gene pool. Maybe she likes older men. Or maybe she is honestly happy to meet someone new altogether.

“I hope I’m not coming on too strong, but I was hoping that I could take you up on that lunch offer. “ The old not too strong line always was a good one. It helped me more than once. In Love, In War.

“Of course, silly. I wouldn’t have gave you my number and told you when I was getting off work if I didn’t want to have lunch with you!” She kind of giggled, probably finding my obliviousness cute.

And truly, I was oblivious. It had been some time since I truly interacted with someone out of my own interest and not being work related. Especially a woman. “Great!” I turned the charm back on. “Want me to pick you up or did you want to meet somewhere? I promise I don’t bite.”

“Oh don’t disappoint me now, Alex.” There was a playful tone in her heavenly voice. She was such a minx, I could already tell. “You can come over to my place. I have lunch cooking, actually. I live at 544 Palm Avenue. I have roommates but they are at work. They won’t be home for hours.”

I hesitated a moment when she told me her address and the Fear sets in a bit. Something Thompson wrote about. It always stuck with me. When the world comes crushing down on you and your skin is crawling away from you. Your brain is disconnected from its body and your only instinct is to take a shower in the dark until it goes away. You want to put the barrel of your gun in your mouth and pull the trigger. To run as fast away as possible into the abyss that led you there. A truly thrilling and terrifying sensation. That is the Fear.

“Alex, are you still there?” The seraphim bowed at her voice.

“Yeah, sorry, I dropped my wallet.” A total lie. “I will be there in say ten minutes?”

“Perfect! See you soon!” Then dial tone.

I roared up in the red Beast, my flaming cherry chariot, and parked. As I stepped out, Alice came out of the house. She had a smile as wide as a canyon on her face. Her makeup was done differently and she had changed out of her work clothes. She had the style of a Goth girl. Dark circles around her eyes, her hair was pulled back now, and I could see it was shaved on the sides a bit. Her black blouse buttoned up the front with Victorian style buttons and it had no sleeves. Bare-arms showed matching floral tattoos that led down from her shoulders and stopped at her elbows. Her skirt was to the knee and her boots came up to meet the seam of that skirt. Bangs hung down like two antenna and somehow she had made the transition from Angel to Creature of the Night. I was aroused.

“Hi, you!” She spoke so sweetly but the almost Southern inflection she had at the diner was gone. “Come in, the chicken is just about done and I already set our places.” Her eyes were like cosmic jewels as she stared me up and down. I found it almost unnerving how cordial she was to me.

I followed her in. It was obvious this was the house of Bridget and Kenneth Brown. A picture on the mantle showed a decorated police officer and his wife at the annual ball or Christmas party. It was the same picture in my wallet. I looked around a bit. There was a gun cabinet with a few shot guns. I’m sure the good stuff was put away somewhere. Various knick-knacks and more pictures. Nothing showed Alice lived here.

“What are you doing, silly man? Get in here and eat.” Alice stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Her arms pushed against the frame, suspended as if she were a marionette. A pale doll held by the hands of some spirit.

I do as she said and sat down in the kitchen at a nice breakfast bar made of polished steel. A bowl of biscuits sat in front of me. I watched as she fluttered around the room like a dark pixie as she fixed our plates. She sat them down and pulled up a stool. Her eyes never looked at her food, but only at me.

“You aren’t what you seem, are you?” An almost knowing tone was hidden behind the angelic voice. Alice was either very sharp, or playing at some fantasy game. Some kind of mysterious stranger infatuation.

I took a bite of my food as the words came out of her mouth and I stopped myself from mentally choking. The paranoia came back for just a moment and I wanted to run away. I felt compromised. “What do you mean? Not what I seem? What do I seem like to you?” I gave her a sly smile. My quick tongue tried to save me. I tried to turn it around on her. I tried to use my own charm against her graciously overpowering appearance and seraphic voice.

Alice smiled wide and toothy as she leaned forward. Her lips parted gently. I noticed then that her canines were sharpened. She had a tattoo of a small black heart behind her right ear. “You seem like Clint Eastwood in A Fistful of Dollars. Riding into the Wild West. To get revenge or claim a bounty. Something heroic, like that…Or the Crow, come to avenge your fiancé’s death. I can see it in you, you have purpose. You command presence. It’s kind of why I gave you my number. I’m intrigued by you.”

My eyes rose and stayed locked on Alice. She had divine knowledge hidden away behind angelic features. If she knew it or not, I didn’t know. The girl had struck a nerve, though. And she was much brighter than I gave her credit for at the diner. I shifted in my chair and tried at a smile. “Maybe I am Clint Eastwood Or Eric Draven. Maybe I’m James Bond. I can be anyone you want me to be.” Oh, I laid it on thick. I liked her game, if that’s what it was.

She pushed our plates aside. “Come to my secret lair, Mr. Bond.” She had a devious smile that you only see in film and spoke with a fake accent, like a Bond villain would. She took my hand and led me down to the basement.

Alice’s room was more elegantly decorated than I expected and intoxicatingly smelled of lilac incense. I was expecting a few posters of The Cure or Siouxsie Sue and the Banshees but I was surprised. A few authentic Victorian death pictures hung on the walls. An unfinished painting of, what looked to me to be Allister Crowley, perched on an easel, its eerie eyes staring at me. A collection of Rosary beads hung from wall mounted candelabras which held black tapered candles. The candles were lit.

A library’s worth of books was piled around her bed and dresser. Just to name a few; H.P. Lovecraft, Stephen King, Hunter Thompson, Mark Twain, Jack Kerouac, Aristotle, the Phineas Poe trilogy by Will Christopher Baer. I even spotted a worn and tattered copy of A House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski. They were all very good books and amazing authors. I also saw an anatomy book, which I didn’t find strange at all.

“You like to read I take it? You have quite the collection. I’m impressed. Some of my favorite books are in here.” I couldn’t help myself from saying it. I guess there was a reason her eyes were so “bright” to me. I assumed she was working her way through college or had dropped out. “You have good taste.” I gave the compliment genuinely. Like I said before, I could have fallen for a girl like this.

“Thank you.” It was a quick and simple answer. Alice sat on her bed, unlacing her boots. Pink toe socks wiggled a bit and she tossed her boots aside. She was graceful in every movement. “So tell me, Mr. Bond,” She stretched across the bed like a centerfold and lit a cigarette, “Mr. Cowboy. Mr. Draven…Do I scare you?”

To be honest, she did, just a little. She was like peach cyanide. This was not the girl that I met at the diner, but someone different. She had turned into someone able to eat me alive. Or maybe I was being paranoid and her game was just that good. “Maybe a little, Alice. Maybe a little. Do I scare you? I mean, I really am stranger. I just got to town. I’m probably ten years older than you and now we are in your bedroom. No one is here but us.”

Without hesitation, she answered. “I’m not scared at all, not one bit. I don’t care how old you are, either. I invited you here, didn’t I?” She now had her shirt unbuttoned and her black bra pushed her breasts up to her chin. She was still sprawled out like a kitten. Her exposed skin was milky and pure. Freckles dotted her chest like a Connect the Dots book. The girl gave a giggle before she spoke. “You could be a serial killer and I could care less, actually.” The Angel paused for a moment and looked up at me with truth in her eyes. “I just have a feeling that you are up to something special… And I want to be part of it. “

I had to respond with something. Those eyes were paralyzing me. I almost felt enchanted. “I’m not up to anything. My wife just left me and I am here, mainly passing through. Seeing old landmarks, you know? I am surprised by your invite and…” I made a motion with my arm, toward her near naked frame. “This.”

Her tone went flat and she gave me a scowl that could kill. “Alex, please don’t bullshit me. You don’t have a tan line where your wedding ring used to be. You are too smooth of a talker to be recently crushed. Trust me; I’ve dealt with plenty of crushed men. I can see it in your eyes…They betray you.”

She saw every hole in my story and plucked her slender fingers into them.

“I smelled gin on your breath this morning and your pupils were wider than donut holes. And when you saw the cop at the diner, you ran away like you were scared for your life. As well as you dress, my first instinct was drug dealer. But no, there are no drug dealers in this tiny village. And none would ever pass through this back hills town. This makes me sad really. I could tell, though, you were on something, which made me curious.” Daintily, she lit up another cigarette. She liked to smoke it seemed.

I laughed. “Oh, you are a fiery little thing, aren’t you? I have to be honest, you are a clever girl. You are right. I have no wife. I’ve never been married. I’m not a drug dealer, either. The drugs I take are medication. As for the cop, they’ve always made me nervous.” I pulled out a cigarillo and sat at the foot of her bed.

She passed me the ashtray and tossed me her lighter. “Oh, the cop from this morning is one of my roommates and if cops make you nervous then you might want to be gone when he get home. I don’t really like him to tell you the truth, but it has nothing to do with him being a cop.”

I changed the subject, wanting to know more about her. “It seems like you don’t fit into this small town scene. What brings you here?” I was as curious about her as she was of me. Plus, I wanted to take the attention off of me for a while.

Alice paused, taking a drag of her cigarette before stubbing it out. “I’m not from here, either. I came from Chicago. I’m an orphan. I had foster parents but we were never really close. They died while I was in my last year of college.” She paused for a moment and smiled. “I was an English Major but my first two semesters I studied Psychology.” That smile fell as quickly as her next words. “I dropped out and fell in with a pretty crazy crowd. They taught me how to take care of myself pretty well and how to let myself go. In this group was a beautiful man named Oscar. He was tall and dark and mysterious and…he sucked me into this dark world. We ran drugs and we robbed johns. He introduced me to LSD and Chakras and Voodoo. We drank blood and fucked like there was no tomorrow. We meditated with Shaman and shared our hearts with each other.”

Her tone grew harsher. “For a year and a half I rode at his side, loyal to him like a blind dog. We stopped here in Merrymaker because I had to pee. I went into the gas station and when I came out, he was gone. The fucker just left me.”

“So, how did you wind up living with a cop?” My tongue felt thick in my mouth as I asked. I really wanted to know. I stubbed out my cigar and I felt Alice move up next to me. Her hand moved up my thigh.

“It’s not important. What’s important is that he and his wife are helping me get on my feet. They gave me a place to live.” She sounded like she was repeating words that weren’t her own. It dawned on me that she said she didn’t like the cop earlier.

“Why don’t you like the cop?” I looked over to meet her eyes.

“I don’t want to talk about it. It’s not important.” Alice had taken off her bra and was digging her nails into my thigh. Those jade gems of eyes spoke to me. They said, Take me. Fuck me. Make me forget.

The sex was amazing and loud. She made me believe my name was Alex for an hour and God for another. I was still virile, strong. She taught me things I will never forget. I am surprised I didn’t forget how to fuck, to be honest with you.

When we were finished, she laid her arm across my chest and fell asleep. Sweat, eyeliner, and tears ran down her face. Her lipstick smeared on her face and mine. Alice did not snore, but her gentle breathing caused me to nod off as well.

I woke to the sound of two muffled gunshots. It was dark outside. How long had I been out? The clock in her room said 11:30. I threw my pants on and noticed my jacket was missing. Running up the stairs, I heard two more silenced shots. I knew it was my gun.

My heart was in my throat and I felt naked. My eyes fell on a very eerie and delightful sight: Kenneth and Bridget Brown lie dead on the floor. More than ten feet away from them stood Alice, my .45 gripped tightly in her hands. She had shot the cop in the dick, then through the heart. Mrs. Brown, though, would not get that open casket funeral I wanted her to have. Her head and brains were splattered chunks across the wall and floor. I looked over at Alice, with what I now imagine was surprise. I don’t know if I was smiling or I had checked out. No, I definitely wasn’t smiling.

“I told him. I told him I would do it. I told him not again…” She was whispering, but I heard her clearly. Alice sniffled and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I told him I wasn’t his fuck toy.”

“Alice…” I had so many feelings running through me. So many thoughts I couldn’t get straight. But thankfully my instinct kicked in. “We have to go…”

She raised the gun up at me. “Go where? Going to take me to the cops or something?” Her hand shook with fear.

I started walking toward her, not flinching. “Never, I promise you. You are safer with me than you know, Alice. Just give me the gun and we can go. We can go far away and no one will ever know what happened here. You have to trust me. We have to leave now.”

Alice fell into my arms and dropped the .45 to the ground. I held her for a moment as she sobbed. Then I picked the gun up, tucking it back away from my newly recovered and somewhat blood jacket. I started rushing her to the car. Before leaving, she insisted on grabbing a small wooden box and a change of clothes. I didn’t let her take anything else. She needed to disappear as much as I did, now. I wasn’t going to leave her alone, though. I don’t know why, but I felt like she was my responsibility. Then again, nothing like this had happened to me before.

We rolled passed the house I was crashing and grabbed my stuff and Alice took a quick shower. I told her to leave her bloody clothes in the tub. I tossed my case in the back seat and the blanket up front.

Alice did not say a word and only snuggled with the blanket until I pulled up to the gas station. I was looking for the man in the gray coat. I told her we needed to get gas.

“I have to pee. Promise you won’t leave me?” She looked over with pleading eyes. Like she was truly scared of me leaving her there.

“I promise, Alice. I won’t leave you. Pick up some snacks?” I held out a hundred dollar bill. “And anything else you need.” I gave a pause as I looked her in the eye. “Just act normal. Alright?”

She nodded slowly. I knew she could handle herself. “Thank you. I don’t understand why you are being so… Kind” She looked at me with a small, thankful smile and sighed deeply as she slipped out of the car.

I got out and filled the tank of the sanguine Beast. We would have to lose it eventually, but for right now, it was our ticket out of here. As I stood pumping the gas, the man in the gray coat walked up to me. There were no words exchanged and there never was. We have seen each other many times. He was like my leash. Watching and waiting for me to meet at the designated point. And from the look in my eyes, I knew he could tell something had shaken me. He looked at the car then toward Alice, who was picking out goodies in the store. Right there, I knew he saw the girl get out of the car. He only handed me the big manila envelope and walked away, back into the shadows. Like a ghost. I tucked it away in my jacket and pulled the Beast up to the front doors.

Alice came out with a bag of treats. There were candy bars and potato chips, cola, rum and disposable cups. Beef Jerky and Twinkies. Cigarettes, condoms and a magazine sat on top of a box of tampons. A few energy drinks rattled around at the bottom. Shopping therapy. The shock of the kill had seemed to have faded from her face. She wore a smile, like the murders she just committed had rolled off her back. It was like another day at work for her.

We roared off into the night, leaving Merrymaker and the mess Alice created behind us.



October 31-Truth or Dare

It’s an hour before Alice started to talk again. Telling me about how she met the couple at the bar the night she was abandoned. How they allowed her into their home, promised to take care of her then used her. Kenneth always came on to her and sometimes they traded sex for rent payments.

“I’m not proud of that.” She said as she puffed on a cigarette. “But sometimes you have to do what you have to do.”

He wanted to pimp her out to some of his cop friends but she always refused and he would get angry. She started to make better money at the diner and getting more hours. She was liked by the regulars and they tipped her well. When she no longer needed to trade sex for rent, Kenneth got physical. She was trapped. He was a cop. What could she do?

She also told me about Bridget. How Mrs. Brown was well aware of these facts and did nothing about it. How Mrs. Brown was a horrible woman who acted like the wicked step mother in Cinderella. How Lady Brown would wait until she was asleep and come into her room. To burn Alice with cigarettes, to hit her with a belt, to basically treat Alice like the child Bridget never wanted. Whatever confidence the girl had was beaten out of her. Apparently, I was the catalyst for her change.

“If it weren’t for you being there, I… I just don’t know. It would have been another horrible night. I didn’t mean to drag you into all of this. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m going to do now…” She was apologizing and didn’t even know that she had nothing to apologize for.

I shook my head. “Hey, it’s alright. You just have to trust me. I’m going to pull off at the first hotel I see and get us a room. There, we figure things out. Don’t worry, alright?”

“Thank you.” Alice said quietly. She seemed to have calmed down. That or she was really drained. Her eyes were amphibian slits that stared at the road and I tried to figure out where this was all going.

A two hundred or so miles down the road, I found a hotel. It was secluded by tall willow trees that leaves still hung to, fighting against the late season changing of the guard. Bungalow style suites and a dead parking lot. Perfect. I looked over at Alice. She was sleeping.

The owners were all smiles and very old. It looked like they had been married since the dawn of time. They aimed to please and were awfully surprised to see visitors this late at night. The transaction was quick and cheap. I paid for two days. A single hundred dollar bill. The old man smiled up at me, his eyes were blue, dull and happy. He held a key in his hand. Bungalow 7.

“We don’t do housekeeping daily so don’t worry, no one will bother you. You got number 7. It’s the bungalow in the far back, around the bend. It’s very secluded back there. You clean the room while you are here and all is good. We’ll clean it when you leave. If you need something, like sheets or pillows just ring down. We are always here.” The old man nearly shoved the key into my hand before walking into the back room with his little blue-haired wife.

I got back to the car and Alice still asleep. Probably wracked with shock, and all that act early was just that, an act. All my instincts wanted me to leave her in the hotel room. Fuck that, leave her in the car. No, Fuck THAT. Kill her and just move on to the next stop.

No.

I had to tell myself no. I didn’t believe in chance. I believed in fate. There was something that brought this young woman to my side and it wasn’t my good looks or fast tongue. What it was, though, I didn’t know. I pulled the Beast around the bend to Bungalow 7 and shut her down. Alice woke up, groggy.

“We finally make it?” She spoke in a hushed tone. Giving a yawn, she looked over to at the bungalow. “Cool. I’ve always wanted to stay at one of these kinds of hotels.” There was no hint of guilt in her voice at all. She was unscathed. And I was almost terrified.

I handed Alice the key and grabbed my case and the bag of goodies.

“Ladies first.” I gave a flicker of a smile. If anything I would be chivalrous.

After she opened the door, the overwhelming smell of pine cleaner and bleach nearly put me to a knee. It was strong, to say the least. I asked Alice to open a couple windows. As she did, I took in the detail of the place. One California king bed. A recliner, a couch, a kitchen area that had a small radio and a bathroom with no door. The light switch for the whole place had a dimmer, which I really liked. There wasn’t a TV in the room, which I was fine with. Alice did not seem too bothered either.

“I like it. I was expecting a raccoon on the bed or a skunk in the sink.” Alice took a seat on the bed and began to slip out of her boots. Her milky white skin reflected the hardwood of the bungalow and gave her an almost olive glow in the lighting. It wasn’t until now that I noticed what she had changed into back in Merrymaker. She wore a thin, form fitting black tee shirt, a pair of tattered black jeans and a charcoal pea-coat.

She looked amazing, as always. As always? I’ve known her for a day.

“Me too.” I ran my fingers through my hair and my skin itched. I looked at my case for a second and felt the staunch need to take a few pills. My eyes shot back to Alice, whose eyes were still locked on me.

“Now what, Alex?” Simple as that. She was straight to the point. “I mean, how are you so cool with this? I just killed two people. I should have killed myself.” There it was; the hint of shock that had disappeared earlier.

“Yeah, you killed two people. That is true.” I puffed on a cigarillo and sat on the couch. My case in my lap. I unlocked it and flipped it open. I didn’t know what I was going to do, really. I knew what my instincts told me, and I already went against them. “But turning the gun on you would have solved nothing. I wouldn’t have let you if you had tried, anyway. You did nothing wrong, and you don’t have to justify it to me or any court.”

“You aren’t the least bit worried that the cops will come looking for me? Or you? Why did you even help me?” Alice was full of questions and I didn’t blame her. The girl wanted answers and I was acting too cool for school.

“No, I’m not worried. Do you want to know why?” I reached into my case, grabbed a few valium and washed them down with the warm rum Alice bought. “Because no one will ever know you did it. They will never tie you or me to anything.”

“What the fuck makes you so sure, Alex?” She sounded like she was getting tired of playing the game. Alice’s patience was wearing thin, but a lot of this still had to be the shock. She could act cool, but not keep her cool.

I grabbed a couple more Valium and handed them over to Alice. “Here, you aren’t going to believe me. This might help you relax, because the things I am going to tell you are probably going to make you laugh at me, or run from me.”

Alice took the pills and swallowed them down after giving them a look. There was a sharp flare of anger in her beautiful jade eyes. Her voice was less heavenly and more fire and brimstone. “Really? Are you The Crow?” She did the fake accent again. “Are you James Bond?” Alice was mocking me. Or she was reverting to some self-defense mechanism.