Apocalypstick, Page 2

  My daydream ended, and I felt a throbbing pain in my leg, where I had stabbed myself several times with Dillon’s fork. It was so painful, and I was so disgusted with myself, I vomited right in my bed.

  Later, when the pain dulled, I cleaned myself as best as I could, and went down to the concierge. The young woman behind the counter didn’t look up, even when I was right in front of her. I stared at the floor and waited, trying to ignore the pulsing pain in my thigh, while she tapped the tiny keypad on her phone.

  “Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. Are you checking in?” she asked.

  She looked me up and down, and I wanted to straighten my hair, and dry the sweat-stains in my pits. She jumped up when she saw my bloody khaki’s.

  “Oh my God! Stay calm, I’ll call the nurse.” She picked up the desk phone and pressed a speed dial button.

  “No nurse,” I said. I tried to smile and nod reassuringly, but the pain was distracting. I reached across the desk and pressed the hang-up lever. “Band-Aids?”

  She looked unsure, but she put the phone down. “I’ll get a first aid kit.”

  “I need a new key, too. Mine’s locked in the room. It’s number 828.”

  I took the elevator back to the eighth floor. Walking past my room, I swiped my new key card in the lock next door. The light turned green with a click and a quiet beep, and I went inside.

  The girl’s dead eyes were wide with surprise and terror, just like I had imagined. I threw the comforter over her naked body, trying not to look. Trying. I found Dillon on the bathroom floor by the toilet with his wet hair plastered to his head. It was funny how things always happened exactly the way I pictured them. People always got what they deserved.

  #

  It was a tough night. I was exhausted from the long drive, and whatever I did with the rest of the day, but my sleep was fitful and restless. My dreams were invaded by the couple selling their home in Greenwood Gardens.

  I had to watch them living their perfect lives, in their perfect home, with their perfect dog, knowing that just by being happy together, watching ridiculously banal sitcoms, and eating their baked chicken and vegetables; just by living their perfect, boring lives, they mocked me. How could I ever have what they had? I would never be worthy of another person’s love. Not like that.

  I dreamed about my mother, too, and the all-night sleepover parties. Sometimes, a different man would come over every night, and she would lock me in my room. One night, three men stayed, and when they left, my mother didn’t come open my door. I was eight years old. Aunt Sandy found me two days later, still trapped in my room. She said my mother was in heaven. Not likely.

  As tired as I was, I forced myself to get up. I wanted to leave before the room next door turned into a crime scene. I drove around town for a while, letting the van go where it wanted. This town was like every other. I found a mall, an elementary school, and a few churches. But not far from Greenwood Gardens, I found and old quarry. It was abandoned and very peaceful.

  The pit was deep; a hundred feet, maybe two. I wasn’t very good at guessing that sort of thing. I stood a while, just staring down at the glassy water and the jagged rocks, but the peace was stolen by screaming gulls. They swarmed like insects, diving and fighting for a position on a blue crumpled SUV sticking out of the shallow water. Something about it nagged me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  I wondered if the driver went in on purpose. To be honest, I thought about jumping in, too. I even stood with my toes right on the edge and my arms stretched out like wings for balance, but I fell backwards instead of into the pit.

  “Coward,” my other voice said. “You can’t even kill yourself right.” I laid there and cried for a while, but my growling stomach made me move again. I drove to the mall, ate some Chinese food on a Styrofoam plate, and then went upstairs to watch the new Star Trek movie.

  I was disappointed that Shatner wasn’t in this one, but Greenwood Gardens kept intruding into my thoughts, and I couldn’t enjoy it, anyway. I drove to Maple Drive, and stopped in front of number 108. It wasn’t dark yet, but the lights were all on. Even though I knew it was bad for my poor planet, the light was pretty to look at.

  I let my thoughts wander into the house.

  The handsome man puts a bowl of dog food on a floor mat, while the lady cooks in three different pots. Something smells delicious in the oven, too. He starts to clear the table of a bunch of paper bags with rope handles, but she says to leave them.

  “We’ll eat in the living room,” she says.

  He sets up little folding tray tables by the couch, and they eat together, while Shirley waits patiently at their feet for something to drop. They watch the same boring show on their TiVo, laughing in time with the fake studio audience.

  They trade stories about their day while they clean up. She did some shopping, and he met with an architect who had never heard of physics.

  “Are you going to show me what’s in the bags?” he asks.

  “I thought you might like to see them on. Play your cards right, and I’ll model for you later,” she says with a slutty smile. They kiss, and he heads towards the stairs, stopping at the front window to look at the strange van parked outside.

  “I think someone’s checking out the house, Babe.”

  “Well, don’t be rude, David, invite them in,” she says, but she’s just kidding.

  So that’s his name. David.

  I snapped out of my daydream and looked up to see David staring at me through the tall, narrow window by his front door, just like I imagined. I must have lost track of time, because it was suddenly dark. I watched him for a second, and then drove away.

  #

  The Holiday Inn Express near the highway wasn’t as nice as the Marriott, but it had a bed and a clean bathroom. I cleaned my leg wounds with water and bandaged them again. They were small, but they were puffy, and hurt a lot. I accepted the pain as a fitting reward for my weakness and perversion.

  As I drifted to sleep, I thought about the pretty lady of the house on Maple Drive. She seemed to love her husband, and despite the fact that she acted like a filthy whore, he seemed to love her, too. She was probably seducing him at that moment.

  I never got past the foyer at the open house, but I could picture their bedroom easily enough. Their king sized bed was dressed with a pretty comforter and pillows, and the huge bathroom had a garden tub. The air was still steamy from the shower, and David sat on the bed, barely covered by an untied silk robe.

  The pretty lady stalked out of the walk-in closet wearing pajamas from Hookers-R-Us that didn’t cover anything.

  “What do you think?” she asks him, standing in the doorway with her arms up over her head.

  “Mrs. Keaton! I think I’m going to need some extra help after class,” David says.

  A whining noise comes from the other side of the closed bedroom door. Shirley must know what her masters are up to, and is trying to save them from their depravity.

  “Shirley! Stop it!” David yells. “Shelia, don’t let her in.”

  So that’s her name. Shelia.

  Sheila opens the door, and David falls back on the bed, annoyed. Shirley spins around in a circle by the door, and runs back downstairs with a peculiar whine.

  “She needs to go out, honey,” Shelia says. “Hurry. I promise I’ll make it worth your while when you come back up.”

  I could practically sense Shirley’s anger at her master. Every dog wants a good master, not a depraved pervert. I pictured what might happen if Shirley realized her master was a bad man who wanted to hurt her.

  David opens the sliding back door. “Come on, girl. Out you go.” But Shirley doesn’t go out. She growls at David, and lunges at him. Her teeth rip the skin on his hand, and then she runs out the back door, across the yard, and through a hole under the fence.

  “Dammit!” David yells, “Shirley! Get back here!”

  Shelia runs down the stairs to see what’s going on.

  “Da
vid! You’re bleeding! What happened?” Shelia cries, grabbing a towel and wrapping it tight around his hand. She pulls the loose silk tie from around his waist and ties the cloth in place. She is still mostly naked, and now David’s blood is on her new pajamas.

  I woke up from my dream and sat up in bed. Even though I was still dressed, my wicked part had a mind of its own. I pounded my fist into my groin as hard as I could. I saw stars from the pain, and curled into a fetal ball. I cried myself to sleep, and thankfully didn’t have any more dreams.

  #

  I woke up early the next morning, at least I hoped it was the next morning, ate some scrambled eggs and a dry muffin at the buffet, and climbed into the van. At around seven o’clock, I found myself back at the quarry. I stood on the edge again, looking down, but with the sun still low on the horizon, the pit looked like a dark, bottomless hole.

  I sat down and dangled my legs over the side. My leg burned, my body ached, and I just wanted to go home. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what David and Shelia were doing, but I couldn’t concentrate.

  Forcing the pain out of my mind, I remembered the feeling of David’s soft cashmere jacket. It took me back to the moment when I opened that closet and saw the treasures of their normal life. It was like I was back in the foyer.

  “No,” David’s voice says from the kitchen. “She’s not out there. Poor girl. What could have gotten into her? She just went crazy. I hope it’s not distemper, or something.”

  Shelia comes down the stairs wearing grey running shorts and a tight pink shirt. “She’s had her shots. I’m going to jog around the neighborhood and look for her. Can you make a couple of passes on your way to work?”

  David hugs her. “Yeah, I have a meeting with the concrete guys at ten, but I should still have enough time to prepare. Don’t worry. She’s a smart dog. She’ll probably find us before we find her.”

  Shelia nods, but doesn’t look convinced. “Good luck today,” she says.

  “You, too,” he says back. He kisses her goodbye and goes out through the garage.

  He backs the truck down to the street and starts driving slowly around the block. I wondered why he wasn’t going to the quarry. It was a perfect place for a run-away dog to go. There might even be someone there who could help find her. David thinks so too. He turns the truck around and leaves the neighborhood.

  A few minutes later, I heard his wheels grinding down the gravel road. He stopped next to the van and walked over to me.

  “Morning,” he said.

  I looked over my shoulder at him, still sitting on the edge. “Hi,” I said with a little wave.

  “Are you alright, Pal?”

  Did he really care if I was alright?

  “My leg hurts,” I said.

  “Here, let me help you up. Can you stand?”

  I nodded, and he pulled me to my feet. It was nice of him. He was very handsome in person. He smelled good, too. Not perfumy, but nice in a manly way.

  “I’m looking for my dog. She’s about fifteen pounds, brown curly hair. You haven’t seen her, have you?”

  I smiled and nodded. David seemed like a really nice person. He was just the sort of person I wished I could be.

  “Shirley’s down there,” I said, pointing to the bottom of the quarry. “I’ve been watching her.”

  “Oh, that’s such a relief,” he sighed. “It’s weird, you know? I just knew I’d find her here.” He stepped up next to me and scanned the dark pit for Shirley, but after a couple of seconds, he took a sideways step away, and turned to face me.

  “I didn’t say her name, friend,” he said, suddenly very serious. He looked back at the van, and I knew he recognized it. “You were outside my house yesterday. What are you doing here with my dog, and how do you know her name?”

  I bowed my head. He was so nice a minute ago, now he was really mad. Why did nice people always get so mad at me? Why couldn’t we ever be friends? I closed my eyes, and pictured Shirley running around at the bottom of the quarry, barking.

  David looked down, but didn’t see her yet. My foggy head made it hard to picture her. My whole body was starting to ache. I must have been getting a fever.

  “Now what are you going to do?”

  It was my other voice again.

  “Go away,” I said.

  David must have thought I was talking to him. “I am going to get my dog,” he said. “You better be gone when I get back up here, and pray that I never see you again.”

  “You can’t do anything right. I’m going to have to clean this up, too, aren’t I?” My other voice said.

  “No. I’ll do it. Just leave me alone. Go away!”

  “Hurry! Push him in!” my other voice said. “Bah! I’ll do it!”

  “I don’t need your help! Go away!” I was yelling again.

  David grabbed my shoulders and pulled me away from the edge, but my other voice took over.

  When I woke up, I was on the edge of the cliff again, and David’s broken body was sprawled on its back at the bottom of the quarry.

  “Look what you’ve done, now,” my other voice said, “I hope you’re happy.”

  “Ow! OW! Whass happened?” I asked, but my other voice was silent. My leg hurt worse than ever, my top lip was split open, and my nose was bleeding. My tongue probed through a gap in my teeth to touch my torn lip. Dammit! I was missing a tooth. No, two teeth! Right in front, in the middle of my smile. I staggered back from the precipice once more, and shambled over to my van, but…

  David’s truck was still running, and it was much nicer than my new van, so I climbed in. It was probably time for new car, anyway. I adjusted the mirror, catching a glimpse of my small black eyes in my chubby face, beneath my straight, oily bangs. I was so surprised not to see David’s smooth face and thick hair, that I punched the mirror, knocking it out of view. Now my hand hurt, too.

  “Don’t like what you see, do you?” my other voice chided.

  “Shut up. You can’t stop me now. I’m going home.”

  “You don’t have a home, and this isn’t your truck. What have you done to deserve this man’s life? He’s the one who worked to build it. People like you don’t get to have a life like his. You are a bad person! You are the monster in the closet. You are the intruder in the steam outside the woman’s shower curtain, hoping for a peak.”

  “That wasn’t me! It was you!” I screamed. “You are the pervert, not me! I just want to be normal!” I punched the mirror again, and again, bloodying my knuckles and knocking it off the windscreen.

  My aching, battered body forced me to calm down and catch my breath. There was a laptop bag next to several cardboard tubes in the back seat. The glove box held some hand sanitizer and Burger King Napkins, and in the center console, I found a bag of peanuts, a big black handgun, and a box of bullets, but no medicine or cigarettes, so I closed it and drove back home.

  Home. I was already starting to think of it like that. Poor Shelia would need a new husband now. I was sure I could come to like her if I could help her overcome her natural, whorish tendencies. I could teach her to be a good, decent woman, and in return, she could have a new husband to love and care for. She could bring me that glass of wine, and ask how my day was.

  I parked in the garage and went inside to tell Shelia the good news, but she wasn’t there. She must have still been jogging around the neighborhood, looking for Shirley.

  I almost forgot about Shirley. It would be nice if she found her way home before Shelia got here. It would be wonderful for Shirley to have a new master; one who wasn’t a moral degenerate. She would be happier with her new master. All would be perfect once she got home.

  I took the cashmere jacket from the coat closet and ran my hand over the shoulder, admiring it once again. It must have looked nice on David, but it was mine now. I tossed my bloody leather jacket on the floor, and tried it on. The buttons wouldn’t close, and it was tight in the shoulders, but I wore it anyway. I had earned it, and besides, it would comfort Shelia to
see me wearing something of David’s.

  A few minutes later, the little brown curly dog was at the back door. I let her in, and found a treat for her in the pantry. I picked the flotsam and jetsam from her hair, and petted her on the big, comfy sofa until she fell asleep on my lap. She perked up, though, when Shelia came panting through the door.

  “David?” she called. “What are you doing back? Did you find Shirley? Ugh, where’d this jacket come from? It’s filthy.”

  Shirley barked and jumped down, and ran to greet Shelia with a happily wagging tail.

  “This won’t work. She’ll hate you. You aren’t her husband.” It was my other voice trying to sabotage my new life, but I wasn’t going to let him. Not this time.

  Shelia screamed when she saw me on our couch, but I knew she would come to see me just as she saw David. With patience, I would teach her to be a good wife, and maybe even a good woman. I was home at last, just like I imagined.

  The End

  please continue to the next story

  Killing Tiffany Hudson

  By Gregory Carrico

  The other exterminator sat next to me on the guardrail, trying to catch her breath. She looked carefully at my knife while massaging the sides of her bald, tattooed head. Was she smiling?

  “You’re pretty good with that thing,” she said.

  I suppressed a growl, and glanced down the quickly darkening street for signs of more offspring. There were always more of them in a city, and thanks to her, they’d have no trouble finding us. She’d be lucky if I didn’t leave her here to die. Not that she would fare any better if I stayed; she just wouldn’t die alone.

  I risked a quick scan for other thoughts to see how close the offspring were, and was surprised when a ripple of emotion tickled the back of my mind. Fear. Panic. It wasn’t from her, either. I stood and spun around, trying to get a fix on it, but it was gone. One thing was certain, though: it had to be human.

  “I like somethin’ with a bit of reach, myself,” the girl continued. Her spear had a four foot haft, but it’s slightly curved, serrated blade added another two feet to its length. From the way she used it, it might have been her favorite childhood toy.