All in the Family (17 page)

“Enjoy your bath. you can clean up, and I’ll be waiting for you in a bit.” Herman scooped up the body from the floor and hefted it over his shoulder, removing a flashlight from atop the medicine cabinet; he left the room, basement bound, for he had work to do.

When the tub was full enough, she stepped inside, slowly lowering herself into the bloodbath. She kicked her leg up and watched the warm liquid run down her leg and drip from her foot. It felt good as the heat enveloped her. She washed the blood and water over her shoulders; it ran down her breasts, tantalizing her nipples, the warm water and the cold air after the rush. Her nipples hardened. Then she laid her head back and relaxed, the first time in a long time that she felt truly relaxed.

* * * *

The night had been long for them all, so the morning came and went while they slept. It was nearing twelve-thirty when Bobby finally stirred. He woke, and it was cold in his room. He shivered and pulled the covers up to his neck. Why was it so cold?

He rose from the bed and kept the blanket pulled around his body like a smock, shivering as the cold tore up his body from his feet. He shuffled toward the window and peeked out. Frost glistened on the far side of the driveway, each blade of grass twinkling like diamonds. The hearse was gone. Where was dad?

Bobby left his bedroom, still shuffling, and still wrapped in his blanket. Walking into the kitchen, he found it empty, and the family room, all empty. He gave up his search and went back into his bedroom. He plopped down on his bed in front of his television and channel surfed until he found the local news station.

They were just running a segment on missing teenagers in the surrounding counties. The tail end of it showed their pictures and names and gave a number to call if you saw them. Then they went to commercial with a promise of a weather report when they returned. A moment later, the weatherman appeared on the screen, a digital map on the green-screen behind him.

“Boy is it cold out there,” he said into the screen. “Make sure you bundle up if you go out. Also folks, make sure that you’ve reset your furnaces after last night’s power outages. The storm rolled in last night and has done tremendous damage throughout the county. Hope you had everything tied down. The winds whipped and tore through the county taking down trees and even telephone poles. Power has been restored to most homes, though there are a few that remain without power. They promise to have it back up as soon as possible. Slick roads are making it hard on workers to get to some areas without power. The rain we had last night turned to freezing rain when the storm finally began to let up. No more of that for the rest of the week, we are looking at sunshine for the next three days, though it’s still going to be cold. We’re looking at a high today of ...”

Bobby turned off the television without finishing the weather forecast. All he knew was that it was cold, and he didn’t want to be out in the cold, but his father was gone. He thought momentarily of waking his mother, but he didn’t think she could reset the furnace. After careful deliberation, he threw off the blanket. It was time to get dressed and face the day.

In the basement, he fiddled near the furnace, flashlight in hand. He knew that there was a switch, he just didn’t know where. He’d throw it and see if it started working again. His breath came out in white puffs in front of his face. It was exceptionally cold in the basement. Finally, his hand found something that felt like a light switch. It was turned up; he flicked it down, nothing. He flicked it back up, and he heard the electric whir of the furnace as it kicked on, a tell-tale sign that it was ready to operate.
“Yes,” he muttered quietly, the word coming out in another white puff of cloud. He turned and something caught his eye. On the workbench in the middle of the room, something called out to him, the hammer. It lay there, something on the head glinted as the beam of his flashlight crossed the room. He walked closer and touched it. His fingers were sticky as he brought them back. It looked like blood, and it wasn’t fresh, it was drying and tacky. He knew blood when he saw it. He ran upstairs, unsure of what could have happened or to whom, but he had to see for himself. He cracked open the door to his parent’s room. His mother was asleep in the bed; he waited quietly until he was sure he heard her breathing. Then, taking a gulp, he stepped across the hall to Jessica’s room. He peeked inside. She too lay in her bed, the covers pulled to her chin. He couldn’t hear her breathing so he stepped closer, then another couple steps. He saw the blanket move slightly as her chest rose and fell with every breath.

He could hear the furnace working hard to reheat the house. With his fears eased and his only worry about his father, he slipped back into his bedroom and curled up under his blanket to wait out the cold. Then Tommy entered his mind. They hadn’t spoken much since the death of their mutual enemy. Tommy had avoided him at school. There wasn’t any sense in pursuing him, and he knew Tommy was far too frightened to say anything, even to another classmate. At least Bobby thought he was too frightened. The thought wouldn’t leave his mind now that it was there; he was becoming paranoid, deeply unsatisfied with not truly knowing. He dialed Tommy’s number from his bedside phone.

“Hello?” a woman asked.

“Hello, may I speak to Tommy please?”

“Of course, Bobby,” Tommy’s mother said on the other end.

There was a moment of silence, yet he was sure he could hear muffled voices in the background. Bobby waited patiently.

“Bobby,” it was Tommy’s mother again, “Tommy isn’t feeling the best right now; could I have him call you back?”

“Sure,” Bobby replied and then cradled the receiver. Now he was no longer paranoid, he knew that Tommy avoided him for good reason. The boy wasn’t sick; he hadn’t had even a cold in the last three years.

Bobby walked into the kitchen and looked at the calendar on the wall. It was Sunday. The clock above the calendar read one thirty-five, and he knew where Tommy would be headed soon. Tommy was notorious for walking to the comic store a few blocks away, even the snow couldn’t keep him from his weekly Sunday routine. Bobby would have to intercept him. He’d talk to him; at least make sure that he would keep his mouth shut. What if Tommy had already told? What if Tommy planned on telling someone? Bobby would have to put a stop to that.

It was much colder outside, but Bobby braced himself and faced the biting wind. At least the sun shined, that was the only good that he could see coming for the day. He heard a bird singing in a tree nearby and wondered if the bird had gotten lost on its flight further south. Kentucky was far from being the warm and more tropical climates that the bird would enjoy. As he walked by the tree that housed the bird, he saw a cat clawing at the bark at the base of the tree trunk. The cat clawed and then backed up and looked up and then went back to clawing, as if debating whether the fruits of his labor would be sufficient if he climbed up and took the bird. Perhaps the cat had been after the bird for some time and knew that his labor would be in vain for when he got close the bird would simply fly away and escape his would-be captor. Either way, the cat stayed on the ground. Bobby smiled as he passed the comical scene playing in his head, how the cat would feel when his prey basically walked away.

He continued his walk down Front Street and over to Barnett Avenue, cutting across an empty lot to avoid the street where the man from Halloween night lived. That was a place he didn’t want to visit again if for no other reason than he did not want to be identified.

Bobby waited in an alley, less than a block from the comic store. This was the way he and Tommy always walked, and he knew it wouldn’t be long.

Just like clockwork, he saw Tommy rounding the corner at the other end of the street. He walked out in front of Tommy, nearly colliding with him. Tommy stopped abruptly and took a couple of steps back.

“Well, Tommy, fancy meeting you here. Your mom said you weren’t feeling well. I was going to bring you a comic to get you feeling better sooner,” Bobby said, trying to mask his voice with concern, but it wasn’t working.

“Yeah, I got to feeling better before I left, thank you though,” Tommy said, his voice quivering a bit. He sucked on a straw that ran into a foam cup. A strawberry milkshake, what Tommy had every Sunday when he walked to the comic store.

“Well, glad to see you’re feeling better. I haven’t gotten to talk to you much lately, how’s things been?”

“Oh, so-so, I can’t complain much. Got a new video game the other day, you should come by to play sometime.” Tommy fidgeted with his cup.

“I’d love to. I thought you were avoiding me or something. I mean after me and Robert got into it, I thought you didn’t like me anymore,” Bobby said, prodding for a confession. He wanted to hear that his friend had been avoiding him and was afraid.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t avoiding you, I just needed to reflect. I needed some time to myself. I mean right after you and him got into it, he died. I’m not saying that you had anything to do with it, but it’s just a lot to take in, you know?” Tommy’s eyes were welling with tears, his fear showing.

Bobby knew that his long time friend was afraid, but should he fuel the fear or should he make it sound like he was totally innocent? No one was on to him for now, and the death had been ruled an accident. His father told him that. There was basically no way he’d get caught.
What if Tommy said something?
The thought kept poking into his rationality.

“Yeah, we fought, but that was it. Maybe he took a walk after getting his butt beat.” Bobby laughed. “I mean, it would be pretty embarrassing if the local bully was beat up by his victim.” He waited on the reaction. Tommy laughed. That eased his worries for the moment. “Let’s go get some comics.”

Tommy smiled and followed side by side with his friend into the comic store, he couldn’t help but to wonder though if his friend was hiding something. His worry faded as he saw the sign on the door.

Lemmy Lizard: It’s a Scaly World Out There!
The comic he had been waiting on was finally available. He smiled and entered the front lobby of the comic store.

Chapter Twelve

It was Tuesday now, and Loretta felt antsy, the weekend had been full of excitement and surprises. Jessica was slightly more reclusive now, but Loretta remembered the time when he had taken her virginity, she had not left her room for almost a month. Eventually she had decided to come out and join the rest of the world. She had decided that she enjoyed his love member prodding her insides, but it had taken a lot out of her. It had taken courage and the will to survive for her to rise again and make the best of what had been laid out for her. She knew Jessica would survive, knew things would be alright sooner or later.

She just hoped Herman would make it through this. She could see a change in him. Despite his claims of being fine and that nothing was wrong, she knew he was transforming, becoming something new. He was more aggressive with her and the children. When the children were not around, he demanded that she call him Frank, and she knew Frank, knew that the real Frank was an asshole and didn’t want him around. Hell, she’d only been nice to him for Herman’s sake anyway. If he ever got out of control, as Frank had a tendency to do, she’d put him back in his place and show him who the queen of the castle was.

She was antsy, not antsy without reason one could argue. With all that had gone down lately, who wouldn’t be antsy? Was she really antsy because of the events that had unfolded, she asked herself? No, she knew why she was antsy; she remembered that young girl and her mysterious eyes. The way she had looked at her just made her want to reach out and take her, take her home and give her a place to stay and show her what it was like to have a family. Though, somewhere in there, Loretta had this odd feeling that there was something about the girl that was wildly erotic. She wondered to herself if that was strange, if not flat out wrong. There was something about the way the girl looked at her, or the way her bangs fell down and partly covered one eye or perhaps it was the way she was dressed, her perky breasts in a push-up bra and basically out on display. Her fishnet stockings under her black skirt would go all the way up and meet at a moist crease. It could have been her youthful appearance coupled with these facts. Loretta couldn’t help but to want to protect her from the world and yet all at the same time, experience the loving touch of a woman. This was strange to her, very strange indeed. She’d never wanted to have a woman before, but now she even found herself imagining the taste. Would she be musty and almost stale tasting or would she have a sweet flavor? Would the flowing of her juices be aromatic or would it come without a distinct scent? Loretta knew that she had a very distinct scent, one that she had been told was erotic and sexual, and one that got a rise out of many men.

She knew that this was all odd for a woman of her age, but it was something that she couldn’t help to fantasize about. She’d even caught herself exploring and caressing in the restroom once. She needed to see the girl again, needed to find out what her story was and if need be, take care of her.

Herman had come into the kitchen, interrupting her thought patterns. He was dressed nice and carrying a briefcase in one hand and in his other, a long and lit cigar, like Frank would have enjoyed. The smell hit her before she turned and saw it.

“When the hell did you take up smoking?” Loretta asked.

Herman smiled. “I suppose that if I’m going to play Frank, I may as well look and act the part. He put the cigar in his mouth, gripping it with his teeth. He retrieved a cutter from his pocket and laid it on the counter. “I got this the other day; it’s my spare. Could you put it up for me?”