Bigfoot Crank Stomp (14 page)

“What’s going on?” Seph said.

I don’t want to answer that right now. “Sounds like something may be getting resolved.”

“For the better.”

“I’m pretty sure that isn’t what’s happening.”

“I don’t like any of this.”

Manny broke his concentration and turned his head toward Seph. Dried blood covered her forehead and eyebrows. Her eyes stared into the darkness. She nibbled her lower lip. He reached out with his left hand but she didn’t seem to notice.

“We’re going to be okay.”

Seph let go of the darkness and shifted to him. She smiled lightly at his hand and took it in hers and squeezed. “Thank you.”

“How about we just wait here a second and listen? Seems safer than walking around right now. Just in case.”

She nodded. “Just in case.”

RUSSELL/GABE

The first gunshot froze Pronger and Betts in their tracks. Russell’s momentum carried him forward a few inches even as he wondered what the hell else could go wrong tonight. Then the deputies snapped him back. He managed to keep his feet even though he stood on rubbery legs. It helped they had hands firmly cupped under each of his armpits.

“That sounded like a revolver,” Pronger said. “Dead ahead.”

Poor choice of words
, Russell thought and figured it was safe to say he was officially cursed. Christ, he just wanted this to end all-fucking-ready.

“Maybe Bigfoot showed back up and the Sheriff got him,” Betts said.

“You think we would have heard it growl or something considering the way it was carrying on earlier.”

“What else could it be then?”

Russell didn’t want to find out. Just wanted to get away from these two idiots while he still had his sk—

Another shot. Same report as before.

“Ah, shit,” Pronger said. “That didn’t sound good.”

Betts licked his lips. “Maybe we should hang back.”

That’s the smartest thing you’ve probably ever said
, Russell thought. “I’m good with that.”

Pronger leaned into Russell’s ear. “Shut the fuck up.” He leaned out and eyed Betts. “Maybe the Sheriff’s in trouble.”

“I got a bad feeling.” Betts shook his head and kind of marched in place. “You saw how he was waving that gun around earlier.”

“Who was waving a gun around?” It came out before Russell could catch himself.

Pronger threw a brick of a fist into his stomach. Pain burst up his torso into his throat and down into his groin. Russell dropped to a knee, coughing.

“I told you to shut the fuck up.”

Russell held up a hand in surrender and coughed and spat a mouthful of saliva.

“Maybe he’s up their shooting squirrels,” Pronger said. “He is an impatient bastard.”

“I’ll follow your lead but for the record I’m against this.”

Pronger nodded. “We’ll approach nice and slow and see what’s what. Good enough?”

“Yeah, that’ll work.”

Russell spat another mouthful as they hoisted him back to his feet.

Pronger yanked him forward. “Let’s go tough guy.”

***

Where the fuck is everyone?
Gabe thought.

He paced around Stanger and Lyle’s pussy-ass bodies, scratching his neck. Wanted to fucking kill Bigfoot already but the hairy little fuck was a no show. Probably because Pronger and Betts were out there placing the baggies up their own asses.

Maybe they were a couple of fags, too. He wouldn’t be surprised. Surrounded by knob bobbers all this time. Damn surprised he’d been able to do his job this long. But business as usual was over. Stanger and Lyle found that out right quick. So would Pronger and Betts.

IF THEY FUCKING SHOWED UP!!!

He stopped pacing and turned and gazed down at his recently departed deputies. Fucking worthless. Just laying there waiting for the flies and worms to eat them. No damn good to anyone else.

“Because.” Gabe lifted his boot and stomped down on Stanger’s head. “You.” Stomp. “Were.” Stomp. “Always.” Stomp. “Worthless.” Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Gabe breathed hard and stepped away and looked down at his boot. Caked in gore. It was beautiful.

He shifted to Lyle. “And you. So soft and weak.” He dropped to his knees in bloody mud at the top of Lyle’s head. “With your soft and weak mouth.” Gabe reached out and thumbed Lyle’s graying bottom lip. “Only thing it was probably good for was blowing truckers.”

The words reminded Gabe of Tawny bobbing up and down on his cock. Man, what was with him tonight? He reached down and felt his dick hardening again and knew meth was his Viagra. That and the violence and the blood. Oh, it was all so
sweeeet
. Meth, sex, and blood: his holy trinity.

And Lyle’s mouth. Like Tawny’s mouth. Soft and ready to received.

“Should have made you suck my cock long ago.” Gabe started to pull down his fly. “Never too late.”

Behind him he heard movement in the woods. Feet coming down on pine needles. Gabe released his zipper and rose to a squat and scurried behind the cruiser. Listened. More than two feet. Four or six. About fifteen yards deep in the woods.

Hot damn! This shit heightens all the senses!

He side-stepped over to the tree line, gun in a firm two-handed grip. Stopped. Listened. Could hear whispering but couldn’t distinguish what was said. No Bigfoot for sure.

Maybe Betts and Pronger. But why were they whispering?

Because they’re conspiring faggots. Probably see the bodies and are planning how to ambush me.

Gabe slowly and quietly cocked his gun.

Guess we’ll see real soon who gets ambushed
, he thought.

***

“Holy shit,” Betts whispered.

“Stanger and Lyle.” Pronger had his gun raised in front of him. “He killed them both.”

They were still a few feet from the tree line but had a clear view of the carnage. Russell didn’t know who either one of them were but the sight still forced him to choke down a gullet full of bile. Then out of nowhere he thought of Homer Simpson.

Russell stifled a laugh. He’d recently watched
The Simpsons Movie
with his mom. For some reason, the scene where Bart is forced to stand naked in public as punishment after skateboarding bare-assed through town popped into his mind now. Near the end of the scene, Homer walks up to his son. Bart declares it’s the worst day of his life. And Homer, in his infinite wisdom, says, “Worst day so far.”

Isn’t that just the perfect description of this fucking day?
Russell thought and gnawed on his cheeks to keep from laughing hysterically. Worst day so far indeed.

“He killed them,” Betts said. “Holy shit he killed them.”

“We don’t know that.”

“What else could have happened? You think Bigfoot managed to shoot them? Last time I checked that fucking thing was ripping people’s arms out, not popping caps in them.”

“All I’m saying is we don’t know—”

“You saw him, man. You saw the look in his eye when he threatened us.
Us
.”

Russell had chased thoughts of Homer and Bart away. Now he focused on Pronger. The deputy seemed lost. Not sure what to do next, focusing on the bodies and moving his mouth as if ready to say something but unable to find the words. Russell understood that feeling pretty well. Felt the same way when Mickey was torn to pieces in front of him.

Life altering reality’s a real bitch, huh?
Russell thought. Relief sparkled in the corner of his eye. At least he didn’t have to worry about the Sheriff and the Wheezy treatment anymore. No way these two would go anywhere near the bastard after this.

“What’s all this about threats and killing?”

Russell’s blood turned to ice. He knew the voice. Right behind them.

“Hi, Sheriff,” Pronger said, not moving.

“Cut the shit and turn around real slow. All three of you.”

Russell waited until Pronger and Betts moved, inch by inch, before he joined them. When they completed the one-eighty, they found the Sheriff in a wide stance holding a pistol in a double-grip. Cocked.

Russell heard Homer’s words again in his head but there was no urge to laugh this time. Nope, none at all. He looked into the Sheriff’s eyes and knew. Knew all too well. He’d seen the same look many times in the mirror. The euphoria. The paranoia. The rage. All dancing rings around each other. The motherfucker was high on crank.

Betts held up his hands. “Easy, Sheriff.”

“You take easy and shove it up your dick. What’s going on here?”

“We just finished laying the trail like you told us to.” Pronger pointed at Russell. “And we came across him. He’s Mickey’s partner.”

Russell wanted to shrink to the size of an ant. The Sheriff focused all that meth fog right on him. It was like his eyes were laser guided bombs.

“Mickey’s partner?” he said.

“Yeah,” Pronger said. “We knew you’d want to deal with him.”

“Mickey’s partner, huh?” The Sheriff nodded and released the two-handed grip and rubbed his crotch with is left hand. “Yeah, I want to deal with him.”

Oh, no
, Russell thought.

“So we’re cool?” Pronger said.

The Sheriff never took his eyes off Russell. “I should ask you the same question.”

Pronger shrugged. “Figure you had your reasons.”

“You’re damn right I did.”

Betts cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to push—” Pronger tried to shoosh him. “—but can you tell us what they did.”

“Sure I can.” Now he broke his stare and shifted to Betts. “They failed to follow orders.”

“They—”

“WERE INSUBORDINATE!”

It was like he shot all three of them. Russell winced and both deputies stepped back as if gut shot.

“Are you being insubordinate, Betts?”

“No, Sheriff. Not at all.” Voice desperate. High. Pleading. “Just wanted to be sure.”

“You doubting my judgment?”

Pronger stepped forward, hand out. “He’s just stupid.”

Russell looked at Betts. He licked his lips but was smart enough to hold his tongue. Looked back to the Sheriff. A smile sprouted under those crazy eyes.

“Stupid is right.” The Sheriff howled. Howled at the fucking moon like a wolf. “Always fucking stupid. But you’re loyal, Betts. Right?”

“Y-y-yes.”

“And you, too, Pronger? Loyal? Not like Stanger and Lyle.”

“You know it, Sheriff.”

“Good, good.” The Sheriff pointed the barrel at the back of the cabin. “Take him up there by the cruiser. I’ll deal with him there.”

Fuck me
, Russell thought, knowing there was a bullet with his name on it. So that’s the Wheezy treatment, huh? Shot in the head and buried in a shallow grave somewhere. Son of a bitch.

The Sheriff slapped his thigh with his free hand. “Chop, chop. Let’s move.”

He blew past them and stomped toward the cruiser. When he was a few feet away, Betts turned to Pronger and whispered, “We need to get the hell out of here.”

“Shut up.” Pronger watched the Sheriff. “He’s lost it. If we’re not smart, we’ll end up the same as Stanger and Lyle.”

“But—”

“Quiet.”

Betts did as commanded and the two dragged Russell out of the woods and over to the cruiser. With every step, Russell’s grip on life slipped. The wild, crazed eyes of the Sheriff bore into Russell’s forehead. Hungry. Ready for blood. More blood.

God save my mom
, Russell thought. It was the only thing he could think. He was not a praying man. Not a religious man. But he couldn’t form any other words.
God save my mom
.

***

“Bring that bitch right over here.”

Betts and Pronger complied. They walked Russell to the hood and pushed him against the front end and stepped back. Gabe circled the car, looking at the back of Russell’s head until he came back around and faced him. The little shit was quivering. Eyes averted. Staring at dirt and ants.

Damn right.

“Look at me.”

Russell didn’t comply.

“I’ll shoot your dick off.”

The head raised enough for them to make eye contact. Scared shitless.

Gabe reached down and grabbed his hard-on. Rock solid and ready to go. He needed the satisfaction of blood. Needed the taste of violence again. But what to do with this little bitch?

The Wheezy treatment of course. Only taken up a notch or two.

“Remember Wheezy?” Gabe said. Betts and Pronger nodded. They stood off to the side. Almost like they positioned themselves to make a run for the driveway.