Dark Corners - Twelve Tales of Terror (29 page)

Steven Grimes had known the Joneses, Alice and Frank,
for almost fifteen years and they had always been the perfect
neighbours. Yet as he watched the two of them from the edge of his
bedroom window, he was certain that the large black bag they
struggled to carry contained a dead body. He had only stopped by the
house on Sycamore Street by chance to pick up a few more of his
belongings—the place belonged to his ex-wife now. As he looked
down into the garden of no. 9, Frank was sweating under the tattered
red baseball cap that he always wore, the tufts of his white hair
poking out from the back as he strained with the weight of the bag.
Alice, with her liver spotted arms, held what looked to be the feet
of the body as they shuffle-stepped their way towards the large
compost heap, which Steven knew sat in a secluded corner of their
garden.

He
knew because a couple of years before, he and his now ex-wife Jane
had been invited to a barbeque to celebrate Frank’s retirement.
Forty-one years with the same company, and they thanked him with a
golden handshake and an imitation watch and then sent him on his way.
Word was that he didn’t want to leave, but the company had
insisted. They had already found a younger, more efficient
replacement, so with no real choice, Frank was retired. The barbeque
also signified another milestone. It would be the last social
engagement for Steven and Jane as Mr. and Mrs. Grimes. By that point,
the cracks in their marriage were almost too large to cover, but they
managed somehow. He turned his mind back to that day, his stomach
tightening up as he remembered a conversation he’d had with
Frank. It had seemed so trivial at the time that he wasn’t even
sure why he recalled it with such clarity.

It was a blazing hot day in July and perfect weather for
cooking outdoors. The heat was dry, the sky blue and cloudless, and
the dozen or so guests were doing all they could to keep cool. He
remembered that he was speaking to Frank about his garden, which was
well maintained. The grass was always neatly trimmed, the soil always
turned, and he had a small pond with two rosy-cheeked gnomes that
they called Fred and Betty. As the two men stood by the grill (as men
tend to do at these types of events) Frank had rubbed his forearm
against his head as he looked Steven in the eye.

“
You
know, Steve, I’m not sure what the hell I’ll do with
myself now.”

The old man’s eyes glinted in the sun, and in
hindsight Steven should have seen something then, but at the time his
attention was firmly on Jane, who was already well on her way to
being a mess. He looked on in pained embarrassment as she tottered
around the garden with a half-eaten cheeseburger in one hand and a
large glass of wine in the other. Cringing inwardly, he decided that
feigning ignorance would be better than causing a scene. He turned
back to Frank, realizing with sadness just how old the man looked.
His face was worn and leathery, deeply lined from years of working
outdoors. His nose was a bulbous lump and he peered out from below
his bushy white eyebrows with eyes of such a pale blue they were
almost grey.

“
I’m
sure something will come up, Frank. Take some time to relax. Hell,
after all the years you put in, you’ve definitely earned it.”

Frank had smiled then, just a curl of the lip but his
eyes told a different story. Glassy. Reflective. Ponderous.

“
You
know me, Steve. I’m not one to sit around waiting for something
to happen. I think that’s why people die sometimes, when they
don’t have anything left to live for.”

Steven nodded, sipping his beer thoughtfully as Frank
flipped the burgers.

“
You’ve
worked all your life, Frank. Maybe now you and Alice can spend some
quality time together.”

“
Quality
time,” he chuckled dryly. “If I can tear her away from
her damn bingo nights then maybe we would. We don’t talk much
these days, Steve. But we are too old and too afraid to be alone, so
we stay together.”

Steven felt his heart pinch a little. This old man had
said exactly what he felt about his own relationship. There was a
time when had loved Jane, but as he got to know her, really know her
the way people who spend a significant amount of time together always
do, he had started to notice the cracks, the flaws in her character.
There was a darkness in her that had pushed its way to the surface
over time Before they married she was slim and athletic, but during
the last ten years she had really let herself go, both physically and
socially. She had started to drink heavily, and was fond of voicing
her opinion on anything and everything with cynicism and bitterness;
particularly if it was a subject Steven himself was interested in. As
time went on he developed a weary resistance to her brand of
cynicism, and as the love died, so grew the indifference, which in
turn gave way to hate. He shot her another quick glance. She had
gained considerable weight and now saw the world through small,
piggish eyes, which seemed to glare contemptuously at everything she
chose to set them upon. It was as if the sweet, loving woman he’d
fallen in love with had been consumed by some horrible, malicious
imposter.

Frank had said something Steve didn’t quite catch.

“
Sorry,
Frank. I was in a world of my own. Say again?”

“
I
said at least I have my garden. My pride and joy. My solitude from a
world I don’t really understand anymore. Worked my ass off to
make it look good.”

Steven looked around appreciatively at the pristine
surroundings.

“
You
certainly did that, it looks amazing. Makes me more aware of how my
own could use a little TLC,” Steven said with a sheepish grin.

The two men shared a laugh as Frank continued to work
the grill, earning them a disapproving glare from old Mrs. Bendtner
from no. 5.

“
It’s
all about recycling these days, Steve—everyone is going green.
Did I tell you we had a circular come through the door a while back
telling us that if we don’t change our ways the planet will be
beyond saving in just a few years’ time?”

“
Yeah,
we got the same letter, although I didn’t really read it. Too
much damn junk mail. We threw it out.”

Steven glanced towards Jean, who had cornered some
unfortunate guest in conversation. Steven didn’t recognize him,
but felt sorry for him nonetheless.

“
I
read it,” said Frank, gently manipulating the chicken legs on
the grill with his metal tongs. “Everyone on the planet leaves
a kind of impression based on how much energy they waste, like an
imprint.”

“
Oh,
a carbon footprint?”

“
Yeah,
that’s it, a carbon footprint—anyway, they say that
everyone in the world leaves one, and if we don’t reduce it
then the planet will be uninhabitable for future generations.”

Steven
nodded pleasantly, not entirely interested in all the
save
the planet
talk. He
expected his own carbon footprint was pretty huge. He didn’t
recycle, he didn’t try to save energy by turning off lights,
and he didn’t pay any mind to his aerosol use. He was too set
in his ways to change, yet it seemed to be important to the old man,
so he went along with it for the sake of being polite.

“
That’s
pretty interesting, Frank. I never gave it too much thought.”

Frank nodded enthusiastically.

“
I
did. I like being outside, and the last thing I want is to be forced
indoors or underground by acid rain or poison air. If a man can’t
enjoy his own garden Steve, then what’s the point?”

“
Thing
is, Frank, not everyone takes it seriously. And unless the law
changes, well... nothing is going to change,” Steven said with
a gentle shrug.

“
Ahh
but every little helps. Every little helps. For me it didn’t
mean too much of a change. We started off by recycling. Just plastic
and glass from our groceries, and we put some of those new energy
saving light bulbs all through the house. Hell, I even started out
here. I got myself a good sized compost pile down the back of the
garden there past the decking.”

Frank jabbed a charcoal smudged thumb over his shoulder.
Beyond the wooden deck and chairs covered by a gazebo, there was a
small stone path that wound out of sight behind the large pruned
bushes.

“
I
keep it back there as it’s unsightly and doesn’t smell
too good, but it’s pretty remarkable. Everything returns to the
earth Steve. It takes us all back eventually.”

Steven had noticed a coldness in his eyes as he said
this, but dismissed it as nothing. He didn’t want to spend his
Saturday afternoon talking about saving the environment, so he
started to change the subject.

“
Did
you catch the game last night, Frank?” he asked cheerfully.
Either Frank didn’t hear or failed to acknowledge his question.

“
Too
many people, that’s the problem. The planet is overpopulated by
people fucking. Fucking and then having kids they don’t want
and can’t afford.”

Bitterness had crept into Frank’s voice. Steven
had never even heard the old man raise his tone, never mind drop an
F-bomb. He listened on, content for now to hear him out.

“
Back
when I was young, we didn’t have all these electronics. Laptop
computers, game consoles, big screen TV’s. People have become
lazy. They’re wasting space, wasting
resources
.
We have to compensate for that Steve—so even if it’s not
a world changer, it all helps. Every little bit of it helps.”

“
Maybe
I should look into it.” Steven said noncommittally.

Frank nodded. “Maybe you should. It’s
worthwhile.”

Steven watched now as Frank and Alice put the bag down
to catch their breath, and he wondered just how far they’d
taken the recycling. Of course he had often seen Frank heading out in
his blue Nissan on Saturday mornings to take his bottles to the
recycling plant, waving and smiling as he passed. But he also
sometimes heard the car go out in the middle of the night. Now for
the first time, he asked himself why the old man would be heading out
at such unusual hours. He watched on, careful to make sure he was out
of sight as he peered around the corner of the bedroom curtains. He
watched as the pair lifted the bag up again with some effort, then
Frank lost his grip. He snatched at the heavy duty plastic, but
couldn’t maintain his hold, and the bag tore free as the object
they were carrying dropped to the stone path.

Steven
recognised the girl. He’d seen her on the TV and on the front
page of the local newspapers. She had been reported missing a few
days earlier, after disappearing on her way home from a night out
with friends. He tried to remember her name from the news report. He
thought it might have been Lucy, but it escaped him. She looked quite
different from the happy and smiling girl in the news pictures. Now
her skin was almost grey and her blonde hair was partially matted
with dried blood from the ugly, jagged wound in her throat. Her eyes
looked lifelessly and accusingly into oblivion, perhaps asking
why
me
. Why someone so
young found herself here, rather than tucked up in her own bed, or
snuggled up to a boyfriend somewhere. Steven looked on helplessly as
Frank covered her, tucking the plastic underneath the body and
getting a firmer grip, before the two shuffled down that small path
beside the decking. If this were a movie, Steven thought, this would
be the point where Frank would look up and see his nosey neighbour,
and so would begin a deadly game of cat and mouse. But Frank didn’t
look up; he was too preoccupied to worry about the next-door
neighbour, who as far as he knew was at work. Trying to process a
thousand thoughts simultaneously, Steven sat down heavily on the edge
of the bed.

“
What
have you done?”

He wasn’t quite sure if he meant Frank or himself,
or if he had even said it out loud at all. He cast his mind to all of
the missing persons reports on the news in the last few years, and it
all made sense. It seemed Frank had found something to do with his
days—or more specifically, his nights.

And at what point did Alice find out?

Was
she too afraid to leave him, or just too afraid
of
him to contact
the authorities? Perhaps it started off as just as using a different
kind of light bulb, or turning off the plug sockets at the wall
before turning in for the night, but at some point it had all
changed. They had taken it to the next level, but Steven was sure
that it all still boiled down to one thing—

Recycling.

A chill coursed through his body as he recalled the
conversation about the compost heap.

“
I
keep it back there as it’s unsightly, and doesn’t smell
too good, but it’s pretty remarkable. Everything returns to the
earth, Steve. It takes us all back eventually.”