Second Chance (37 page)

the woman

slept peacefully, safe only in her dreams.

Woody did not pause, but walked directly to the bed, where the moonlight fell upon Tracy's olive face and dark hair. Her lips were parted, and he heard the soft breaths, the signs of

kill them, all three

life within her sweet body, and he wanted to kiss her, but

It is the only way to make things right again

instead the knife came up and up and up and he knew that he was going to drive the blade down into her until she was dead, and then he would go to the children's rooms and do the same thing there, and the knife was going higher and his eyes widened and he screamed
nooooo
deep within himself, but the scream was too soft, far softer than the other voice that he had to obey, that told him

kill them, all three

but he would not, he would not, oh Jesus not for all the world—And the knife came down.

And buried itself in the meat of his own thigh.

His shriek drove away the voice, and the pain drove away sight and sound and everything, and he sank into a deep red dream, and in the dream he saw Keith, Keith as he was now, his face lit by moonlight, and heard Keith's voice as it had spoken to him only minutes before, words that had not belonged to The Voice—

I liked you best, Woody. But I have to do this, and you know why. You know everything. It's because of that that I have to do this. I know you brought me back. I owe my existence to you. The world owes Pan to you. But you have to be silenced. I can't let you jeopardize this. And if I do you and yours, and feel nothing . . . well then. I'll be ready. I can do the world.

Then Keith's voice stopped, joined the other Voice, the great Voice that had demanded the obedience that Woody had refused, joined it in the silence, and the red dream grew black.

Chapter 33

The night of September 18th, Keith Aarons returned to Bone, Texas. No one saw him come into town, and no one saw him leave again. He had rented a car in Houston, and first drove past Red's Tavern. Bob Hastings's car was in the parking lot, but Sally's little
Datsun
was not. That was good. He had known this would be her night off. If she had been at Red's after all, it would have made things difficult. Not impossible, but difficult.

He drove to Sally's trailer then, and parked the car three blocks away. The trailer wasn't part of a court, but sat by itself on a little lot with a few pine trees in the corners. None of the neighbors were outside, and he was able to walk to the door unseen. He rapped on it gently, and called out, "Honey? It's Pete."

The door opened in a few seconds. "Well, look at you," she said, beaming. "The frontiersman back from his trek." She looked over his shoulder. "Where's your car?"

"Long story. Joey in bed?"

"Not here. He's sleeping over Bobby's house." She touched his cheek. "We can be loud as we want,
Dan'l
Boone.”

“Sounds good to me. Let's hit the sack."

As he followed her down the short hall into the bedroom, Keith reached in his pocket and took out the chloroform and a handkerchief. When he saw the curtains were drawn, he opened the jar, saturated the cloth, and closed the jar tightly.

"What's that smell?" Sally said, starting to turn around. But before she finished he had the cloth over her face, holding her firmly so that she wouldn't struggle. He wanted her to go out as easily as possible, to feel no pain when the time for pain came.

He lowered her gently to the bed, unzipped her robe, and removed it and the panties she was wearing. Then he left the trailer and drove back to Red's.

He didn't have long to wait. Bob Hastings came out the back door with two other men from the lab, said goodnight, and headed toward his car. "Hey . . .
Bob
!" Keith said.

Hastings, startled, jerked around and saw Keith standing in the shadows. "Pete? What the hell you
doin
' back so soon? And what you
hidin
' for?"

"Aw," Keith said, coming up to Bob, "I had enough of that outdoor shit.
Skeeters
were fierce. And frankly, I was gettin' a little horny."

Hastings giggled. "
Nothin
' to fuck but mule deer out there, huh?"

"That's about it. Anyway, I got a real strange favor to ask you . . .” Keith tried to sound a little embarrassed, a little excited. ". . . but it's one I don't think you'll mind
doin
'. Let's get in your car, huh? I don't want anybody to see me here."

"Why not?" Hastings asked as he climbed into his
Camaro
.

"This has
gotta
be secret," Keith said as he got in the passenger side. "Sally's been gettin' a little, well, kinky, you know what I mean? And I need to find . . . a third party."

Hastings's face was vacant at first, then he started to grin. "Holy shit. You
talkin
' about a
threesome
?"

"Not exactly. We were
screwin
', okay, and Sally told me—I mean, damn, but she's
insatiable
—that she has this fantasy about
wakin
' up to find somebody she never screwed before on top of her,
humpin
' away. Not
rapin
' her or
nothin
', but just
makin
' sweet, deep love."

“Jesus . . ."

"And I said, in so many words, that it could be done. A little ether—just enough to put her out for a while—and she'd probably wake up partway through it. Well,
you'da
thought I dumped a load of
spanish
fly in her chili, she got so hot. 'Let's do it,' she says, and tells me just to make sure I got somebody clean, you know. And hell, you're my buddy, and you're clean, aren't you?"

"Hell yes."

"And you been
wantin
' to screw her, haven't you?”

“Hell yes, too."

"You up for it?"

"Man, it's pretty kinky, like you said. Like a . . . dead woman or
somethin
'."

"Yeah, at first. But she'll come out of it partway through, and I gar-on-tee she'll drain you, boy. Then, maybe a threesome after all, huh?"

“Jesus Christ, I never done
nothin
' like this before."

"First time for everything. But no
talkin
' about it afterward. Gotta be a secret."

"Hey, mum's the word. You sure you ain't gonna mind? Won't hold it against me?"

"Tell the truth, I can get jollies
outta
watchin
' too. Meet you over there, all right? You get there first, go on in. She's out of it, stark naked, and ready."

Hastings nodded. From the sweat on his upper lip, Keith thought he was ready to pop then and there. He got out of the car, and Hastings's
Camaro
took off with a shower of stones. Keith's face went grim, and he walked the block to his rental car.

When he arrived at the trailer, Hastings was already inside, but had not yet gone into the bedroom. They went in together, and Hastings took a deep breath and blew it out when he saw Sally lying there naked, her legs parted slightly.

"She really out?" Hastings said.

"Won't feel a thing till you give her that swing."

Hastings laughed tightly, and Keith realized that he was embarrassed.

"Look, Bob, you, uh, want me to leave while you get started? I mean, hell, I don't have to be here at all if that'd make you more comfortable. Let you
sorta
break the ice on your own, so to speak?"

Hastings nodded. "You're a
helluva
friend, Pete." He looked down again at Sally. "This is sure weird . . ."

"Hey, look, she's
breathin
', ain't she?" And she was. Her breasts were rising and falling peacefully. "So make her breathe faster. Be the handsome prince and wake up Sleeping Beauty." He punched Hastings playfully on the shoulder. "I'll be out here, you need me." And he closed the door on Sally and Hastings.

He walked down the hall so Hastings could hear his footsteps, then waited, felt the subtle shifts in the raised floor of the trailer, the motions as Hastings undressed, then a larger shudder that must have been from his climbing onto the bed, onto Sally. There was a moment of stillness, then a pulse began, and the sound of springs lightly squeaking.

Keith stood up. He saturated the cloth with chloroform once more, and walked down the hall, listened outside the bedroom door to the noises Hastings made. When the man gave a shuddering moan, Keith opened the door, went in quickly, slapped the cloth over Hastings's mouth and nose, and in a few moments there were two unconscious people on the bed.

Then Keith took the four empty vials that had been filled with ZF723, and pressed Hastings's fingers onto the smooth glass. He took the needle with which he had injected Woody Robinson, jabbed it into Sally's upper right arm, pressed Hastings's fingers on it, then dropped it and the vials on the carpet by the side of the bed. He did the same with the chloroform bottle.

Hastings was dead weight, but Keith managed to pull him off Sally and put him in a chair near the bed. Then he took a rolled note from his jacket pocket, straightened it, dropped it on the floor next to Hastings, along with the pen with which he had forged Hastings's handwriting. Now it was time to do what he most dreaded.

~*~

September 18, 1993
:

I went into the kitchen, emptied a beer bottle, took it into the bedroom, and did what I had to do. I nearly cried. I have never killed anyone with greater regret. She loved me in her way, and I had to watch her die, make sure that she would not survive. I don't think she felt any pain. She never moved.

She was dead by the time Hastings started to stir. I slipped on gloves, opened the window, fit his fingers around the pistol grip, lifted it to his head, and pressed against his finger to pull the trigger, letting go immediately so that the gun fell to the floor by his side. In another second I went through the window, pulled it closed from outside, and dashed across the back yard into the pines. I made my way through their sheltering darkness back to the car, and drove back to Houston. My theft of the vials is covered now, but at a terrible price.

Sometimes things just don't work out very well. If only the inventory had been put off another month, things would have been easier. I'm afraid that this is going to make it that much more difficult to achieve my main purpose.

But there is one way. It is desperate, but what has my life been filled with if not desperate acts?

Desperate acts, and self-sacrifice?

~*~

Two days later, Keith Aarons drove back into Bone, Texas, in his own car. It was six in the evening, and he went to Red's Tavern. When he entered, the soft cushion of talk from the regulars stopped immediately, and all faces turned to him. Beer glasses paused half way to open mouths, chili spoons hovered in the air, dripping red sauce into bowls.

Keith gave a lopsided grin. "What the hell, is my fly open or
what
?"

A few people chuckled, some smiled, most remained solemn. Keith glanced to his left into the kitchen, as if looking for Sally, but instead he saw Red's wife, Mae, her eyes dripping mascara as she looked at him.

"Mae?" he said. "What's the matter?" He looked down the room. "Where's Sally?"

Al Freeman got up from a table near the back, put a hand on Keith's shoulder. "Come on out on the back porch a minute, Pete."

"Al, what's this about?" he said. "And where's Sally?”

“Come on," Freeman said again, and Keith followed him through the door, glancing back at the sad faces.

Freeman sat on the porch steps, patted the boards, and Keith sat next to him. "Something terrible happened, Pete," said Freeman. "To Sally. Bob Hastings . . ." His voice started to get hard, and he cleared his throat. "Hastings took one of the drugs from the lab. Stole four vials—"

"
Sally
," Keith said, grabbing Freeman's wrist. "Is she . . ."

The man nodded. "Yes. She's dead. He killed her. Gave her a suggestibility drug, she . . . her abdomen was punctured, she bled to death."

Keith shook his head, pretending to try and understand. "What . . . he
stabbed
her?"

"From . . . Internally," Freeman said, unable to look at him.

"A bottle. You understand?"

"Oh my God," Keith whispered. "Oh God."

"He's dead too. Shot himself. Left a note asking for forgiveness for what he did to her. And the way he betrayed us, stealing." Freeman shook his head. "'The son of a bitch wanted her, Pete. He used the drug on her like an aphrodisiac, overdosed her like crazy, I'm surprised
that
didn't kill her. Must've told her that she wanted . . . you know, and it worked too damn well. So he tried to . . . to keep satisfying her."

"What . . ." Keith said slowly. "How's Joey?"

"He was sleeping over at a friend's house. Sally's sister from Nacogdoches came and got him. He'll live with them. The, uh, the funeral's next Tuesday. You don't have to come in on the next shift if you don't want to. We'll understand."