Skarzy (4 page)

12

It was 11.35. The clocks never lied.
That was one thing you could put your dollar on.

The system is
real.

Sure it’s
chaotic, unfair, and constantly changing shape…

But it’s real.
And you could count on that.

Skarzy closed
his eyes a moment.

He watched
Thomas fall again. And it hurt.

He knew what
they would say!

LOCK THAT
NUTJOB UP!!!

He’s crazy …
he’s crazy … or otherwise he’s demented, or perverted, or just plain evil… What
sort of a man just shoots someone, and leaves them to die on the side of the
road? Is he not a bad guy? Is he not an animal?

A devil?

Skarzy locked
eyes with himself in mirror.

No…

Somehow they
had it wrong.

He was just
sitting there. Driving. Tapping his fingers.

Faintly, he
could hear Shania in the background…

Why don’t you
just stop that car, Skarzy?

Why don’t you
just stop and turn around?

But that
wasn’t Shania’s voice. That was his English Teacher’s. Her stern, clear,
maternal … kind voice. And she told no lies. All she had was his best interests
at heart.

His or the
world’s?

Skarzy
realized that didn’t mattered. He somehow believed everyone at one time or
another consulted that superior voice in their minds. That respected voice. And
you trusted what it said, cause that was actually
you
saying those
things…

Turn around
Skarzy! You don’t want to wind up like them, do you?

Like who? Like
Lucy? Or Vostle?

Like Curly
Serious?

Those faceless
drunken vandals who preyed upon the living…?

And so, he had
killed. Not once, or twice.

Three times
now. Thomas after all, had a wife who seemed concerned for him – he may even
have had children –

But let’s not
get moral, okay?

FUCK!

This time he
really did stop the car. The highway before him was long and vast, but soon
there would another town on its way. Another place for him to wreak havoc.

He watched his
eyes in the mirror. Were they the Devil’s eyes?

He had the
power. He knew technically, they all had the power. The only difference between
them and him was there was nothing left for him to lose.

It’s like a
dream, some fucking dream…

He opened his
mouth, and watched his mutilated tongue quiver in fright.

He watched it
a little longer.

He watched it
squirm, and change shapes, morphing and squirming…

Quivering, and
sliding, and…

Licking…

Skarzy
grinned.

One from the
stereo –
(THAT DON’T IMPRESS ME MUCH!!!)

Good old
Shania. He thought once. He thought ahead.

And he
listened a moment for his English Teacher’s voice.

It had muted.
And Skarzy was pleased.

He turned up
the stereo, and tap-danced his fingers away, heading straight on down the
highway.

The grin was
there, a little smaller; and the eyes watching … were not the devil’s.

They were his.

13

The next town’s name was Mordialloc. He
passed a servo on the way in, but decided against taking it. There was too much
security there. Much better to go to some random’s door … shove the gun in
their face and –

Skarzy didn’t
want to kill anyone this time. He switched off the stereo after he went passed
the servo, his were emotions floating along in between remorse and that
let’s
go fuck something
craziness. It seemed that if he kept going along with
what he was doing minus the murders, he’d be able to live with it better.

He bought a
bottle of cheap rum at the local Coles, just minutes before they were closing.
He drove into the suburban streets, picked a place at random, which he guessed
was roughly somewhere around the centre, and parked. Now it was midnight.

The phone remained
silent. 

That wasn’t
making Skarzy feel any better … but he decided to leave that worry till he had
their money. Maybe he’d have to meet them at 5am, after all.

The rum was in
a paper bag. He took it out, unscrewed the lid.

He filled it,
and took a swig. It was bitter. He took one more and rescrewed it. He dropped
the bottle at his feet and picked up the gun by his side. He got out of the
car.

Skarzy opened
the gun’s cylinder and found there were only three bullets left in it. It
mustn’t have been fully loaded when Sands picked it up. Skarzy spun it around,
almost absent of what he was doing, before snapping it back in the gun.

The lack of
bullets, he supposed, was another reason to be conservative. And not kill
anyone.

Unless it was
necessary.

Skarzy looked
down and up the empty street. There was hardly a light in sight. Even the lamp
post was broken.

He wasn’t a
prick about it. He wasn’t gonna play that game of chance in his head again. He
took the house directly opposite his car. And … it didn’t feel wrong.

There was no
car in the driveway again. But they had a great big garage that could have held
two … so…

He took to the
concrete steps leading up to the door. The house was white, double story,
nothing but darkness beyond the windows. Barely anything that resembled a lawn.

The porch
didn’t have a motion sensor. At the foot of the door there was a small statue
of a bunny rabbit carrying a bowl, a few cigarette butts squashed in it. There
were shoes by the door. A woman’s sandals. A man’s sneakers. Another pair.

The front door
was light brown and it held a golden knocker. There was also a doorbell beside
it.

Skarzy peered
through the windows beside the door. The curtains weren’t drawn.

Inside, he
made out the floor which was made of red tiling, the room to his left lined
with royal blue carpet. The stairs in the centre also. The banister was bronze.

To his right
there was a room carpeted with a paler blue. A distant white light lined the
doorway. He listened, but could not hear a sound.

Skarzy felt
intimidated. The house reminded him of an old friend’s. The parents were very
kind and courteous to him, always offering him rides after school, asking him
about his grades. But they had this quiet manner about them also. As if … their
kindness was an obligation. As if they thought Skarzy didn’t like them.

Those runners
by the door … all neat and organized. Even the ashtray – only three cigarettes
inside. Enough for you to know what it’s for. They probably didn’t even smoke
themselves. The cigarettes looked old.

Skarzy
swallowed. He was suddenly unsure of himself. It was the kind of place you
could walk into and –
if you forgot to take your shoes off!!!

They would
kindly ask you to go back outside.

And your face
would go bright red.

Skarzy sighed.
He could see the moon now, drifting out of the clouds. It lit up the dark
street and he saw it was full of houses, miles wide…

Maybe this was
not the place for him to start…

The door then opened.
Skarzy quickly tucked the gun down his pants.

A yellow light
clicked on.

“Yerrss…” came
a deep murmur from the door.

Skarzy turned.
There was a tall, elderly man standing there. His expression showed faint
interest. He wore a black suit and tie. There was a gold band on his finger.

Skarzy opened
his mouth apologetically.

A woman in a
red dress descended the stairs.

“Who is it,
dear?”

The man
continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer.

My car broke
down can I use your phone?

Arms in the
air, hold them – I’ve GOT A GUN!

You wouldn’t
be able to lend me three grand would you, kind sir?

Skarzy opened
his mouth again. And the man waited.

…

That’s it
then. Can’t do it.

He found his
feet following on towards the steps. Descending the steps. Now on the footpath.
Fast as you can.

There was the
faint click of a cigarette lighter behind him.

“Who was that,
Charlie?”

The man didn’t
respond. At least not verbally.

Skarzy kept on
walking. He was at the car now. Inside, he had a shot of rum.

Something’s
wrong back there,
he
thought.

Wrong with
them, or wrong with him? He suddenly didn’t feel so well. His stomached ached.

The phone lit
up beside him. There was an incoming call. The caller ID was blocked. Skarzy
answered it.

“Hello…?” a
man’s voice. Too deep to be Vostle.

“Hhii…” he
managed.

“Is that you
Mr. Harding? This is Sergeant Detective Bruce Godwell from the Mentone District
Police Squad –”

The phone flew
out of Skarzy’s hand as if it had suddenly caught on fire. He shut it off.
Emotions were stirring…

He wanted to
be rid of the car, the phone, the gun … just get out and start walking.

It was only
one night, after all.

Everyone made
mistakes. But you keep your chin up, and keep on going.

Fear was sneaking
up on him, right out of the black sky, the elderly man’s creepy assertion had
gotten in to him some way, got in there and fucked around…

The man was
standing by the passenger window. Skarzy jumped.

Tap, tap, tap.

He wound down
the window.

“Car trouble?”
the man bent in smiling. Skarzy shook his head, and began to look around for
the pad and pen.

The man
stepped back to take a drag.

Skarzy wrote:

I’ve lost my
voice. And my mind, a little.

Better stay
away.

He handed it
to the man. The man read it, his expression unaltered. Skarzy wondered if he
had a good view of the windshield from where he was standing. If he had enough
light. If he could see the blood.

The man asked,
“Interested in making some money?”

Skarzy
exhaled. His face was burning up. He took a shot of rum.

“Come inside
then,” the man said casually turning away. “It’s a cold one tonight.”

Skarzy stared
at the man hatefully. He felt the gun pressing against his thigh. Something bad
was going to happen here. He could feel it.

But still,
Skarzy got out.

The man called
to him as he entered the house: “The door’s open!”

Skarzy could
see that. The hallway was empty when he finally reached it.

He didn’t
forget to remove his shoes.

14

They called to him from the left.

“In here,
darling.”

The woman’s
voice.

Skarzy stepped
into a well furnished living room. It was dark. An old, heavy television set
sat in the corner. There was a gramophone next to it. Dark sofas. Paintings on
the walls. Glass table in the centre. Music drifted beyond this room.

“This way…”

Skarzy turned
the corner towards the dim light. They sat opposite one another in this similar
room, across a small wooden card table. There was a record player in the back.
They played the classics.

Skarzy took
the empty chair offered. There was a jug of brandy in the centre of the table.
They were both smoking cigarettes.

Skarzy waited
patiently. He looked at the woman. She was younger than the man. In her
forties. He noticed a portrait coming that slightly resembled her. A younger
version. Upper class beauty.

She seemed nervous.

“Now lad,” the
man said chillingly. “What is your name?”

Skarzy wrote:

My name is
Terrence.

Perhaps bored,
he added:

I’m twenty.

“So Terrence,”
he continued. “Meet Tamara. My wife.”

Skarzy nodded.

“We’ll pay you
a thousand dollars to sleep with her.”

Skarzy’s eyes
flared. Then he…

“Hhhhh-hhhh-hhhh.”

Laughed.

Skarzy wrote:

What’s the
catch, Jack?

The man
touched his left palm. “I watch.”

Skarzy shook
it away, then looked at the woman carefully.

She didn’t
smile.

Skarzy wrote:

I,500.

In other words;
halfway there.

The man didn’t
blink. “Done.”

The woman
offered Skarzy her hand, and he took it. She led him back into the hallway, and
upstairs. At the halfway mark, Skarzy stopped her. He fumbled with the pen.

Where’s the
money?

“Afterwards,”
she replied coldly. “That’s the deal.”

Skarzy nodded.
He had his bets covered.

They found a
new hallway, carpeted with bright red. They turned left, and she led him into a
room. It was dark. There was a double bed with white covers in the centre. The
blinds were open. Rain fell lightly on the glass.

“Come. Sit.”
Skarzy sat with her on the bed. She looked at him carefully. “Would you like
something to drink?”

Skarzy shook
his head. She went to the light switch and turned it up a little.

“I’ll be back
soon,” she whispered. “Take your clothes off.”

Skarzy
frowned. She closed the door.

He stood. Took
out the nasty revolver. Slid it under the bed.

Sat there with
his hands on his temples. Waited.

He was hot.
Still burning. Still not feeling well.

Look at this
pressure. Look what he was getting himself into. Maybe he should just kill
them.

Skarzy paused.
Forced a smile.
Yeah.

I still got
the power.

1,500. Halfway
there.

He could take
that back to the car, and then go to the Casino. Chuck it all on Red. Test his
luck. Wouldn’t have to fuck with the night anymore.

He looked
outside. All was silent.

It has led me
here,
he
thought. The Higher Power was angry. Or upset.

Or frightened.

They know
my
Power.

They want me
to stop.

Skarzy fell
back onto the bed.

The Higher
Power…

He didn’t
really believe in that shit. Total nonsense.

This house
wasn’t meant to be. The proposition wasn’t saving lives.

It was just
random. All of it.

He was still
hot. He took off his T-shirt. Wondered if these rich people had put the heat up
in the room.

Wondered if
that old guy was gonna try and fuck him.

Skarzy wasn’t
gay. But he knew there was that risk.

He looked
under the bed again. Took off his pants.

All bets
covered.