Skulls (14 page)

His father started to get up. Tate waved him down. “That’s enough from both of you.” He looked to Jenks. “Get in your truck and head on home before I find a reason to lock you up.”

Jenks showed his teeth. “You tried that before, Arnold, or don’t you remember? It didn’t work out the way you wanted it to, now did it?”

Tate growled. His hand slipped to his service revolver. “Go home, Waylon, before you push your luck too far.”

Jenks straightened his overalls and saluted the officer with precision sarcasm. Without another word, the smile still plastered across his face, he made for the door. He chuckled as he cast a glance at Jacob’s dad. He then looked to Jacob, giving him a quick wink on his way out.

After Jenks was gone, the sheriff pulled his father up from the floor. “I suggest you find someone sober to drive you home. You’re done for tonight.”

“But I didn’t start the—”

The sheriff waved him off. “I
said
you’re done. Now go home or you’ll be sleeping it off in a cell. Do you understand me, Rile?”

His father spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor. He glared at the sheriff with murder in his eyes. When the big man didn’t back down, his dad broke.

“Someone give me a ride,” he said to no one in particular. After a quiet moment, he got a fetid response. He tossed the truck keys at his wife before heading for the door. “Come on, boy,” he yelled over his shoulder to Jacob.

Sheriff Tate called out to him, “I’ll be by to check on the boy later, so don’t do anything stupid, Rile.”

His father turned to glare at the sheriff. Once again on the losing end of the stare down, he stormed out of the bar. Jacob went out behind him. He glanced at the sheriff and shook his head. Tate gave a sorry smile as he went out the door.

The ride home was uncomfortable. Crouched in the open bed of a pickup truck, while his father rode up front, Jacob knew things would get even worse when he got back to the trailer, despite the sheriff’s warning.

But when he thought about what
could
have happened, he was just glad to be going home at all.

Chapter Nineteen

Jacob pulled himself out of bed around eleven. His shoulders and back screamed at him. He was reminded of his long night by the numerous aches and pains throughout his body. He fought the temptation to go back to sleep. If he didn’t get up now, he wouldn’t have time to do the rest of the work his father had lined up for him.

After the sheriff’s warning, Jacob’s father had found more creative ways to punish him than with a beating. Jacob spent the rest of the night before on his hands and knees, scrubbing the bathroom sink, shower, and toilet—with a toothbrush. The kitchen sink and floor followed.

It was after six am by the time he crawled into bed. A long list of additional chores waited for him when he awoke. He was also grounded until his father said differently.

Jacob sighed. That could be a very long time indeed.

In the bathroom, the bright white of the toilet reflected the light of the room. He groaned when he realized he wouldn’t be able to visit the skulls.

But his dad was gone more often than he was around. That was a good thing. Then again, with Old Man Jenks out patrolling his property and the sheriff up in arms, there was a good chance of him getting busted again if he sneaked off to visit the bunker.

No matter how he looked at it, it was over. There was no telling what his dad might do, let alone how Jenks would react if he caught Jacob on his land again.

Jacob had been lucky, for whatever reason, that Jenks hadn’t dumped him in the woods without his head. The old man probably thought someone had known where he was and expected him back. Jacob figured that was the only reason he was still alive.

Now that Jenks had seen how little his dad cared about him, he wouldn’t have any problem making Jacob disappear for good. After the scene in the bar, there wouldn’t be much interest if a story surfaced claiming Jacob had run away. It wouldn’t be much of a surprise to anyone.

Jacob would end up like all the other victims of Jenks’s axe, his head adorning its own private niche in the bunker.

That thought spurred him on. He went about his chores, trying to ignore the cavalcade of pain that traveled the length of his body, and the whirlwind of images that nagged at his mind.

He was still hard at work when his father came home. His dad didn’t say a word. He stomped up into the trailer, only sparing a vicious glare as he passed him in the yard. His nose was swollen over his bushy mustache, and he breathed like a steam engine. His eyes were encircled in black. He had definitely gotten the worst of it.

Jacob puttered around outside, dragging out his work to keep from having to go inside. His ploy paid off.

Less than a half hour later, his dad stormed out of the house with Ann in tow. She was finishing her makeup as she walked to the truck. She didn’t look happy.

His drinking curtailed the night before, his father seemed ready to make an early start of it. Ann hustled into the truck, giving Jacob a dirty look. His dad shouted for him.

“Don’t think you can go sneaking off tonight. I’ve got the neighbors watching for you. You do anything but what I told you and you’ll need surgery to remove my foot from your ass. We clear?”

“Yes sir,” Jacob answered. He went out of his way to sound appropriately subdued.

It apparently worked. His dad glared at him for another moment, and then got in the truck and drove off in a hurry. Jacob waited until the truck was out of sight before going into the house. The usual scents awaited him.

He sighed when he saw the mess they had left. It was more than obvious they’d gone out of their way to make sure he had plenty to do.

As though she’d cooked a seven-course meal, Ann had left a ruin behind for him to clean up. Dirty pots and pans covered the stove. The dishes were stacked high in the sink, a marvel of culinary engineering. Empty food packages and cans lay scattered about the counter and floor. Streaks of unidentifiable liquids colored the tile near the sink and stove.

Jacob just shook his head and went to his room. He turned on the stereo as loud as he dared without setting off the neighbors, then returned to the kitchen to clean, energized by the sharpened rhythms of Pantera.

The mess once more a kitchen, he tied off the trash bag and headed outside to dump it. The back door swung open and Jacob froze.

There was a plain cardboard box sitting at the bottom of the stairs.

A cold chill settled over him. How it had gotten there? The gate was still closed and the yard empty. He set the trash bag off to the side and returned to the box.

The box was no bigger than a foot squared and it had no markings of any kind. A single strip of brown packing tape held the lid closed. There was no name or address on it.

Jacob left the box behind and went out the gate, to the front of the trailer. He glanced around, looking to see if he could spot anyone lurking out there.

Remembering he had upset Chris and Glenn, blaming them for the destruction of his yard, he wouldn’t put it past them to do something to get back at him. The box could be their revenge.

Seeing no one around, he returned to the back yard. He stared at the small box. At last, his curiosity got the better of him. He put his foot against the side of the box and pushed. It slid forward a little. Something heavy shifted inside.

He knelt beside it and gave it a tentative sniff, expecting something nasty. Dog shit, maybe. But he smelled only the musky odor of cardboard. He tilted the box so the opening was pointed away from him. Then he started to pull the tape free. It came away easy. The flaps popped loose, but nothing leapt out at him.

Encouraged, he opened the box top with his foot. Still, nothing happened. So he peered inside.

The white dome of a skull stared back at him.

Jacob stumbled back and crashed into the steps. Sweat beaded at his forehead and his heart pounded a drum line in his chest. He stared at the skull as though he expected it to come alive.

It didn’t.

The hard wood of the stairs was beginning to cut into his back. Uncomfortable now, he pulled himself to his feet. He stood over the box.

Jenks must know where he lives. He’d dropped the skull off unseen. He also had to know his dad’s schedule. He knew it would be Jacob who found the box.

Tremors of fear rattled his frame. Jenks had been able to sneak into the yard. The old man could easily have done worse. With his dad and Ann gone, the music up loud enough to mask all but the most blatant of sounds, Jacob hadn’t given a thought to someone else being there. He’d have never known if Jenks had decided to sneak up on him.

But why leave the skull? Was it a warning? Did Jenks know Jacob hadn’t just been on his land, but had been in the bunker as well? Of course he did.

Thoughts whirled through his head. He wondered what the old man hoped to gain from delivering the skull to him.

He suddenly felt tremendously exposed out in the yard, so he snatched up the box and scurried inside. He locked the door behind him. He made the rounds of the trailer, searching every room in case Jenks had slipped inside.

He was alone. Just him and the skull.

Satisfied all the doors and windows were locked, he went to his room and set the box down on his bed. He turned off the stereo and realized he was breathing heavy. His exhalations were suddenly loud in the silence of his room. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and dried his clammy hands with the sheet. Taking another deep breath to steady his nerves, he pulled the skull out of the box. He cradled it in his hands and stared at its flawless dome for a few minutes, resisting the lure of its eyes. Under a barrage of whispers, his hands shook. Almost unconsciously, he began to turn the skull’s face toward him.

His resistance crumbled and he found himself staring into the dark sockets.

The room went cold as the eyes sparked to life. Too late to turn back, the dead pulled him in.

Chapter Twenty

The darkness faded as Sharon opened her eyes. She blinked to clear the shadows and looked around. Her thoughts were thick and hazy.

She looked to the light that illuminated the room, its shade turned to the side so as to not be blinding. A quiet crunch beneath her drew her attention to the floor. A dark plastic tarp lay under her bare feet. Shimmering metal bands encircled her ankles.

She tried to move but found she couldn’t. She reached for the restraints, but her arms were bound too.

Awareness exploded in her like a flare.

Her hands tugged against the restraints as fear ran like lava through her veins. She shrieked and the sound echoed through the rafters. It shook dust and spiders loose that rained down over her.

“Quiet.”

Sharon went silent at the command. She stared wide-eyed at the man who stood before her. He was masked and dressed in black, but it was the axe he held in his hand that drew her attention.

He stepped toward her, slow and deliberate. He held his finger to his invisible lips indicating she was to be silent. Sharon was too overwhelmed to disobey. She shook against the restraints. The steel bit into her wrists. A trickle of warm blood ran down her arm and tickled her armpit. She tried to shrink away. She prayed it was all a dream.

In defiance of her prayers, the man leaned in close. His dark eyes were just inches from hers. She could feel his breath through the mask. It was hot against her cheek. Sharon trembled and looked away, but the man took her chin in his gloved hand. He forced her back to his gaze.

He stared as though he was looking through her. At last, he pulled back just a bit. A twisted smile seemed to squirm beneath the mask as he let her chin go.

Tears blurred her vision. Sharon found she couldn’t look away. Even as the man lifted the axe and set the flat of the blade against her chest, she couldn’t pull her eyes from his. Something sparkled mysteriously in their depths.

The man stood in front of her a moment. The axe remained nestled cold against her sternum. Finally, he pulled it away and leaned in close once more. His masked face brushed against her ear. She shivered as his breath washed over her again.

“This is for you, Jacob,” the man said. His words were spoken slow and muffled behind the mask.

Jacob?
Sharon went rigid. She turned her face to her tormentor. She didn’t know who he was talking to, but it made her blood run even colder to think they were being watched. She clenched her eyes shut and pressed her cheek into the wall as if to hide.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded.

She defied him for a heartbeat before she could no longer. She turned her head to face him, eyes open. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

The man reached over and grabbed a handful of her concert T-shirt, at the shoulder. He bunched it up and pulled it away from her skin. He set the sharpened edge of the axe at her collarbone and slid the blade downward. Sharon squealed as the axe slipped by her, just inches from her skin. It sliced through her shirt without resistance.

Sharon let out a sob as the blade slipped free, her shirt split down the center of her body. She trembled against the restraints and stared down at her shirt that hung loose, revealing her bra. Her mind ran wild with fear.