The Dead Parade (29 page)

102

In the master bedroom, Switch and Elmer sat on a bed, drinking beers and snorting fat lines of cocaine off an unread Sèphera Girón novel. The Girón cover displayed a naked woman holding a knife, which was the reason Elmer had picked that particular book off a shelf loaded with fifty or sixty unread novels––most of them being James Patterson, Michael Crichton, or Tom Clancy. It was the first time he had ever seen so many unread books in one place, with the exception, of course, of being inside a bookstore.

For the occasion, Switch brought thirty-six beers, a bottle of Scotch, two bottles of Vodka, a couple joints and two eightballs of coke––each ball, being the equivalent of three and a half grams. It was enough drugs and alcohol for a very good-sized bender, as long as the party was small. He also brought two bags of greasy, low-end Chinese food, a bottle of Pepsi, two bottles of Ginger Ale and a bottle of orange juice. Elmer ate a few chicken wings and a half plate of noodles before knocking back three rails, one after another. After that, the food wasn’t nearly as appetizing and it sat in the dresser, largely untouched.

And even with the alcohol, THC, and cocaine in his system, Switch felt a terrible guilt eating at his thoughts.

When Switch arrived, he expected to find Elmer waiting for him inside a car. He figured he’d talk Elmer into renting a motel, or perhaps one of those cheap rental cottages that gets used and abused by college kids. After all, they needed a home base. Didn’t they? Of course they did. How could they live without one?

He figured talking Elmer into renting a place would be easy, but it didn’t happen. In this plan of his (that seemed as clear as the sky above, which wasn’t all that clear––if he remembered correctly), he could see Elmer sitting on a motel bed, restless and anxious, more than prepared to go James-hunting. He could see Elmer’s impatience, anxiety and annoyance growing with every minute that slipped by. He could see Elmer’s irritation turning to anger, his frustration becoming fury. But he could also see something else, something small and simple. He could see Elmer’s eyes widen when the food came in, realizing, perhaps for the first time, that he had not eaten a bite in the last five or six hours. We shouldn’t go out there on an empty stomach, Switch would say.

Queen takes Knight.

And when the beer came in?

Queen takes Queen.

And at the end of the meal, after a second and third beer, Switch would pull out the cocaine, drop six lines on the table and roll a fresh bill.

Queen takes King.

Check and Checkmate.

Game Over.

Instead of murder, it would be a night of drinking, talking, inhaling lines and gaining a new perspective. Thoughts of murder and revenge would be put on hold, and in time, replaced with consumption. Murder would seem like the wrong approach, and if it didn’t seem wrong––it wouldn’t matter. Switch would have secretly called the police by then and James would have been caught.

Unfortunately, all this came to a crashing halt when Switch found Elmer at the side of the road, covered in blood, saying he killed five people in the last few hours. To make matters worse, Elmer phoned Moore, the biggest, meanest asshole in the world. Switch hated Moore. Always had.

On a brighter note, Elmer hadn’t actually killed five people. It was only four.

Jennifer had survived.

103

Moore stepped out of the bathroom. He was a big man. His clothing was stylish and expensive. He had money, drugs and power; he had muscle and the desire to use it. Weighing in at two fifty-five, Moore looked like a football player––with a neck larger than his head. He enjoyed the good things in life and he felt right at home when people looked at him with a mix of fear and admiration. His skin was dark and smooth, if you didn’t take into account the long scar beneath his chin. There was nothing smooth about that place; someone had cut his throat with a broken bottle, attempting to saw his head from his body.

Moore entered the common area and realized that James had opened his eyes. This seemed to be what he had been waiting for. He smiled an evil man’s smile, pointed a thick, non-calloused finger and licked his lips.

“
Oh lookie-here.” He said with a deep, upsetting voice. “Look who’s coming around… it’s the man of the hour, the dickhead I’ve been waiting to meet. The one and only: James the jerk-off. He’s back and ready to join the party. Wait ‘til guys hear. Things are about to get interesting, I reckon. Yep, things are about to get real good.”

Moore dragged his fingers along the center of his scar. He opened the fridge, lifted a beer and spit on the floor. Closing the refrigerator, he began to laugh.

James wondered if laughter had ever sounded so cold and cruel. He also wondered if Moore was an alien.

Debra started to cry.

104

“
Do you know what time it is?” James asked, while he had a moment alone with Debra. His eyes were glossed over; his hair was matted to one side.

“
I’m not too sure… it’s close to five am, I think. Why?”

“
The sun will be coming up soon. If we get lucky, someone will find a corpse on the beach, or in the grass, or wherever. Then the police will be involved. That’s our only chance, really.”

Debra groaned, holding back her tears. “Don’t say that.”

“
Sorry.”

“
I wish I had never come.”

“
I wish you called the police when you had the chance.”

“
You wouldn’t let me.”

“
I know. I’m kicking myself for that.”

“
When will you learn that I’m always right?”

“
A little too late, apparently.”

For a while neither of them said anything. Then with a nod of her head, Debra said, “This sucks.” Her mouth felt dry and sticky.

James said, “I think they killed Franco’s wife.” He sounded a lot like Johnny now. His voice was flat and empty.

“
What makes you think that?”

“
I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I guess. I’m thinking this: The neighbors on the left side are never home. And if one of those guys didn’t kill Franco’s wife, she would have come over… or something. She would have been looking for Franco, right? But she didn’t come over. At least, I don’t think she did. And I heard a woman scream. I know I did. I figure it was her.”

“
Maybe she came by.”

He looked at Debra then, with dark eyes that were rolling in their sockets. “When?”

“
I don’t know.”

“
Wouldn’t you have noticed?”

“
Elmer… beat the shit out of me. Then he tied me up. I passed out for a while after he tied me. I don’t know what happened. Anything is possible, I suppose.”

Time crawled a while, and then Debra said, “Listen James, I’m pretty upset with you. To be honest, I wish we had never met. But when I first got here, you said Franco was dead. Well… I thought you killed him. I was sure of it. It seems now that you didn’t. I guess I’m trying to say this: I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Not that I don’t want to kill you right about now, ‘cause I do. I fucking hate you, but I’m also sorry. I wanted you to know that. I had to get it off my chest.”

“
That’s so funny,” James said. “I want to kill you too.”

Debra nodded. She thought he was kidding.

Inside the bedroom the men shuffled their feet; they were about to join the party.

“
I guess this is it.” James said.

“
Yeah, I guess so. I love you James, even when I hate you.”

It seemed that James didn’t hear. And a moment later, the bedroom door opened. This was the end.

105

As Moore and Switch walked into the common room, Elmer stepped outside. A few minutes later he returned, dragging Franco’s body inside by the wrists. Franco’s head hung back. He was dripping wet; all but the sockets of his eyes were covered in dirt.

Elmer plunked the corpse on the floor near Debra’s feet. Then he stepped outside again, and returned with the body of a woman that neither Debra nor James had seen before. Elmer laid the woman next to Franco. He rubbed a dirty foot along the side of the corpse and unleashed a terrible grin. “You see that?” He said to Debra. “That’s you, an hour from now. Dead. You like that?”

James bit his tongue; Debra thanked God for small miracles.

“
Hey bitch,” Moore said. “You were asked a question. Do you like what you see?”

“
No,” Debra said. “Of course not. What kind of a question is that? Nobody likes that. This is terrible.”

“
I bet your boyfriend likes it,” Elmer said. “He likes that sort of thing. You know that, right? Of course you do. He’s a sick fuck. Maybe you are too.”

Moore sipped his beer, and said, “He’s a stone cold killer.”

James moved uncomfortably in his chair. His shoulder throbbed. He wasn’t sure if the bullets had passed through him or if they were still inside. If he had to guess, he would say they were still in there. But what did he know? He had never been shot before.

Elmer stepped outside again, and then tossed a dead dog into the hallway. After that he dragged the dog’s master in by the scruff of his neck. The man’s water-wrinkled face had turned as white as the ceiling he gazed at. His teeth were covered in dirt. On his fifth and final trip, Elmer dropped Helga’s dead body on––what was now––the pile.

106

James had seen enough horror flicks to imagine Elmer’s next move. He figured Elmer would prop the bodies up on the couch; perhaps he would try to feed them or have a conversation with them.

Of course, Elmer wasn’t thinking that way. He wasn’t crazy. James was the infected one. Elmer had simply brought the bodies inside to hide them. Nothing more. Nothing less. Dropping the corpses in front of Debra and James, that was for the dramatic aspect, sure it was, but the dramatics would end there. And after a few minutes, a damp, pungent smell began creeping around the room, making people nauseous and woozy. It smelled like old meat.

Nobody liked that.

Ultimately, Elmer dragged the bodies into a bedroom. He sprayed air freshener; Moore poked fun and Switch said nothing. Elmer didn’t care what either one of them thought. The bodies were grossing him out, and besides, they were getting in the way.

“
How do you want to do this?” Moore said.

Elmer shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you think?” The question was directed at James.

James shook his head and said, “How about you let us go?”

The remark earned a few laughs, not that James was trying to be funny.

“
No son,” Moore said. “I don’t think so. In fact, I think it’s time we get started.”

“
Any last words?” Elmer said. “Final requests… anything like that? If so, now’s the time.”

Debra looked nervous.

James wondered if she knew she’d be first to die.

Since the moment that James opened his eyes, he knew Debra would be first. And worse than that, he knew it wouldn’t be pretty. He took a deep breath and tried to be strong.

“
Are you being serious?” He asked. “Or are you just talking shit?”

Elmer’s grin faltered. “What do you mean?”

“
What I’m saying is this: Are you talking shit right now, reciting cool dialog from a movie you didn’t understand, or are you actually offering me a final request?”

The room fell silent.

Moore crossed his arms and leaned against a counter. Switch lifted an eyebrow. The weight in the room shifted, if only for a moment. Pressure had fallen upon Elmer’s shoulders. Was he a man of his word, or just another asshole with a mouthful of bullshit?

“
I don’t know,” Elmer said. “Why? Do you have something important to say? You gonna talk your way out of this or somethin’, douche-bag?”

“
No,” James said. “I don’t think that’s possible. And if you’re reciting lines from a second-rate action movie I’ll save my breath. But if you’re really offering me a final request, then I suppose, I do have something worth asking. The thing is… I haven’t figured you out yet, Elmer. I’m not sure if asking is worth my time.”

“
You don’t have much time,” Elmer said. “And I’m not so sure you figured
that
out, hotshot.”

“
Yeah, I figured as much. I might be stupid but I’m not that stupid.”

Moore leaned in; he rubbed his hands together. “Listen son,” he said. “I’d love to hear a final request, a final plea, your famous last words. And I’m sure the guys would love to hear it too, right guys?”

Switch faked a laugh. “Let’s hear your famous last words.”

“
Without meaning disrespect to you two cock suckers, I’m asking Elmer. He’s the one with the problem. He’s the one that wants to kill me.”

“
No son,” Moore said, reading James with his eyes. “I’m the one that wants to kill you. Steel just wants it more. Ain’t that right Steel?”

As James waited for the Elmer to supply him with an answer, he couldn’t help notice that the word ‘Steel’ had been used again. Things became clear: Elmer had lied. Truth be told, James knew it all along.