Creepers (4 page)

Jesse nodded and started the engine.  It grumbled reluctantly to life, and he began the laborious process of turning around the big old machine.  It took a five-point turn, but Jesse soon had them headed back down the drive away from Ricky Dixon’s place.  Behind them, the lights faded into the dust and haze of the sweltering afternoon. 

Jesse drove on in silence until they hit the black top that would take them back to Jesse’s place.  At that point, he started whistling his little tune again.  This time though, Terri did not smile inwardly.  In fact, smiling was the last thing on Terri’s mind.  It was too full of wild thoughts.  Questions and images and nightmares were all running rampant through her mind.  She was drowning in their deluge, and although it felt like a steam bath in the front seat of the Buick, Terri had a chill.

Jack pulled up in front of the rickety fence that surrounded old man Dixon’s place.  He was unaware that he crinkled up his nose in distaste.  He surveyed the scene, looking for any clues as to the whereabouts of Ricky Dixon.  He didn’t see his truck anywhere, and there were no signs that anyone was about.  So Jack climbed out of the cruiser and donned his hat.  He was not looking forward to this.

Anytime he had dealt with Donald Dixon it had been a miserable encounter, and he always went away from it feeling dirty.  Jack didn’t like Donald any more than he liked his son, and if it weren’t for Terri, he would have counted the whole Dixon line as white trash.  Jack liked Terri, he even admired her.  She had taken what life had given her and had risen above it.  Too bad the Dixon men had never learned from her example, he thought.  Jack pushed that last thought aside and pounded on the weathered front door.  From behind the door he could hear Donald Dixon.

“That you Ricky?” he asked.  “Where the hell you been boy?” he continued.  As he opened the door, Donald only slightly raised one eyebrow in surprise to seeing Jack on the porch.  “Shit,” he said disgusted, “what has that little fucker done now?”

“Can I come in Mr. Dixon?” Jack asked.

“Hell no, you can’t come in.” Donald snorted, “Just tell me what he’s done now and how much it’s gonna’ cost me.”

“He hasn’t done anything that we know of,” Jack responded, “I just need to speak with him.  We cannot seem to locate him.  Have you talked to him recently?”

Donald raised his eyebrow again and said, “No, not since Friday morning.”  He thought for a moment then asked, “Did that bitch go with him?”

“What ‘bitch’?” Jack asked.

“That bitch he’s shacked up with, you retard,” Donald said exasperatedly.  “You know who his girl is.  Or is your black half too stupid to remember that shit?”

Jack kept his composure and said, “We don’t know if she went with him, Mr. Dixon.  Sheila is missing too, but we’re afraid something might have happened to her.  I just need to talk to Ricky.”

Donald’s lip curled slightly, somewhere between a smirk and a smile.  He said, “Well he ain’t here,” then he added, “And I wouldn’t tell you if he was.  If something’s happened to that skank, she probably deserved it.”  Then Donald pulled the door shut and left Jack standing on the porch.

Jack headed back to his cruiser, glancing back once or twice to the Dixon house.  He noticed the curtains move and was certain he was being watched.  Jack figured it was old man Dixon watching him leave.  He also thought that Donald had been telling the truth when he said he hadn’t talked to Ricky since Friday.  It seems that no one had spoken to Ricky since late Friday night.  To Jack this could only mean one of two things.  Either Ricky was very much involved, or there was something far worse going on here than anyone knew.

The current theory was that Ricky had killed Sheila and skipped town, or was hiding out somewhere.  Jack knew that was how the troopers saw it.  Hell that was how everyone saw it.  However, it just didn’t feel right to Jack.  He had known Ricky since they were kids, and had even been friends once, back when his mom was still alive.  Jack knew Ricky was a lot of things, but he just couldn’t wrap his mind around him doing what had been done in that bedroom.  With thoughts of Ricky and him playing as children bouncing around in his head, he climbed into his cruiser and headed back to town.

***

Donald Dixon peered out the living room window until he watched that dim-witted cop pull out of his driveway.  Donald was both happy and worried all at the same time.  His son had finally grown a pair and taken care of that slut; he thought.  Well, it was about time.  Donald was almost proud of him just then, almost.  It just reaffirmed to Donald how stupid Ricky was.  To go and kill that twat where it could be linked back to him.  Well, that was just about the dumbest thing Ricky had ever done.

If only Ricky had come to him.  The two of them could have gotten rid of her so no one would have found her.  In fact, Donald wondered why Ricky hadn’t come to him.  That’s what worried Donald.  Why hadn’t he heard from Ricky?  His friends didn’t even know where he was.  Then Donald shook his head and thought, that boy must have just high tailed it right out of the state.  He must have got scared and just took off.  What a pussy.

Donald realized he had been standing at the window for too long and let the curtains fall closed.  He ambled into the kitchen and looked for beer in the fridge.  He knew there wasn’t one in there; he’d finished them that morning.  It was just habit.  That, and the fact he really needed beer.  He’d even thought about calling that nigger-loving daughter of his to bring him some, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.  So Donald decided to call Yancy, he knew he could make that asshole bring him some beer.

***

Yancy had barely walked in the door after a twelve hour shift at the mill, and the phone rang.  To his surprise it was Donald Dixon.  In all the years he had known the old man, Donald had never called him.  Even more amazing, he asked Yancy for a favor.  Yancy just stood there with his mouth agape, listening to the old man.  He finally blinked his eyes and came out of his daze long enough to agree to Donald’s request. 

Yancy hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment, slightly confused.  The old man was somewhat friendly, for Donald Dixon at any rate.  On top of that, he had asked for a favor.  Yancy wasn’t thrilled with the idea of doing anything for Donald, but he was just too stunned to say no.  He was stunned and as afraid of the old man as he was Ricky. That’s the moment Yancy knew he had done the right thing in calling the police.  Something must have happened to Ricky; he guessed.  Something must have happened to Sheila too, he thought, or she would be all over him looking for the guy.

The thought of Sheila concerned him, but it couldn’t override the somewhat giddy feeling he was getting.  Yancy was happy at the thought that he might be out from under Ricky’s thumb.  Just maybe he was free from the torment and fear, just maybe.  Just maybe he would be able to pursue Terri.  Maybe, but he had to be sure.  The last thing he needed was to bring Ricky’s ire down on himself. 

Yancy decided he had some errands to run.  He would bring Donald Dixon his beer and cigarettes, and then he would head over to the Reverend Johns’ place to see how Terri was doing.  He would ask if she had heard anything, or if there was anything he could do for her.  Yancy would comfort her and be a shoulder to her.  Yup, this could be a real blessing in disguise he decided.  Yancy smiled and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.

After washing the day away, Yancy put on his best shirt and clean jeans.  He combed his hair and brushed his teeth and primped like a teenager going on his first date.  Forgotten were the twelve hours he’d just worked.  Forgotten were a crotchety, ill-tempered old man and his psychotic son.  Forgotten were any concerns about Sheila or the police, or even the Unger brothers.  All Yancy could see was an opportunity.  A chance to get close to a girl he had been in love with since the seventh grade.  He grabbed his car keys and bounced out the door of his run down, one room apartment.

The early evening was no cooler than it had been all day and perspiration began to dampen his best shirt.  The air smelled dirty and wet, but Yancy didn’t even notice.  He walked to the corner store in the best mood he had been in that he could remember.  The sounds of Lusaoka’s bustling main street and downtown lifted his spirits as well.  The town felt alive, more alive than it had in years.  To Yancy, everything seemed brighter.

So he picked up the beer and the cigarettes, and a pack of Trojans, because you just never know.  He winked at the clerk and headed to his car, whistling a tune.  Lost in his own world, he didn’t notice the old Chevy truck come to a screeching halt right behind him.  He just kept walking.  Even when the doors of the truck flung open and Toby Unger started yelling at him, he kept walking.  It took Toby grabbing him painfully by the shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey faggot,” Toby yelled at him, “what the fuck?”

“Yeah faggot,” Tom chimed in.

Yancy turned around in honest surprise and said, “What?  Oh.  Sorry guys.”

Toby released his grip on Yancy’s shoulder and said, “What are you all gussied up for anyways?  I know you ain’t got no date, unless it’s with that other faggot Jim Biddle,” he snorted out in laughter.

“Yeah,” Tom added, “you goin’ down on ole Jimmy tonight?”

“I just got some stuff to do,” Yancy replied, “you know; take some beer out to Ricky’s dad and stuff.”

Toby said, “So you dress like a queer just to bring suds to the old man.  Hmm, don’t seem quite right to me, how about you Tom?”

“Nope,” Tom replied, “looks more like a date.”

“No,” Yancy pleaded, “I do need to take this stuff to old man Dixon.”

Toby snatched the bag from Yancy’s hands and looked inside.  “Beer, cigarettes, and condoms…” he said as he pulled out the packet of Trojans, “you gonna try some fudge packing on the old man Yancy?”

“Those are for later,” he said sheepishly, “in case.”

“In case what?” Tom asked.

“I don’t know,” Yancy replied and shrugged his shoulders, “just in case.”

Toby looked at him long and hard; then a smile came across his face.  He said, “You’re going over to see Terri.”

“Maybe,” Yancy said, and Tom just stared at him in disbelief.

“Maybe shit,” Toby continued, “you think Ricky’s out of the picture, and you’re making your move on his sister.  You got some balls on you boy.  More than I ever gave you credit for.”  The smile left his face, and he continued, “Ricky’s gonna kill you when he finds out.”

“If he finds out,” Yancy corrected.  He continued, “No one has seen him since Friday night and the police are looking for him.  That’s why I’m bringing the beer to his old man; he hasn’t seen him either.”

Toby slapped his face then put his arm around his shoulders and said, “Listen, don’t you talk like that.  Ricky’s gonna be back, and he’s gonna kick your ass.”

Tom added, “Yeah, kick your ass.”

Toby turned to Tom and said, “Shut up you retard, can’t you see I’m talking here?”  Then he turned back to Yancy and continued, “Ricky is the reason we’re here.  There’s been some talk around town about Ricky.”

“What talk?” Yancy asked.

Toby replied, “Word is some spear-chucker had something to do with him going missing.”  He looked around then continued, “Word is some of them fine folks that attend Reverend Johns’ church took the law into their own hands.”

“Really,” Yancy asked, surprised.  “Where did you hear that?”

“You ain’t the only one old man Dixon talked to today,” Toby replied.  “He put the word out to some of the Klan and that’s what came back.  He told me so.  He said the Klan thinks Reverend Johns may be behind it.”

Yancy stared at him in disbelief.  “Behind what?” he asked.

“Behind his disappearance asshole,” Toby said with disdain, “what’d you think we were talking about?”

“You think they killed him?” Yancy asked.

Toby said, “Nah, not even them coons would be that stupid.  They’re probably just holding him somewhere.  Beat the shit out of him and such.”  Almost as an afterthought he added, “They couldn’t have killed him.”  Not that Toby fervently believed that, he just hoped it was true.  “Not even them coons would be that stupid,” he repeated.

Yancy asked, “So what do we do?”

“Yeah,” Tom added, “what do we do?”

“We look for him,” Toby replied, “real secret like.  Poke around town, maybe even check out Reverend Johns’ place and even the church.”

“I’ll check that out,” Yancy quickly volunteered.  “I can go over there and see what’s going on, see what I can find out.”

Toby gave him a sidelong glance then said, “Just you keep your pecker in your pants Yancy.  It ain’t no social call.  Tom and I will check out some of the farms around here.  Let’s meet up after you get done checking out the church, back at our shootin’ spot.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Yancy said, and then he turned and headed toward his car.

“Just keep your mind on the right Dixon,” Toby yelled after him.

Yancy ignored him and climbed into his car; this was better than he could have hoped.  Now he could hang out at the Reverend’s place, and Terri, all he wanted and not catch any grief from Toby or Tom.  He didn’t care if they ever found Ricky, or that someone finally had enough and was dealing with him in their own way.  All Yancy knew was that things were looking up for him.  For the first time in a long time, he was happy.  So he put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot headed toward old man Dixon’s, wearing the biggest shit eating grin he ever had.

The trip to Donald Dixon’s seemed to take hours.  Yancy wanted to be finished with this as fast as he could, and he couldn’t be done with it soon enough.  Now he wished he had never agreed to it; he was just so shocked when old man Dixon had called him.  He didn’t want to see Donald Dixon any more than he wanted to see his son, but he figured this would be the last time.  Yancy surely didn’t plan to come out this way again, no matter what happened.

Yancy decided he was finished with the Dixon men and the Ungers as well.  He was done with this crappy town and this miserable state too.  Yancy needed a change.  He was feeling like a different person and damn it; he wasn’t going to let it change back.  Hell, Yancy figured he could move up to Memphis so he could be closer to Terri.  He could start the kind of life with her that he could never have in Lusaoka.