Forgive Me, Alex (23 page)

Last night was huge! I'd disposed of Danny-Boy in exactly the right way, chopping him into small enough pieces to squeeze him into two plastic garbage bags. Then I'd driven down to the river near the base of Blackhawk Trail, backed right up to the boat launching area, and fed the Beast a little late-night snack.

The Reaper must'a been pleased.

I had one hell of a mess to clean up when I returned to the shop. Danny-Boy had spilled a shitload of blood and gore. It had attracted flies, damn it, and scratching noises started outside the shop, probably a critter drawn by the smell of blood. I ran out with my knife, but it had vanished by the time I reached the back of the shed.

Diana had watched it all in horror. I knew it would be difficult for her. Hell, given how frightened
I
was when the visions first started, it was hardly a surprise that
she'd
been terrified. That was inevitable.

She'd get used to it, like I had. Maybe she'd even help me, in time; then we'd truly be together. I had to take it slow for now. I hadn't had sex with her yet, though I'd sure worked myself into a hot lather—still couldn't believe I'd stroked the old missile right in front of her.

Still nervous about leaving Diana alone, I hadn't been home today. I cleaned myself from the bucket, as she had. It wasn't too bad... but it was about to get much better.

Her turn.

Man, that shapely body of hers, with the best tits
ever
!
"I'll loosen your ties so you can clean up before we have something to eat. I always have my knife with me, so don't try anything stupid."

She nodded.

I'd already moved the rest of my tools where she couldn't reach them. Nonetheless, I'd stay inside and keep a close eye on her. She'd run or try to hurt me if I gave her half a chance. Besides, it figured to be fun.

I loosened her ties and sat a few feet away, where I'd have the best view.

She shuffled to the bench and dampened the rag as if to start, but stopped and stared at me. Poor little girl didn't want me to watch.

"Look, you know I can't leave you alone when you're free like that. You'll have to go about your business with me here."

Her eyes drooped back to the bench and her shoulders slumped.

"We do have options, you know. I could tie you up again, tear your clothes off and clean you myself. Maybe I'll leave you naked to wallow in your own stinking filth. How would that be?"

She looked at me briefly, took a deep breath, and removed her tee shirt.

Holy shit! Sweet mama!

She cleaned the top part of her body, and it was all I could do to keep my missile inside my jeans. She ignored me as she removed her jeans and panties. She turned her back to me, to keep me from seeing too much, but her plan failed when she bent over.

I leaned in for a closer look.
Fuck a rubber duck! Sex with her would be incredible.

The Reaper said I had to wait until she was ready, until
she
wanted it too, as if that would make it so much better.
Shit!
Keepin' myself calm and controlled weren't no simple task.

She put on the new clothes, and rubbed her wrists where the bindings had discolored them. No way to avoid that. Once she got up to speed according to my plan, it wouldn't be an issue anymore.

In the meantime, maybe I could provide her with some temporary relief. "I know the ties hurt your wrists. That's unavoidable, but I'll let you sit awhile without them if you'd like. Just play it cool."

"Maybe if you put something beneath the ropes," she said, "some cloth to protect my skin."

The supplies included a small hand towel. I cut it in half lengthwise and tossed her the two pieces. Should'a thought of it sooner.

"That should do the trick, but I'll still give you a little break."

"Thank you," she said, and even smiled. Almost.

Maybe she'd come around sooner than I'd hoped.

"You're welcome. Now why don't we get to know each other a little better?"

We talked—mostly I talked and she listened—for two hours. I told her of the demons I'd seen, and the Reaper, whom I'd only heard, with his frightening voice. We had a sandwich, some chips, a pickle and a can of pop, and she ate while I spoke.

I apologized for putting her through this, explaining that the Reaper would do unimaginable things to me otherwise, that I was only following orders. He had a plan for
her
too, and I could help her, if she'd let me.

She nodded, but refused to look at me when she did.

Careful, Mitchell,
the Reaper said.
You may be the MAN, but she's not quite ready to join you. It will take more time.

That Reaper was a smart one.

I tied her up again, this time using the rags to protect her wrists, and dumped the bucket of dirty water behind the shop. "I'm going down to the lake for some fresh water. Sit tight and keep quiet. I'll be back in a few minutes."

She nodded weakly and said, "Okay," but I played it safe and gagged her. She wasn't too pleased but... whatever. She'd get over it.

I grabbed my baseball bat on the way out—never knew when the old Louisville Slugger might come in handy. It was mid-afternoon at the time of year, mid-May, when we saw some occasional hot weather. Though not exactly blazing, temperatures had risen. The sky cast a gray ghost over the area, holding back the storm.

Soon kids would show up at the gravel pit on weekends, and once school let out, they'd be here all the damned time. I'd need more buckets. I hated
buying
water—not fuckin' natural.

The trail dipped down before reaching a slight rise, beyond which lay the gravel pit, inside of which was the lake. I approached the rim of the pit and—

"Ooh, Bobby, you're a naughty boy."

I froze at the sound of the shrill voice. It took a minute for it to come again, clear and... a girl giggled. I dropped down and practically crawled to the rim.

"Do you like it when I touch you there, Jacque-Baby?" a boy said.

"Yes. Do it some more, you big stud."

What the hell? Didn't these kids know it was a school day? They'd probably skipped out so Bobby-the-Stud could dip his little finger in Jacque-Baby's love-muffin. Well that was fuckin' perfect!

The voice of the Reaper returned.
Think, Mitchell. What are you doing?

"Learning," I whispered.

Yes?

"Training."

Yes, and what do you need to train?

Why hadn't I thought of that? "I need participants."

This must be your lucky day.

I had everything I needed, but the element of surprise would be critical. I walked through the steps in my head, hoping the Reaper would provide some instruction, but he remained silent. No matter. I figured it out.

With the bucket in my left hand and the Louisville Slugger, slung over my shoulder, in my right, I started quietly down the path to the lake. When their voices sounded close, I whistled a tune and acted nonchalant.

"Oops." I stumbled upon them. "What do we have here?"

The boy, Bobby-the-Stud, jumped up startled, embarrassed and guilty.

Yes, Bobby, I know exactly what you've been doing.

The girl, Jacque-Baby, squirmed on the ground and tried to get her pants zipped and buckled. Quite amusing, though as I watched Jacque-Baby, I wanted to snap Bobby-the-Stud's fuckin' neck. Why was that?

He spoke in harsh, flustered tones. "What are you doing here, man? This place is supposed to be off-limits."

I figured them for sixteen or seventeen, and found his tone extremely annoying. "Now, Bobby, I could ask you the same question, though one look at Jacque here tells me all I need to know."

"How do you know our names?" Jacque-Baby asked—must be the smart one.

"Yeah!" Bobby-the-Stud, on the other hand—not too bright.

I turned my body to the right, back toward the path, then checked my balance and got a better grip on the baseball bat. "I was walking by and—"

I spun back hard and wheeled the bat squarely into the corner of Bobby-the-Stud's forehead, above and slightly to the left of his left eye. A terrible crunching sound rang out as blood flew through the air. He spun around and collapsed, not the sort of fall one would usually associate with people—more a plop into himself, as though he were made of liquid. Another loud snap echoed as a bone jumped out of his shin.

Man, that's cool!

When the girl screamed, I lunged over her and raised the bat with both hands. "Stop that screaming right now or you're next!"

She stopped—trembling, whimpering, her eyes like soccer balls—and put her hands up to protect her head.

"Be still." I lowered my voice. "No running or fighting back. I'm twice your speed and three times your strength, so don't make me kill you here." I couldn't tell her she was a dead woman regardless, awaiting a more vicious demise. "I'm gonna check on Bobby."

I took two steps to where the boy lay scrunched into a blob, and reached down to touch his neck. Nothing. I tried another spot... and another. Still nothing.

"Shucks, that's a shame. Poor Bobby-the-Stud is ready for the glue factory. He's deader than dirt."

She cried and shook violently, and seemed on the verge of screaming, so I threatened her again. When she realized
he
was dead, but
she
might still live, she calmed slightly. That old survival instinct—strong stuff—and I used it to my advantage.

I needed to keep her quiet long enough to get back to the shop. If she ran or screamed again, I'd have a problem. "I'm sorry about Bobby. Hated doing that, but right now we have to think about you, don't we?"

She nodded, her huge brown eyes bulging as if someone had pumped too much air into them.

"Okay, we're gonna take a little walk to a place I have nearby. You'll be carrying a bucket of water." That ought'a slow her down. I slapped the bat in my hands to sharpen my point. "I'll be right behind you carrying this. Walk slow and keep quiet, and everything will be fine."

"What are you going to do to me?"

"That's up to you. You want to live, don't you?"

She slobbered all over herself. "Yes."

"Then be a good girl and do what I say, and everything will be fine. I don't want to hurt you."

She wanted to—no, she
needed
to—believe it.

I
was
convincing. Hell, I almost believed it myself.

"What about Bobby?" She wiped first at her eyes and then at her nose.

"He's not going anywhere. Take that bucket down to the lake and fill it with water. Hurry up!"

My nerves fired on all pistons. If
they
were here, Bobby and Jacque, then who else might show up? Time to get back to the shop.

She filled the bucket, and we climbed out of the pit and onto the less obvious path leading to the shop. I stayed close behind her, hushing her each time she asked a question, looking around to ensure that we were alone. We needed to hurry; I still had a body to deal with.

Don't forget his car,
the Reaper said.

Shit!
I should have thought of that.

I prepared for my next move as we approached the shop. Jacque-Baby struggled with the bucket, so I instructed her to put it down and rest for a minute. She leaned over, and I stepped closer and raised the bat.

I hit her in about the same spot I'd hit Danny-Boy. She dropped to the ground and groaned, barely conscious. Excellent.

I laid the bat down, left the bucket of water for the moment, and threw her over my shoulder to carry her into the shop. She was damn sure lighter than Danny-Boy had been.

Diana raised her head, and her jaw almost dropped, restrained by the gag. Her eyes shot wide.

"Honey, I'm home." I laughed and dropped Jacque-Baby onto the workbench. "I brought company."

***

Darkness arrived with me jacked-up again on adrenaline and electric nerves. It had been a busy day already and, I had to admit, everything had gone surprisingly well.

After tying up Jacque-Baby and finding out from her where Bobby-the-Stud had parked his car, I gagged her and returned to where the poor boy remained poured in on himself. I took the car keys from his right front pocket, carried him up the hill and over to the rim of the pit—the part that looked straight down on the water like a small cliff—and laid him out there.

Then I jogged to where he'd parked his car near Cary Road.

I drove all the way around to my special path, where I always drove my van in toward the shop. That took fifteen nerve-wracking minutes.

Now it was a simple matter of doing some four-wheeling in Bobby-the-Stud's old Jeep, over the rough terrain and up to where I'd stretched him out. I buckled him into the front seat, put the gearshift into neutral, and pushed the Jeep toward the rim with every ounce of strength I could muster. When it started over the edge, it hung up for several seconds, like it would just stay there.