Parasite (20 page)

Sheriff Paul White drove
so fast that he nearly rammed into a parked firetruck on the corner of Main and Highway 2. He swerved to the right, and then whipped the wheel back to the left to avoid an overturned car at the side of the road. He made a mental note to get Johnny and his tow truck out here to clear the road a little better as soon as possible. Still, despite his near accident, he was surprised that the firemen and volunteers had done such a good job at getting rid of the cracker debris, which he had stressed as a priority.

Paul tried to push these thoughts, his work, from his mind.

Nancy, it’s about Nancy.

He flicked the police lights on and pushed the gas pedal just a little bit harder.

Relief washed over him when less than fifteen minutes later he pulled up to his place and saw Nancy’s car parked in the driveway. He slammed the cruiser into park and jumped out, hurrying up the small walk to the door. Despite the sun having already begun to nestle, it was hot out, and he felt his shirt cling to his sweaty chest.

And it was the stress; that too had made him sweat.

Paul was shouting even before he opened the door—which was unlocked.

“Nancy!” he yelled, stepping inside. A blast of cool air from the AC unit hit him. “Nancy! Are you home?
Nancy
!”

When there was no answer, the relief he felt after seeing her car quickly dissipated.

“
Nancy
!”

He took a break from shouting and listened, trying to make out any sounds from inside the house.

His ears perked, and he heard the distinct sound of water running upstairs.

The sheriff didn’t even bother taking off his boots as he took the stairs two at a time. When he plowed into the bedroom, the water suddenly shut off, and then he heard the shower door open. A second later, Nancy, blonde hair still wet, stepped into the bedroom with a towel tucked up under her breasts.

She didn’t see him at first.

“Nancy!”

Nancy yelped and jumped back.

“Jesus, Paul, you scared me!”

Paul didn’t say anything else; instead, he stepped forward and leaned down. Grasping her still shocked face in his hands, he kissed her full on the lips. Startled, she tried to pull away, but he wasn’t done yet. He extended the kiss a little longer, breathing in her fresh, clean scent—a complete one-eighty from earlier in the day.

But that was in the past, her bullying questions on air forgotten. She was with him now; she was safe.

And that was all that mattered.

Paul finally released her, and Nancy immediately stepped backward.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing. Yet despite her expression, her tone was soft.

“I’m just—I’m just—”

The sheriff was at a loss for words; he had been so certain that something had happened to Nancy, that she wouldn’t be there after what Dirk had told him, that he hadn’t actually planned what he was going to say if she was there... which, of course, she was.

Should I tell her? Should I tell her about Dirk?

Paul let out a deep sigh and decided against it. He tried to convince himself that the only reason that he was keeping it from her was because he didn’t want to worry her, but there was something else, too. He didn’t want her spreading rumors about an evil, cartoon villain on television, putting the already confused Askergan citizens into a frenzy.

Exhaustion should take hold any moment now, he knew, based on the hell of a day he had been through. But something held it at bay for a little while longer.

Anxiety.

Despite finding Nancy safe and sound, he was still anxious about what had happened to Askergan, and about what was going to happen.

The crackers, however horrible, had only been the beginning, he knew.

The worst was yet to come.

“Paul?” Nancy had a concerned expression on her face.

Fuck it.

Sheriff White had once heard someone say that rage and ecstasy were very close on the emotional spectrum, even though their implications couldn’t have been more different. At the time, he hadn’t really understood what this meant, but he thought he did now.

He was anxious, he was tired, but he was also
alive
.

Instead of answering, Paul stepped forward and kissed Nancy again. As before, her first instinct was to pull away, but when his probing tongue found hers, she changed her mind and leaned into him. He felt her hands wrap around his waist, and when she moved her arms, her towel fell to the floor. Feeling her bare skin against him only encouraged the sheriff further, and he moved his mouth off hers, kissing first her jaw, and then the nape of her neck when she leaned her head backward. When he kissed her clavicle, she let out a soft gasp.

He continued down her body, moving slowly, kissing her as he went. He kissed the top of her full breast, breathing in her fresh scent. Then he kissed all the way around her nipple, which stood at attention in the air-conditioned room. His tongue darted, flicking her nipple, and Nancy moaned. Her hands were on the back of his head now, forcing her breast into his mouth.

Paul worked his way back up to her mouth, leaving wet trails on her damp skin. This time when their lips met again, she kissed him back—and she was
hungry
. Nancy didn’t even bother with his shirt; instead, she reached down and undid his belt with one hand. A second later, she was inside his pants, grabbing his manhood in her small hand. With her other hand on the small of his back, she guided both of their bodies backward until her bare ass hit the edge of the bed. She gasped and fell backward.

Paul stared at her for a moment, loving the way her face was twisted in a devious smirk. She was pretty, but she was also one to take charge, and he liked that. For a moment, everything—the crackers, the bikers, and now the Crab—was gone.

All that was left was him and her.

“What are you looking at?” she asked, the smile still on her face. “You’ve got to finish what you started.”

And then Paul could not wait any longer. He lowered his buttocks, and with one thrust, he slid effortlessly inside her.

At last the smile was off Nancy’s face; now it was replaced by an expression of bliss. Her eyelids fluttered and he thrust again. And again. And again. With every thrust, Nancy’s mouth opened a little more, her moans got a little louder. Just as she was nearing her climax, Paul was distracted by a sound off to his left.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” Nancy begged, but Paul’s eyes had honed in on the closet door, which was slightly ajar. It was one of those sliding mirror doors, and he could see his tired face in the reflection.

Tired, so damn tired-looking.

He felt a pain on his left buttock, as Nancy dug her nails in. He turned back to her and saw that her eyes were open, her thin blonde eyebrows knitted.

“Don’t stop, I said.”

He almost smiled.

“Okay, I—”

Then he heard the closet door slide all the way open, followed by a man’s voice.

“Yeah, don’t stop, big boy.”

Seth stumbled past the
bouncer that held the door wide, and he nearly fell into the alley.

Tears streaked his face, and his heart was beating so quickly that he thought that it might burst from his chest. It was as if a switch had been turned inside his head—after seeing the face of the man he had spent the last six years trying to wipe from his memory, everything came roaring back.

Jared Lawrence.

Because Jared Lawrence reminded him of the sweet little cherub, Henrietta Lawrence.

The one he had tried to suffocate.

To murder.

You ain’t worth nothing, faggot. Just a queer, sucking dick like a woman. That’s all you are—a queer. Ain’t worth nothing.

And now the floodgates were open, and with these memories came something else.

The voice.

The same one that he had heard so long ago on the wind. Only now it was different. Now it wasn’t simply uttering a single command, but a series of coherent instructions. The same ubiquitous ‘
come’
was there, of course, but now there was more.

Come.

Bring the girl.

Come.

Bring the girl, Seth. You have been chosen.

The words were so clear, so distinctly not his and yet happening inside his head, that it made him queasy.

“Get help, buddy,” the bouncer said before slamming the door closed. Seth nearly fell as he scrambled toward the dumpster. His right hand slammed against the side hard enough to make it ring, and then he doubled over, retching, unable to even lean over the bin before nausea overcame him.

His eyes watered with every heave—it was the most violent vomiting he had ever experienced. Up came the two gin and tonics, and the mess that he had swallowed from the john.

He heaved and heaved until there was nothing left. When the sensation passed, he forced himself to try and puke again, aware that this time it wasn’t designed to rid himself of some sort of poison, but to get the
voice
out.

Gasping, Seth wiped the drool from his mouth with the back of his hand. He waited to see if more would come, and although his stomach ached and his throat burned, the urge to vomit was gone.

A joke—it wasn’t real. I didn’t hear that.

But he had heard it.

Bring the girl. You have been chosen.

Seth pulled his hand off the dumpster and tried to straighten himself on wobbly legs.

His heart still raced in his chest, and he suddenly felt a strong desire for another drink.

Or twenty.

Everything he had done had been to forget. And he had been successful… kind of. But now, Jared’s face had been a trigger, and the voice had returned.

Tears streamed from his eyes, and he collapsed to the ground, not caring that he landed in his own vomit. His body was racked with sobs.

The voice was back, and as before, it gripped him inside his mind.

Come? Come where?

Seth started to moan, and buried his head in his lap, pressing his hands against the sides of his head so hard that it hurt.

“Leave me alone!” he yelled between tears.

He tried with all his might not to answer—he tried to ignore the voice inside his mind.

No—please, not again. Leave, like last time... like with Jared’s family. Like after I... after the snow. When I turned and left and walked in the freezing cold until I couldn’t walk anymore.

The voice had been inside his head then, and it was when he’d finally succumbed to answering that things had taken a turn for the worst.

Before he’d tried to smother Henrietta.

After Seth had wandered from Mama Lawrence’s house, he had kept going; he’d kept walking long after he’d stopped hearing that harrowing voice. Eventually, he had hitched a ride, and headed south all the way until he had hit Florida. Florida had been good for a while, and eventually the hot sun had melted the ice that had wrapped his bones. And during this time, he had almost forgotten about the snow.

But then he had run out of money, and he hadn’t been able to get any steady work. Slowly but surely, he had begun heading back north—in search of work.

At least that was what he had told himself all these years.

But maybe it wasn’t coming back toward what he called home that drew him north; maybe it was something else.

Come.

Another wave of nausea hit him and he dry heaved.

The voice was there all right, and Seth began questioning whether it had ever left. Maybe the voice had always been there, just buried deep inside, and seeing Jared’s face had simply made him aware of it.

It was all irrelevant now; what mattered was that it was there and it was stronger than before.

Come.

Bring the girl. You have been chosen.

Seth ground his teeth so hard that he felt tiny flecks of enamel pepper the back of his tongue.

No.

Come.

“Leave me alone!” he screamed into the warm night air.
“Leave me the fuck alone!”

But the voice was inside his head again, and this time it wouldn’t leave.

After his words stopped reverberating down the alleyway, and an all-encompassing silence overcame him.

He pulled his hands away from the sides of his head and cautiously lifted his gaze. When he still heard nothing, he opened his eyes.

Seth.

Seth moaned and his eyes rolled back.

It was as if he were asking himself a question inside his head using a different voice. Which was the definition of insane, wasn’t it?

He remembered reading somewhere long ago that it wasn’t crazy to ask yourself questions, it was only crazy if you answered them. Well, the next time the voice asked a question, he felt compelled to answer.

He simply could not resist the urge to respond.

Seth.

“Yes,” he whispered, staring with blurred vision at the pavement that was only a few feet from his face.

Get the girl.

“Okay.”

You have been chosen. Get the girl, Seth.

Come.

“Okay,” he said again. His voice had obtained a strange monotone quality with which he was unfamiliar. Placing his palms on the damp pavement, he slowly pushed himself to his feet. “Yes, I’ll get the girl. I have been chosen.”