PillowFace (3 page)

But, all that was ever truly hiding in the bushes was a hound dog eager for a belly rub.  He’d pounce on Joel, lapping his face with his warm, sloppy tongue.  When he’d flop on his side and roll over, Joel knew it was time to kneel down and start scratching.  He enjoyed those few moments where it was just the two of them reuniting after a long day. 

“Why’d you have to die?” he asked, the tears returning.  He quickly sniffed them back, trying to be tough.  “You were all I had left in the world.  The only real friend I’ve ever had.”  He could feel himself becoming angry with Rusky, as if it was the dog’s fault he’d passed away. 

A shimmer of guilt tugged at his heart. 
Gotta do this.  Get
him buried before he starts to stink
. Joel winced at the horrible truth. The hotter it became, the more repugnant he would be. 
Plus the maggots…
 

Joel wrapped the blanket snuggly around the dog, dug his hands under him, and scooped him up into his arms.  Rusky felt as if he was ten pounds heavier.  Joel strained to hold him.  The dog’s body was unyielding and remained firm, all four paws sticking straight out.  With Rusky’s body so close to him, the smell was much stronger and awful.  Ignoring it the best he could, he headed for the edge of the backyard where it merged into the woods. 

Joel spotted Rusky’s rubber steak, his favorite chew toy.   At one time it could have actually passed for a raw steak, and it also squeaked.  But, after three years of Rusky’s chewing, his syrupy saliva, and constant burying, it had faded to a milky white, and hadn’t made a noise in a very long time.

Keeping his dog pressed tightly to his chest, he kneeled down, flexing his fingers until he managed to pick it up.  He planned to bury it with him. As he ventured on with his deceased pal trenched in his arms, Joel thought he heard something further out in the woods.  He stopped, listened. 
Was that a scream? 
He turned his ear to the direction, trying to aim his ear where he thought it had come from.  The wind drifted across him, making the thick green leaves on the branches sigh.  He could hear, albeit faintly, the sputtering of a chainsaw.  

He shrugged. As he entered the woods, he thought he heard it again, but this time he ignored it.

(III)

Dawn raced through the woods.  She was saturated with sweat, her eyes burned from it.  She slapped away low hanging branches that reached out like skeletal hands.  Stealing a look over her shoulder, she saw the large man wasn’t far behind, even though he moved much slower due to his bulky size.  That meant she was traveling at a pace she needed to quicken.  The tree limbs looked to be giving him the same trouble, but he was able to cut a path through them with his chainsaw.

Dawn wished she had something like that, or better yet, some wheels.  She pictured her car sitting alone in the field where they’d left it.  She had no idea how far away she was from it, so it was best to pretend it wasn’t there at all.  If she focused on the car, she’d just become depressed.

A thicker plot of woods came into view from up ahead.  Bending forward, she charged through them, hanging an immediate left, and left him behind.

****

When he stomped down the hill, he realized that he’d lost her. He stopped running and scoped out the land.  She couldn’t have gone far.  With dedicated patience, he’d find her.  His dark eyes darted back and forth intuitively, as if watching a tennis match. His mouth was drooped open and panting.  All he saw were hills and trees.  No girl.  

****

Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed Dawn looming behind him, holding a bulky rock above her head with both hands. The coughing motor of the chainsaw silenced her approach. 

The wafting exhaust squeezed her throat, and the burning tang of gasoline and oil singed her nostrils, bringing tears to her eyes.  She blinked to clear them. 
Almost there.  Just a few more steps. 
His back was like a thick wall, a giant compared to her.  Dawn had never been one who was known for her height, but this guy was ridiculously huge. 
Like a bear. 
Standing on the tips of her toes, and stretching her legs and arms, she brought the rock higher.

If he moves, I’m cooked. 
She held her breath. 

What are you waiting for? 
She heard a voice say.  It sounded like Kevin’s. 
He’s going to catch you.  Do it, now!!! 

Dawn lashed the rock back, and as she brought the rock forward, she aimed for the back of his neck…

He whipped around, the chainsaw roaring and struck the rock.  Sparks showered as the rock was flung from Dawn’s hands.  She screamed.  She’d walked straight into a trap!  He revved the saw again, then lunged at her.  The spinning chain was a blur.  Dawn avoided its whirling points, just barely, but felt a blast of air knock the sweat beads off her sleek skin. She ran for the rock, scooping it up without slowing down. As she spun around, she swung the rock blindly, and managed to crack the rock against his jaw while he was moving in on her. 

He staggered a couple of steps back. 

Her moment had come. 
  

Dawn charged, mouth shrieking, and slammed the rock bluntly against his forehead.  The solid blow resounded above the chainsaw’s racket. His head tilted first, torso following, and then raising his left leg into the air, he fell on his back, a cloud of dust puffed out from under him.  The chainsaw slammed the ground beside him, idling, with his hand still clutched firmly around the handle. 

Going for the saw would be risky, but she wanted—
needed
—to finish him off.  She could bash his skull with the rock, but would have to get right on top of him to try.  Plus it might take multiple hits to do the trick, but he could use that saw to put an end to her with one swing.  She needed something better.

Dawn scanned the length of his gargantuan body, and spotted a machete strapped to his leg.  In a provisional sheath, it quickly captured her attention as if heaven’s light bore down from the clouds, illuminating it. 
Thank you, God. 
She smiled maniacally as she went for the blade.

She understood she was no longer in control of herself, and that somehow her body was acting without her mind’s consent.  She’d read about the ability to survive on animalistic instinct in books, or magazine articles featuring a mother that had lifted a bus to save her kid trapped underneath it.  But, she’d never believed in it, until now.  No matter what, she would survive this. 

Dawn’s fingers gripped the machete’s handle and tugged but it wouldn’t rip free.  She kept trying, yet it still remained in the same spot.  By this point he was lethargically becoming alert to what she was doing and began to swat at her hands. His attempts were feeble, but it wouldn’t be long before he’d regained his strength.  Then she noticed a flap folded over the handle, a thin rope looped through the bottom and tied around the machete.  A latch.  Trying a different approach, she grabbed the holster with both hands and jerked with all she had. It snapped free from his belt.  She stumbled back, falling flat on her rump. The coarse ground lacerated her buttocks, sweltering like a carpet burn sprinkled with salt. 

Dawn fidgeted with the fastener, but from the intensity of her trembling hands, it was nearly impossible.  Her attacker began to sit up.  The chainsaw puttered steadily from the ground beside him.  He adjusted his mask.  Once it was precise, she could see the infuriated scowl through the torn notches in the white hood.  His eyes narrowed, only showing dark black orbs inside. He snatched the chainsaw, holding it between his spread legs proudly like it was his massive penis.  He revved the motor a few times, taunting. 

Dawn jerked the machete free of the sheath. The lengthy blade looked as if it could slay a dragon, and she needed both hands to hold it. It was rusted from the countless blood stains of his multiple victims. 

He’d managed to get to his knees. Bringing his right foot forward, he braced himself in a worshiping stance. 

Screaming like a feral brute, she charged, and attacked like one.  She swung frantically, not caring what she hit as long it was a part of him.  And, she managed to do this multiple times.  Once or twice in the chest, slashing his arms, legs, whacking him across the head. The blade gouged deep into his chest, and she had to prop her foot against him to wrench it free.  

Chunks of meat and swatches of clothing went flying around her. 

Finally, he dropped onto his side.  The chainsaw remained stalwartly clutched in his hand. 
Was it glued!?! 
His clothes, drenched in his blood, were torn and shredded in various spots.  Dawn’s confidence had strengthened enough that she crossed over to him, one foot and then the next.  She stepped on something sharp, but ignored it.  He rolled onto his back as she stood over his head, placing one foot next to each of his ears, giving him a good view between her legs.  Although, he kept his right hand on the grip of the saw, she doubted he had the strength to lift it. 

She had won. 

Raising the machete into the air, she rolled it through her hands. With the tip pointed down, the handle gripped in her hands, she was prepped to finish him off like a druid administering a sacrifice.  She gazed him over one last time.  He coughed up a wad of blood; it trickled down the sides of his mouth. 

She smiled.

Then she brought the machete down for the killing blow. 

It stopped abruptly, veering her weight forward, and toppling her over him.  When she hit the ground, she quickly rolled onto her stomach, checking to see if the machete was lodged in his chest.

It wasn’t.

He held it by the blade in his left hand.  The point had stopped a breadth above his chest. Somehow he’d barehanded the blade before it could pierce him. “
Nooo!
”  She clasped handfuls of her tangled hair, screaming as all hope vacated her body.  It was useless to continue this fight, pointless to think she had a chance to survive.  All that was left was to run.  Run as fast as she could to get away from him.  She started to crawl, but dropped onto her stomach when she felt a
whack
on her back.  It didn’t hurt right away, but the pressure made it difficult to move.  Then all at once her back burned with a searing strain. Her arms became heavier, knees wobbling. She could hardly move.

Then the weight lifted with a wet rip.  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw blood, her blood, seeping off the blade, dousing his hand in red.

His warped smile returned.

He’d stricken her with the machete diagonally across her back from shoulder blade to hip.  A warm wetness oozed down her back, cascading her buttocks and thighs.
You will not die here on your knees
.
Get up you helpless bitch!!!
  Finally, her mind took control of her body again.  Though it hurt like hell she forced herself to stand.

She bolted deeper into the woods.  Soon, she could barely hear the putter of the chainsaw at all as the woods thickened, immersing her.  She smiled, knowing she’d left him back there.

(I)

Joel gently patted the ground flat with the shovel. It had taken longer than he’d expected, but Rusky was at last buried. He’d finally quit crying when the process had become such a chore.  But, now it was done.  Joel could recollect himself, and remember just why he’d been working so hard.  Plus, returning home didn’t seem so nice.  He’d rather remain in the woods as long as possible.

Nearby was an old tree stump. Using the shovel like a walking stick, he went over to it and sat.  Some birds chirped, but other than that the woods were silent.  For a moment, he thought he heard the chainsaw again, but it was soon forgotten. 

He sighed, staring at the island of loose dirt at his feet.

(II)

Dawn needed to live, and not just for her, but for Kevin as well.  Yes, he was dead, but she owed it to him to survive, to get the police, and make sure these sick fucks paid for what they had done. 

Her ears caught wind of a dulcet sound.  It took a moment to register, but slowly she began to realize someone else was out here. She could hear them, the tone was higher, young, and they were crying. 

Had to be a kid.

What’s a kid doing out here?
Don’t they have any idea what’s in these woods? 

Her bladder pushed against her back, announcing it was at a surplus level.  She wondered how long she’d had to pee before just now noticing.  Keeping her legs clenched tight, she walked toward the sobs.  Hope overruled the dread of someone being out here; maybe they could help.
Or
, God forbid,
they could be hurt as well
.  Maybe they’d had a run in with the psychopaths.  Whatever the case, she needed to find out for sure.

Her footsteps barely produced a sound above a light scuttle.  Her stomach was starting to cramp from holding in her pee.  She wouldn’t last much longer.  Treading softly, she squatted behind a cluster of bushes.  She could hear the soft weeping much clearer now. 

Then her bladder released, hastily emptying a day’s worth of urine on the ground below her.  Spats of warm liquid splashed her ankles.  It speckled across her wounds, infuriating them to sting, but the flaming commotion inside of her was even worse, scorching, as hot as the sun from the all night abuse, bringing more tears to her eyes as her bladder continued to drain what she’d kept dammed up for so long. She wanted to scream, but bit her lip to keep her mouth shut.  A few faint whimpers managed to escape her tightly scrunched lips, but not enough that anyone should have heard her.  She was more worried about the gushing splashes her urine was making as it rained on the dry ground.

Finally, the pee reduced to a trickle, then to a drip.  She shook her hips from side to side, making sure there were no leftovers.  Out of habit, she went to pull up her panties.  She still was naked, had been since making love to Kevin for the last time.  She’d never be with him again.  Another snivel emerged, but she stopped it. 

And, noticed the sobbing had stopped. 

Had they heard her peeing?  Were they killed?  She imagined another deformed maniac charging through the bushes to get her while she squatted. 
That’d be a way to go out
.  How Dawn’s luck had been thus far, it seemed absolutely feasible.

Dawn eased her face into the bushes.  She could smell their sweet scent.  She used her hands to part the bushes just enough to peek through. Movement caught her attention to her left.  Shifting her body to see, she spotted a boy. Tall and slender, he looked to be much older than he’d sounded. The young man she saw had to be close to fourteen, maybe a little younger. His back was turned to her, and he was dragging something behind him.

A shovel?

His hair waved in the slight breeze, as if telling her good-bye. She couldn’t let him go. He appeared too old to be lost, and didn’t look frightened. His posture suggested he was sad.  Heartbroken. 

Don’t let him go!

When she stood up, the bushes were level with her chest, and her head poked above the shrubbery like an additional limb. As she opened her mouth to call out, a sticky thick hand covered it, choking off her cries.  A sour stench filled her nostrils.  She could feel warm saliva dripping along the back of her neck. 

Her head was jerked back, and all she could see was the brilliant blue sky above.  She caught a quick glimpse of something metal as it passed over her face.  A stiff coldness pressed against her throat. In a quick instant, it shot across her skin, leaving her throat smoldering. Thick currents of heat ran down her neck, sloshing her breasts. The hand left her mouth.  She tried screaming, but could only generate a sopping burble. 

When she attempted to run, her legs wouldn’t cooperate, and she fell through the bushes, landing on soft, freshly tilled dirt. A batter of red splattered the ground below her. 
Blood?
  She caressed her throat.  Pulling her hand away, she found it swashed with a red fluid the solidity of syrup and hot as soup. 

Her vision distorted, and when she checked for the boy, she glimpsed him just briefly as he disappeared over a hill. She tried calling for him, but again, nothing happened.  She’d seen enough horror movies to know that her throat had been slit, and she’d always assumed it to be a terrible way to die. She’d been right. It was slow, agonizing, with her mind remaining sturdy enough to grasp the awful truth that she was bleeding to death. 

Dawn looked for the man and found him hunched over, using a tree for support.  His clothes were soaked as if he’d been caught in a heavy rain.
A heavy red rain.
She’d done a number on him, too.  He’d probably die soon. 

We can die together. 

Whether she’d bleed out or not, she was going to try and catch up to the kid.  If there was a chance he could help her, then by God Almighty she was going to take it.

On impulse alone, she got on her feet, and staggered after the boy. 

****

He followed progressively behind the woman. So tired, he wanted to lie down and sleep.  He’d butchered enough people to know that if you’re cut up this bad and go to sleep you don’t wake up.

He kept the distance short as he followed her, but didn’t know what to do once he caught her again.  If that boy was there, he wasn’t sure what to do with him, either.  For some outlandish reason he couldn’t quite fathom, he didn’t want to kill the kid.  He’d slain plenty his age before, even younger, but there was something unique about him that he had picked up on right away.  He felt a bizarre attraction to him.  Not that he wanted to use the boy for sexual immoralities, it was different. 

He could feel a connection. 

The boy was sad, and he felt that, also
.  

(III)

Dawn tottered through the woods, bumping into tree after tree.  The kid had vanished from her sight, but she wasn’t giving up.  There was strength left in her legs and she was going to use all of it.  Her vision was frosting over, blurring out of focus, but she could still somewhat see, so she was going to continue.

The woods started to thin out. As she approached the top of a small incline, she noticed there was a house up ahead. She’d nearly reached the end of the woods, and from where she stood she could see where a yard began.  She also located roofs of other houses scattered throughout the woods farther away.  She’d been walking down the mountain all this time, slowly approaching a tiny community. If that was the case, she had a pretty good idea of where she was, and better yet, where her car was.  If only she could get the boy, to a phone, she could put an end to all of this. 

Her body tingled with excitement. Help was so close her stomach ached for it.  She ran.  Not a swift rate, but it was the best she could do. She felt a pinching pressure in her head as she reached the bottom of the small hill.

There he is!
 

The kid was exiting the woods ahead of her, but still so far away that she doubted he’d hear her if she tried calling for him. At least she had the visual confirmation he was still ahead of her, and she would follow him out.  She pushed herself harder.  She didn’t have to worry about dodging the trees; for they were so spread out they barely seemed to be there at all. 

She reached the edge of the woods, stopping at a tree to observe the location.

A thought swished through her head.

What if I’m already dead…and this kid is leading me to Heaven? 

What if he wasn’t leading her to Heaven, but somewhere else?

Or…Now here’s a very farfetched idea…What if…think about this…what if he’s just an ordinary kid who’s just going about his business as he would any other day and is totally unaware of me? 

That seemed the most likely.

She set her eyes on the backyard of the nice house. There was a wooden fence that separated it from the house next to it, but the kid was nowhere to be found.  She began to feel a slight tremor of panic until hearing a ruckus inside the shed.  It may be a good idea to check there.

She stepped into the yard. The ground here was much softer on her feet.  The grass was high, and grazed her shins as she pressed through.  It felt like feathers compared to the rough terrain her feet had endured.

Another clang resonated from the shed.  The door was open, and inside she could see the kid struggling with a push-mower. It was giving him some trouble as he tried pulling it out of the shed. Her heart pounded. He was there. She was so close. She was going to make it after all. 

Then there was a tight grip around her stomach.  Her feet lifted off the ground as she sailed backward.  Everything was happening so fast.  She grabbed at the air, hoping somehow she’d latch onto something firm that could stop her recoil. 

The hold loosened.  She dropped roughly on her back. Trees bowed above her, lightly swaying in a soft summer breeze. Then she saw those grimed boots again. 

He’d caught her. 

She was so
close!

Knowing she was defeated, she began to cry, and even if she thought she might be able to take him, she was too weak to try.  The sun’s reflection glinted off the machete, a gleaming line across the tree bark in front of her. 

She braced herself for the end. 

Then her body lit up with a series of sharp joggles as he continuously hacked her with the machete.  Her release from the pain didn’t come as fast as she’d have liked, but when it finally did, she was grateful.

(IV)

Joel let the lawnmower drop. It landed with a harsh clang.  He wanted to kick it, but knew doing that would only add the aggravation of a hurting foot to the already annoying lawnmower wedged under a bunch of junk. 

He walked around the front and moved the fishing net first. It lay across the mower, its pole lodged between the handle bars. He tugged it out, and made a face.  He couldn’t recall why they even owned this net. They’d never been fishing as far as he could remember.  He chucked it over his shoulder.  It landed somewhere amidst the rest of the debris.  He didn’t want to sort through the boxes that were piled on top of the mower, and hoped with the net out of the way he could tug it out.

He could.

It wasn’t easy. After another clash, he finally managed to dislodge it.  Once it was in the grass, he decided to let it sit there for a moment. He was already tired of messing with this. His shirt was plastered to his back from sweat. His brow was sopping, so he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe it dry. 

Joel walked around the side of the mower, planted a foot on top, and gripped the pulley. He jerked it with all he had. Expecting the engine to roar to life, it didn’t.  He adjusted the choke and tried again.  Still nothing. Now, he was getting annoyed. All he wanted to do was mow the damn yard so Haley wouldn’t be a bitch, but the piece of shit was being difficult. 

He tried three more times before giving up. He a good idea what the problem was, so he returned to the shed for a screwdriver and spark plug.  Dad had a small toolbox full of little replacement parts.  He was positive he could find what he was looking for in it. They’d had to change that plug quite often.  Obviously the mower was defective, but Dad had never thought it was important enough to get another one.  He didn’t like to throw money around, and figured a little bit of grief was livable as long as you could afford it. 

He smiled, thinking about Dad, just as he normally would. There were times when memories of his parents brought on a flood of emotions that would render him helpless with sobs, but this wasn’t one of them.  It was a good memory.  But, it still reminded him that Dad and Mom, just like Rusky, would never be coming back. 

His chest felt heavy, so he forced the memories of his parents into the pit of his mind. 

Joel found the toolbox on a provisional shelf Dad had added years back.  There was one spark plug left inside. He took it, grabbed a screwdriver, then walked back to the lawnmower.  He squatted beside it and used the screwdriver to pop the rubber cork out of the hole.  The spark plug inside was corroded with oil and gas.  He could smell it.  It took some effort, but he managed to unscrew it.  Finished with that, he replaced it with the new one, sealed it up, and was ready to give it another try.