Shut The Fuck Up And Die! (17 page)

A dull ache spread through the base of
Daryl’s skull and he closed his eyes as he leaned back. What if he
really was a queer? He knew exactly what Mama and Earl thought of
that type; the things they’d done to those two guys with the
matching sweaters left no doubt about that. If either one even
suspected that he could pop a boner by thinking about shooting that
cop’s face off . . . .

“
Damn it, fucktard, pull your head
outta your ass and answer me.”

Daryl’s eyes snapped open at the gruff
command and he tried to fold his hands on his lap as casually as he
could. But, even so, he felt as if his motives were as obvious as
the irritation in Earl’s voice. Oh shit . . . what if his brother
thought he were touching himself? He jerked his hands away as if
his penis were a snake and rubbed his arms briskly.

“
Uh . . . think maybe I was noddin’ off
there for a second, Earl. Say again?”

Earl’s hands tightened on the steering wheel
and his shoulders seemed to hunch as he growled in irritation.

“
I said, did you leave the fuckin’ book
where it could be seen or not?”

“
Oh, that. Yeah. Yeah, I did. Right out
on the seat, pages wide open. Just like we talked
about.”

“
You sure?”

“
Course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be? I
should know what I did or didn’t do, shouldn’t I?”

“
You seem awful squirrely over there.
Like somethin’s done gone and got you all worked up.”

Daryl tried to swallow but his mouth was as
suddenly dry as if he’d been eating crackers the entire trip. He
shifted in his seat again and looked out the window as he
mumbled.

“
Just tired, that’s all. Been one
long-ass night.”

Earl shot a quick stare at his brother that
felt as if it lasted an eternity.

“
That better be all there is to it. You
fuck this up and I’ll put my foot so far up your ass you’ll see it
every time you go brushin’ your teeth.”

Daryl wanted to snap back at his brother, to
tell him he realized how important this was, but was afraid his
voice might crack due to the tightness in his throat. Besides,
sometimes it was better to just not say anything at all. Especially
when the conversation involved one of Earl’s plans.

Daryl didn’t always agree with the ideas his
brother came up with, but he had to give him credit . . . this one
was a pretty damn good one. After they’d managed to get the cuff
off Earl’s wrists, the pair had removed the chain that tethered the
truck to the wrecked car. Earl had then pulled the truck forward
twenty yards or so and, as Daryl looked on from a safe distance,
threw it into reverse. It had slammed into the wrecked Honda was a
thud so loud that Daryl could feel it in his chest; flakes of rust
had rained down from the bottom of the truck and the car, even
though parked, had been jolted back a foot or so.

When he climbed out of the truck, Earl had
made sure to leave the engine running and the door flung wide open.
Then the pair hopped into the police car, fiddled with the radio
until they figured out how to turn down all that crackling chatter,
and sped away. By the time anyone came upon the scene, it would
look like the little Honda had plowed into the rear end of the
truck. What could have happened next was entirely up to the
imagination, but it ended with the drivers of the car killing the
cop and taking the two brothers hostage. They would lay low for
about a week or so, come up with a story about how they escaped,
maybe cut each other a few times to make it even more believable .
. . but it shouldn’t take much. Once the authorities found Mona’s
Secret Delights, there would be no doubt in their minds as to who
was responsible for the cold-blooded murder of an officer of the
law.

By the time Earl turned off the main road and
their house peeked through the pines like a crouching animal, the
tension in the cruiser had faded. While Earl busied himself with
driving, Daryl mentally went through the multiplication tables as
high as he could go. By the time he finished ten times ten and
started over again, his erection had shriveled away.

As the car pulled up to the front of the
house, Daryl felt as if all of the cold from outside had seeped
into his bones. Though the heater still blasted warm air from the
dashboard, chills covered his body and his left eye twitched as he
literally felt his sphincter pucker. When he spoke, his voice was
barely above a whisper and the words sounded dry and raspy.

“
That ain’t right, Earl . . . . That
ain’t right at all.”

The front door of the house hung wide open
and, even from the car, they could see a dusting of snow that
crossed the threshold like a thin, white welcome mat. Though it was
impossible to get more than just a glimpse into the foyer, somehow
the old house felt abandoned and empty, as if it had been sitting
there for years without ever knowing the warmth of a living
soul.

Earl breathed heavily through his nose but
was uncharacteristically quiet as his eyes scanned the windows,
watching for one of them to peel back so that a hidden face could
peek through the small gap. But there wasn’t so much as a
rustle.

“
Ain’t no smoke somin’ outta the
chimney, Earl. Mama gets cold so easy. Not like her to just let the
fire go out. Something’s happened . . . somethin’ bad.”

Earl snatched the cop’s pistol from the seat
and his large hands almost made it seem like a child’s toy.
Clicking the safety off, he glanced at his brother with eyes that
betrayed the nauseous turmoil within his gut.

“
We go in slow. Don’t know what’s
waitin’ in there for us, so we’re gonna be careful, you
hear?”

Daryl nodded his head, but his foot was
thudding against the floorboard so quickly that his entire leg
bounced. He moved in quick jerks, his head snapping around as he
surveyed the yard while his fists clenched and unclenched
repeatedly.

“
Damn it, Daryl, I mean it . . . you
gotta calm your ass down. Far as we know, Mama just dozed off on
the couch. Wouldn’t be the first time. But just in case . . . we
take it nice and easy, right?”

Daryl nodded again, more vigorously this
time, while he simultaneously threw open the door of the cruiser.
He rushed around the car like a frightened deer but by the time
he’d reached the other side, his older brother had already scooted
out as well. He snatched Daryl’s collar, causing the smaller man’s
feet to slip and scramble in the snow as he was brought to a
halt.

“
Daryl, I ain’t fuckin’ around. We go
in together and we go in
slow
. You just follow behind me and make sure
nobody sneaks up and . . . .”

“
Why do I gotta follow you?” Daryl
hissed.

Earl rolled his eyes and pulled Daryl’s face
so close to his own that the tips of their noses brushed against
one another lightly.

“
Because I got the gun, asshole . . .
that’s why.”

Pushing his brother out of the way, Earl
trudged up the front steps. He tried to walk as softly across the
porch as he could, but the sheer weight of his body pressing down
upon the old boards made them creak and pop with every step. By the
time the two of them crossed through the entrance, he felt he
couldn’t have been more obvious than if he’d rode into the house on
the back of a steer.

Inside, all was quiet. Normally, there would
have been the crackling of logs within the fireplace. Water coming
to a boil in the kitchen, the scuffling of feet overhead. Perhaps
even Mama whistling that little tune she liked so well. Instead,
there was now only the sound of the brothers’ breathing as they
crept through the hallway. Almost as if all the sounds of their
home had fled through the open door, preferring the freezing
temperatures and arctic desolation of the woods to whatever awaited
within those walls.

As the two passed the closed, cellar door
their pace slowed. Daryl seemed to press more closely to his
brother and he chewed on his bottom lip so hard that blood had
begun to well up on his bottom lip.

They were nearing the living room now. And
something about that made both of them feel as if they were on the
verge of passing through the gates of Hell.

The hairs on their arms bristled and every
muscle in their bodies was as tense as if it’d been coated in quick
drying cement. But, as they rounded the corner, Earl let out a sigh
that seemed to expel all the energy pent up in his arms and back
with its gusto.

“
See? What’d I tell ya?
Sleepin’.”

Though the body was hidden by the back of the
couch, the pair of bare feet propped on the arm were more than
visible. Small and pale, they almost seemed dwarfed by the living
room and Earl shook his head as he chuckled at himself for getting
all worked up over nothing. He’d let that dumb ass brother of his
spook him, that was all. Next time something like this happened, he
would . . . .

Daryl’s hand tugged on Earl’s shirt as if he
were trying to pull it off. Though the younger man didn’t say a
word, his arm appeared over Daryl’s shoulder as he pointed to
something in the room beyond with a trembling finger.

Following the trajectory of his brother’s
arm, Earl’s eyes took in the far wall and he felt as if the weight
of his stomach had just plummeted to the floor. For scrawled across
the cheap paneling in what looked like red finger paint were two
words.

Welcome Home.

Only it wasn’t paint. Paint wouldn’t have
those little clots stuck into the letters or that particular,
metallic odor they had come to know so well.

“
Mama!”

Earl ran to the couch with his brother fast
behind him. But when they looked down upon the body sprawled across
the cheap fabric, the world seemed to spin like a weathervane in a
windstorm as Earl gasped for breath. He staggered backward until he
was pressed against the wall and tried to blink through the vertigo
that crashed over him. At the same time, Daryl sank to his knees
and was shaking his head silently, as if he could somehow make the
entire scene disappear if only he disagreed with it strongly
enough.

The body on the couch was entirely naked and
it’s chest cavity had been slit open from the base of the throat to
halfway down the stomach. The folds of flesh were peeled back like
a frog on a dissection tray, revealing the pink and red organs
within. They could see the wrinkled intestines peeking up from the
bottom of the gash like a kid on Christmas morning. The stomach,
which somehow looked shriveled and much smaller than a stomach
actually should. The ivory rib cage that protected the lungs and
heart, strands of muscle and gristle, blood that had congealed to
the point that it almost looked like jelly. Laid out for all to see
as hands with two nail holes in the very center of the palms held
back these grisly curtains of flesh, probably glued into place
judging from the shiny coating around the fingers.

But it wasn’t the sight of their former
captive splayed open that had made the boys feel as if their blood
had turned to ice water. No . . . it was the pair of spectacles
that lay on its solar plexus. The crimson smear across the cracked
lenses.

Earl bellowed so loudly that Daryl nearly
jumped to his feet. Twirling around, he drove his beefy fist into
the wall and splinters of particle board flew from the jagged hole
that had suddenly appeared around his wrist.

“
Mona!”

Even the walls couldn’t muffle the panic in
the voice that drifted in from outside.

“
Get out of the house, baby! They’re
home! Get out of the house!”

Jerking his hand out of the wall, Earl’s eye
caught movement through the thin curtains and he yanked them back
just in time to see Matt disappear into the woods that bordered the
house.

“
Son of a bitch! I’ll fuckin’ kill your
ass and have it for dinner!”

He shot a cold stare at Daryl who, at some
point, had stood.

“
It was
him
. Which means that bitch of his is still
around somewheres. You find her, Daryl. You find her and you make
her pay, hear? “

Earl hoisted the gun so that it was nearly
pressed against his cheek and the look in his eyes almost made it
seem as if he were about the give the weapon a passionate kiss.

“
You find her and you make her curse
God for the day she was born . . . and I’ll take care of that
sorry-ass pretty boy.”

Daryl and Earl grinned at each other but the
light of happiness never touched their eyes. For these were grins
of savage glee . . . .

SCENE FOURTEEN

Following Matt into the woods was as easier
than tracking a wounded buck. His footprints were pressed down into
the snow like molds; and, in places where the drifts were deeper,
long gouges cut through the white powder. The man may have as well
been leaving signposts every step of the way that had little arrows
pointing in the right direction. As long as the trail was there,
Earl would lumber after it with his heart pounding out the rhythm
to a war dance.

“
You can’t hide, boy!”

His voice echoed through the tightly packed
trees as if it were scouring the landscape for its prey.

“
May as well just give up now and save
us both a ton of trouble. Might be five minutes. Might be half an
hour. But I’m a’gonna kill ya. Mark my words.”

Only the soft rustling of the boughs overhead
answered Earl’s calls. They swished against one another in a wind
that almost seemed afraid to drift down to ground level where the
red-faced man huffed through the snow. The pine needles were
covered with snow and the gentle movement made flakes drift down
from the canopy overhead as if flurries were starting up again.