The Bad Ones (24 page)

“He watched you do that.”

“I know.”

“He's probably out there, watching us.”

“I hope so.”

Con turned to face the house and Dulcie was forced to follow. They looked up at the big white building, took in the dark green shutters and impressive columns. She remembered looking at it when she was little, thinking it was a magical place. She almost laughed at how right that thought had turned out to be.

Con let go of her hand and walked over to where the Cutlass was parked. He opened the trunk and rooted around inside it. When he came back, he held a small box in his hand. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back a couple steps, staring hard at her feet.

“No going back,” she whispered. He shook his head.

“We're long past that, anyway. Forward only, from here on out. Say goodbye, Dulcie.”

“
Goodbye, Dulcie.
”

He struck a wooden match against the box, then tossed it to the ground in front of them. To where a divot had been dug into the gravel. There was a puddle of liquid in it, and the moment the match came close, it burst into flames. The fire followed the path of liquid up over the porch and through the door. Once inside, it caught onto the soaking wet carpet of the living room and the windows burst with the swell of heat that rolled through the house.

While Dulcie had been running all over town during the day, Con had gone and bought a couple industrial sized bottles of isopropyl alcohol. He'd left jugs of gasoline in a couple of the bedrooms and the basement, and had poured out a bunch around the back of the house, but the smell was too much to just toss it around the home. Matt and his friends would've smelled it the moment they'd stepped foot in the house. Alcohol, though, wasn't a smell that usually scared people, and isopropyl alcohol burned exceptionally well.

A little fact Con had retained from school.

As they stood together and watched the house go up in flames, she was surprised to find she felt a little sad. She was watching a childhood fantasy burn. Watching some of her memories turn to ash. She wished she'd taken a picture of their heart.

A breeze blew across her back and she shivered, then glanced up at Con. He had his arms folded across his bare chest and his stare was intense as he watched the fire burn. He had blood on his hands and smeared down one cheek. His bare feet were dirty, as well. He looked like a wild thing, like something that had crawled out of a nightmare.
Like a monster
. And as if he could read her thoughts, he slowly turned towards her and leaned down close. She realized he was grinning. Grinning so big, she could see all his fangs.

“
This is the part where you run away, little girl.
”

Branches and twigs smacked her in the face, sliced into her bare feet, as Dulcie barreled through the forest. She was breathing heavy, pumping her legs as hard as she could. She felt like she'd been running forever, but she knew she wasn't far enough away. Not yet.

She was caught off guard when she reached the edge of the treeline and she shrieked as she stumbled and fell down the side of a hill. More like a large embankment. She tumbled through bushes and grass till she smacked into something hard. She groaned and rubbed at her ribs as she climbed to her knees. Looked down to see what she'd hit.

A rail. She'd ran clear to the train tracks. Con's house was only about two miles from the abandoned station, and when she lifted her head, the large building loomed up ahead of her. She wiped at her face, then got to her feet and began running again. Sprinting down the middle of the tracks.

She hoisted herself up onto the platform and dashed across it. The first set of doors she came across were locked – someone had wrapped a chain through the handles and padlocked it together. She cursed out loud and hurried to the next set, only to find them chained as well. She hadn't been expecting this; if all the doors were locked, she wasn't sure what she would do.

When she got to the last set, though, they burst open before she could try the handles. She screamed as an arm reached out and grabbed the front of her t-shirt. She was yanked into the building.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” a voice hissed in her ear as an arm wrapped around her throat. She'd been shocked at first, but once she recognized the owner of the voice, she heaved a sigh of relief.

“Matt. Thank god,” she breathed, gripping onto his wrist. He dragged her backwards, farther into the station.

“Come to kill me, too!?” he yelled. She shook her head.

“I told you. I warned you he's crazy,” she said quickly. “He burned down the house, to get rid of the evidence. I ran away.”

“That fucker killed my friends,” his voice was suddenly a little shaky. Matt was scared. She let her eyes close for a second.

“I know. He's going to kill me, too,” she whispered.

“Fuck that. Fuck all this,” he groaned, and he abruptly let her go. She stumbled a little, then turned to watch him head for the stairs. She went to follow, then cried out when something sliced into her foot.

There was glass all over the floor – Matt must have broken a window to get into the building. She gingerly tiptoed around the other shards, then left droplets of blood in her wake as she went up the stairs.

“What are you doing?” she asked, straining her eyes to see him. There were flood lights from the highway that shown into the building, but it was still dim.

“I need this,” he grunted, and when she came around to his side, she saw that he was holding a small glass pipe. It had a wide bowl at the end, and he flicked on a lighter underneath it.

Jesus, he watched his friend get murdered, and he comes here to get high. I wonder if he heard that noise outside?

“What are we going to do!?” she suddenly yelled, dropping into a crouch at his side. Her voice carried through the old building, echoed down the stairs.

“Fuck, I don't know! He's your fucking crazy boyfriend!” he hissed. She nodded and began chewing on her fingernails.

“I didn't know. I didn't know it would end like this,” she mumbled, glancing around the space. Looking for a weapon. But there was nothing. Matt was kneeling on a filthy looking mattress, with only a sheet crumpled up on it. There were some old comic books and some empty food containers, but that was it. Nothing useful.

“He won't touch us,” Matt took another hit of meth. “He can't fucking touch me. Not when I'm here. I told him not to come to my house.”

Dulcie heard another noise and she whipped her head around, looking behind her. They were crouched below the railing that overlooked the station floor. It also blocked her view of the stairs. Staying low, she began moving backwards, to the far wall.

“You don't get it,” she whispered, slowly moving farther away from Matt.

“Oh, I fucking get it,” he coughed out, then sucked on the pipe some more.

“This
is
his house.”

A window downstairs burst, startling a shriek out of Dulcie. She pressed herself against the wall and curled into a ball. Matt, though, had new found strength from the massive amount of stimulant now flowing through his body. He jumped to his feet and leaned over the banister.

“You wanna fuck with me now!? Not hiding in some dark room anymore, rich boy!” he shouted. There was a banging sound from below them, something metal hitting the marble floor in rapid succession.

“You're the one who cut the power,” Con's voice floated up to them. “I would've been fine killing your friends with the lights on.”

“You motherfucker, I'm gonna cut you open,” Matt threatened, and Dulcie was a little surprised when he produced a large blade from the inside of his pants. She looked twice and her surprise turned to shock – it was Con's knife, from his kitchen. It was recognizable because it was a very distinct knife. Wolfgang Puck brand, razor sharp, and the entire thing – blade and handle – was bright red. It was the same knife Con had used to cut her free when he'd tied her to the bed. Matt must have stolen it when he'd been prowling around the house.

“Is she up there?”

“Who!?”

“Little Red Riding Hood,” Con laughed. Matt glanced down at her, and she wrapped her arms around her knees.

“Yeah. Yeah, your fucking girlfriend ran to me. How does that feel, you psycho?”

“Feels like I need to reclaim my property.”

“Just try it, motherfucker. Just you fucking try it!”

Dulcie had moved so she was almost across from the steps, so she could see when Con started walking up them. His tousled brown hair came into view, then his face, though it was too dark to see his features. When she caught sight of his chest, she almost laughed – he'd gotten fully dressed before coming to the station, and he'd put on his letterman jacket, the one from high school. He looked
exactly
like the picture she'd drawn of him, so many years ago.

A shadow man, come to do very bad things in the night. She wasn't wearing a hood, but her shirt was marked in red. Splattered with blood.

Close enough.

“Did he touch you?” Con asked once he got to the top of the stairs.

“No,” she whispered.

He turned towards Matt and she finally saw what had been making the banging noise. He'd brought the shovel from the house, the one she'd used to break out of the room. The one he'd use to dig up his dead father. He let the blade drag across the floor as he walked past her.

“You think that scares me!?” Matt was shouting with such violence, spit flew from his lips. “C'mon, asshole!
C'mon!
”

Con swung the shovel, knocking the knife out of the other man's hand. It flew onto the mattress in the corner, but it didn't seem to faze Matt. He swung his other hand and caught Con in the side of the head with his fist. The shovel dropped to the ground and Matt hit him again, causing him to stumble backwards. The garden tool was kicked, sliding across the floor till it hit her in the toes. She squeezed her eyes shut tight for a moment.

It's okay. It's all going to be okay. Okay. OK. Two little letters in exchange for three little words. It has to be okay.

When Dulcie opened her eyes, the two boys were locked in battle. Con was obviously the bigger one, the stronger of the two, but Matt was so pumped full of drugs, he was beyond feeling any pain. So when Con slammed a fist across his face, it didn't even make the drug addict pause. He shouted and charged forward, ramming into him and forcing them back.

They teetered at the edge of the stairs and Dulcie screamed when it looked like they were going to go down. But then Matt grabbed the sides of Con's jacket and swung him around, slamming him up against the banister. He immediately began pummeling the bigger guy, landing his fists everywhere.

“Who's scared now, huh? Who's fucking getting killed now!?” Matt was shouting. He hooked his fist into Con's jaw, and Dulcie watched as blood sprayed through the air.

She slowly climbed to her feet, and from over Matt's shoulders, she could see that the big bad wolf could, in fact, bleed. It was streaming out of his mouth, running down the side of his cheek. But still, he smiled that amazing smile. Showed those fangs that she knew could eat her up oh so quickly.

“Hard for me to kill you … when you're already dead,” Con sighed. Matt let out a yell and punched him in the side, causing him to spit out more blood.

“
Fucking psycho! I'm not scared of you!
” Matt screamed.

A shrill noise filled the small space. That same scraping sound. Dulcie took a couple steps forward, till she was right behind Matt, and she looked down at Con. His big blue eyes finally locked onto her own and he stared at her.

“Good, because
I'm not the one you should be scared of,
” he whispered.

Matt had barely looked over his shoulder when Dulcie let out a shriek and swung the shovel. The flat side caught him in the face, hard enough to send him flying backwards. He'd just bumped into the wall when she swung at him again, this time hitting him in the chest. He cried out in pain, but she was beyond hearing anything. The shovel came down on his head, sending him to his knees.

“Couldn't just leave me alone!” she shouted, moving in a slow circle around him.

“Why … what are you ...” Matt was gurgling. Now he was the one spitting out blood.

“I told you. I warned you not to fucking touch me. I told you something bad would happen. God, you're disgusting, wanting to fuck your sister,” she spit out. “And you just had to bring your fucking friends! You wanted a party, right? You certainly fucking got one! Having a good time, Matty? Your friends had a
blast
.”

“Please … please,” he whispered. She laughed at him.

“Are you fucking joking?”

An underhanded swing brought the shovel up under his chin. She'd used both her arms, really put a lot of torque on it, and he actually lifted off the ground. When he landed on his back, more blood flew through the air. From behind her, she heard Con clapping.

“Beautiful form, little girl.”

Dulcie stood over Matt for a second, her legs on either side of his torso, then she lowered herself so she was actually sitting on his chest. She cocked her head to the side and let her eyes wander over his face. He might have been crying, she couldn't tell. There was too much blood. He was definitely missing more teeth, though, that was for sure.

“Why couldn't you leave me alone?” she sighed, wiping a fingertip through the mess on his face. A clean path for his tears.

“I'm sorry,” he coughed out.

“Ooohhh, too late for that, Matt. Much too late for that, isn't it?” she whispered back, then got to her feet again.

“You're … you're a fucking crazy bitch.
Fucking crazy
,” he finally said with some gusto.

Dulcie held very still for a moment and stared down at him. Looked into his eyes and tried to see how she felt. How she
truly
felt. She'd lured him to Con's house, she'd let Con kill his friends, and then she'd convinced him she was scared and needed his protection. Those were such bad things. So very, very bad.

… you're a fucking crazy bitch …

“You better fucking believe it,” she breathed.

Then she gripped the shovel between her hands and lifted her arms up high before driving the blade straight down through his head.

“Took you long enough.”

Dulcie let go of the handle and stumbled backwards. The shovel stayed standing upright. She was pretty sure she'd gone straight through his skull and had embedded the tool in the actual floor.

“What do you mean?” she asked, wiping her hands down the front of her shirt. She looked over her shoulder, but Con wasn't by the railing anymore. He was over by Matt's makeshift bed and moving towards her. She hadn't even realized he'd moved, she'd been so lost in the moment.

“Fucker broke my tooth,” Con commented, and she watched as he spit out half of a molar. “I began to think you were enjoying letting him kick my ass.”

“You said you wanted your DNA spread around,” she reminded him as she raked her hands through her hair.

“I wanted it to look like there was a struggle, like you put up a fight. I didn't want permanent damage,” he explained, his fingers feeling around the side of his cheek. They slid around and he flattened his hand, wiping away the excess blood from his face.

“What can I say? I like to see you bleed,” she sighed, looking at all the blood he'd spit everywhere.

“You were amazing,” he told her, moving so he was touching her.

“You locked me in a room,” she growled, remembering that little fact. She glared up at him.

“I didn't trust you,” he chuckled, trailing his fingers through her hair. “I had to be the one to kill them, not you, but I knew given half the chance, you'd fly off half cocked and kill someone yourself.”