The Messenger (2011 reformat) (7 page)

"It's
getting so you can't tell the crazies from the normal people. Christ, my house
was on this woman's route."

"Makes ya
wonder, you know? She carves up her hubbie and kid like lunch meat, then comes
here and rip-stitches the place like it's the fuckin' Valentine's Day Massacre.
Shit, man."

"And you
gotta wonder ..."

"What?"

"This
sort of shit can happen any place, any time."

A laugh broke
the profane solemnity, but it was a strained laugh. "Next time it could be
me. Could be you."

"Could be
anyone."

A pause, for a
last look around, then: "Come on, man. Let's get out of this fuckin'
slaughterhouse."

Jane's
distracted daze snapped when the morose banter ended. She didn't want to be
seen by them, and she didn't want to be here anymore. In fact, she still wasn't
sure why she'd come in at all.

She grabbed her
car keys and rushed out of the building, hoping to never have to enter it
again. Even though all the bodies had been transported out hours ago, it felt
to Jane as though she were fleeing a mass grave.

I

The two
children would've otherwise been a perfect picture. Standing quietly,
respectfully, hands folded before them. The eight-year-old boy-his name was
Kevin-dressed neatly in a navy blue blazer with gold buttons, gray slacks, a
blue-and-gold-striped tie. His almond-brown bangs were combed just right, not a
hair out of place. Kevin was a well behaved boy (at least most of the time) and
even though he didn't fully understand what was going on here-or what had
happened-he knew that it was important for him to be good today. Not a peep was
heard from him.

Standing next
to him, just as tidily, was his eleven year-old sister, Jennifer. Tall and
slim, with the same eyes as her brother, she looked like a perfect young lady
in her navy skirt with a gold butterfly-chain belt and flowered slate-blue
sleeveless top. A coffee-colored ponytail hung down to her belt line, held with
a pretty hair band. But Jennifer was old enough to know the importance of
remaining quiet and being good at this place.

They were in
Winter-Damon Cemetery, just outside of Danelleton.

She'd been to
a graveside service in a cemetery once before, to see her father buried.

Finches
chirped obliviously in the tall shade trees surrounding that section of the
graveyard. A high sun shone through the trees, in a sky blotted snow-white with
trace clouds. A refreshing breeze slipped through, taking some of the heat out
of the air.

A stoic
minister stood before the three coffins, his voice resonating:

"Remember
thy servants, O Lord, Marlene and Michael and Jeff, according to the favor
which thou bearest unto thy people-"

Jennifer took
Kevin's hand, gripping it reassuringly.

"-and
whosoever liveth, and believeth in Him shall not perish but have everlasting
life-"

The minister
closed his tasseled prayer book, then extended his hands without missing a
beat.

"-through
Jesus Christ, to whom be glory, forever and ever. Amen."

In unison, the
standing crowd around the triple grave responded, "Amen."

Jane put her
arm around the two well-dressed children, hugging them close. Jane was their
mother.

Yes, she knew
Jennifer was old enough to comprehend the funeral, and she hoped that Kevin was
too. Kevin had been too young to attend her husband's funeral, but now, after
much delicate explaining, the boy had a concept of death. Jennifer had been a
trouper about this, perhaps grasping more. She recalled her father's burial and
she specifically asked to attend this one. The first fact of life was death-all
children had to learn about it. But what bothered Jane were the circumstances
here. Her children had known Marlene's son. Now the son was dead, and it had
been his mother who'd killed him.

How could
children ever fully understand that?

"It's all
over, kids," Jane said softly. "We can go home now."

Jane led the
children down the winding path toward the cars, nodding briefly to other
mourners she knew. Jennifer and Kevin kept silent, still confused by the day
and the redundant comments by others as they left, like: "Life goes
on," and "They're all in a better place now."

Blue-haired
old Mrs. Baxter, one of the town's fussbudgets, limped contentedly by on her
cane, observing, "It's all God's will, we can't question that. The Lord
works in mysterious ways." Jane smiled curtly, hurt by her son's perplexed
expression. How could she ever explain anything-especially anything about God
or spirituality-on a day like this?

I just want to
get out of here, she thought. From far off, a bell tolled, and its lonely peal
snagged her. It made her think of that bizarre sketch Steve Higgins had shown
her.

A sketch of a
bell.

What had that
been all about? Something the police had found at Marlene's house. Even more
bizarre was Steve's tone of voice when he talked about it. So ambiguous. It
seemed as though the police chief didn't want to reveal everything he knew
about the sketch.

The service
was disbanding. Not too long from now, Jane knew, the three coffins would be
lowered into the ground and buried, Marlene and her family gone forever. More
facts of life in death.

"Look,
Mom," Jennifer finally cut into the silence.

"What,
honey?"

"There's
Carlton."

Jane saw her
new manager standing between several parked cars on the path. He stood alone,
in a somber dark suit, and was staring off.

"Carlton's
cool," Kevin said. "He knows all the cheat codes for Tech Warrior!"

It was the
name of some video game; Carlton would sometimes come over and entertain the
kids with his gaming skills.

"Hi,
Carlton!" Kevin called, waving.

But Carlton
didn't notice their approach. He remained there staring off into the distance.

"Hey,
Mom, is Carlton okay?" her son asked.

"He looks
a little out of it," Jennifer added precociously. "I guess he's
depressed about Marlene too."

Jane squinted
as they got closer. Yeah, he looks out of it, all right. More than that. Was he
drunk? Carlton stood awkwardly, as if tilted, hands limp at his sides. He
seemed to be squinting up at the sky. At one point, he grinned, muttered
something inaudible to himself, then his face reverted to a blank stare. The
kids noticed this too.

"Hi,
Carlton!" Kevin said again.

And again
Carlton didn't hear him.

Jane walked up
to him. "Carlton? Are you all right?"

The man blinked,
winced, then abruptly acknowledged her. "Oh, hi, Jane. Hey, kids."

"You
looked off in space. Are you okay?"

"Yeah,
sure. I'm just a little..."

"Out of
it?" Jennifer said.

Carlton
smiled, then patted Kevin's head. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Not feeling
too hot is all, and then all this..."

"I know,
Carlton. We're all a little out of sorts. Who could figure something like
this?"

"Yeah. I
still can't believe it."

Jane looked at
him more closely. He really doesn't look well. Carlton's face looked drawn,
pale, eyes tired. "Look kind of sick, Carlton," she said. "If
you want to take a few days off, that's fine with me. No offense, but you look
like you could use it."

"No, no,
I'm fine. And, after all, we've got a brand new post office to run, plus we'll be
doing double-duty while the police have the main branch closed. Besides, I want
to work. It keeps my mind off things."

Jane knew what
he meant. "I guess the only thing any of us can do is pick up the pieces
and move on."

Kevin tugged
at Carlton's jacket sleeve. "Carlton, can you come back to the house and
play me in a Tech Warrior death match?"

Jane frowned.
"Honey, I don't think Carlton's feeling up to video games today."

"Nonsense,"
Carlton said. "Come on, Kevin. I can always go for a death match."

"And you
can watch me feed Mel," Jennifer said. Mel was the family's pet toad.

Jane shook her
head. "I can't believe how much you guys enjoy feeding crickets to that
thing."

The four of
them headed back down the path, still uncomfortable but coming to grips with
the fact they'd never see Marlene or her family again. Jeez, Jane thought. What
can you do?

"Hey,
Mom"-suddenly there was a tugging at her belt-"who's that weird-looking
guy over there?" Kevin said.

"Where?"
Jane and Carlton said at the same time.

Kevin pointed
toward a stand of trees, then lowered his finger, confused. "He was there
a second ago."

"I saw
him too," Jennifer said. "He had long hair and a beard."

"He
looked really creepy!" Kevin added.

Carlton walked
over to the trees, looked behind them. "There's no one here, kids. No
creepy guy with long hair and a beard."

Jane frowned,
urged the children toward their car. "He was just someone attending the
service. Forget about it, honey."

Carlton caught
up with them. "He probably got in his car and left."

Kevin kept
looking over his shoulder as they moved off, unconvinced. "It was really
weird, though, Mom."

"What,
honey?"

"That
man...he was staring right at you."

He was staring
right at her. Actually, through her, not at her, with that strange hinge-like
noise in his head. Everything he felt was wrong-he didn't know which auguries
to trust and which to dismiss. It always came to him in his mind and dreams.

He knew that
the Messenger was near.

II

God in Heaven,
he thought and almost laughed out loud.

His name was
Dhevic. He was a large man. He came from many places but felt rooted to no
place in particular. Location was relative. For him, his life was a mission
that ignored geography, society, and even culture. He had his instincts and his
blood; he needed little else.

Worse for wear
now, gray etching his beard and shoulder-length hair, he moved off, doubting
that he'd even been seen by the woman. Would she be next? The blood in his
brain gave him no inkling. Or would she just be more fodder? It was hard to
tell these days-Dhevic was getting old.

He slipped
away quickly, light on his feet in spite of his height. He didn't like to
remain in graveyards long- the dead soured his visions. They sometimes
whispered the most forbidden-and atrocious-things.

Have to get
out of here...

Dhevic drove
off, wondering about the attractive woman named Jane Ryan. Maybe I'm just
reading too much into things, he thought. It was always so hard to tell. He
shouldn't be thinking at all, because it was the thinking that made him see.

In his mind
he'd seen the other one and the ensuing bloodbath, a festival of carnal horror.
Marlene. He saw what she saw, felt what she felt. She'd cut her husband's
throat to the bone while they'd been having sex, riding him like a gasping beast,
thrusting down on him as blood shot from the riven throat. Then she'd finished
herself off in her glee, masturbating wildly over his corpse. She'd rolled
around in his blood, covering every inch of herself: hair drenched red like a
mop, grinning face smeared red, her breasts erect and shining in bright, bright
red. She'd already butchered her son but for her husband she took extra care.
Her scarlet hands wielded the knife not with rage or hatred but with great
passion, great love, and as she worked, taking out parts and opening him
deeper, she felt caressed from behind by someone who felt that same passion and
love for her, or at least it seemed that way.

Marlene
couldn't see this person but she knew he was there almost as though he were
part of her, almost as though his hands were on hers, guiding them in her
tasks. She would be caressed later by the same entity, when she delivered her
message and machine-gunned the main branch post office.

There wasn't
much left of her husband when she was done-a carved carcass, innards placed all
about the room, face deftly removed and hung on the bathroom doorknob. She
stood up and cast a final glance at her work and wished she could bring him
back to life, just to fuck him and kill him all over again. Cut him up all over
again because she knew how much it would please the Messenger.

Everything was
messages. Everything was secrets. It had been Carlton who'd delivered that
first message to her...

Carlton,
Dhevic thought. The name invaded his mind, then the vision skewed, that
familiar sound in his head-like the tiniest whine-that would not abate. The
faint but steady ache in the pulp of his teeth.