Here was the Missy problem. Did I tell Holly everything and hope she would forgive me? Or did I try to stop Missy before Holly could discover the truth?
As I said, I like to avoid trouble. If I can lie my way out of a situation, I will. Every time. It’s the alcoholic in me. I didn’t want to tell my wife. Sure, I was scared she’d get mad, but I was more afraid of her leaving me. That might sound stupid coming from a guy who’d spent six years of his young life getting drunk and not giving a rat’s fart about normal things like marriage and family and living a good life. Shit, who knows. Maybe I’d grown up a little. Because all I wanted now was to protect what I had. But I knew confronting Missy again would just piss her off and make her blow the whole thing up. So, I had no choice but to confess. Next to quitting drinking, it was the hardest thing I ever did. It meant telling the actual, unvarnished truth—something I was not very practiced at.
It was getting dark outside. A hot wind blew, rattling the windows. In the distance, sirens wailed. Holly sat across from me at the kitchen table. It was hard to read her expression, but it looked like something between shock and sorrow.
“Say something.”
“Why?”
I saw a hurt that would never heal—not in a lifetime of good deeds. If I were to become a missionary and spend the rest of my miserable, groveling existence ministering to lepers, it wouldn’t do a thing to change that look. Nothing would take away the pain I now saw in her eyes.
“I don’t know what made me get mixed up with her. No idea.”
“Where…” She poured herself more tea. Stood by the stove and looked at her quivering hands. “Where did you meet her?” Her voice was small and distant, like she’d already left the room.
“The gym. It started out as talking. There was never any discussion of… They were conversations to pass the time.”
“Yeah, I can see how that could lead to sex.”
“She asked me to follow her home because she was scared of a break-in.”
“So, you were being noble. Did she invite you inside? Did you look under her bed? Role-play?”
“I left. But after that one time, I don’t know what happened. It’s all mixed up in my head. I let myself get sucked in.”
“Those nights you were gone.” She was crying now and holding herself. “You said you were with Jim. And here I thought you’d started drinking again. What a relief.”
“I broke it off. That night I went to find Jim, I went to her house afterwards and told her. I never wanted you to know. She thinks we were meant to be together. She told me she wouldn’t stop till we were.”
“And what did you say, Dave?”
“I told her to forget it. But there’s something else. She might be crazy.”
“Perfect.”
We sat a long time. A faraway, bone-chilling shriek tore the silence. I told myself it was a mountain lion again. The room felt cold suddenly. I had no idea what was going through Holly’s mind, but I was frightened.
“What’re you going to do?” she said.
“Tell her you already know. That I don’t care what she does. I’m hoping she’ll come to her senses and leave us alone.”
“But you said she’s crazy.”
“Crazy, confused…”
“Do you think she’ll try to hurt us?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” I tried reaching for her hand. “Holly, I don’t know what else to do.”
“Do whatever you need to. I can’t be around you right now.”
She put her cup in the sink and walked out. Despite the pain in my gut, I felt the worst was over. Things would be rocky for a while, but I could see Holly forgiving me at some point. I’d gone to her with the truth. And it was this: I wanted her, not Missy.
Sometimes, we lie to ourselves to get through the next five minutes.
The next day was Saturday. I’d slept on the couch in the TV room. Holly had gone out early—I don’t know where. After I showered and dressed, I called Missy and told her I wanted to meet. I could hear the excitement in her voice and wished I could avoid seeing her, but ending it via text message wasn’t an option.
When I arrived, she was waiting on the porch, ready for action. I’d already been through hell with Holly. Now, it was Missy’s turn. There’s nothing worse than delivering bad news to a woman. I hoped I wouldn’t get good at it.
“Want to come inside?”
“Let’s take a walk.”
Her rented house stood at the edge of the forest. Though it was just after nine, the air was already hot and sticky. We walked behind her place and found a trail leading into the woods.
“I’ve told Holly everything.”
I looked straight ahead as we walked. A young deer cut across the path in front of us. Squirrels scampered around in the pine needles. Everything seemed normal.
“Oh.”
“So, now you know I was serious when I said this is over.”
She took my hand, and we stopped. “But it’s not over.”
“Missy, Holly knows everything. There’s nothing you can do to us.”
“I never wanted to do anything to you, Dave. I just want us to be together.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you think this is a game? That you can just…be with me for a little while, then go back to your life?” Her hand was clutching mine, hard. It hurt.
“I don’t love you.”
The words stopped her cold. She released my hand and backed away like she’d been slapped. I saw something moving behind her and realized it was Jim, staggering out of the shadows.
He looked crazy, with what was left of his clothes draped over his bony, putrefying frame. Most of his hair had fallen out, and his eyes were scaled over. All the flesh around his neck had slid away, exposing dry, dark red muscle and a gray esophagus. He moved more quickly now towards us, his head twitching. I didn’t know what to do.
“Missy!”
“What? You want to apologize?”
“Run!”
But she turned too late. Jim let go a shriek and grabbed her, his vise-like jaws snapping at her face. She screamed and writhed, trying to get away from his teeth. I’d never been so scared. It was total, paralyzing fight or flight. But despite my intense fear, I grabbed her arm. Then, elbowing my friend in the face, I pulled her away. We ran.
Why is it when you’re scared out of your mind, you lose all sense of direction? Instead of running towards Missy’s house, we headed deeper into the forest. In my mind, I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop. And I was too messed up to notice I was alone. I looked back. Missy had fallen. Jim was coming towards her fast, his movements like those of an enraged animal.
“Missy, get up.”
She turned as Jim grabbed her foot. Kicking at him with the other foot, she scrambled away. I didn’t wait for her. Up ahead, I found a small ranger station built out of flagstone and heavy wood beams. Standing under a cool canopy of pine trees, it had a slanted roof and a single door.
“Help! Somebody help!”
No one came out. I ran up to the building. Glancing sideways, I noticed a large cord of wood—and an axe. I pounded on the door.
“Please! Someone! Help us!”
Missy was still far away, with Jim right behind her. I tried the handle, and the door opened. I fell inside, and without hesitation, I locked the door. My heart was racing. I tasted copper. I couldn’t think, couldn’t reason. The only thing I could focus on was surviving. If I could just live through this…
“Dave!”
Missy was getting closer, but Jim was out there, too, no longer my friend but a monster. If I opened the door to let her in, I might die. I knew now what Jim had done to those animals. And I guessed he was the one who’d torn our neighbor Sarah Champion to pieces in the forest.
“Dave, please!”
She beat her fists on the door incessantly, begging me to let her in. My lungs were on fire from running, my eyes blinded by tears of shame. But still, I didn’t let her in. My hands were shaking badly, and no matter how much I wanted to save her, I couldn’t make myself open the door.
Outside, Missy sobbed, scraping the door with her fingernails and calling my name. Gritting my teeth, I pressed my head against the rough wood and closed my eyes. Sorry. The most horrific sounds of tearing and screaming echoed like something out of the gates of hell. After what seemed like forever, I heard a dull crack, followed by a groan.
Then, silence.
I didn’t move for a long time, listening to the sound of my heart pounding in my chest and in my ears. Eventually, I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and slowly opened the door. Jim’s body lay sprawled at an angle on the ground, his head split in two. His arms and legs twitched for a second, and then he was still. A dark stream of infectious black blood leaked from his brain onto the earth. The greasy axe lay next to him. Bloody footprints led away into the forest.
Missy was gone.
I felt a lunatic’s laugh welling up inside me. This was perfect. Somehow, Missy had managed to overpower my friend, who was already dead, and kill him with the axe. Now, she’d stop at nothing to get me—and Holly, too.
Determined to turn the situation around, I ran back to Missy’s house to confront her. Her door was unlocked, so I went inside.
“Missy?”
I checked the entire house, but it was empty. Then, I left and walked towards my truck, expecting her to lurch out of the trees at any second. I was about to get in when I wretched.
Once I was on the road, I checked my phone. There was one voicemail. It was Holly wondering where I was. I called her back, trying to make my voice sound calm.
“Where’ve you been?”
“I went to see Missy.”
A long silence. “Will you be home soon?”
“On my way.”
After I hung up, a text message appeared. I almost ran off the road.
You shouldn’t have done that, Dave.
This was it. Missy would call the police and report me. Was it illegal not to help someone in danger? I seemed to remember reading about a duty to rescue law. Then, my mind really started going wild.
I saw myself being arrested and the cops accusing me of planning the whole thing to get rid of Missy. I had the perfect motive, they would insist, and Missy would corroborate their story. Holly and I had no money for an attorney, so I’d end up with some lame-ass public defender with bad breath and dandruff. Eventually, I’d be convicted, with Holly left on her own to hate me forever while I rotted in some state prison.
I was screwed.
“They found Jim,” Holly said as I came through the front door.
“What?”
“It’s pretty bad. Come into the kitchen. You smell like death.”
I took a chair at the table and rubbed my eyes, trying to suppress a giggle. I felt like I was in a long, dark drainage pipe and Holly was at the other end, leaning in and trying to get my attention. When I looked up, I saw she’d turned off the kettle and poured out two cups of tea. The way I was shaking, I had trouble holding my cup without spilling anything.
“Detective Van Gundy called. They found Jim’s body at a ranger station. A neighbor reported hearing screams and called 911.”
I sipped at my tea and burned my tongue.
“Dave, someone killed him. And you know Van Gundy—he won’t say any more. Since Jim had no family, they want you to go down and identify the body.”
“Me? Now?”
She looked away, pretending she’d heard something. “So, what happened over there?”
“I ended it.”
As I spoke the words, I saw again Jim’s head cut open like a rotting melon and leaking black blood. It was all clear to me now. Things would have to play out. This wasn’t my life anymore. I was a spectator who had won front row seats to a freak show with no exits.
I stood to get more tea and heard myself say again, “I ended it.” A picture of Missy bringing down the axe on Jim left me weak. I knew she was coming for Holly and me. I could feel it. My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the floor.
“Dave, listen to me. You have to get it together.”
“I’m okay.”
She helped me to my feet, and I sat.
“Jim must’ve gone crazy. But now, he’s dead. It’s over.”
But it wasn’t over. I was sick to my stomach and pushed my tea away. Holly turned on the TV, which was already tuned to the local news. I could barely focus as we watched footage showing the front of Missy’s house shot by a jittery hand-held camera. There was police tape everywhere and cops trying to keep everyone back. A local reporter named Evie Champagne kept trying to jam her microphone into Detective Van Gundy’s face. I could tell it was pissing him off.
“Detective, can you confirm this is the home of Melyssa Soldado?”
“Not confirming or denying anything. We have to notify the family—”
“Didn’t you find the entire inside of the house drenched in blood?”
“Where do you people come up with this—”
“Where is Ms. Soldado, Detective? Is her body still inside the house?”
“No. We have officers looking for the missing woman right now. We now believe the deceased tried to attack her.”
“And the perpetrator? Who is he?”
Detective Van Gundy hesitated. “A John Doe.”
“Excuse me, but isn’t the man you found Jim Stanley? Isn’t he the missing accident victim you’ve been looking for?”
“You’re unbelievable. No more questions.” He pushed his way off camera.
Evie faced the camera. “There you have it. Police neither confirming nor denying the identities of the attacker and his female victim, who is, as of this moment, missing. This is Evie Champagne. Back to you, Felix.”
I turned off the TV and took Holly’s hands in mine. My legs felt like cooked spaghetti. A searing pain shot through my head. My neck hurt again, and I felt woozy. My plan had disintegrated—and me along with it.
Holly stared at me. “You were there, weren’t you? It’s why you’re acting this way.”
“I need to tell you what happened,” I said, unable to block the sound of Missy’s desperate screaming in my head.
“Please, no more of your confessions, Dave.”
I went to the sink for no reason. The faucet was dripping, and I made a mental note to replace the washers. I wished I could throw up.
“Yes, I was there.”
“Please, just stop—”
“You need to hear this. I was at the ranger station when it happened.”
“What did you do?” She was standing next to me now.
“It’s what I didn’t do.” I turned to her, my whole body hard with tiredness and regret. “I didn’t help her.”
“What?”
“We were walking in the woods near her house. I was trying to convince her it was over. Then, Jim showed up. But it wasn’t Jim anymore. He was like…some kind of animal full of rage. I tried to get Missy to run, but she fell. Then, I ran and hid in the ranger station.”
“You didn’t go back for her?”
“No. I was too scared.”
“Then you killed him, right? Dave, that’s self-defense.”
I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Holly, listen to me. I didn’t do anything. I just… I stayed inside.”
“Wait, you left her out there with that thing?”
Holly pulled herself free and began walking in circles. It was like she was playing the scene in her head over and over, imagining the attack while I remained inside the ranger station. Then, she grabbed her teacup and threw it at me. I blocked it, and it bounced off my forearm and shattered on the floor.
“You left her?” Her voice was shrill.
“I don’t care about her, I care about us. Why aren’t you happy that it’s still us?”
“Because what you did was evil.” I could hear the disgust in her voice. “You don’t leave someone to die.”
“But she didn’t die. She— She got away.”
“It doesn’t matter. You wanted her to die.”
“I wanted her out of our lives.”
I made a move towards her, but she backed away, her hands raised in front of her. I thought she might actually be scared of me.
“It wasn’t my fault. She split Jim’s head open with an axe. I’m sorry.”
I was blind with anger and frustration, and didn’t notice she’d taken a seat at the table.
“Holly?”
“Shut up, Dave. I need to think.”
She sat with her hands folded in front of her, staring straight ahead. I wanted a drink bad and imagined going to Jim’s house to empty out his refrigerator one bottle at a time. How long could I survive on beer and dead animals? Instead, I refilled my cup. The tea had cooled and tasted like pond water.
Holly shook her head sadly. “And to think I was almost going to forgive you for what you did. It was a lapse, I know. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t do it again.”
“Never.”
“But to stand by when someone is being attacked. What in hell were you thinking? What if it had been me?”
“It wasn’t.”
I needed something to do, so I went to the hall closet to get a broom and a dustpan. Holly’s face was expressionless as I swept up the broken cup and threw the pieces into the trash. The tea set had been a wedding present from her mother. When I’d finished, I took a seat at the opposite end of the table.
“Is she crazy?”
I felt tired. All I wanted was to sleep.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, genius, whadda you think she’ll do now?”
“Come after me probably. She’s a vindictive little—”
“Great. Well, we can’t stay here. We have to leave.”
“We?”
“You’re not off the hook.” She buried her face in her hands. “You stupid, stupid bastard.”
“What about our jobs?”
She looked at me like I was some kind of imbecile. “We have to get out of here, Dave. At least until the police find that woman and we can, I don’t know, get a restraining order or something.”
Holly had always been smarter than me. More practical. More focused. Especially when it came to solving difficult problems. She was right. We’d have to leave town.
“There’s one other thing.”
“You started drinking again.” She wanted to hurt me, and this was the best she could do. I let it go.
“No. It’s about Jim. He… When I saw him, I don’t think he was alive.”
“Was that before or after the axe to the head?”
“Before. It was like he was decomposing or something. He wasn’t even breathing.”
“That’s crazy. He was sick. Like all these other people wandering around. It’s the jimmies, that’s all.”
“Maybe.”
I thought of the kidney worms and the maggots falling out of his neck. And that black blood. No. He was sure as shit dead already.
“Are you going to leave me?”
She didn’t answer for a long time. Then, finally, “I need time to think.”
She got up and went to the door. I could see the hatred in her eyes.
“You’re a real prick, you know that?”
Guilty as charged.
All I could think about was the fight Holly and I had had as I rode the elevator down to the morgue, where Detective Van Gundy was already waiting. In the movies, these places are always creepy. But this room was clean and pleasant, with comfortable chairs and bright artificial plants in the waiting area. The magazines on the side tables had nothing to do with death. No Morticians Monthly, just Us Weekly, People, and Cosmopolitan.
Detective Van Gundy led me into the viewing room. A few minutes later, a morgue attendant brought Jim in on a stainless-steel table with wheels. The body was covered in a white paper shroud. As the attendant pulled it back, I told myself it wasn’t Jim anymore—it was just a piece of meat. I moved closer and gritted my teeth.
His head had been pushed back together and secured with surgical staples. I turned to the policeman, reminding myself to act like I was never there.
“What happened to his head?”
“We think Ms. Soldado split it with the axe we found. It’s how he was killed.”
I still couldn’t believe she was capable of that kind of violence. The same could be said about my own cowardice. They’d gotten rid of the maggots and the kidney worms. There was a surprising lack of blood. Other than the reddish seam running down the middle of his face and neck, he looked the same.
“For the record, can you identify the body?”
“Yes. It’s Jim Stanley.”
For what seemed like a long time, I stood there, trying in my mind to picture Jim alive again. Then, I turned away and threw up in my mouth. When I recovered, I heard a loud banging coming from a different room. Another attendant ran in.
“One of them’s alive!”
They both hurried away, leaving the detective and me alone with Jim’s body. I turned to Van Gundy.
“I wonder how often that happens.”
Sitting in the hospital lobby with Detective Van Gundy, I thought about how long it would be before they connected me to Jim’s death. I knew Missy hadn’t contacted the police yet—otherwise, why hadn’t the cops arrested me? And other than the one text, I hadn’t heard from her again. What in hell was she waiting for?
Revenge.
“Do you know if Mr. Stanley knew his attacker?” the policeman said.
“What?”
“Ms. Soldado. Did Mr. Stanley know her?”
“I don’t know.”
“So, you think this was random?”
“I guess. I wasn’t there. I’m sorry, I don’t feel well.”
I got up and headed for the exit. Detective Van Gundy followed me.
“I understand. I’ve got more questions, but they can wait.”
“What about the woman?”
“We’re obtaining her cell records. That should tell us something.”
“Right.” I tried masking the dread chewing at my guts. “See you.”
As I walked off, the detective called to me.
“Yeah?”
“Seeing as Mr. Stanley had no next of kin, were you planning on handling the burial arrangements? The hospital told me to ask you.”
I hadn’t even thought of that. It was true, Jim had no one. “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”
I left the cop and found my truck, wondering where the money for the funeral would come from. I couldn’t shake the feeling he was watching me the whole way. Like he knew what had really happened and was waiting for me to slip up. Even if it was all in my head, it was a matter of time anyway. Once they went through Missy’s phone records and saw all the calls and texts to me, it was over. Now would be a brilliant time to get my affairs in order.
As I drove out of the parking lot, a naked woman with grayish skin and bloodshot eyes staggered in front of me. She looked like a mean drunk. Her abdomen was slit open, and I could see a piece of white plastic tubing protruding from the incision. I think it was a Lap-Band. Her hands sliced the air as she bared her pin-like teeth. I thought she was a patient—till I saw the toe tag.
I slammed on the brakes as the two morgue attendants and an orderly came out and grabbed her. Shrieking, she pivoted and sunk her teeth into the orderly’s face. He screamed as she ripped away his ear and part of his cheek. The attendants backed off, looking confused and terrified.
The fear that had gripped me in the forest came back. I wanted to get out of there, but I couldn’t move. There was a crowd of people behind my truck, and in front of me, the woman. She was waving her arms like windmills, gibbering and drooling. Then, her metallic eyes, cold and dead, stared at me through the windshield. I recognized that look; it was the look Jim had right before he attacked Missy.
Detective Van Gundy appeared, his gun drawn. He pushed the wounded orderly away and waved the others back. I could see the fear on his face as he took aim.
“Lie down on the ground. Now.”
She ignored him. He shot her twice in the chest, leaving two holes in her the size of quarters, but there was no blood. She kept coming. The policeman wiped his face with his coat sleeve, took careful aim, and fired point-blank at her face.
The bullet tore through her forehead and exited out the back, leaving a huge hole and shattering the windshield of a nearby vehicle. As the car alarm went off, the woman dropped to her knees, her tongue lolling in her bloody mouth like a writhing red eel, and then she fell face first onto the pavement, motionless.
I shut off my engine and got out as the cop closed in, his gun still drawn. People all around stared. The two attendants helped the wailing orderly, his face covered in gore, back into the hospital.
Still shaking, Detective Van Gundy holstered his gun and turned to me with haunted eyes.
“Eighth one this week,” he said.