Terror Town (19 page)

William couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He said, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I assure you I am not.” Nicolas said as he waved his gun up and down, eyes slithering from person to person. When he was done his nose flared. And when he spoke again he bunched his words together, leaving small, dramatic pauses between each sentence. “You have answers. I have questions. How about that? I’d like to introduce those two items, if you catch my drift. But first, I’d like you step out of the car. Please. Don’t make me say it a whole bunch of times. I don’t like repeating myself. It seems
wrong
, like a waste of energy. So get out of the car. Now, before I kill you. I enjoy that sort of thing.”

William turned towards Beth, mostly to shrug his shoulders in astonishment.

Nicolas didn’t let it happen.

“DON’T YOU LOOK AT HER!” he shouted, causing William’s head to snap around fast. “DON’T YOU
DARE
LOOK AT HER!
I’M
TALKING TO YOU; GET IT? LOOK AT ME, PRICK!
LOOK AT ME!”

William’s mouth and eyes popped open as if synchronized. If Nicolas failed to gain his full attention a moment ago he surely wasn’t failing now. He had gained supreme control of William’s interest very quickly. Nothing else seemed relevant, only the psycho with the gun mattered. Cameron was on her own. So was Daniel. He didn’t want to admit it, but Beth was on her own too. William had his priorities reorganized in a hurry. It was the psycho’s time to shine. No two ways about it.

“Now lay down,” Nicolas barked. “Face in the dirt! Oh, I want to SHOOT YOU! I want to do it so bad! You’re not my friend. You’re not my friend at all. You’re nothing. Do you hear me? You’re
nothing
!”

William placed himself on the road with his face in the dirt. Half mumbling, half whining, he said, “What do you want? I didn’t do anything to you. I don’t even
know
you!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP A MINUTE, WILL YA?”

Nicolas turned towards Beth, aiming the gun barrels at her oversized chest. His neck muscles were bulging. His eyeballs seemed to glow. “GET OUT.”

“Okay,” Beth said. She kept her voice calm. She didn’t want to do anything or say anything to upset the man. “I going to get out of the car just like you asked. I’m not going to try anything funny. I’ll do whatever you say. But this door beside me won’t open. It’s stuck in the grass. You can look if you want, or I can try to open for you so you can see for yourself… I can do that for you. No problem. But the only way I can get out of the car is by getting out on the driver’s side. If I do it really slowly, without any fast movements, is that alright with you?”

“Yeah,” Nicolas said. “That’s okay with me.”

Beth nodded. This was good. Well… not
good
exactly, but it was better. Nicolas had stopped yelling and that was a start.

“Okay great. Look at my hands. See? They’re empty. I’m not going to try anything here. I’m going to get out of the car, just like you asked.” She crawled across the seat on her hands and knees. When she arrived at the door she crawled onto the slope until her feet were out the door. “Do you want me to stand up or do you want me to lie down? I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Lay on the ground.”

Beth did what she was told.

Nicolas approached his car. His driver’s door was open and the trunk was shut. He unlocked the trunk and opened it. Several flies buzzed around Pauline’s corpse. Larva squirmed in her eye sockets. He smiled at the body before he moved away from it, leaned into his car, slid his engine key into the ignition slot, and made his way back to his hostages with his shotgun held tight.

He said, “Okay girl, what’s your name?”

“Beth.”

“Beth. I like that. Big Beth. Yeah, okay. Listen here, Big Beth. I was watching you guys. I saw the fight inside the car. I saw the accident and I saw Cameron run off naked.”

William said, “How do you know Cam––”

The shotgun sprang to life like a threatened coyote. “SHUT UP, FUCK-NUT! OH SHIT! I WANT TO SHOOT YOU! I WANT TO SHOOT YOU SO BAD! SO FUCKING BAD! SAY SOMETHING ELSE AND MAKE ME DO IT!
MAKE! ME! DO! IT!
”

Beth took a risk and jumped into the conversation. She still had her eyes in the dirt, and she wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but something had to be done before William pissed the guy off again.

With her voice loud, yet composed, and calm, she said, “Talk to me! Talk to me! It’s okay. Everything is all right. We’re not going to hurt you! We’re going to do whatever you want. There’s no problem here. Really. There’s no problem here whatsoever. Everything is okay. Everything is great so just talk to me… talk to me. Please. We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to upset you. Please sir, go on. We’re listening.”

Beth could feel the dirt clouding beneath her face as she spoke. It was getting into her eyes and mouth, making her lips dirty and her throat dry.

Nicolas lowered the shotgun, adjusted his glasses, and spat. “Okay then. Like I was
SAYING
, before I was so
RUDELY
interrupted.”

Once he stopped talking he kicked gravel at them. Little rocks and chunks of dirt binged off their heads. He was mad, really mad. He kicked dirt at them twice more to let them know it.

While this happened Beth cringed, William assumed he’d be shot and Nicolas pressed his teeth together, looking towards the sky.

The night was implausibly dark, yet the stars were shinning and as a result the sky was gorgeous. The air was warm and the wind was calm. Everything was perfect. And nights like this––perfectly warm nights laced in beautiful stars––always had a way of easing the careless demons that set fires of rage inside Nicolas’ mind, as if the darkness came across the land holding hands with an unknown force of infinite influence that turned an unseen switch, making him calm, in control, a different person.

“Like I was saying,” Nicolas said. His voice was composed now, still crusted with an insane tinge, but there was no getting rid of it that trait. It had been with him for years. “I watched your car crash and I watched Cameron run away and I have lots of questions. Oh yes I do. But my questions and your answers are going to have to wait since I can’t get into this stuff now. Not out here in the open. Not where people can see. We’ve got to get moving before someone comes along and makes things confusing, because if someone comes along… ”

He walked in a circle, kicking more dirt. He wasn’t kicking the dirt in anger now, just kicking it in front of him. Suddenly his nose became wrinkled, like he was an animal that smelled something awful.

He said, “What’s your name again?”

“Who, me?” Beth heard herself say. The words had slipped out, which was bad. She was trying to be a good little social worker and say all the right things. Her life depended on it.

“Yes you. I didn’t ask the asshole what his name is. I don’t care about him. I don’t
like
him. He’s not my friend. He’s going to die. Why would I want to know the name of a dead man? It’s a trick question. I don’t want to know his name. When I figure out his name I’ll give it to him. I want to know
your
name.
Your name
, not his… yours.”

“It’s Beth.”

“Oh yes, of course. Beth. Big Beth, isn’t that right? Big Beth, Big Beth. Okay there, Big Beth. If I remember correctly you said you’d do anything I want, isn’t that right? Hmm? Speak up now, I can’t hear you.”

“Which question? Are you going to ask something stupid? I hope not. I hate stupid questions. They make me… ” Nicolas slapped the palm of his hand against his temple hard enough to hurt. “Know what I mean?”

Beth didn’t know how to respond.

With her face still planted in the dirt, she said, “I’m wondering about your name. I don’t know what your name is. Do you mind telling me? If you mind, that’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

Nicolas grinned. “Awe, you’re pretty cute for a big girl. You’re very giving, very charitable and considerate. That’s nice. I like that.” He moved back and forth where he stood, like he couldn’t stand still. Like he was thinking. He licked his lips and blinked his eyes a few times quickly. “I’ll tell you what, Big Beth. You can call me daddy. Yeah. Daddy. For now… and if that works out, well then… we’ll just see. How does that sound, hmm?”

“Daddy?”

“Yes.”

Beth tried to keep her spirits up but she didn’t like where this was going. Calling the man ‘daddy’ was not what she had in mind. “Okay. I’ll call you daddy.”

“That’s great. Say it for me, will ya?”

Beth hesitated. “Uh… daddy.”

“Beautiful. That’s just great. Now… Big Beth, I’m going to need you to do something for me and I don’t think you’re going to like it. But you said you’d do whatever I want, right?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Beth’s closed her eyes. She didn’t like this at all. She needed to find a way out her dilemma as soon as possible. She wondered if William was going to jump up and attack the man. She was starting to think it might be the best option available.

With a defeated voice, she said, “Yes, daddy.”

“Oh, that is so good, Big Beth. That is
so
good. I think you and I could be best friends, don’t you?”

Beth stood up and dusted herself off, looking him in the eye. The man reminded her of a snake. It was in the way he moved, the way he spoke, like his words were poisonous weapons and he was striking out with them.

“See, I’m liking you more and more already. You’re not so bad, not so bad. Are ya? Naw, you’re all right. So, I want you to do something, Big Beth. Are you ready?”

13

Pat was on his hands and knees, digging at the plaster, making the hole in the wall bigger. His objective was to make the opening big enough to crawl through, but the hallway was dark and he had no idea if he was achieving his goal. He also didn’t know what was on the other side of the wall, could have been anything, anything at all.

There was a pile of plaster between him and the aperture, and although he lost precious time doing it, he stopped his frantic digging and pushed the debris away with hands that were bleeding and hurt like hell. They weren’t just bleeding a little either; they were bleeding a lot. Rusty staples and pins were sticking out of the strapping and it seemed like every two or three seconds he was impaling himself with at least half of them. He ripped a fingernail from his right hand at one point, possibly from the pins, possibly from the wood. He wasn’t sure what happened exactly, but when his fingernail tore away from his skin a hot wave of pain came to him so fast, fierce, and unexpected, he felt dizzy, lightheaded, and ready to surrender all hope. Of course, he couldn’t give up so easily. The average person can endure more than a sore finger before they hang up their skates and call it a night. Pat wasn’t ready for that course of action, not yet anyhow.

After the nail ripped free from his dusty hand Pat rammed his blood-drenched finger between his lips. Blood squirted against the roof of his mouth and down his throat. It ran through his teeth and onto his chin. He thought he might pass out.

The feeling passed.

The creature moved closer.

Pat still couldn’t see it, but he could feel the beast and smell the beast and it was only a matter of time before he would be able to touch the beast too.

And worse than that, it would be able to touch him.

Pat pulled his finger from his mouth, found a piece of strapping, grabbed it with both hands, and yanked. The strapping came out easily, which helped his depleted spirits immensely. He grabbed another piece of wood and tried his luck again. It also came free. He popped more planks from the wall, creating a good-sized hole, at least on the one side, but what about the other side? That was the question.

He stuck his hand through the opening and found that the wall in the other room was missing. It must have been an unfinished room. His spirits lifted higher than before and he began to work faster. His fingers continued screaming at him. Each digit was begging him to take a break, stop the madness, and create a new game plan. He disregarded the voice of his fingers completely. Digging continued. The pain continued. Sometimes the wood came from the wall effortlessly and sometimes the wood wouldn’t break free no matter how hard he tried. In moments such as these he found that punching the problem areas seemed to be the best ticket. It hurt like hell to do it. Punching pins and staples always hurt, but with time being so valuable his first concern was escape.
Pain endured
rated a very distant second.

Dust entered his lungs. This caused a bout of coughing that slowed him down some, but not much. He removed another board, wondering if he’d be able to fit through the hole. If he could, that’d be great. But what if he couldn’t? What if he tried to squeeze through and got stuck? Would he have time to abort the getaway attempt and remove another board or would the time wasted cost him dearly?

Something soft touched the back of his neck––the warm, boneless limb of the creature.

His body lunged forward and he almost screamed.
Almost.
He didn’t. Screaming would do nothing but waste time and energy and he needed both. But now that the creature was within striking distance, it was time to scramble through the hole.