Authors: Ian Maxwell
Hanging up he sniggered, “Reimburse, haha… yeah right.”
***
With the heavy lifting delegated to the dispatchers and the community, all they could do was wait. Jake shrugged, “All we can do is wait. Waiting is boring.”
“Another beer?” asked Tyler.
“Umm, don’t think so,” said Jake, “pretty low on funds.”
“I could reinstate Happy Hour,” offered Bill.
“Well that settles that.”
As the guys trudged back to the bar, Carli stopped them.
“Stop.”
“What now?” asked Tyler dreading the exchange.
Being anti-fun and still seething about her exposed Celica selling scam, Carli couldn’t allow it.
“Guys are you fucking serious, the whole town is looking for monsters under their beds and all you care about is your next fix. I mean come on…”
“We just wanted to play pinball,” said Tyler but it was lost under the din of Carli’s new scheme, whatever it was.
“Fine Carli, what do you suggest we do? We got like a half hour minimum before anyone calls us. Plus it’s already what,” Jake checked his phone, “11PM. Most of the town’s probably asleep… or high.”
Bill meanwhile wasn’t so sure about doing anything too drastic. The thought of mutilated bodies on movies or TV was one thing, but to actively go seek them out in the middle of the night was a whole other thing. “Carli, I could throw in a Ladies Night as well.”
“No Bill no, you aren’t getting it. There must be something we could do instead of warming our butts… like umm…”
“Like what, Carli?”
“Um, like say we start with the first house on Ponder Lane… the one right there,” Carli pointed at a random house on the corner. “The four of us could hasten the search.”
“That’s Mitch’s house. Mitch Marsh.”
“He the bank guy?”
“Yeah, he’s the loan manager at Loan Lake Union Bank.”
Carli said, “Yeah, I remember that name. Think he sold me a car loan.”
“Fine, let’s go. But Carli I’m warning you, this better not be a deranged attempt to reduce your loan payments.”
“It’s not.”
“Oh, what’s wrong officers… are you the County police?” It was Mitch’s wife Kate that answered the door. The motley crew of Jake, Tyler, Bill and Carli, seemed to upset her a bit.
“Ma’am, we are deputies from the Lone Lake Sheriff’s Department. I’m Jake, this is my partner Tyler and these are a couple of concerned citizens who are here to give us a hand.”
“Oh,” Kate opened the door a little wider which gave them a better view of the Marshes’ living room. A large family portrait with Kate, a man and two kids adorned the side wall. The portrait was surrounded by cluster of smaller photos from other times like outings, birthdays,
etc.
“Is this about those missing people? Ghosh, I hope they are alright,” Kate asked with genuine concern.
“So someone already called you?”
“Yeah, my husband answered the phone and he went to check out our garage and the shed.”
“He find anything?”
“No, he didn’t. He said everything was fine.”
As Jake spoke to Kate Marsh, Carli floated over to the family portrait. She remembered the pug faced husband from a few years back when she had gone into the bank for that car loan. While the family portrait showed the pug faced asshole, a smaller photo to the right probably from graduation, showed a younger pug faced man with blonde hair holding up a degree.
“Wow, looks like he is a blondie,” Bill whispered to Carli.
“Or dyed it.”
“Or undyed it.”
“What, why’d anyone undye… but wait, that’s not the point. Point is he was a blonde once upon a time and you know what they say about blondes?”
“Blondes have all the fun?”
“No, once you go blonde you don’t go back.”
“Carli, I don’t think that’s how it goes…”
Walking around the living room, Tyler noticed a weeny looking table under the stairs that had IKEA written all over it. But it wasn’t the table that intrigued him.
“Where is your husband now?” Jake asked Kate, “We’d like to have a word with him too.”
“Umm, he’s not here. He left a couple of minutes ago.”
“What, where’d he go at this time of the night?”
“He looks after the Jensens’ property… that Jensen Manor in his free time. Well actually, he gets paid for it… so yeah, he thought it would be a good idea to go check the place for these, umm… missing people.”
“Oh that’s very thoughtful of him. Okay, can you give us a minute ma’am,” Jake called over Tyler, Carli and Bill for a quick powwow.
“You kids… I mean deputies want anything to drink?”
“Some water would be fine.”
As Kate Marsh headed to the kitchen, Carli hissed, “Guys, this Mitch guy is our killer.”
***
“Whaat?”
“During his college years Mitch dyed his hair blonde and drove a Toyota Celica.”
“Probably experimenting with lifestyles. Doesn’t make him a killer.”
“But, but those are two critical points from
my list
.”
“You gotta be kidding me,” said Jake in disbelief.
“No Jake, think about it. He sold lemons… a lemon car and a lemon loan.”
“What are you talking about Carli?”
“That Celica, in the picture there,” Carli thumbed at a smaller photo on the wall, “is
my
car. He bought a Ford truck and unloaded the Celica on me, and also he sold me a shitty high interest loan right after that subprime thing.”
“Carli, you fucking serious right now?”
“Yes listen to me… even if he isn’t a killer, he should be prosecuted for selling lemons. For selling spurious financial instruments and reckless endangerment of college kids…”
“Carli all I keep hearing is ‘me, me, me, poor me Carli.’”
Tyler nudged him, “Jake, you gotta see something.” He pointed at the IKEA table under the stairs.
“Shit, that’s an IKEA table” effused Carli, “just like the one on my list. That makes it three.”
On the table lay like a million batteries, a dozen flashlights and a bunch of shovels.
“What the hell is all this?”
“Killing instruments. Duh,” said Carli.
At that moment Kate Marsh returned with a pitcher of water and replied apologetically, “Oh, sorry about that but my husband is a
prepper
.”
“Pepper?”
“Haha, she called her husband a pepper,” Carli giggled, “…a pepper… a totally marginal condiment that looks like dried poo… haha, guys can be such peppers… I’m so using that line Mrs. Marsh. Jake, Tyler guess what… you guys are such peppers.”
“Carli, what about me?” checked Bill.
“Yeah, you too Bill.”
“Aww shucks.”
But Carli’s jubilant discovery was short lived as Kate Marsh tried to womansplain it, “No, not pepper… a
prepper
.”
“A what?”
“Yeah, he kind of prepares for the apocalypse and stuff like that.”
“Like a cult leader?”
“No, nothing to do with cults, just general disasters like say, extended loss of power in case of tornadoes or something like that.”
“Oh, he’s one of
those
?”
“Yeah,” blushed Kate, “but it’s not that bad, sure we got a thousand cans of tuna and I’m not allowed to say that to anyone and we are all supposed to carry our bugout bags at all times… but… but sometimes it can be a bit challenging… but it’s not that bad…no.”
“You okay ma’am?”
“Yeah and sometimes he brings guys over… but now that I’ve gotten used to it, it’s not that big of a deal.”
Bill called from the scrapwall, “Ah, so that explains these guys and their seeds.”
One of the smaller photos on the wall showed this shady loan guy Mitch surrounded by five middle aged dudes – three Caucasian, one Asian and an African American all holding ploughs, seeds and AR-15s.
“They your husband’s friends ma’am?” asked Tyler.
“No they are preppers… well wannabe preppers. They were here last summer to learn about prepping. One of them I guess, came all the way from New York.”
“So your husband a master prepper or something?”
“I don’t know, I guess you can call him that. He’s good with tools, carpentry, guns… well maybe not that good, but he knows his stuff.”
“Mrs. Marsh, how often do these guys come here to learn prepping?”
“It’s pretty random, but usually after floods or some catastrophic stuff like that. Even today we were supposed to have a guy… someone from Los Angeles… some marketing executive… but he never showed. Mitch was saying he probably got cold feet.”
“Oh yeah, you know the name of this guy?”
“I don’t know, but Mitch has their details on a file,” she opened a nearby drawer and pulled out a file, “here, I think this is the one.”
Tyler flipped open the file.
“Shit.”
Halfway to his dip in Lone Lake, the killer got overwhelmed by his old hunger for meat. He broke down on the shores of lake and threw away the frozen peas. All he wanted was that bag of sausage in that freezer.
“Wufk.” To hell with veganism.
The killer turned back towards Jensen Manor.
***
Mitch Marsh ran his Surefire tactical flashlight over the frontal section of Jensen Manor. As expected everything seemed in place. Windows intact, doors shuttered, mailbox empty – yep, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
But if a fugitive were to take refuge in an unoccupied house, they would probably approach it from the rear. Security experts called it the
backdoor vulnerability
. Walking around to the back of the house, Mitch ran the flashlight over the rear windows and doors. At ground level, one of the boarded windows seemed to be open. During his previous visit he’d made a note to fix a loose board… not a completely torn off board. Must have been raccoons thought Mitch as he stepped closer to inspect the window.
With his Glock in one hand and flashlight in the other, he peered into the window.
“Fuck,” muttered Mitch.
Someone had been in the basement and from the looks of it, it was no raccoon. For starters, the cellar door leading into the house was wide open and then, there were footprints and drag marks all over the basement’s linoleum floor. To top it off, the friggin freezer had been
moved
. It was no longer under the window. The thing weighed like a thousand tons… and some
really strong
asshole had moved it by at least three feet. The only reason Mitch had left it running was that he hadn’t been able to move the darn thing and access the switch behind it. Also, the thing cost like a couple of bucks a month in utility charges… which of course was a fairly sweet deal for storing his extra meats.
Fueled by his prepper’s instincts of self-defense, protection and defending freedom, Mitch decided to go in and take care of business.
***
Arriving at the back of Jensen Manor, Lars stopped in his tracks. Some nitwit was trying to break into
his
window… the window that led to the basement where lay the freezer… inside which lay the meats and dudes…
his
dead dudes.
Perhaps he was a vagrant. Perhaps he needed shelter. Perhaps he was innocent. Lars waited a couple of seconds to assess the situation.
As Lars watched, the intruder suddenly swung his flashlight around and a huge shadow of something tiny fell on the ground – the shadow of a gun.
“Wufk.”
This punk was in no way innocent. Even if he were, he probably represented the law, which to the killer was worse than being innocent.
The killer charged across the yard and body slammed Mitch Marsh like WWE were cool again.
***
Using his trademark killer move, Lars put Mitch in a deadly headlock.
While regular Joes like the Soldier Field clown or the cashmere guy or that Monson kid would have gone down without a fight, Mitch here was an above average prepper, which meant he knew the basics of getting out of a chokehold and even better, putting his gun to use.
And his gun was quick.
BANG
The bullet ripped through the killer’s shoulder, shearing tendons and nicking several critical shit that constituted a good shoulder.
“Wufffk,” squelched the killer. A second gun moment in one fucking day? What were the fucking odds? “Wufk.”
Placing survival over stealth, the killer smacked the guy and fled into the night.
***
As the bullet ripped through the killer’s shoulder, the clown car of cops and Carli rolled to a stop outside Jensen Manor.
“Did you guys hear that?” asked Carli.
“Yeah,” replied Tyler opening the Caprice’s door quietly.
“Sounded like a gun to me.”
“Jesus Carli, you should have stayed back with Bill.”
“What?”
Sounds of punching, grunting and heavy breathing came from beyond the house.
“Carli, stay in the car,” ordered Tyler as he and Jake rushed to the back of the house. Turning the corner they noticed someone running away from the scene.
“Fuck, what is that?”
“Hey you… Mr. Marsh… STOP… this is the police,” yelled Tyler. The receding figure, didn’t seem to give a fuck. Holding his left shoulder, the guy in the blackish-brownish coat ran what seemed like an 8sec-100m dash.
“Help… please,” a male voice called from nearby, “Officers… here…”
By the time they reached Mitch, the mystery fellow had completely disappeared.
Ignoring orders to stay in the squad car, Carli ran out with her phone and snapped a bunch of no-flash, night time photographs using the perv-mode in her smartphone.
At the sight of Mitch’s mangled face or rather face-off, Tyler threw up. “What in God’s earth did that?”
“Jesus… call an ambulance.”
A couple of days later
“So the Mitch guy’s saying he got mauled by a really strong man?”
“Yeah, he thinks he was attacked by a wrestler… a sweaty wrestler.”
“You sure he wasn’t soliciting? You know, rendezvous with a male hooker.”
“Maybe, but why would
he
tear off his client’s face?”
“You’ve seen the movie, Monster?”
“Mosnter Inc?”
“No, the one where they made that really hot chick look really ugly and then made her commit some heinous shit. Oscars too. My guess is, like in that movie, the wrestler guy couldn’t take it anymore.”