Part 12 (1/2)
”Good luck getting to him,” James scoffed. ”He's too dangerous. He'll turn you into us. Cut you into pieces and bring you back to life, and then you'll need money to survive too. Problem is, there's not much of it around here anymore. Money's next to impossible to find.”
”And it's not dangerous being here doing what we're doing now? It's not safe anywhere. What makes you think you'll live that much longer being a coward?”
Angel sipped on the bottle, making a whistle sound with her lips. ”What makes you think we want to live at all?”
Brock ignored her. ”I know you want to live, James. I know your wife is gone, but what about your friends? What about your life? Look into the future. There has to be something about life that you still want to enjoy. You don't have to be the victim.”
He appealed to Angel this time, returning to the optimism that created this trip and the hope his sister would one day care about him. ”You can hate me, Angel, and I can be mad that I'm here indirectly because of you, or I can help you. We can save each other. How about it?”
”Big brother comes to the rescue. Man, f.u.c.k off. Some therapist told you that you needed closure or a good cry with me. That's why you're here, and that's the only reason.” Her drink was starting to kick in. She gave him a vicious smile that could cut through gla.s.s. ”The feel good plan has blown up in your face, big bro.”
”I'm here because I'm better now. I want you to be better too. That won't change, no matter what gets in the way.”
”Shove the greeting card bulls.h.i.+t right up your greasy b.u.t.thole. I remember how you used to be, and you know what? You could be lying about your being clean. Once a junky-”
”'-Always a junkie.' I've heard that c.r.a.p, and I don't believe it. I'm off it. I've got a job. I've got a good life.”
”Hah, being a judge on a talent show?” Angel forced herself to laugh. ”You're a monkey with a tambourine. You're washed up. People like washed up famous people on TV. Washed up a.s.sholes make viewers feel better about themselves. You're still the man who squandered our father's fortune. You're still the c.o.ke-nosed brat who fell from the top of the world and landed in the gutter, so don't tell me about your being clean, or how I could be like you if I tried. Just f.u.c.king shut up about it already.”
Brock raised his voice and grabbed her shoulders, really digging his grip in deep. His face was inches from hers. ”I'm engaged to Hannah. You remember her? She's working on a movie. She's working again. She's clean too. I love her, and I'm happy. I want you to be my sister, but right now, it's me, your brother, telling you I want us to be a family again. Perhaps even friends, like old times when the walls weren't falling down around us. I mean it what I'm saying to you. I miss you, Angel. I want you to be a part of my wedding. I want to be involved in your life somehow. We have problems, but let's grow up and be adults. All I'm asking for is an honest f.u.c.king chance, Angel, so quit playing the victim and let's escape this town with our lives.”
Brock couldn't read her expression, because her face had turned into a blank slate. She collected her thoughts, and he was immediately disgusted by what she had in store for him. The smile on her face, it was one that admitted it knew every word she said would hurt him, and she loved inflicting the pain.
”I'm sure Hannah's still a junkie, and you've found someone who enjoys lying to themselves as much as you do, Brock. So enjoy your new c.o.ke wh.o.r.e. f.u.c.k you, Brock. I'm not buying a word you're telling me, so go back to your new buddy and figure it the f.u.c.k out because that's all I care about right now; not you, and certainly not your life's progress.”
What he wanted to unleash upon her was preempted by James who had stripped the barricade down piece-by-piece. James pressed his hand against the door as if to push it forward. The man's face then turned confused.
James gasped in horror, ”No, no, no, no, no.” He turned to Brock as an infectious panic spread on his face. ”The door, it changed. We can't escape!”
JENNA SHARPE.
The woman who came from the bridge holding the gun was named Jenna Sharpe. w.i.l.l.y dated her when he was sixteen for two months. It was a hold your hands in the hallway of your high school scenario and kiss and hug before cla.s.s situation. Jenna was also the prettiest girl in the school. She was also the captain of the cheerleading squad and in the dreams of any red blooded adolescent school boy. Now in Blue Hills, Jenna's face was sullied by the snarl of pure animosity. Cruelty replaced beauty. She despised him, and he didn't know why. Her clothing was wet from crossing the creek. She visibly s.h.i.+vered when the wind picked up. Her black hair was disheveled and pasted onto her face. Her face was cherry, burned by the wind. Jenna was malnourished looking, twenty pounds too skinny.
Closing in on w.i.l.l.y, Jenna demanded, ”You're going back to your car, and you're driving me where I tell you to go. No questions. You try anything, I'll shoot you. All I want you to do is drive.”
w.i.l.l.y turned back towards the car, praying he didn't get a bullet in the back. She was shaken and disturbed. Maybe she had seen some horrible things today as well.
She kept whispering to herself. ”Why am I the one? Why me? Why do I have to do this? I never wanted any of this in my life.”
”Who's making you do what?” w.i.l.l.y blurted out.
The gun's nozzle was jammed into his back. ”Say nothing to me! My family's dead. My husband's dead. I had to shoot them both. I killed them because they tried to kill me. Over five dollars. Five f.u.c.king dollars. You don't think I'll kill you too?”
”Whoa, whoa, I'm sorry. It sounds like we both need the police. You see, back at that historical house, some people-”
”Say nothing else!” The Oldsmobile was right in front of him. ”Get in the car. Drive where I tell you to drive and shut your mouth. This is all because of you. They're dead because of you.”
”What the h.e.l.l did I do? I just arrived in town hours ago. Whatever's happened, I a.s.sure you it's not my fault. I'll help you any way I can. Please put down the gun. Let's talk and sort this out. I'll drive you anywhere, Jenna, I promise. It's not a problem.”
She didn't hear him except for the word ”drive.” ”Yes, drive. Cross the bridge. I'll tell you where to go after that. No more talking. Just drive.”
Jenna had jittery hands, including the finger that hovered over the trigger. She had a nervous tick. She was seeing things as her eyes strayed to the horizon, as if re-living terrible things. He could sense it the way her eyes tensed and un-tensed. w.i.l.l.y decided it was best to leave her be. He would drive to where she told him to, and maybe the destination would answer a few questions about her and what was happening in Blue Hills. What occurred at the reading of the will could've been happening everywhere else too.
w.i.l.l.y still didn't understand what exactly had happened at the reading of the will.
There was no way to explain someone's body parts popping off.
Driving beyond the bridge, they traveled along back roads and among heavy woods. He didn't see much else. Town was up north a few miles, but Jenna wanted him to hang a left at an unmarked side road. Of all the things he guessed would've happened today in his old home town of Blue Hills, w.i.l.l.y never imagined being held at gunpoint by his ex-girlfriend he hadn't seen in years. Talking to her was like begging for a bullet. If she thought he was responsible for what was happening, then she must've been terrified of him.
Knowing this, w.i.l.l.y kept his question simple. ”Are you going to kill me?”
The twitch of a smile, her neurons were firing all wrong. Her face was a living jigsaw puzzle of emotions. ”No, I'm not going to kill you.”
She said it as if she regretted it.
The wheels kept turning, and w.i.l.l.y wasn't sure where they were driving to, but he soon recognized the back road. Houses would crop up out of the thick every so often. Finally, the two story yellow painted house appeared and Jenna asked him to turn in the driveway. He couldn't help but give a start doing this.
It was his uncle's house.
The one that burned down fifteen years ago.
LOCKED IN.
Brock had to confirm the truth for himself. The bolt to the hotel room's door was unlocked, but there was a steel square stuck between the door and the wall panel that impeded any movement. In the middle was the slit opening for a coin.
”James, did you see it happen? Did you see the steel appear?”
”No.” James grabbed Brock's arm, shaking him. ”You have more change, right? Tell me you've got more pocket change!”
”Whoa, wait. So what you're saying is you put a coin in it, and it opens.”
”Everything requires money to function, yes. I already went over this.”
”We're like vending machines, but we're not full of candy,” Angel chimed in. Brock recognized her for a moment, the person who could make the weirdest jokes at the drop of a dime, but then she was gone. Angel was once again his long lost sister who was drunk and craving cocaine.
”The only way to go about this is apprehending that axe guy,” Brock proposed again. ”Whatever it takes, we'll make him answer our questions. I'll find Hannah, and then we can ask him what he's doing with that money.”
”I remember him a.s.sembling me,” Angel said, thinking out loud. ”I saw body parts all over the place. I think I woke when I wasn't supposed to. He was freaked out by my 'wide eyes' looking at him. He took me apart, then he put something in me, and then rebuilt me. I don't think he always succeeds in rebuilding people. That place was a killing floor. A butcher's block. Blood everywhere.”
”Where were you when that happened?” James came to her side and lowered to one knee. ”What else do you remember? You must tell us everything about that experience. Any details that come to mind, please.”
Brock was surprised she responded to James. ”It was in a room, a dark room. I can't recall anything else. After it's done, I wake up in the street, sensing this need to find money, and I end up here, falling asleep on the bed, and then you woke me. As far as the sleep goes, I also remember nothing. Nothing at all. It's pretty much like I was dead in every way.”
James returned to the door, re-attempting to open it and once again failing. ”d.a.m.n it, we're trapped. We're getting nowhere.”
Brock went about checking the bathroom. The door was closed, also locked in place by a steel plate into the doorframe with a slit in the middle. The access begged to be fed, he thought. He bent down to check the air vent, also secured by two steel plates. ”No other way out. It's all secure.”
”f.u.c.k this bulls.h.i.+t!” James shouted, lifting up a chair and hurling it into the wall. The connection merely cracked the plaster. Beneath the cracks was solid steel.
James pointed at the wall. ”H-how did that happen? None of us heard it change. It would've been loud, wood being replaced by steel, right? I've been asking this myself the whole time, so why do I keep on asking now? There's no G.o.dd.a.m.n answer.”