Authors: Bryan Smith
And yet he had to do it.
“You’re a bit of an arrogant fuck yourself, Flauros.”
Flauros laughed again. “Oh? Perhaps you could explain. I should tell you that after you’ve finished your explanation, I will begin the process of torturing and killing each of your pathetic friends as you watch.” He smiled. “So you might want to make it a long one.”
Mark shook his head. “Nah. I’ll keep it short. Dad, if you’re in there and can hear me, I’m sorry. I ain’t got a choice.”
Flauros chuckled. “Oh, he can hear you, I assure you. And he’ll be watching as I tear you limb from limb.”
“That’s not gonna happen. Know why?”
Flauros’s smile this time was indulgent. He shrugged. “Why, boy?”
“Silver fucking bullets, asshole.”
The demon’s smile froze.
Mark squeezed the trigger.
They were sitting on the porch outside Clayton’s house, sipping from cans of Budweiser Jared had retrieved from the fridge at his parents’ house after a trip over there to verify that his family was okay. They were. Both parents and his younger brother were all fine. They were an exception to the rule. Most families in Wheaton Hills suffered at least one loss. Too many had been completely wiped out. Mark had done a bit of looking around for Natasha and for his mother, but he hadn’t been able to find them. No one answered the bell at Natasha’s house and her silver PT Cruiser was gone. There had been no sign at all of his mother and he assumed the worst. Which meant he was likely a fucking orphan.
Wonderful
.
He had lost everything. He assumed he had a lot of hard days and years ahead. But right now what he mostly felt was just plain numb.
There were a lot of flashing lights in the neighborhood now. A lot of ambulances and state trooper cruisers. They were collecting the dead and tending to the wounded. They were also asking a lot of questions. Sooner or later they’d work their way over to Clayton’s house and there’d be some uncomfortable explaining to do.
Mark sipped his beer again. “Anyone up for a road trip?”
Jared shrugged. “I’m up for getting the hell out of Ransom, like always. You got anywhere in particular in mind?”
Mark nodded. “I was thinking Florida. Key West or somewhere like that. Someplace where it never fucking gets cold.”
“Huh.” Jared chewed his bottom lip for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. I could dig that.”
“Me, too,” Kevin chimed in.
Mark drank off some more of his beer. “So you guys know. I’m talking about staying down there, a permanent change of scenery. I’ve got my dad’s car and a good chunk of cash he gave me. I’m thinking I want a whole new life. A different kind of life. I’m tired of this ‘being dark and miserable all the time’ bullshit. Florida sunshine feels like what I need.”
Jared laughed. “Dude, I am right there with ya. Got any Jimmy Buffett on your iPod for our Florida road trip soundtrack?”
Mark smirked. “No.”
“Yeah. Me neither. I think I’ll always be a metal guy, wherever I go or however old I get.”
Mark finished his beer and stood. “No time like the present. Who’s ready?”
Kevin frowned. “What, now?
Right
now?”
“Yep.” Mark glanced out at all the flashing lights. “I’m thinking I want to slip out of here before the net closes. I
never
feel like talking to cops and that goes double tonight.”
Jared took another big gulp of beer and stood. “I’m in. Let’s do this.”
Kevin sighed and stood up. “Guess I’m in, too.”
Mark looked at Clayton, who remained seated on the top porch step and had been strangely silent throughout this conversation. “What about you, Clay? You can’t want to stay here and deal with all this shit. Come with us.”
Jared chuckled. “Yeah, man. You’re our bud. Besides, we need an older dude to buy us beer.”
Clayton smiled, but shook his head. “No.”
Mark did a double take. “What? Really?”
Clayton nodded. “Yeah. Really.” He sighed. He sounded as tired as he looked. “I appreciate the offer and admit it’s very tempting, but I’m too old to go off on this big adventure with you.”
Mark grimaced. “Don’t start with this ‘too old’ crap. You’re our friend. And, hell, don’t we need an adult to keep us out of trouble?”
Clayton snorted. “Since when have I kept anyone
out
of trouble? Usually it’s the opposite.” He got to his feet with a groan, wincing as his knees creaked. “No, I’m staying. But listen—if you guys really make a go of it down there, maybe give me a call in a few years and ask again. Maybe I’ll say no again.” He smiled. “But maybe I won’t.”
They argued the point a little longer, but it became clear that Clayton’s resolve would not be shaken. So they said their good-byes. It was awkward and a little heart-wrenching. Despite the little bone he’d tossed their way, Mark was sure they’d never see their older friend again. For his sake, they made it quick, piling into the Lexus after Mark backed it out of the garage.
A state trooper who was interviewing a woman in the yard of the house across the street turned at the sound of the car’s engine and waved at them, obviously indicating they should stop so he could talk to them. Mark waved back and kept going.
Clayton dragged Tom Bell’s body out of his house through a back door. It wasn’t easy work, but Clayton kept at it, grunting and straining as he pulled the body across his backyard and dumped it in the yard of a neighbor. He repeated the process when he removed the body of the naked man who’d attacked them earlier. Talking to the cops was going to be hard enough. It would have been a good deal more awkward with dead bodies in the house.
But the cops were coming and there was no getting around that, so there was no point going to bed just yet. He busied himself by clearing the table of empty bottles, a task that required the filling of multiple garbage bags. He cleaned up the blood from the kitchen floor. The cops came and he answered their questions. They had a little look around, but didn’t find anything worth their scrutiny and soon left. Clayton wasn’t worried about them connecting him with the bodies he’d dumped in his neighbor’s yard. There was too much confusion. Too much chaos. The authorities would pick up the pieces and try to set right what they could, but some things would get glossed over. So there were a couple of bodies in a backyard. So what? There were bodies everywhere.
After the cops were gone, he considered having one last drink before sleep. A nightcap. Surely he’d never needed one more than tonight. But he was just too tired and went to bed instead. He turned out the lights and lay there in the darkness for a time, waiting for sleep to come.
He thought of his friends. The best friends he’d ever had.
He wished them well and hoped he’d done the right thing for once.
E
PILOGUE
Six years later
. . .
Natasha slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses as she entered Clay’s Place. She was starting to get recognized on a semiregular basis and that wasn’t something she wanted to deal with right now. She just wanted to sit and chat with an old friend for a while without any distractions. Was that too much to ask?
The place wasn’t busy. Not surprising, considering it was the off season in Key West and it was midday on a Tuesday. Some kind of tropical island music was playing at a low volume on the sound system. Less than a dozen people were sitting at the little tables and only two people were sitting at the bar. One of the people at the bar was likely the man she’d come all the way from Hollywood to see. His back was to her and his head was bent down, his eyes trained on the pages of a magazine. He sipped from a half-empty mug of beer after turning a page in the magazine. When he reached for the beer, his head turned far enough that she was able to get a glimpse of his face. It was him, all right. He had a deep tan now and the baggy cargo shorts and loose floral-print shirt were items that never would have been in Mark Bell’s wardrobe years ago. Ditto the sandals. But the face remained as handsome as ever. And he was still lean and fit. She was mildly surprised he hadn’t gone soft from his years of baking in the sun and leading a life of leisure. But it was a pleasant surprise.
Two young guys were sitting at a table by a window. One of them, a shaggy-haired kid who looked like he’d maybe just turned twenty-one (that or he was drinking on a fake ID), was staring right at her.
Shit
.
She tried to keep her ego in check. Maybe he’d recognized her. But maybe he was just a horny young dude who couldn’t help staring at a hot babe in a tight little black dress. Either way, she hoped he’d stay where he was and not bother her.
Natasha approached the bar and slid onto a stool next to Mark. “Hey, stranger.”
Mark looked up from the magazine and did a double take. “Whoa. Holy shit.” He broke out in a grin and slid off his stool to give her a hug. “God, it’s good to see you again.”
She hugged him back, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. She was glad for the sunglasses. Her eyes were misting. It was good to see him again, too. Good to feel his arms around her. “Yeah.”
The embrace lingered a few moments. Eventually, Mark eased out of her arms and slid back onto his stool. He shook his head. He couldn’t stop grinning. “Wow. Just wow. Have to admit I’m floored. I thought you never wanted to see me again.”
She shrugged. “Yeah. Well. You know. Time passes and things change. I never stopped thinking about you. One day I just decided to track you down.”
A bartender came over and asked if she wanted a drink.
“Martini. No olive.”
The bartender prepared her drink and set it on a napkin.
Mark sipped some of his beer. “So . . . how did you find me?”
Another shrug. “Wasn’t that hard. Made some inquiries with people in Ransom. Nobody knew what had happened to you, but I learned that Clay opened this place down here a couple years ago and from there it was easy. Jared’s Facebook page gave his location as Key West. I put two and two together and came up with Mark Bell.”
Mark chuckled. “Yeah. Jared actually tends bar here.”
“What about you? What do you do these days?”
“Technically, I’m employed by Clayton. I help run this place. But, really, I don’t do much other than sit here and drink beer. Once in a while I’ll go bake on the beach.”
Natasha eyed him up and down. The tropical shirt hung open in the front over a Motörhead T-shirt. He had tattoos up and down his arms. So he wasn’t as completely changed as she’d feared. It was reassuring. “Huh. So where’s your beer belly?”
“Oh, I still pump the iron. And I took up running a while back.”
“Well, you look great.”
“Yeah, so do you. But you’re a movie star. Being beautiful’s part of the job description.”
Natasha laughed and took the sunglasses off, setting them on the bar. She tucked a lock of dyed-black hair behind an ear and smiled. “I’m not a movie star.”
“Oh, really? I could swear that was you I saw in
The Killing Kind
a couple months back. And I’m almost positive I saw your face in the trailer for Rob Zombie’s next flick. But maybe that wasn’t you. Maybe you’ve got a movie star doppelgänger.”
Natasha smiled again. “I’m
in
movies. But I’m not a movie
star
. Not yet anyway.”
Mark raised his glass. “It’s inevitable. Here’s to your eventual stardom.”
They clinked glasses.
“I read a little thing about you in
EW
, the article where they called you ‘America’s next favorite scream queen.’ It mentioned a kid.”
Natasha’s smile faded a little. “That’s right.”
“Who’s the father?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Is he here with you?”
“He’s in L.A. My aunt looks after him when I’m away.”
“What’s his name?”
Natasha sighed and put her drink down. “I really don’t want to talk about my boy. It’s none of your concern.”
Mark frowned. “Huh. It’s just that the article said he was five years old. And—”
Natasha’s expression turned hard. “I’m going to leave if you don’t drop this subject.”
The look on Mark’s face made it obvious he wasn’t happy about that, but he just as clearly didn’t want to see her go. His shoulders sagged a little and she knew he’d opted not to pursue the matter. For now. That was good enough.
She didn’t want to tell him about the creepy looks little Justin sometimes gave her when he thought she wasn’t looking. Looks that reminded her more than a little of the way Andras had once looked at her. It was ridiculous, of course. One of those boys had impregnated her that long-ago night in the basement. Regardless of what the demon had told her, it simply wasn’t physically possible that he’d caused that life to grow inside her. That was the voice of reason. Of rationality.
But the truth was, she was afraid.
She looked at Mark, studying him, taking his measure. His expression was somber but concerned. Maybe she
would
confide in him before heading back to Hollywood. Maybe he could help her figure out what to do. Or maybe not.
Right now she just wanted to enjoy the moment.
“So whatever happened with Kevin? Heard he came down here with you guys.”
Mark’s smile was wistful. “Oh, you know, shit happens. He met a chick soon after we got here and knocked her up. Less than six months later he and the chick took off back to Tennessee. I hear from him now and then.”
“E-mail?”
He laughed. “Nah. He calls me. I don’t do the Internet.”
“You’re not online at all?”
He shrugged. “I’ll surf around a little on Jared’s netbook now and then, but I don’t have a Facebook page or anything like that. Don’t even have an e-mail address.”
“Wow.”
“I know. What can I say? I’m still a fucking rebel.”
She smiled. “Good.”
“So how long are you staying?”
She shrugged. “A few weeks. I have a small gap between projects.”
“Oh yeah? Cool. Where’ll you be staying?”
“With you.”
Mark laughed again. “What if I’m shacked up with some other chick?”
“Are you?”