The Devil's Beating His Wife (27 page)

The coffee splashed over the man's shirt. He immediately began cursing as he started to dab at the wetness. Baxter moved to another man and knocked the hat from his head.

He roared with laughter as he rejoiced in our unexpected freedom. We were still bound to this place. But we were no longer bound to the house.

As Baxter wreaked havoc on the crew, I watched the bulldozer flatten the tiny farmhouse where we had been imprisoned. The big machine compressed large beams of rotten wood. Through the destruction, I could see the shadowy shape of Old Man Colsen. His facial features were indistinguishable, but I knew his eyes were locked on the machine. He must have sensed my gaze because he lifted his hand and gave me a silent salute.

I shuddered at his acknowledgment, but I nodded back at him. What I had learned about his past made me even more wary of his presence. He was a murderer. The real thing. Not the accidental kind like Baxter.

He had killed Ronnie, stating that he didn't like wife-beaters. I found that hard to believe. A man that had killed men and women of his crew, simply because they had messed with his money, didn't strike me as the type to feel moral outrage over a man hitting a woman.

"Isn't this great?" Baxter said from over my shoulder. I turned to glance at his face and saw the biggest grin. "We're free."

"You think so?" I asked him, wanting to crush his happiness.

Baxter nodded. "The house is gone. We're still here."

I shrugged a shoulder. Then I spun on my heel and walked away from him. I could hear him calling out my name, but I continued to walk. I walked past the wrecking machines. I walked past the laughing construction workers. I walked past the huge garbage dumpster where all of the furniture had been thrown. I kept walking until my body slammed against an invisible wall, knocking me to the ground.

I got back to my feet and screamed towards Heaven. I shook with rage as I struggled with the truth. My prison hadn't disappeared. It had simply gotten bigger.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

May 19, 2014, Laurens County

"Are you ready, Spicey?" Baxter swung his arm, causing our grasping hands to sway.

I wiggled my hand free from his. Arching an eyebrow at him, I wrapped my arm around his and prepared for the unknown. "It can't be all bad, Baxter. I refuse to believe it."

He snorted loudly. "Well, I guess I'm grateful that one of us is trying to see the positive."

"You're acting like it's the end of the world or something. It's not," I said sternly.

He looked down at me and frowned. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were looking forward to this."

I stared down the pristine hallway that led to the main entrance of the building. Light from the big bay windows shined down onto the white tiles. Brown and tan furniture decorated the expansive room, but it all felt a bit hollow. There was no sound. No movement as we stood waiting for those doors to open.

Behind us, we heard a door open and close. Footsteps clattered against the floor as a portly white man walked through our huddled bodies and made his way to the front doors. He pulled a ring of keys from his pants' pocket and inserted one into a keyhole. He looked through the glass doors, grinned, and turned the lock. He pulled the doors open and stood back, allowing people in.

"Good morning, everyone! Welcome to Colsen Manor," said the man. He waved his hands at the men and women standing by the doors. "Come in. Come in."

"Colsen Manor? They gotta be kidding me. Don't they know who Colsen is?" Baxter shook his head at the large man. He opened his mouth to say something more, but we heard the distinctive sound of a man clearing his voice. I guess that meant that Colsen was listening.

I leaned closer to Baxter and whispered, "They look a little young. Maybe they didn't know the history. I guess it might be something that people wouldn't talk about after a time."

"You think they know about us? Know about how I murdered you?" he said snidely. I smashed my foot down on top of his. He pulled his arm away and put a few feet between us. "Be nice, Spicey."

"You first, Baxter," I said, thumbing my nose at him.

As we stood facing each other, more and more people piled into the main lobby of the retirement home. Men and women dressed in blue uniforms walked around us as they surveyed their new workplace. If not for his height and shiny gold hair, I would have lost Baxter in the crowd.

I listened as they introduced themselves to each other. There were young girls who looked barely out of their teens. Older men, probably in their late twenties, were eyeballing the chattering young ladies. The portly man walked into the center of the group and clapped his hands.

"Can I have your attention, please?" He waited until the other voices died down. "Hello, everybody. My name is Mark Thomas, and I'm the Director of Colsen Manor." Mark turned his head as he searched the crowd. Then he pointed across the room at a middle-aged Asian woman. "That's Jane Miller. She's the Director of Nursing." The portly man looked around again. "Horton? Where are you?" A biracial man stepped forward and waved. Mark pointed at him and said, "And this is Horton Freeman. He's the Director of Human Resources. We're the senior staff, and we'll be your trainers for the next few days."

Mark separated from the group and walked towards an office. "Those of you who will be part of the administrative staff, please follow me. Those who will be part of the nursing staff, please follow Jane. All others, go with Horton."

Baxter and I watched as the employees parted ways to follow the head staff. Just as quickly as the room had filled, it grew quiet. Baxter walked over to the check-in desk and leaned against the counter.

"Still feeling positive about this?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Why not?" I asked him.

He glanced around the sanitized room. "This place gives me the creeps."

"It's quite different than the old farmhouse, I give you that. But I kind of like the layout. There's a whole lot more room to explore," I said.

"Yeah, but a lot more room means a lot more people."

"I thought you liked people."

"I do."

I walked over to one of the tan couches and took a seat on the back of it. "Then what's got your gander?"

Baxter pushed away from the counter and walked over to me. He surveyed the couch before taking a seat in its center. He propped his long legs onto a marble-topped table. "Soon this place is going to be overrun with a bunch of old people. Do you know what that means? Death. There's gonna be a whole lot of death. What if they get stuck here just like us? There might be a whole lot of dead people walking around these pretty halls. It's gonna get crowded soon enough."

I looked down at Baxter's worried face. I didn't share the same concern because I knew deep down that only he, me, and Colsen were stuck to this place. "I think you're worrying over nothing."

"I think you aren't worried enough," he countered, placing his elbows onto his knees.

"There ain't going to be nobody else, Baxter. That old mirror's gone. No one else is gonna get stuck here."

Baxter peered at me and then glanced away to look through a window. He nodded slowly as the truth settled in. "You're right. It is gone."

"Broken and discarded," I confirmed.

"You think that's why we're here?" he asked.

I could only shrug in response.

Baxter pushed off of the couch and came to stand before me. "Let's say you're right."

"Okay. I'm right."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you ready to be around this many people all at once? I mean, it's not going to be a small family crammed into a small house. We're talking at least two dozen residents based on the number of beds." He pointed towards one of the long corridors that led to the bedroom suites. "That's more people who could actually see us."

"And that worries you?"

"Possibly, especially if they bring in any preachers or rabbis. You remember the last time one came to bless this place? Well, not this place, but the old farmhouse. That wasn't a good experience for you," he said, bringing his right hand up to rub his chin. He looked worried as he continued that line of thought. "A lot of people are bound to die here. There's probably going to be a steady stream of religious men."

Baxter's lips disappeared into a thin line. His brow furrowed as he stared at the office where some new employees were being trained. "This whole setup gives me a bad feeling."

I leaned towards him and placed my hand on his cheek. He moved his face so his lips brushed across my palm. I knew my touch was reassuring to him. "I'm not planning on going anywhere."

His blue eyes grew vibrant. Pure joy blossomed on his features. "So we finally can agree on the truth. You want to stick around because of me."

I withdrew my hand as if he had scorched me. His mouth hung open at my reaction. "That's not at all what I am saying." I bounced from the back of the couch and walked over to the front desk. I turned, leapt onto the high counter, and began to swing my legs. Baxter turned in his seat on the couch and placed his arm across its back.

"One day," he said, "I'm confident you'll finally admit the truth."

I grabbed a pen from the counter and began to twirl it in my fingers. "When Hell freezes over. Or better yet, when you reach the pearly gates, my dear Baxter."

Baxter clutched at his heart and fell back onto the couch cushions. "Your dear Baxter." His voice was muffled.

I looked down at the pen in my hand and pondered throwing it across the room. I decided on unscrewing it just because I could. Vaguely, I was aware that a door opened and someone walked into the lobby. The intruder so surprised me that I hopped down from the counter, causing papers to flutter to the ground.

The intruder, a pretty girl with curly red hair and dark brown eyes, watched as the papers seesawed in the air. Her eyes widened, but there was no fear on her face. She glanced back at the door she had come through and then she glanced towards the main doors of the building. Her eyes were dark with confusion as she bent down to pick up the papers.

Baxter and I stood to the side and watched as she placed them on the counter and began re-organizing. While her attention was focused on dividing papers into piles, more footsteps pounded across the marble floor. She lifted her head and looked in the direction of the sound.

Baxter turned to face the new intruder, but there was no one there. Nobody stood in the hall except me, Baxter, and the girl, but there was the very distinct sound of booted feet striking the floor. The girl whipped around, trying to find the source of the clunking noise.

Her face whitened when the noise grew louder and sounded as if it was just inches away from her. She pressed her back against the counter and stared wide-eyed into the empty room. Baxter walked briskly towards the girl and stood before her. He lifted his hand and barked, "Stop".

The footsteps stopped. Dark laughter echoed throughout the room and grew louder with each second. The girl curled into herself as she listened to the maddening sound.

Then it was like the energy was being sucked out of the room. The lights began to flicker. A radio turned on and began flipping through stations. Wind gusted down the hallway and funneled throughout the lobby. The girl pushed the papers aside, ran down the hall, and returned to the office.

As the door closed, a hoarse voice filled the room. "I ain't had this much fun in a long time. You two should take notes. You might learn a thing or two."

My mouth fell open as I watched another form take shape before me. At first it was like little specks of dust blending together to create a black boot. Then it evolved into a dust storm, with swirls of specks forming into a short thin body.

When the face finally formed, I stared into the blackened holes of Old Man Colsen's eyes. "You miss me, girl?" he asked, grinning. "I sure missed you." He turned his stare towards Baxter and pointed a long grizzly finger at him. "And you, boy, best mind your own business." The strength in those words rocked me with cold shivers.

Colsen's threat didn't seem to faze Baxter, though. He cocked his head to the side and said, "You old fool. Don't you know better than to go around scaring folks for no reason? What did that girl do to you?" Baxter's eyes flickered in my direction before returning to stare down the other man.

The old man's mouth puckered as he thought about it. "I never did like red hair on a girl. Matter of fact, my older sister had red hair and, damn, she was a mean one. She used to hold me down and pluck the hairs from my arm. I got her good once. I waited until she climbed up a ladder, then I rocked the bottom until she fell to the floor. On her way down, she hit her head on some wood. She weren't the same after that. No, sir. She never plucked the hairs off of me again."

Baxter's eyes widened as he looked over the little man. Colsen wiggled his eyebrows and grinned with delight.

"You're a mean sonuvabitch, Colsen," Baxter said.

Colsen waved his hand in the air and brushed past Baxter. "I am that plus many things, my dear boy."

I stood aside, watching Colsen peek into the room where the red-headed girl had fled. He tapped the window pane, knowing he was going to distract the occupants in that room. When he got his intended result, he slapped his hand against his chest. "This is gonna be too easy, I tell ya."

"What is?" I asked him, curious to know his intentions.

Colsen turned his blackened eyes towards me. "I've got a few plans up my sleeve, but I ain't tellin' you none. I guess you two will just have to wait and see." He grinned, revealing sharpened yellow teeth. He pulled a cap from his back pocket and placed it on his head. He nodded in our direction and whistled as he walked away.