Evil Origins: A Horror & Dark Fantasy Collection (36 page)

Molly stood and
pushed her chair away from the table. Her arms clicked into waitress mode as
she cleared the dirty dishes and took them into the kitchen. Drew exhaled and
looked out the window over the snow-covered backyard. The swing in the tree
bobbed back and forth at the whim of the wind. He stood and walked into the
kitchen, coming up behind Molly at the sink. Drew wrapped his arms around her
waist and nuzzled his chin in her hair. The scent of jasmine and woman aroused
him.

“Please don’t. The
kids are—”

“I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean to blow up like that. After all the grief that woman caused me, I
just thought you’d be happy.”

Molly turned to
face Drew. She focused on his chin rather than his eyes. “Of course I’m glad
she’s out of your office. I didn’t mean to sound unsupportive.”

“Let’s just
forget about her. If she was okay to write the letter, I’m sure she’s getting
the help she needed.”

Drew released
Molly and put the dishes into the dishwasher. He dug the cold, wet food from
the sink drain and wiped the counter, the meal tasks he knew Molly despised. She
smiled and raised her eyes to the ceiling, to their bedroom directly above the
kitchen.

“Kids! Time to
get ready for bed,” Drew yelled with a spreading grin on his face.

Chapter 5

“Thank you
and welcome to Channel 7 News. I’m your anchor, Melanie Sampson, and this is
our top story. Authorities have discovered the mutilated body of a woman in the
Crooked Tail River. Officers on the scene are not releasing details as a full
investigation is underway. However, we have Nan Roles on the scene. Nan, what
can you tell us?”

“Well,
Melanie, what we do know is that a woman’s badly mutilated body has been
discovered by two hunters who were camping along the Crooked Tail River. They
first noticed a bra stuck on a branch, and when they got closer, they saw the
body.”

“Yeah, we
was camping there over that ridge. The whitetail trails run right through it. Anyway,
we was gettin’ ready to head out for the day when Earl saw somethin’ stuck on
the tree. At first he thought it was one a dem plastic shopping bags, but then we’d
figured out it was a lady’s undergarments. Kinda strange all the way out here,
so we stomped through the snow to take a closer look. When we get a few feet
away, I seen her ankle and knew it was trouble. That’s when Earl took out his
cell and called the sheriff.”

“Thank you, sir.
So, Melanie, the authorities are tight-lipped right now, as you would expect. They
have not released any information on the victim pending an identification. One
officer on the scene told me that the woman is middle aged, naked, and in
‘pretty bad shape.’ We’ll be on the scene as more information becomes
available.”

“Thanks,
Nan. Have they declared a cause of death? Could this have been an accident?”

“Doubtful,
Melanie. The victim appears to have defensive wounds. As of now, the police are
treating this as a crime scene, no doubt awaiting word from the coroner as to
whether or not to declare it a homicide.”

“Thanks,
Nan. We will certainly keep tabs on this developing story and bring you updates
as we get them. Earlier today, several city officials broke ground on the new
community center, slated to open this coming . . . .”

***

Drew stared at
the ceiling, listening to Molly’s faint noises, the soft moans she made after
an orgasm. He put his hands behind his head while sliding them underneath the
pillow into the cool sheets.

He was tired
from the day, exhausted from the sex, but somehow anticipating the arrival of
the conversation. Drew threw the blankets to the side and swung his legs off
the edge of the bed as if greeting the day. He strutted through the dark
bedroom and down the stairs, carefully avoiding race cars and building blocks
left by the kids. The couch beckoned under the glow of the laptop screen, which
cast a bluish haze across the room. He put his legs up on the couch and waited.
It did not take long before he was rewarded with what he came for.

“Better?”

Drew shook his
head, knocking locks of hair from his eyes. He pushed them away and smelled
Molly on his hands. “She can be so ungrateful sometimes.”

“As was Eve in
the Garden,” said the voice. Although Drew had become accustomed to the
gravely, wavering sound, he had to strain to understand each word. It took
great effort, which often left him too tired to return to bed and scrambling
for an excuse to tell Molly as to why he hadn’t.

“I saw the
news.” Drew waited, but the voice did not reply to the statement.

“What did you
see?” it finally asked.

“The woman
found in the river.” Again, no reply. Drew felt the lull of sleep and fought to
continue the conversation. “It was you, wasn’t it?” he asked.

“It was us,”
came the reply.

Drew felt the
air leave his lungs and ran a hand across his face, feeling the burn of the
blood under his skin. “I’m not capable of that. I’m no murderer.”

“We have all
been killed,” came the reply. “We have all been killers.”

“Will you tell
me who you are?” Drew asked.

“I will tell
you a story. Close your eyes.”

Drew did as
instructed and his body dropped into a deep, still sleep.

Chapter 6

Drew
winced. The voice came from everywhere as it narrated the dream sequence. He
recognized the fact that he was asleep, and yet was powerless to wake from it.

“Landed at
night. The cicadas drowned the noise of our boots. Tanks settled into positions,
but it was the grunts—the foot soldiers like me—who would take the brunt of the
invasion. Before Truman ordered the H-bomb, most generals believed we needed to
take each island, one at a time. No matter what the history books say, that was
never gonna happen. They wanted the gooks fried, and it didn’t make any
difference how much American blood was spilled to do it.

“I reached
for a smoke off my helmet, ducked low in the trench to light it so I wouldn’t
be the target of a sniper. You wouldn’t think that tiny pinpoint of light would
make a difference, but those fucking jungles got dark as hell. The flash of a
lighter might cost ya yer life. The worst part of war is the waitin’. Had
orders to sit in the trenches until daylight. Once the sun came up we’d be
marched through the jungle to take out the one or two Jap outposts that still
had ammunition. Believe me when I say that the Vietnam vets were not the first
to deal with the jungle rot.

“At daybreak
we marched inland. If ya turned around to face the beach, you’d thought a hula
girl would come running out with a coconut drink in her hand. I was never able
to relax on any beach after serving in the Pacific. That shit ruined it for the
rest of my life. Couldn’t enjoy the sound of the surf, the salty breeze, or the
bronze skin of fine skirts. I remember staring at the ammo strap of the grunt
in front of me. Jessup was his name, some hick from Alabama. He had the
broadest shoulders I had ever seen, and I thought if I stayed tucked behind ’em,
I’d be fine.

“I wanted
nothing more than to git home to my girl. She’d been waiting for me for three
years. Ain’t like it is today, when the whores be spreading their legs for any
cock that comes along. In those days, loyalty meant something. She told me
she’d be true and I never questioned it.”

Drew squinted
from the burning glare of the dream sun reflecting off of the wide greenery of the
Asian jungle. He heard the military cadence of the march, and the fatigue of
the terrain made his muscles ache.

“We marched
for hours. Not like the dusty trails in basic training. No, not at all. We
marched through fucking jungle. The machetes of the men in the front dulled
after three or four minutes, which meant others rotated up while the first
group sharpened the blades. We was lucky if that’s all we had to deal with. You
see, they had these serpents that lived in the trees on the island. The snakes
would drop down and sink fangs into your neck and you’d be paralyzed before you
hit the ground. The venom would shut ya down, one organ at a time, so you could
smell your own decay. I never had to worry ‘bout that. I threw my machete in
the ocean ‘fore we got on ground. I’d rather die than chop weeds. I came to
kill gooks, not plants.

“I saw the
ridge as we got closer. Caves jutted from the hillside, and openings stared
black like missing teeth. We knew the snipers were in there. Nobody had to say
it. By this time, ya got so tired, thirsty, and hot you was ready to kill some
gooks. That aggression had to go somewhere. Somebody had to pay.

“Jessup
stopped and checked his rifle. He made sure the thing was loaded. I did the
same, grabbing the base of the bayonet and making sure it wasn’t loose. I lost
a bayonet in the gut of a gook one time. Had to fish it out with my bare hands.
Those Jap fuckers smell worse on the inside than they do on the outside. The
sergeant motioned for the men to fan out, go shoulder to shoulder up the ridge
rather than single file. I kept Jessup close in case I saw a grenade coming out
of them caves. Figure I could dive behind that big motherfucker and save my own
ass.

“The sun
abused us. It glared down, boring through my eyes like forged flame. The
moisture of the jungle would rot yer toes like rancid meat. It was hard to
believe the gooks thought these islands would be worth their lives, but they
did. They fought every last one of us, down to the slashing of their throats,
if that’s what it took.

“I put my
sight on the nearest cave opening and started towards the ridge. Our company
didn’t get but three clicks in ‘fore the first mortar rounds went off. I saw
the explosions before I heard ‘em. Ducked low, like they train us to do. Company
behind us got hit with it. Seen body parts rainin’ down like fireworks on the
fourth of July. Heard men crying for their mamas, their wives, and their god. I
had to laugh at that. Their god was gonna help them as much as their woman
could, by which I mean not at all.

“The
explosions broke our company and we scattered like dung beetles under the boot.
I think I shot two or three Jap fucks before the jungle got so dense that we
went hand-to-hand. I knew I had to keep moving up, take the ridge, and I was
willing to step on as many corpses as I needed to get there. Always sayin’ that
war makes brothers out of men, but I ain’t had no brothers on that day. It was
my life and I was going to save it no matter what. Guess that’s why I ain’t
never earned no medal like some of dem other boys. Of course, once they got
home those medals didn’t mean shit. They didn’t mean shit in the war neither. Other
than the moment the brass pinned it to your chest, they was basically useless.

“The blood
vessels in a man’s face burst before his heart gives out. You can watch it
happen when you’re strangling the life out of some poor sonovabitch. The gooks
always murmured something, praying to their heathen god or maybe asking for
their mama in their own Jap tongue. Never got in the way of finishing the job. The
first two men that came out of the jungle met their maker at my hand. Blood
would dull the bayonet and so I wanted to save that for when the shit got real
heavy. I could usually take ‘em down with a stiff jab to the nose. Once they
fell, I’d drive my knee into the throat while my hands wrapped around their
neck. War is about killing efficiently, not wasting energy on unnecessary pain
or mercy. Fuck that. I killed as quickly as I could.

“My second
kill on that day had the Rising Sun tied around his belt. The red and white
silk held a few stains and minor tears but was otherwise in great shape. After
smashing his face with a rock, he only twitched for a moment or two. I ripped
the flag from him and put it in my pocket. Thought for sure my grandkids would
use it as they played soldier in the backyard.

“I ran
further up the ridge as I found the same path the gooks must have come down. I
didn’t realize how risky that was at the time, giving them snipers a clean bead
on me, but I didn’t much care. If I took one in the chest I’d wink out like
falling asleep after a night of drinkin’. I reached the first cave, rolled a
grenade inside, and ducked behind a tree. The explosion and the smoke that
followed brought out one more gook. I stabbed him in the face, not so concerned
about saving my bayonet anymore. I turned and saw the jungle scampering out to
the beach, where it was consumed by the ocean. Our battleships sat there,
officers smoking cigars and eating real meals while we gave our flesh. It made
me sick enough to stumble and collapse at the foot of the cave. Whether it was from
exhaustion, heatstroke, or divine intervention, my body passed out and my life wasn’t
ever gonna be the same.”

***

The jazz oozed
from the speakers mounted high above the tiled floor. Minor scales danced from
the strings of the guitar and bounced across tables littered with scones,
half-full mugs of chai, and the erotic aroma of fresh Sumatra. Ravna tilted the
ceramic mug to his lip, allowing the mere touch of the beverage to excite his
palate. He sniffed the vapor trail floating over the espresso and closed his
eyes. The other patrons of the coffee shop pounded their laptops or bobbed their
heads to an MP3 player.

Ravna
flipped his notebook open, knocking napkins and straw wrappers to the floor. Pages
marred with various food stains and scribbled notes flew past his eyes until
they rested on a section bursting with newspaper clippings. He used the eraser
tip of his pencil like a scalpel, turning pages until he reached the clippings
toward the back, the ones not yet yellowed by time. The last one in the group bore
the date of the day before. The newsprint retained its crisp feel and focused font.