Fook (23 page)

Sarah

1342 Belmont St.

He’d been looking up Sarah’s college address
when Jason had shown up in the lab. Apparently Jason had finished
the search for him and jotted the desired information onto the tiny
scrap, but why? It was obvious that he’d snapped. He was the last
person Derek would’ve ever expected to suffer from…whatever it was
he was suffering from. Or, maybe this was the real Jason and for
all those years he’d managed to keep up the Oscar worthy
performance.

If the situation hadn’t been so serious, he
might have laughed at such a thought or at least cracked a smile.
Jason was a normal guy or at least he used to be. This wasn’t him.
This was the result of years of torment, capped off by the
perceived betrayal of his best and only friend. He’d come back for
him. Once he calmed down he’d realize what he’d done and be back.
But what about the blood? What was he talking about in the lab? Was
what he said really possible? It had to be. His current predicament
proved it. But how? And what about…oh God…Bethany. The memory of
the butchered girl grabbed hold of his stomach and with a violent
twist, finished the job that the waves had struggled to
accomplish.

Struggling for command of his left arm,
Derek wiped at his mouth before sliding his hand toward the paper,
knocking it from the pocket and onto the ground. Jason hadn’t
written down the address to be nice, Derek realized. Reading the
now visible, last line, his heart sank.

See you there

*****

“Daddy, Daddy! I did it!” Abby announced as she
appeared in the doorway.

“What did you do?” Dustin questioned as he
compared the register’s contents against the report printed out on
the receipt paper.

“Well, first I turned off the T.V. and then
I put away my chair and then I threw away my trash...”

She was going to give him an exact play by
play account of the last five minutes, Dustin thought as he signed
the bottom of the receipt and slipped it under the rubber band that
held the recently counted money together.

“...and then I picked up my crayons because
I dropped them on the floor and they rolled everywhere. That took a
while because I had to put them all back in the box but I was
missing one so I had to look for it...”

“Ah huh,” Dustin acknowledged that he was
still listening as he bent down to punch the code into the safe
just below the register. The door released with a click.

“That’s a lot of money,” Abby paused in her
story when she saw the three large stacks of cash sitting on the
top shelf of the safe.

“That’s why it’s kept in the safe,” Dustin
acknowledged the unusually large amount of money currently residing
within the large steel box. Typically the owner never let money
stack up for more than a day or two before making a run to the
bank. Judging from the pile, today’s take brought the total number
of days to four.

“Is it yours?” Abby questioned.

“No sweetie. I wish it was but it belongs to
the store.”

“What is the store going to do with it? It’s
just a building. It doesn’t need money.”

Laughing, “Not the store itself, the owner
of the store,” Dustin clarified.

“Oh. Who’s that?”

“Mr. Levrett,” Dustin locked the safe and
turned to face his daughter. “You remember Mr. Levrett from this
morning.”

“Oh. I like him. He’s funny looking.”

“Yes, I guess he sort of is, but let's just
keep that to ourselves. Daddy needs to keep his job so he can
continue to buy you food and clothes and those pesky crayons,”
Dustin poked at his daughter’s stomach, attempting to draw a laugh
but failing as the mention of the crayons returned her memory to
her story.

“You know where I found the missing
crayon?”

“Where?”

“Under the crayon box. I looked everywhere
but it was under the box the whole time. Can you believe that?” the
precocious girl questioned with her hands on her hips.

“No I can’t,” Dustin mimicked his daughter’s
seriousness, drawing the laugh he’d been seeking.

“Don’t make fun of me, Daddy,” Abby
giggled.

“Then don’t be so silly,” Dustin laughed as
he hoisted his daughter into the air, drawing even more
laughter.

Suddenly a loud bang rattled the glass door
to the store, putting an abrupt end to the jovial moment.

Putting his daughter back down behind the
counter, Dustin quickly grabbed the gun from on top of the safe.
“Stay right here,” he instructed his daughter as he cautiously
peered over the countertop in the direction of the front door. The
bottom half of the door was covered by a large Budweiser
advertisement while the top half remained almost completely clear
except for the security sticker and store hours posted to one side.
From his vantage point he couldn’t see anyone at the door.

Cautiously, he made his way around the
counter, once again gesturing for Abby to remain where she was.

Abby acknowledged her father’s command with
a worried nod as she began pulling nervously at Mr. Pickles, the
tattered stuffed bunny she’d had since she was a baby.

Holding the gun out in front of him, Dustin
could feel his heart pounding at his ribs, the impact seeming to
rattle his entire body as he struggled to hold the gun steady.
Approaching the door, he still couldn’t see anyone on the other
side. The parking lot directly beyond the door was empty as well.
His car was parked out back. All he could think, as he took each
step closer, was that someone was suddenly going to smash the glass
with a hammer or a bat or even worse, a gun and let themselves in
to do who knows what to him and his daughter in order to get to the
abnormally large amount of cash currently stashed in the safe.

Determined to protect his daughter, he
pulled back the gun’s hammer, ready for whoever might appear as he
took one last step to bring himself within arm’s reach of the door.
The glass remained intact and glancing side to side he couldn’t see
anyone in the area.

“What is it Daddy?,” Abby nervously
asked.

Turning to his daughter, he saw Abby now
standing in the open, beyond the protection of the counter.

“Get back behind the counter,” he lightly
scolded as he waived her back.

Satisfied that his daughter was once again
out of sight, his mind returned to the door, though this time his
love of horror films joined in lending worry to his thoughts as he
expected the previously clear door to now be filled with the large
ominous figure of a man, or a creature or whatever the hell had
made the loud noise. Tightening his grip on the gun, he reluctantly
returned his gaze to the door, relieved to see the still empty pane
of glass and deserted world beyond.

Still unsure what could have caused the
noise, he began searching his mind for possible, logical
explanations as the thought of a bird came to mind. It could have
flown into the window, he thought as he stepped even closer to the
door, intending to look down at the sidewalk outside. As he leaned
toward the glass, the shadowy outline of a man lying on the
sidewalk came into view.

“Daddy?” Abby called from behind the
counter, worried that she could no longer see her father.

“I’m okay sweetie,” Dustin assured the
scared girl as he continued to look out at the mysterious man. He
didn’t look big or all that intimidating, he thought. In fact, he
looked hurt.

Only half of the lights outside were
currently working, reminding him of the forgotten task he’d
promised Mr. Levrett he’d take care of earlier in the day but as
the man shifted on the ground, a nearby light illuminated his
familiar face. “What the hell?” Dustin gasped as he unlocked and
opened the door to reveal the obnoxious young man from earlier in
the day. “Are you alright?”

Struggling to see through the severe
swelling on the left side of his face, Derek stared up at the
familiar clerk. “Help.”

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Dustin started to
stand.

“No,” Derek stopped him, reaching up and
grabbing his arm, either unaware of the gun in the clerk’s hand or
just not caring. “Here.” With his other hand, he reached into his
pocket and pulled out the scrap paper with Sarah’s address and held
it up for Dustin to see.

“What’s this?” Dustin asked, plucking the
paper from Derek’s hand.

“Need a ride,” Derek instructed.

“You need a doctor,” Dustin suggested,
trying to get to his feet again, though failing once more as the
man’s surprisingly strong grip held him fast. “I’ll call you a cab
then.”

“No time.”

Confused, Dustin looked at the paper again,
noting the girl’s name at the top and the ‘
See you there
’
written at the bottom. “Listen, I’m sure she’ll understand if
you’re late.”

“No,” Derek insisted with his voice while
pleading with his un-swollen eye.

“Well, I’m not going to drive you. I’ve got
my daughter and that’s all the way in the city,” he explained,
immediately wishing that he’d left his daughter out of it.

“My wallet,” Derek fumbled to reach his back
pocket on which he was laying. Managing to wiggle it free he held
it up to the confused store keeper. “Cash is yours.”

Dustin just stared at the wallet for a
moment, confused by the man’s persistence before finally taking it
from his hand and peering inside. Three fifty dollar bills followed
by a hundred and a couple of twenties greeted him as he peeled open
the leather pouch. Looking up from the wallet full of cash he was
greeted by a subtle nod from the injured man. Contemplating the
offer, he looked back at the wallet and then toward his daughter
who’d stepped out from behind the counter once again and stood
watching her father while continuing to pull at poor Mr. Pickles
worn stitching. Abby’s mother would be off her shift at the
hospital soon and he knew he had to get her home but this was easy
money. Looking back at the wallet and then at the man, Dustin
decided. “1342 Belmont street is it?”

Derek nodded.

“Let me bring my car around,” he spoke as
Derek released his grip and Dustin got to his feet, making his way
to the back of the store as he emptied the contents of the wallet,
plastic and all, into his pocket.

*****

Ding dong.

Startled awake by the unexpected, late night
bell, Sarah sat up in bed as the fog of sleep faded away and her
alarm clock lit room slowly came into focus.

12:08
, the clock read.

Ding dong, the bell repeated.

“Who the hell?” Sarah questioned, confused
as she tossed back the covers and made her way to the bedroom
door.

Apparently her roommate Reyna had had the
same confused response to the late night bell as they both opened
their bedroom doors simultaneously, issuing each other the same
confused stares.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Sarah
questioned.

“No. Are you?” Reyna issued her own
inquiry.

“No,” Sarah answered as she opened her door
all the way and stepped out into the hall.

“You’re not going to answer it, are you?”
Reyna questioned. “You don’t know who that is and I sure as hell
don’t know who it is. How do you know it ain’t no rapist or creepy
homeless guy wanting to saw off your feet and use them for bookends
or something?”

“Yes, it’s a well read, homeless scholar
with a homicidal need to keep his books neatly arranged on his
cardboard bookshelves,” Sarah smiled.

“You just go ahead and laugh. We’ll see
who’s laughing when you lose those pretty little feet of yours. I’m
getting my pepper spray,” she declared before disappearing back
into her room.

Ding dong.

Reyna did have a point, Sarah thought as she
made her way along the short hall, exiting into the main area of
the modest, two bedroom apartment with the kitchen and small eating
area on her right, living room on her left and the beckoning door
straight ahead. The only reason the two of them could afford a
decent place and still pay tuition was the somewhat questionable
neighborhood in which they resided.

Approaching the door, Sarah leaned toward
the peephole just as a noise startled her, causing her to turn and
find Reyna standing at the end of the hall, pepper spray in one
hand and butcher knife in the other.

“Where’d you get the knife?” she
questioned.

“I keep it in my underwear drawer,” Reyna
responded as if that answer sounded completely normal.

Glancing over at the butcher block on the
kitchen counter, Sarah noticed that the butcher knife was missing.
“Is that?” she started to question as she looked at the knife and
then back at the kitchen. “You keep that with your underwear?
Gross.”

“My drawers are clean. Answer the damn
door.”

Turning back to the door, Sarah leaned
toward the peephole through which the guy from the restaurant
earlier that day came into view, holding a white coat and swaying
back and forth. “It’s that guy I told you about,” she
whispered.

“The one with the coat?” Reyna spoke back,
disregarding the need to keep her voice down.

“I think he’s drunk.”

“Well you tell his drunk ass that he’s too
late. You missed your class and aren’t interested. Some of us have
class in the morning and need our beauty sleep. I gotta get some
rest too.”

Acknowledging her roommate’s typical, smart
ass remark with a look of false offense, she returned her eye to
the door as the man reached for the doorbell once again and in
doing so, was illuminated by the light in the hall.

Ding dong.

“Jesus,” Sarah exclaimed as she caught a
glimpse of the man’s cut and swollen face.

“What!?” Reyna jumped, lifting the pepper
spray and knife into the air in front of her, ready to attack as
Sarah began disengaging the locks. “I know you ain’t letting him
in.”