Fook (33 page)

“Just buy the damn thing!” She’d usually
shout, followed by an apology and the hormone excuse as well.

Feeling justified in his purchase at that
point, he’d run to the store and once again, the household could
live in peace.

“I don’t know how much better they can get,”
Phil continued his admiration for his new toy. “When I was your
age, the only TV we had was a thirteen inch black and white set
with two big knobs and three channels.”

“That’s horrible,” Katie gasped. “What did
you watch?”

“The only thing I really remember was the
news and Mr. Ed.”

“Did he read the news before Tom
Brokaw?”

Phil again stared at his daughter.

“What?” Katie questioned her father’s
confused look.

“You don’t know who the Red Sox are but you
know the lead anchor for NBC’s Nightly News?”

“I know who the Red Sox are,” Katie smiled.
“We don’t even live in Chicago and I know who they are.”

Phil couldn’t tell if she was joking or
being completely serious, managing to conceal her emotions behind a
blank face as she continued to watch the game.

THIRTY-FIVE

“Pull in there,” Derek pointed to the dimly lit
entrance, manned by a glowing sign which read,
Cranston Liquors
- Lowest Priced Spirits in Town
.

“Do you really think this is a time to be
drinking?” Sarah questioned as she pulled into the tiny, abandoned
parking lot.

“We’re going to need some sort of proof if
we hope to convince Mrs. Tillmore that she’s in danger.”

“I’m not even sure I’m convinced yet,” Sarah
smiled as she pulled the car up to the front door. “Besides, what
sort of proof do you expect to find in a liquor store, except 100
proof,” Sarah couldn’t help but chuckle at her own joke.

Though he found her inappropriately silly
humor cute, he had only one thing in mind, get his ID back from the
dickhead clerk and get to Mrs. Tillmore before Jason could.

“Seriously though...,” Sarah’s humorous tone
subsiding, “...what are we doing here?”

“This is the guy that emptied my wallet last
night,” Derek responded, peering through the windshield at the dark
store windows in front of them.

“The guy that was nice enough to drive you
all the way into the city and leave you on my doorstep was the same
guy you think robbed you?” Sarah asked confused.

“I guess nothing’s free, is it?"

“What makes you think he still has your ID
anyway? He probably just took your money and ditched everything
else.”

“Probably, but I have to at least check.
What other proof do we have?”

“There you go with
we
again.”

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” Derek
instructed.

Making his way to the door, he attempted to
see inside, to confirm whether or not the same asshole was working,
but between the tinted windows and dozens of advertisements
plastered all over the glass, it was nearly impossible. Grabbing
hold of the door, he pulled toward him, only to be denied by the
rattle of the lock as it pushed against the door’s metal frame.
“What the hell?” he looked behind him at the glowing sign and then
at the hours posted on the door.

Mon. - Friday, 9:00 - 11:00

“Looks like they’re closed.”

Turning, Derek saw that Sarah had gotten out
of the car and was now standing behind her open door.

“I told you to stay in the car,” Derek
barked.

“I’m not a dog,” Sarah protested as she
closed the car door and joined him at the entrance.

Realizing that an argument with the
independent and stubborn girl was pointless, “They’re not closed.
It’s Wednesday. We have at least another twenty minutes,” he
pointed at the sign before wandering away from the door.

“Maybe they were dead and closed up
early.”

Derek didn’t respond as he made his way
along the side of the building and around the corner, out of
view.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Sarah shouted
as she followed.

Turning the corner, she saw Derek, walking
along the side of the brick building and eventually disappearing,
once again, around back. Jogging to catch up, Sarah rounded the
corner to find Derek standing in front of a solid metal door.

“What are you doing?” she questioned as
Derek looked the door up and down.

“I’m trying to figure out if the door has an
alarm on it.”

In her typically impulsive manor, she
reached past him, grabbed the handle and pulled. To both of their
surprise, the door swung freely open and to Derek’s relief, no
alarm sounded.

“You said we were in a hurry,” Sarah
shrugged before proceeding into the building.

Impressed by her dominance over the
situation and apparent lack of fear, he quickly followed.

The back door led into a back storage room
with a small desk in the corner, on which sat a small TV monitor
and VCR, likely connected to the store’s security cameras. The
desk’s chair lay upside down on a pile of boxes beside the desk,
two of its wheels resting on the box beside it as a cheap plastic,
elementary school type chair stood in its place in front of the
desk.

“Hello!” Sarah called out suddenly.

“Jesus,” Derek shouted in a hushed tone,
almost reaching for her mouth to keep her quiet.

“What?”

“Do you want to get us shot?”

“I’d rather let someone know we’re here than
get my head blown off poking it though that doorway,” she motioned
at the door leading into the store. “Besides, I don’t think
anyone’s here.”

“And what makes you think that?” Derek
asked, curious. “All of the lights are still on and the back door
was open.”

“Woman’s intuition.”

“Really?”

Sarah smiled.

Derek just shot her a look before slowly
approaching the doorway. “Hello!” Noticing the look on Sarah’s
face, “What?” he whispered. “Male intuition.”

“Doesn’t exist.”

“Hello!” Derek continued. The front door was
locked! We were wondering if you could help us!”

“I told you, I don’t think anyone’s here,”
Sarah insisted from close behind him.

Having received no response, he decided to
test her theory and slowly peeked around the doorjamb, hoping that
the bullet would travel wide and lodge itself in the wall instead
of his head. As the store came into view though, no gunfire arose
and Derek realized that Sarah too, eager for a look, was leaning
around him to get her own view of the empty space.

“See, told you,” she smiled as they both
stepped through the doorway.

Scanning the store as he walked, Derek made
his way toward the front counter.

“What kind of idiot leaves on all the lights
and leaves a door unlocked? It’s like he’s asking to be robbed.
Maybe he left my stuff back here,” Derek motioned behind the
counter as Sarah wandered further into the store.

Rounding the counter, the gun, which Derek
had feared existed, was laying on top of the safe, directly below
the open, register drawer.

Looking around again, he suddenly had a very
bad feeling about their situation as he made his way toward the
open register. Surprisingly, all of the cash was still inside the
till, only the coins were missing. “What sort of thief would steal
only the coins?” he thought, staring at the register as the answer
came to mind…”the interrupted kind.”

“Eeek!” a scream suddenly filled the
store.

Startled by the sudden cry, Derek leapt over
the counter and ran toward the scream. At the end of an aisle,
toward the back of the store, eyes wide and hand over her mouth,
stood Sarah, staring at the ground ahead of her.

“What?!” Derek shouted as he came up
alongside her. She didn’t need to answer him as the source of her
scream became instantly evident.

“Is that?” Sarah spoke through her hand.

“Uh huh,” Derek nodded as he struggled
unsuccessfully to look way.

Sprawled across the linoleum floor was the
body of the man he’d come to confront, only it looked as though
someone else had already beaten him to it. On the floor beside the
man was a broken bottle of Grey Goose vodka, its former contents
sprayed all over the surrounding floor and displays. Its guilt in
the recent murder evident by the red stains on its jagged edges and
the dislodged shards still buried deep within the man’s throat.

“What’s in his mouth?” Sarah continued in
her horrified and muffled speech.

Not noticing at first what she was referring
to, Derek finally pulled his eyes away from the man’s wounds.
Sticking out of the man’s mouth was what appeared to be a thin
piece of plastic. Taking a step closer...

“Don’t,” Sarah grabbed his arm.

Freeing her grasp, he continued closer,
carefully avoiding the diluted red puddle around the body.

“What is it?” Sarah asked again.

As he knelt down beside the body he made the
mistake of looking into the dead man’s wide open eyes. It didn’t
take a genius to see the horrific nature of his death but if there
were any doubts, the terrified expression on the man’s pale face
was enough to put them to rest.

Concentrating on the barely protruding
object, Derek tilted his head to get a better angle but still
couldn’t make out what he was looking at. Trying not to touch the
dead man’s skin, he grabbed the corner of the object.

“Don’t touch it,” Sarah gasped and turned
away as Derek pulled the thin plastic from the man’s mouth. “What
is it?”

Derek didn’t answer.

“What is it?” she repeated turning and
peeking through her fingers.

“My license,” Derek held up the familiar
card.

Confused, Sarah just stared at the odd
looking license. It looked nothing like the laminated card in
her
wallet. Leaning closer, it did say Massachusetts
Driver’s License across the top with Derek’s picture below but even
more unsettling was the date of birth beside the picture.

11/18/91

“You...the date...”

“Hasn’t happened yet?” Derek helped her find
the words. Finally he could see that she was starting to believe
his story.

“Wait a minute?” her belief began to fade,
replaced by growing fear as she took a step back and placed her
hands over her mouth again.

“What?” Derek looked up confused before
realizing what she was thinking. “No, I didn’t do this.”

Continuing to back up, Sarah bumped into a
wine display, knocking it and its bottles to the floor in a
explosion of red.

Jumping to his feet, Derek reached for
Sarah’s arm to prevent her from falling.

Screaming, she turned and ran.

“Wait!” Derek cried, running after her,
slipping on the wine and crashing into the shelf, adding even more
bottles to the mix before catching his balance and chasing after
her. “I didn’t do this! You have to believe me!” he chased her back
into the storage room/office. Grabbing hold of her arm he spun her
around, causing their feet to tangle and sending them both
stumbling into the television on the desk.

“Let me go!” Sarah cried, flailing at Derek
as their current position had him pinning her against the desk,
trying to regain his balance. “Let me go! Let me go! Please!”

Grabbing her wrists to stop her attack.
“Listen. I didn’t do this. I’m telling you the truth. Everything
I’ve told you is the truth,” he pleaded.

Unable to get free, she began to cry,
causing him to release his grip as he noticed the image on the
television screen.

“There!” he cried, pointing at the
screen.

Sarah didn’t know what to do. Everything
inside told her to run. “Hit him as hard as you can and run," she
told herself, but looking up through her blurred vision she
realized that he wasn’t even paying attention to her anymore, and
had in fact taken a step back.

“See, I told you!” he cried at the screen.
“That’s him! That’s Jason!”

Turning toward the TV, she saw what could
have been Derek’s friend from the restaurant the other day, though
the image quality was poor and difficult to decipher. The screen
was split into quadrants with Jason in the top right corner and the
clerk standing beside a display in the top left, mopping the
floor.

Forgetting all previous urges to run, Sarah
leaned closer as Jason slowly crept from the upper right image,
into the image with the clerk.

“Run,” Sarah talked to the screen as if the
events they were watching hadn’t yet happened.

Slowly Jason moved closer to the clerk,
coming to a stop only a few feet to his back. Removing a bottle
from a display, he raised it into the air and with a momentary
pause, swung the glass weapon.

Looking away, Sarah buried her face in
Derek’s chest as Derek continued to watch the attack. Sitting on
top of the dazed man, Jason began savagely beating him until only
faint movements told him that he was still alive. Then, apparently
satisfied, Jason stopped, stood and began circling the man,
seemingly talking to him, before once again kneeling down with his
back to the camera as the man’s legs began to thrash.

“Is it over?” Sarah spoke into his
chest.

Derek continued to watch as the man’s legs
slowed and picking the broken bottle up off the floor, Jason sunk
the jagged glass into the clerk’s throat.

“Is it over?” Sarah repeated.

“It’s over.”

“We need to get to Mrs. Tillmore,” Sarah
looked up from his shirt.

Realizing she no longer needed convincing,
he nodded. “I dropped my license. I have to get it. There’s a gun
behind the counter. Grab it. We may need it.”

Sarah nodded, wiping her eyes as they both
reentered the store.

Approaching the end of the isle, he knew
what to expect but it didn’t help as the body came into view once
again. Having witnessed the brutal act now, the bruising and
lacerations on the man’s face were even more obvious and upsetting.
Focusing his attention away from the body, Derek spotted his
license on the floor beside the man’s head. Carefully he reached
down to pick up the alcohol and blood coated card but as he did,
his foot slipped, kicking the side of the dead man’s face and
causing the silver and copper contents of the clerk’s mouth to pour
out across the floor.