How to Successfully Kidnap Strangers (17 page)

“If we call the police, we will be arrested. I do not want to be arrested. Neither do you. It isn’t that complicated, dude.”

“How can you say that? Kidnapping? Murder? This isn’t
simple
.”

“Sure it is.” Louise nodded. “Murder is the simplest thing on the planet. And the most natural. One moment you’re alive, then the next you’re not. Just like the way God intended.”

“I’m not talking about dying from natural causes here. I’m talking about murder.”

“We are all murdered in the end,” Louise said, “and God is our murderer.”

Stephen threw his arms up in the air, groaning. Then he knocked a pile of books off a dresser. The whole cabin was littered with paperbacks, which seemed to be an ongoing theme in the places he visited. “Now’s not the time for your mind trips, Louise. Goddammit, why is everything a game to you?”

She shrugged. “I guess because in the end, what the hell does it matter? We’re all gonna end up like Sergio, anyway. So fuck it.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Stephen said. “Last night, after the bar, don’t you remember what a great time we had together? We stayed up, making love . . . wasn’t it wonderful?”

“I was pretty drunk.”

“You’re pretending like you were too drunk to remember what happened, but that’s bullshit. You never blackout. You remember, and I know you felt something.”

“Yeah, your dick.”

“More than that. You know what I mean.”

Louise was quiet.

“I know we don’t get along all the time, Louise. I also know we get along better when it’s just me and you and there’s nobody else around. It’s like you put up this defensive shield, and you don’t want anybody to know you have emotions, that you could possibly be in a relationship with anybody else. Well, I know better than that. I know you love me. And I love you, too, despite all the mean things you’ve said to me lately. I know you didn’t mean them, that you were only saying those things because you were afraid. There’s no reason to be afraid. It’s okay to love me.”

Stephen had moved closer to her now, kneeling on one knee and maintaining eye contact. Almost like he was proposing to her or something. Louise couldn’t help it. She started laughing.

Stephen frowned.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re . . . too romantic.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

She nodded. “It is when you’ve created the romance in your head.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dude, the girl you were just talking about? That wasn’t me, I don’t know who that was except some imaginary fuck-dream. You have no idea what type of person I am, you just project this stupid chick flick girlfriend who doesn’t even remotely resemble me. You’re a hopeless romantic, and no, that isn’t a cute quirk. It’s an annoying mental disorder. Admit that we don’t have shit in common besides the publishing company and let’s just move on with our lives. We were good fucks and that’s about it.”

Stephen’s eyes became wet and tears started dripping down his cheeks. He looked pathetic.

“Stephen, come on . . .”

Stephen shook his head, biting his lip. He turned around and ran out of the bedroom.

She sat on the bed, not giving a shit if she ever saw him again. Then she heard him scream.

40. DAT ASS

Billy tried to
sleep, but it was pointless. Experience told him that he hadn’t been awake nearly enough days yet to reach a relaxing enough state of mind to be able to sleep. He couldn’t exactly remember how long he’d been awake at this point. After so long, time ceased to exist. Sleep was a fairy tale. His eyes were cracked rocks. The world was his playground, but he didn’t have the energy to play.

He stayed on the couch for a while with his eyes closed, resting his head on Harlan’s lap. He hated the man with a passion, but had to admit he made a comfortable pillow. He couldn’t get his mind off the contents of Lewis’s trunk. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw them. They were calling for him. Like they were these fucked-up sirens guiding his brain into the ultimate crash. He kept thinking the heads belonged to him, that Lewis didn’t even exist, it was Billy all along who owned the collection. They were his rewards and he was neglecting them in a hot trunk, letting them rot. He was a terrible head owner. He didn’t deserve them and they didn’t deserve him.

But then Billy turned slightly on Harlan’s lap and whacked his face with a surprised erection, and he screamed. He jumped up and pointed accusingly at a confused Harlan. “You perverted bastard! I was trying to rest!”

“What are you talking about? I was sleeping.”

Billy made a disgusted grimace and exited the cabin. His sister was sitting on the steps, looking at the sky. He sat down next to her and wrapped his arm around her.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I suppose I could be worse. What about you?”

“I keep thinking about those heads,” he said, staring at Lewis’s car, eyes glued on the trunk.

“What about them?”

“Who do you think they belonged to?”

“His victims, obviously. The sick fuck.”

“I know that, sis, but I mean, do you think they were chosen at random? Or were they his friends, family, what?”

“Why don’t you go ask him?”

Billy shook his head. “I don’t want to be alone in the same room with him. He terrifies me.”

“He
should
terrify you. It would be strange if he didn’t.”

He let her words drift in the air for a moment, then said, “What are the chances of accidentally kidnapping a serial killer?”

Eliza laughed, then frowned. “That motherfucker murdered Serg right in front of me. He enjoyed it. He would have done the same to me if I hadn’t gotten myself untied in time.”

“I’m glad you did, sis.”

“Maybe if I had been quicker, I could have saved Serg, too.”

“I don’t know. I think you did the best you could.”

“But it wasn’t good enough.”

Billy knew he should have been a good brother and continue to offer words of comfort, but he was too obsessed about the heads to think about anything else important. Because nothing else
was
important. The universe began and ended with the heads. They weren’t always severed heads, hiding in a trunk. Once upon a time, they had belonged to complete bodies. They’d rested atop shoulders. They were special. Now they were nothing. The idea that he too could have been one of those heads consumed Billy. That was no way for anybody to go out. What would happen to those heads now? What was Lewis planning on doing with them? Probably some sick perverted psycho shit. Some weird, Patrick Bateman snuff film shit.

It was weird, how they were just sitting in a duffel bag. Why not put them on ice or something? This was no way to take care of your severed head collection.

He wondered what the police would do with the heads if they got busted. File them in some evidence lab? Store them away in a police station basement? Would the heads be given a proper funeral?

What if they were never found? Were these heads Billy’s responsibility now?

What was he supposed to do with a bunch of heads? He’d never been taught how to handle these kinds of situations. He was just a trailer trash writer with a sweet tooth for crank. He wasn’t in the disposing-of-severed-heads business. Hell, he wasn’t even in the kidnapping business until this morning, and look how badly he’d already fucked that up.

Eliza had stopped talking. He looked to his side. She wasn’t even sitting by him anymore. Maybe she’d gone back inside after she realized he wasn’t paying attention to anything she was saying. Oh well. Fuck her. Fuck everybody. They all hated his guts now, anyway. Like he meant to get them all mixed up in this clusterfuck. If anything, it was Eliza’s fault for making him come pick her up for lunch. He had tried telling her he was busy, but no, she needed her stupid goddamn cheeseburger. Yet here he was, getting pissed on because he had the nerve to throw a couple people in his trunk. Like he knew one of them was a serial killer. Shit. What Billy did on his own time was his business. Next time he saw Eliza, he would be sure to bring that up. Fucking nosy-ass people.

In the meantime, there were still those heads in the trunk. The heads who hadn’t hurt anybody. Well, okay, Billy didn’t know that for sure. Those heads could belong to a bunch of child molesters and dog fighters, he didn’t know. But he had a hunch they were innocent, at least as innocent as a person could be, which in all truth wasn’t really that much, when you thought about it. But screw that. Nobody deserved to have their head pried from their body and thrown in some dirty trunk. Something needed to be done.

Billy got up, opened the trunk of Lewis’s car. The heads stared up at him, waiting impatiently for him to take action.

“Avenge us,” the heads said in unison. “Kill that bastard.”

“Shut up,” Billy said.

“Cut his head off and throw it in the trunk with us. Give us five minutes alone with him.”

“I said shut up, I’m trying to think here.”

“It’s fucking hot in here! You left us alone. We can’t breathe!”

“You don’t have any lungs.”

The heads began laughing. “You got us! There’s no getting past you.”

“You guys are a bunch of assholes, aren’t you?” Billy said.

“Hey, Billy, Billy-boy, you got any more crank? Huh, Billy? What do you say?”

Billy thought for a moment. There might have been some in the front seat that Samantha had left behind. No. He couldn’t. He shook his head violently. “I can’t keep doing this shit. It’s killing me.”

“You’re already dead,” the heads said.

“No I’m not.”

“You might as well be in this trunk with us. Come on in. We can scoot over, make room for you. Bring the crank, it’ll be a party up in here.”

Billy stared at them, refusing to blink. Their mouths opened at the same time, and one voice left their gruesome throats in unison, like they were one creature, one being.

“You guys aren’t really talking,” Billy said, giggling. “None of this is real.”

“Billy, Billy-boy, Billy-billy-billy-boy, don’t you see? Don’t you see?”

“Stop it.”

“Don’t you see we’re the realest goddamn things this universe has ever offered?”

“I’m not even here. I’m back home, in bed. I’m asleep. My eyes. Oh God, I’m so tired. Oh fuck.”

“Crawl in with us, Billy-boy. Crawl in and we can have an orgy. We can fuck like mythological beasts. Bring your sister. You know you always wanted to tap dat ass.”

“No. I can’t.”

“
Tap dat ass. Tap dat ass. Tap dat ass. Tap dat ass.
” They sang the words like a Christmas carol.

“You bastards. I was going to rescue you.”

“What’s the matter, Billy-boy? Don’t you want a little head?”

They stuck their maggot-infested tongues out and licked their lips, making loud, revolting slurping noises.

“Shut the fuck up!” Billy shouted.

“Who you talking to, boy?” a man asked behind him.

Billy spun around, wide-eyed, and found himself face-to-face with a bona fide demon. No, not a demon. Just a man, a man holding a gun. A gun pointed straight at him.

Hell, he could’ve been a demon. Who said demons couldn’t use guns?

“You a demon?” Billy asked.

The man gave him a queer look. “No, I’m a police officer.” He brushed his jacket aside, flashing a badge attached to his belt. “I’m gonna have to ask you to put that firearm down.”

“What?” Billy said, then realized he was holding Lewis’s gun. How long had it been in his hand? Shit. He threw it to the ground. “Sorry.”

“That’s all right,” the cop said. “Now step aside.”

Billy did.

The cop approached the trunk, peered inside, then yanked his head back, gagging.

“Oh my God, oh my God.”

He stepped forward again, reached inside and picked up a head by its hair. He stared at it for a moment, looking at Billy, then the head, and tossed the severed body part back into the trunk. He looked like he was about to puke. Billy didn’t blame him.

“What the shit,” the cop said.

“I know,” Billy said. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with ‘em. Any idea?”

The cop emphasized the gun in his hands, told him to get down. Billy obliged.

“What the fuck are you doing with those heads in your trunk?”

“They were in there when I acquired the vehicle.”

“Yeah, that so?”

“Yeah.”

The cop handcuffed Billy, then dragged him to his own car, which Billy somehow hadn’t noticed until now.

“Man, you drive quiet.”

“I think you were too busy talking to those heads.”

“They started it, man.”

“Who else is in the cabin?”

“Nobody,” Billy said. “It’s just me.”

Somebody screamed inside the cabin.

“Nobody, huh?” the cop said.

“I think I need to speak to an attorney.”

“Uh-huh.”

41. HOSTAGES & HOSTAGES

People thought duct
tape was unbreakable. Those people were idiots. If you knew what to do, you could get out of duct tape just as easily as scotch tape. And Lewis knew what to do. The real trick wasn’t getting out of the duct tape, it was getting his hands from behind his back to in front of him. After he conquered that goal, the rest would be a piece of cake.

Except he wasn’t going to be freeing himself inside the closet. There simply wasn’t enough room. He started pounding his shoulder against the door. The wood splintered instantly. Five more good whacks and the door was shattered open, the chair propped in front of him tumbling to its side.

He flew into the bedroom, into the darkness. There were no lights on, no candles lit, nothing. He didn’t mind. The darkness was his friend.

Fortunately, Lewis had ridiculously long arms. Laying on his back, he bent his knees and arched his ass up, giving enough space to slide his tied-up hands down his body, over his feet, and to the front of his torso.

Sometimes it paid off to be flexible.

Lewis stood up, raised his arms over his head, then brought them down as hard as he could manage, yanking his hands apart in the process. The tape loosened, so he did it again, and again, giving him enough room to slip one hand out of the restraints and peel it off the other hand. This was too easy.