Nine Minutes (2 page)

     
It was a skull with
a sinister smile and what appeared to be some kind of horns. A naked woman, somehow
tastefully covered, was draped seductively across the top of the skull. She had
dark brown hair with bangs and big brown eyes. As I peered closer, I saw she
was wearing a brown peace choker. I raised my hand to my neck. It looked just
like mine. Before I could ponder that strange coincidence I looked lower. To my
horror, I noticed the name embossed beneath the morbid design.

     
Satan’s Army.

Chapter Two

I’d soon
find out I was nothing more than a thank-you gift after a long initiation
ritual.

     
I sat in the
rickety lawn chair and surveyed my surroundings. I clutched my bag to my chest
as I tried to adjust my eyes to the dimming light. There was a campfire and a
hodgepodge circle of people surrounding it. I can’t remember now if I couldn’t
make out their faces in the waning light or if I was too frightened to notice. I
knew where I was but wasn’t exactly sure what to do about it. I’d started
praying as soon as I realized the seriousness of my predicament. I should’ve
taken my chances when there were more people and cars around. I should’ve
risked jumping off a moving motorcycle. It would have been better than what I
faced now.

     
I remember
starting to physically shake when the reality hit me as we’d made our way west
on State Road 84.

     
These days 84 is
updated and modernized, but in 1975 it was an underdeveloped two-way road.
Today it runs parallel to a super highway, I-595, that takes you from the
Everglades to the beach in a matter of minutes with all kinds of development in
between—houses, schools, shopping centers and gas stations. In ’75, it
was the highway to hell, famous for its head-on collisions. It had little to no
turnoffs with the exception of a little bar called Pete’s.

     
When we passed Pete’s
I felt the nausea rising in my stomach. I knew there was nothing beyond it
except the entrance to the deathtrap highway called Alligator Alley that
connected the two Florida coasts. I thought the Miccosukee Indian Reservation
was out there somewhere, but I didn’t have a clue where.

     
It was getting
dark and there were no other headlights in sight. About ten minutes after
passing Pete’s, we slowed and made a right onto a dirt road. I noticed some dim
lights for the first time. Just a little way off the road, and barely visible
due to the growing brush, was an old motel.

     
It was one of
those little fifteen- or twenty-unit motels with old jalousie windows. It had
an unlit sign identifying it as the Glades Motel. I hoped maybe it was still in
business. A working motel might be good. Someone had to be running it. This
might be my chance to explain I had made a mistake and ask to use the phone.

     
I guess it was
originally built with the intention of giving travelers a place to stop in the
middle of nowhere, but for whatever reason, it couldn’t stay in business. As we
pulled into the pitted and worn-down parking lot, I saw old gas pumps off to
the right. It was obvious they were no longer in use. A couple of rooms had
lights on, but what looked like the office showed no signs of life.

     
As we passed the
old gas pumps I looked to my left and noticed a group of people between the
motel and us. They were sitting around a dying campfire among the rusty old
swings, slide and an antiquated carousel. It looked like a picnic and
playground area that had seen better days. On the other side of the playground
looked like a pool area. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I thought it looked like
it didn’t have any water in it.

     
We circled to our
left, and I noticed about six or seven motorcycles scattered in front of the
units. He pulled up next to one and cut the engine. That’s when I heard them.

     
It was a mixture
of laughter, cursing and what sounded like two women arguing. I thought I heard
Steppenwolf’s “
Magic Carpet Ride”
coming
from somewhere.

     
He stood up and
said, “Get off.”

     
I stood on the
foot pegs and swung my leg over. My legs almost buckled, probably from a
combination of the ride and fear, but I caught myself. I adjusted my backpack
and stood straight. I figured the best way to deal with this was with
confidence. I was scared to death, but darn if I was going to show it. He put
the kickstand down and got off the bike.

     
“So, how long
before you can give me a ride back?” I asked. I sounded a little too perky even
to my own ears.

     
He didn’t reply.
He looked straight at me and gave me a smile that was born from pure evil. Was
that the smile I’d seen at the 7-Eleven? I couldn’t remember. How could I have
not noticed it then? The realization of my situation hit me like a lead bullet.

     
I remembered once
when Delia and Vince weren’t home and one of his supposed friends stopped by.
He’d convinced me to let him in the house to use the phone.

     
“You can trust
me, sweetheart. I’m a friend of
Vinny
, your
stepdaddy
.”

     
That should’ve
been a red flag. Nobody called Vince by the nickname
Vinny
.
I’d released the deadbolt and as I was leading him toward the kitchen, where
our only phone was mounted to the wall, he grabbed me by the back of my hair
and threw me on the cracked linoleum floor. That’s when I knew true fear. I’d
felt a heat slowly work its way up my spine.

     
Before anything
could happen there was a loud pounding on the front door. It was our neighbor,
Guido. That was his real name. Well, that was the name he told us. Vince was
convinced Guido was some Mafia guy in the Witness Protection Program. He didn’t
fit into our neighborhood at all. He was a total bully, and now he was loudly
complaining because Vince’s friend had parked on his lawn.
           

     
That’s what Guido
did. He sat on his front porch and waited for someone to do something wrong so
he could assert himself. Normally I disliked Guido, but at that moment, his big
mouth and heavy New York accent were music to my ears.

     
The mystery man,
who never mentioned his name, had flipped me on my back and was sitting on my
stomach with one hand over my mouth and the other holding both of my hands over
my head. He was yelling for Guido to go away and that he’d move his truck when
he damn well pleased. It wasn’t until Guido threatened to call the police that the
man let go of my hands and jumped off me in one swift movement.

     
He told me if I
ever told anyone what happened he would come back and finish what he’d started.
I told him it would just be our secret. I wouldn’t say a word. I wasn’t hurt.
No harm done. I would never tell. He could trust me.

     
I told. The
minute Delia and Vince got home I told, and they called the police. After I
described him and Guido described his truck, Vince knew who he was. Some
low-life drifter named Johnny Tillman, who’d been hanging out at my parents’
local haunt,
Smitty’s
Bar on Davie Boulevard. He wasn’t
a friend of Vince’s, but he’d had enough conversations with him to learn his
name. How he’d known about me, I had an idea. I’d never seen him before, but he
may have seen me. When I couldn’t get a ride from my friends, sometimes I’d
walk from the school bus stop to
Smitty’s
to wait for
Delia or Vince to give me a ride home. They could be counted on to stop in for
a beer most days. The owner was a real nice lady. I’d sit in the corner and do
homework, and she’d give me an orange soda and French fries on the house.

     
Now, standing in
the middle of nowhere, Steppenwolf playing and motorcycle guy still smiling
evilly, I was so paralyzed with fear I couldn’t even remember her name. But one
thing I wish I could forget was Delia’s remark after that incident: “How can
someone as smart as you do something so ridiculously dumb?”

     
Back then, I’d
tried to reason my way out of it: “But Delia, he knew Vince.” I’d even tried to
convince myself the man seemed familiar. But that was a lie. She was right. It
was the stupidest thing I’d ever done.

     
Until an hour ago.

     
Now all I could
think was, “You’re on your own, girlie. No Guido here this time.”

     
Motorcycle guy
grabbed me roughly by the arm and pulled me forward. “C’mon, time to meet your
new family.”

     
Family? I was in
too much shock to try to decipher that remark. We walked toward the group of
people sitting around a campfire, the noise from earlier slowly fading. As we
approached, I heard a long, low whistle and comments coming from all
directions.

     
“
Oooh
, look what Monster brought us.
”

     
“Hey Monster,
thought you liked blondes and gigantic
titties
.”

     
“That one’ll
bring in a pretty penny. Help pay the bills.”

     
Then a shrill
female voice hissed, “Don’t know what you think you’re
doin
’
bringing that piece of trash here.”

     
A very articulate
male voice retorted, “What’s the matter, Willow? Afraid
Grizz
might be interested? Everyone knows he likes brunettes, and I’m pretty sure he’s
had his fill of you.”

     
“Fuck you, Fess,
and your momma and your daddy. She’s too scrawny for
Grizz
and ugly, too.”

     
Good, let them
think I’m scrawny, ugly.
Anything to get me out of here.

     
A gravelly male voice
added, “No, she
ain’t
none of that, Willow. But don’t
you worry, honey. You’ve been with
Grizz
going on two
years now. He
ain’t
ever
lasted that long with one woman. I guess it’s really love with you guys.”

     
That seemed to
placate Willow. The exchanges were so quick and the campfire so dim I couldn’t
put a face to a voice. My captor roughly plopped me down in a scratchy lawn chair
within the group, then took the one beside me. I leaned forward, took my
backpack off and placed it in my lap. I realized I wasn’t wearing my poncho and
the most ridiculous thought popped into my head that at least my poncho was
safe and sound at the library. I wrapped my arms around my bag and started to look
around, assessing my surroundings.

     
That’s when my
captor spoke. “Where’s
Grizz
?”

     
Monster. I think
that’s what someone called him. Monster. God help me.

     
“He’s here
somewhere. Just went in to make a call, I think,” someone answered.

     
“Why? What you
need
Grizz
for?” snapped Willow.

     
Monster leaned
forward in his chair as if to emphasize his point. “Well, bitch,” he spat, “I
want to show
Grizz
my gratitude for letting me be a
member. You know, like with a thank-you gift. And this here is it,” he said,
waving his hand in front of my face.

     
I felt like a
prize on some cheesy game show, and Monster was the model showing off the
goods. Of course, I couldn’t have been any further away from a soundstage
somewhere in California than I was at that moment.

     
“It being what?
Her?” Willow snarled.

     
My eyes had
somewhat adjusted to the dim light, and I finally saw the source of the
irritatingly shrill voice. Willow picked this moment to stand up and point at
me, the campfire illuminating her. She was small. I couldn’t guess her age, but
she was probably younger than she looked. She had mousy blonde hair that hung
limply around her face. There was nothing really special about that face,
although I thought maybe she’d been really pretty at one time. She had smudged
dark makeup under each eye. Her eyebrows were pencil-thin and overly arched,
which added to her sinister look. She probably didn’t need expressive eyebrows
to achieve that, though. Hard living, probably including some serious drug use,
had aged her. Even in the dim light I could see traces of slight acne scars,
and her cheekbones were almost too prominent. They stuck out in sharp contrast
to the hollowness that had likely been full cheeks at one time. She was wearing
a purple tube top and ratty jeans that rested on her bony hips. And she called
me scrawny? She had an assortment of dirty macramé and beaded bracelets on both
arms. Almost every part of her skin that was showing was covered in tattoos
with the exception of her face and hands. I looked down and saw she wasn’t
wearing any shoes. Her feet and toenails were filthy.

     
This was
Grizz’s
woman? Whoever this
Grizz
was, I wondered if he was into dirty feet.

     
“Yeah her,
Willow. I saw her sitting at the 7-Eleven and thought she looked like the girl
on our jacket. Then I saw the damn choker and knew I had to get her for
Grizz
. Got a problem with that?”

     
“Damn right I do.
He
ain’t
gonna
want her and
you and your stupid ass should know better than to bring her here.”