Bryan Smith - The Killing Kind

Emily sneered. “Oh, right. You and Sean are so above the rest of us cretins. There’s something you should know, Sean. Your-”

“I already know.”

Emily frowned. “What?”

The look on Sean’s face was almost serene. “Annalisa told me. And I’ve told her everything. You can’t hurt us. I feel sorry for you, Emily. It must be damn lonely in that sick little head of yours.”

Annalisa was nodding. “We’re done with you. Play your head games with someone else.” She smiled at Sean. “I’m still hungry, baby.”

He smiled and steered her back toward the balcony. “Your burgers await, madam.”

Emily was shaking. She looked ready to scream. “I hate them so much.”

Joe groaned and slowly lifted himself off the floor. He wobbled again, started to fall, but this time was able to aim himself at the sofa. He landed on it lengthwise, an arm and a leg hanging over the edge, and immediately slipped back into unconsciousness. He began to snore.

Emily sighed. “Pathetic.” She looked at Zoe. “We’re still friends.”

Zoe’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know, Em. I have to think about some things.”

Emily nodded. “Right. Okay. Well, at least Annalisa came right out and said it. That puts her ahead of you in my book.”

She stomped out of the room without another word. They heard her feet pounding the stairs to the second floor and then the distant slam of a door.

Zoe’s eyes misted. “Shit.”

Chuck touched her shoulder lightly and squeezed. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard to see right now, but this will wind up being for the best. You need her out of your life. We all do.”

She turned toward him and buried her face in his chest. He held her and did the best he could to comfort her. He loved her. Truly loved her. He saw that more clearly than ever.

But the truth was, he wasn’t sorry at all.

Not one bit.

March 27

Rob glanced at the Subaru’s rearview mirror for maybe the hundredth time in the last half hour and again felt that strange delayed shock of self-recognition.

That’s me. It doesn’t look anything like me, but it’s me.

The face was the same, of course, but his hair had been shaved down to the scalp. Roxie had done the job, using scissors and a razor from the old man’s house. He ran a hand over the smooth dome of flesh and again felt a pang of loss. Women had always liked his thick, wavy hair. He felt naked without it. But though it pained him to admit it, the loss of his hair did make him look like someone else, at least at first glance. And right now that was pretty fucking important.

He squinted at the reflection. “I look like a fucking skinhead.”

Roxie laughed and picked at her newly blonde, spiky locks. “Yeah. You do. Sorry, babe.” She twisted in her seat and glanced at Julie in the back. “You, though…you make the bald thing look sort of hot.”

Julie removed her Myrtle Beach souvenir ball cap and rubbed her own shorn scalp. “I guess I do, huh?”

Roxie nodded. “You ever read Helter Skelter?”

“Of course. I read all that kinda shit.”

Rob thought, Why doesn’t that surprise me?

“Remember the pictures of those cute little Manson chicks gathered outside the courthouse? That’s sort of how you look. Only hotter.”

Julie giggled. “Maybe I should carve a swastika on my forehead. Or have you do it.”

Roxie laughed. “I will if you want. It’d fit right in with Rob’s white-power look.”

“You totally should. We all should. Think of how freaky that’ll be for those preppy fucks when they see us.”

Both girls laughed at that.

Rob experienced that gut-squeezing feeling of encroaching doom again. His companions were completely insane. Earlier in this adventure, he’d derived some comfort in thinking he could ditch them anytime and run back to his old life. But that option was no longer on the table. He was a wanted man. Doom was on the horizon. He was sure he would either be dead or in handcuffs by the time the sun rose tomorrow.

Julie thrust an arm through the gap between the seats, pointing at something ahead in the road. “There it is!”

Rob leaned forward, squinting again because he couldn’t make out what Julie was seeing. Apparently her night vision was much better than his own. They were on a winding seaside road. To their right, beyond the dunes, was a long stretch of beach and the vast ocean. To their left, acres of apparently empty land.

Except that-

Julie jabbed her finger forward again. “Right there!”

The road twisted, moved farther inland. Julie’s finger was pointing to the right. Rob craned his neck as far as he could in that direction and the impression of emptiness was revealed as an illusion. Now he could discern the shapes of houses in the darkness, a big cluster of them along the beach. They were almost invisible beneath the dense cloud cover, through which only the faintest glow of moonlight penetrated. There was a scent of rain in the air, the promise of a storm approaching. He spotted an access road and began to slow the clunky old Subaru. The car’s engine coughed and sputtered, almost died again. He cursed the poorly maintained junker and tried not to think of the corpse in the trunk.

Just a harmless old man, he’d been.

No threat at all.

There’d been no reason to kill him.

And yet they’d done it. The girls, that is. First they’d broken into his shabby home on the outskirts of town. That he understood. They needed a place to hide and lay low. The torture, though, had not been necessary. That had just been fun and games. Rob didn’t want to think about it. It sickened him. Just as all the rest of it sickened him. And yet he was still with them.

Why?

He didn’t know. And he’d like a real answer to that question. Not the crazy one Julie had proffered: It turns you on when you watch us kill.

It couldn’t possibly be true.

Could it?

No. Hell, no.

He steered the car down the access road and came to a stop. A gate blocked the way into the beach-house community.

Julie swung her arm to the left. “Over there.”

Rob saw it. He backed the Subaru up and pulled up alongside the electronic keypad, which was inset on a metal pole. He cranked the window down and looked at Roxie. She unfolded the sheet of paper she’d dug out of her tote bag earlier.

“The code is…”

Rob punched in the numbers as she read them. Then there was a click and the gate swung open. Rob put the car in gear, made a sound of frustration as the engine sputtered again, then slammed the gas pedal down as it finally caught. The old car shot through the opening an instant before the gate started to swing shut again. He tapped the brake pedal and slowed back down as they began to navigate their way through a web of very narrow sandy roads. Roxie kept glancing at the scrap of paper in her hand, reading off directions while he drove.

“Stop here.”

Rob pulled to a stop at the side of the road. It was actually a bend in a road between two clusters of houses. He glanced past Roxie and saw the dark ocean. A cold breeze stirred the tall grass on the dune separating road and beach. He’d vacationed with his grandparents in places like this when he was younger. He longed to journey back to those days. Or to any saner phase of his life. He didn’t want to die. Didn’t like this feeling of being swept along by fate. And yet he was powerless to do anything about it.

Roxie flipped open the cell phone she’d taken from the Subaru’s deceased owner. She punched in a number and a brief text message. A silent moment passed. The car’s interior was thick with tension. It was almost choking them.

Don’t answer, Rob thought.