William Rose - Shut the Fuck Up and Die!

Earl glanced away from the road and studied the new passengers with a quick sweep of the eyes.

“Don’t look like no hunters to me.”

Mona giggled and hid her face in Matt’s hair as she shook her head. Patting his wife’s thigh, Matt grinned and a private joke seemed to pass between the two before he replied to the driver’s statement.

“You’d be surprised.”

“We’re on our honeymoon.” Mona finally chirped in. “Just got married the day before yesterday.”

“Hope your husband there fucks better ‘n he can drive.”

Earl’s words hung in the air for a moment and dissolved the smile from Matt’s face. His jaw clenched and Mona felt him stiffen beneath her as he took a slow breath through his nostrils.

“Now you wait just one minute, Mister, that’s my wife you’re talking—”

Daryl slapped him on the back and laughed as easily as if they were old friends sharing a joke over beers.

“Earl’s just ribbin’ ya, mister. Don’t pay him no mind.”

For a moment, the four of them sat in silence and listened to Dolly Parton beg Jolene not to take her man. The radio crackled and popped as the music struggled to maintain its dominance over static. Within moments, the song faded and was replaced by the deep baritone of the DJ.

“Comin’ right up, we’ve got some Waylon Jennings on tap followed by a shot of Patsy Cline. But first, the news….”

“How much farther did you say it was?”

“About eight, nine miles I reckon. ‘Course five of ’em are off the hard road. Be in for bit of a bumpy ride before we get to the house.”

“You sure she won’t mind? Your mother, I mean?” Mona asked.

When they’d first gotten in the truck, Daryl had said that a whore had a better chance of keeping her virginity than they had of finding a tow this time of night. The nearest town was Chester and, apparently, the sidewalk was rolled up right around the same time the sun went down. So the offer had been made for Matt and Mona to spend the night at their place and then, providing the coming storm didn’t knock the lines down, they could call for help in the morning. The newlyweds had balked at first, arguing that they couldn’t impose upon their kindness any further, but the brothers had insisted, countering that the only other alternative was dropping the two off alongside the road where they’d be in no better shape than when they were first picked up.

“Oh, Mama won’t care. She just loves company. ‘Specially a pretty young thing like you.”

“… unconfirmed reports that evidence was found at the dump site that may shed light on the identity of the murderer . .”

Mona shifted on Matt’s lap as if the cab of the truck had suddenly become too cramped and she glanced at her husband with eyes that seemed to be clouded with nervousness. He glanced at the two men and then gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“You fellas mind turning this crap off? Stuff like this tends to make my wife a little skittish.”

Earl glanced at the woman with the corners of his mouth turned up into something that was halfway between a smile and a sneer. His eyes sparkled in the light of the dashboard and his words seemed to spill out of his mouth in a mocking sing-song.

“Poor little girl scared of the big, bad wolf? That it, darlin’? Afraid it might hop outta these here trees and gobble you right up?”

“I… I’d just rather not hear about it, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Be over before ya know it. I ain’t missin’ out on Waylon.”

The rest of the trip passed in relative silence with only the soft strains of country music to combat the rumbling of the engine. True to Daryl’s word, they turned off the main road onto what was nothing more than a winding, dirt path buried beneath mounds of snow. The truck rattled and bounced through ruts so frequently that it almost felt as if the road was nothing more than a series of ruts and ridges; pine trees gradually overtook all other species and, after what seemed to be an eternity of jostling, the headlights finally revealed an old farmhouse in a clearing. The walls were gray with paint peeling from the faded boards and smoke curled from a chimney that jutted up from a tin roof pile high with snow. Only a single window had light spilling from it and, off to the side of the house, Matt could just make out the silhouette of some sort of shed.

“You folks wait here.” Earl ordered as he eased his bulk out of the truck. “Mama loves company, but she hates surprises. Won’t be more than a minute or two, I reckon.”

Daryl slid across the seat and followed his brother’s lead, winking at the couple just before he slammed the door shut.

“Y’all sit tight now. Don’t you go nowhere.”

The pair stomped the snow from their boots, opened a screen door so rusty that the creak of the hinges could be heard even from within the truck, and then disappeared into the house. Mona looked Matt in the eye as he curled his hair around her index finger.

“You sure about this, baby? I mean, we really should get that car off the road as soon as possible.”

Closing his eyes, Matt leaned in toward his wife’s touch like a cat enjoying the soft stroke of a hand.

“I don’t see that we have much choice, honey. You heard what he said. Even if we could find someone this time of night to come get the car, I don’t think they’d be able to. Not if the road’s been closed.”

“Still, I don’t like it. We shouldn’t be around….”

“Look, we’ll make a couple minutes of small talk with the old lady, tell them how tired we are, and then go to sleep, okay? First thing in the morning, we’ll get the car and figure out what our next move is.”

Mona’s gaze dropped to the keys dangling from the ignition of the truck and she bit her bottom lip.

“Maybe… maybe we should just take this one. We’d probably be gone before they even know and….”

“Mona, these people have been nothing but nice to us! Are you really suggesting we just steal their truck? After all they’ve done?”

“I don’t like it, Mattie. That’s all. I want it to be just you and me again. Like it’s always been, you know?”

“And it will be, sweetie. Soon. It’ll be morning before you know it. Besides… they’re already coming back. See?”

Daryl beckoned from the porch with his hand like a policeman directing traffic and Matt brushed his lips against his wife’s soft cheek.

“Come on, babe. I mean, it’s not like they’re the ones who killed that woman in the dumpster, right?”

The inside of the house was like a museum to dust. It covered everything from the rickety coffee table to the picture frames on the wall with a dull film and Mona fought the tickle in her nose as she perched on the threadbare couch. Besides looking as if it had been years since a thorough cleaning had been done, the place smelled old as well: there was a musty odor that seemed to permeate everything and was only overpowered by the scent of pine as logs crackled and popped within the fireplace. Like most homes with elderly occupants, the air was so warm and dry it almost felt as though every droplet of humidity had disappeared through the cracks of the bowed, hardwood floor.

Matt sat beside her and shifted positions every few seconds in an attempt to find a way of sitting where the springs of the couch didn’t press into his butt and legs like some sort of medieval torture device. He glanced around the room , taking in everything from the deer head mounted on the wall to the yellowed curtains that hung like funeral shrouds over the windows. The panes were so old that the glass had a rippled texture when viewed in just the right light and a draft must have seeped around the edges, for the curtains rustled gently.