Some stories haunt you long after you finish the final word and put the book down.
This is one of those stories. Have fun sleeping, kiddies.
This is one of those stories. Have fun sleeping, kiddies.
Smoke by Jeff Marsick
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In the span of two heartbeats, Taryn went from unconscious
to fully awake upon seeing the albino sitting across from her. Breath hitching
in her throat, she reflexively tried to run, her body jolting as if tasered, but
the nylon zip-ties on her arms and legs kept her bound in place to the chair.
“Shhh….,” the albino said. Black latex gloves sheathed his
hands, one of which brandished a long screwdriver. “You scream and I’ll shove
this through your eye and out the back of your head. Hmm?”
Taryn’s eyes flicked from the tool to the man’s ice-blue stare.
He wasn’t posturing, she saw, wasn’t idly threatening. No, he just reclined on
the couch, one leg crossed over the other like he belonged here. The man’s promise
of violence was as casual as a comment about the weather outside. Taryn nodded.
“You know who I am?” he asked, his voice a purring of ground
gravel, almost lazy in its delivery, as if he wasn’t in any special hurry to
get the words out. She knew who he was.
His name was Smoke, the reason she and her boyfriend,
Darryl, had up and fled Los Angeles with nothing more than the clothes on their
backs and half a tank of gas in their car.
“You two are good,” he said. “Took me a little over a year
to find you. Not bad for a pair of amateurs.” That last word came out as ‘ammatters.’
Smoke looked around the apartment, nodding his approval at
the decor: framed photos of Taryn and Darryl on the walls, gentle pastel colors
that changed from room to room; inexpensive yet tasteful furniture; the
occasional tsotchke and memorabilia detritus that gave the place that lived-in
feel without choking it out.
“When I think of Cleveland, it’s not usually something like
this,” he said. He leveled those discomforting eyes back on Taryn. “The heroin
your boyfriend stole from my people, I figure that’s long gone. So where’s the
money?” He twirled the screwdriver as if to lasso the apartment. “In this
place?”
Taryn shook her head. “I don’t—I don’t know what you’re
talking about.”
Smoke dropped his leg and moved towards her so fast that
Taryn instinctively gasped.
“Please don’t kill me!”
She pulled her head back, closing her eyes and waiting for
the screwdriver to impale her heart. The zip-ties bit into her skin, holding
her fast. Seconds passed and she turned her head to see Smoke leaning forward,
elbows on knees, keenly searching her face with those haunting eyes.
“I’m not gonna kill you,” he said with a slight drawl, his
volume still at a five. “You know how hard it is to dispose of a body these
days? Television shows. They make it seem so easy.” He sniffed. “See, a lesson
needs to be learned. If I disappear you, eventually the search will get called
off. Your boyfriend will be sad, but he’ll move on. If I slit you ear to ear,
bleed you out on this nice lumber, well, that’s tragic, sure. But then you’ll
be cremated or put six feet under, and he’ll visit for a bit, but then he’ll
move on.” Smoke shrugged. “Out of sight, out of mind, the lesson to be learned
fades to forgotten.”
Smoke stood up, and Taryn caught a glimpse of red on the floor
next to the couch.
“No, your boyfriend needs to know the error of his ways for
all the rest of his time on this earth. He needs to see it, daily, be reminded
of it and have his soul burn for it.”
“I didn’t—I didn’t know anything about any heroin.” Taryn’s words
coming fast on the tide of rising fear. “Darryl told me he had gotten into
trouble and that’s why we needed to leave California. He told me about you,
that I had to watch out for you. But—but he said that we were okay now, that he
had made everything right and that—that we could settle down now. That we were
done running.”
Smoke eyed her sidelong, scratched pensively at the jagged
scar that ran from his left ear, down his throat, and across his jugular to the
opposite collar bone, poking peekaboo above a black T-shirt. He shrugged.
“Maybe true. Maybe not. Fact is, you shacked with the wrong
boy, so you’re guilty by association.” He shrugged. “Sorry, darlin’. That’s
just the way it goes. As for being square with my people, well, that there’s
just not true. He stole from them, now I’m obliged to steal from him.”
Smoke turned to the side of the couch, took a booted foot
and toed a red, plastic, five-gallon gas can toward Taryn. As it sssshhhhed
across the floor, Taryn started breathing faster, arms straining and zip-ties biting
deeper into her flesh. She saw a long tube snaking away from the fill end of
the can, terminating in something that Smoke held. The can stopped at her chair
and she heard liquid slosh about inside.
“What’s—what’s in there?”
“Paint thinner,” Smoke said, bringing his hand up, and she
saw where the tube from the can was leading to: a gas mask. “You huff this for long
enough, it’ll torch most of your brain cells. When the boyfriend comes home
tonight, you’ll be alive, but not much more than a drooling idiot.”
Smoke loosened the straps on the mask, came near to put it
on her.
“No no no! Please, please don’t do this,” she whimpered, eyes
rimming.
Smoke paused, got down on a knee, his ghastly face on level
with hers. “It’s not going to hurt. You won’t feel a thing,” Smoke soothed. “I
promise you, it’ll be like a nice warm buzz. You’ll still get to see him, he’ll
get to see you. You just, well, you just won’t know it.”
“I’m pregnant,” Taryn blurted, almost defiant. Twin rivers
of tears ran down her cheeks.
Smoke stood up, his face still without emotion, but now canted slightly to the side, as if viewing her in a different light.
Smoke stood up, his face still without emotion, but now canted slightly to the side, as if viewing her in a different light.
“Ten. Ten weeks pregnant.” She nearly shouted it.
Smoke looked at the floor, tapped the gas mask against his
thigh, as if contemplating. He reached into his back pocket, pulled something
out—a piece of paper—and unfolded it. Smoke looked at it for a long moment.
“Yeah,” he purred. “I know.”
He placed the paper on the table so she could see the ultrasound
photo of what would be her baby boy. As Taryn stared into the kitchen at the
refrigerator, at the blank spot by the magnets, Smoke slid the gas mask into place
on her head and tightened the straps.
