Damaged (25 page)

"I love you, Muffy. At least we got each other." Adam now had one body to dispose of and one to hide… and an enormous mess to clean.

By 4:30 A.M., Bain's corpse was seabound. Adam wrapped David's body up in two rolls of saran wrap and three heavy-duty strength trash bags, and lay him to rot in the catacombs outside his basement door. He did not think any sanitation worker would find it. The system was connected to the basic sewer lines, but not directly. His route to get to the main tunnels had been abandoned for decades, centuries maybe.

***

"Two. They found two more bodies," Chris said, shutting Adam's bedroom door behind him. It was afternoon already. Adam was still sleeping, until Chris slammed his ass down on the bed.

"I didn't do it!" Adam screamed, jolting upright.

“Didn't do what? Hey, did you hear?" he said, lighting up a smoke.

"Hear what? I was asleep."

"Two more bodies were found."

Oh shit.
"Two? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, hold on." Chris turned on the television. The news update appeared on Channel 11.

"We cannot release the names of the victims at this time," the news reporter said, “but two more bodies have been recovered from the Ohio River. One, the authorities think, is a Blake High School student. Male. The other is a middle-aged man. This is a confirmed report. We will have more information in moments."— (cut to commercials).

"Some crazy shit!" Chris said. "Whoever this fucker is, he knows what he's doing. Bain, Debra called me and told me, was missing. So that's one. And he has a better security alarm than God. And the fucker killed two people! In one night!"

Adam was having trouble breathing.
Once they figure out it’s my father's body, they'll link all the murders to me. I have to go down there. Now. I have to see if it's still there or not.

But if I do… what if they're standing right there, collecting evidence? Do I just say 'whoops, sorry, wrong door'?

“Bain had it coming to him, though, I tell you that," Chris said, inhaling. "I would've liked to kill that dick, myself."

Adam looked over at his friend. "Yes. He did."

The news came back on. Chris turned back around and upped the volume.

"Again, this is Andrea Caliskal reporting from Channel 11 News. Two confirmed reports: two men in the Ohio Valley have been found dead early this morning. One was found in Wellsville, off the shore by the Pier 12:"

The camera cut to a fat young man wearing a WVU sweatshirt. "Yeah, I's leaving the Pier and thought I saw something floating in the water. I didn't think much of it at first until I looked closer at it and realized it was a person. Biggest shock of my life. I darted right back inside and alerted everyone. I just couldn't believe what I was seeing—someone face-down in the water like that—"

—They cut back to the news anchor. "The name of one of the victims is Bain Wells, of Blake County. He was only seventeen years old, a star athlete, and a straight-A student."

Then, the camera cut to a police officer standing by the shore. "Do you have any information yet on who might have done this?" a newsman asked him.

"We don't have a clue. We're going to do a full autopsy of both bodies, but other than that, we have no idea. We do, however, think that the killer or kill
ers
are linked to the victims. Possibly schoolmates, school teachers, even. But everyone must, I repeat,
must,
stay
indoors at all costs and only go out when absolutely necessary. And when you do go out, make sure to have at least two other people accompany you. Preferably grown-ups."

The camera panned to the newsman. "Sheriff Charles Abot. I am Mark Doull, reporting from Channel 11 news."

Chris turned off the TV and took a last puff off his smoke. “Who do you think it is?"

"Who what?" Adam asked dumbly.

"The killers. I bought pepper spray this morning, just in case. You should have seen… people bought them up like it was the end of the world."

I need to see that body!

"Can you turn the TV back on? I want to see if they know who the other victim is."

Chris's pants vibrated. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. Then he tossed Adam the remote and put the phone to his ear. "Hello? Yeah, mom, I'm all right. No. I'm being tortured to death in some dungeon here." He looked at Adam and stuck his tongue out to one side. Adam giggled.

"Yes, I'll be fine. I'll be back way before dark. God, I'm at Adam's. Okay. Hey, I'm getting another call." He hung up. "I think my mom's crazier than the maniac," he told Adam.

He answered the phone. "Hey, baby, what's going on?" Chris stood up and walked out of the room.

Adam turned the TV back on. He flipped through every channel. On most of them, even the national ones, his handiwork was being broadcast all over the world.

Maybe I won't be a famous writer, but I've finally achieved my fame.

Adam turned down the volume and listened to Chris's conversation with his girlfriend.

I had a really nice girlfriend once.

"Yes, Amy, I will. I'll be there in a few. That sounds good. I got a few joints for tonight. Firewater? Cool. I like that, too. Yeah, I'll cuddle with you till they find the psycho. Oh, I love you, too."

I love you, Adam… Adam… Ada… Ad… A—
, he
heard Erin say.

I'm killing for you, Erin; no, because of you.

Adam suddenly felt like killing Chris and Amy. Bashing their heads together until they exploded—

Christ, what are you thinking?! He's your best friend. She never did a thing to you.

But they could have! They have each other. I got nobody.

Adam stopped himself, but the flame kept burning. He realized at that instant that he was starting to really lose his sanity. Murder suddenly didn't need a reason or a motive. It just needed a victim. An
aggressor.

“Hey, man, I got to split," Chris said to Adam.

"Huh?" Adam said, brushing away his evil thoughts.

"Gotta go. Hey, you want to spend the night at my house tonight?"

"How about you stay here?"

Chris thought about it. "Okay, but next time you stay at mine."

"Okay."

Chris pocketed his cell phone and glanced at the television. "They saying any more?"

"Just—no, not really. Nothing you haven't heard already."

“All right, I'll be back later," Chris said, then left.

Adam lie back on his bed, tortured by his own, unwanted thoughts. He could not accept it: he had just contemplated taking the lives of innocent people who cared about him and had never done him any harm.

Why did I think it?

No time for that. I have to—

***

Adam made sure Chris was gone and the front door was locked before he entered the basement and turned on the lights. The place reeked of bleach. He had used a bottle and a half of Clorox to clean every inch of blood and meat off every contaminated surface. It looked immaculate, but the smell was too much.

He walked over to the secret door and put his ear against it, listening. He didn’t hear anything. Was David still behind it? Or was his body gone? Just whom was that second victim?

With a hand, Adam pushed the door open, eyes squinted shut. It opened with a loud rumble. Dust flew into the air. A sound entered his ears, but it wasn't the voices of policemen and investigators, it was the squealing sound of many rats eating a meal.

Adam opened his eyes. His dad's body was still there, being devoured by hungry vermin of different sizes. The garbage bags and saran wrap were now shriveled and scattered like confetti. Hardly a drop of blood stained the surface of the ground. They had chewed through the skin, the tissue, the muscles, and were now gnawing at the hard bone. The evidence was gone, all stuffed within the stomachs of the filthy gray monsters.

He laughed. He could not believe his eyes. An immense problem had been solved by the lowest creatures on the food chain. They looked at him as they ate, their beady little eyes glowing through the darkness like flickering red flames. Their teeth scraped marrow off the skeleton one by one, and Adam knew that, by the end of the day, all that would remain would be some pieces of plastic.

He watched television. Full House. Except today he didn't like the theme of the family show. It was too peachy, too preachy, too fantasized. A perfect representation of what the typical American family should have been, but never was and never would be.

He turned it to Channel 11 News. A picture of an ugly man flashed up on screen.

"The victim, Ronald Lostone, was found on the riverbank soon after dawn. It's apparent that he was
not
a victim of the recent lash of homicides. The other victim, Bain Wells, was. What authorities are unsure of is—"

Adam shut off the television and began to rewrite the story he had just begun days ago: Damaged. He deleted the original concept. Now it was an autobiography about a young man who goes nuts and kills his schoolmates.

And I can think up more ways and more plans to do it again. And again … until none of them are left.

His hands poked at the keys quickly and efficiently. Words crowded the empty pages. Sentences, paragraphs, pages. No writer's block on this one.

“Hello, Adam."—an instant message from Roseybabe1234, the heartbreaker, popped up onto the computer just after he hit the period button. His mind went blank, his hands comatose, his heart cold. He wondered if it was an optical illusion, another break in reality.

"Adam? You there?" she typed.

He felt like throwing up. Never did he think he would see her or hear from her again.

"??" she typed.

Adam typed something, although he didn't know he was doing so: "Hi, Erin. How are you?"

"I'm doing ok. How are you?"

"Hanging in there."—
that's a bold-faced lie and you know it!

"How's everything with you?" she wrote.

"Couldn't be better." He laughed, his eyes twisted on her gentle prose. He wanted to reach through the computer, grab her and—

"That's nice to hear," she wrote. "Hey, I heard about what happened there. It's all over the news. Some serial killer or something? That's crazy!"

Not as crazy as what you did to me.

"Yeah, I know. And I went to school with them all."

"Really? Did you know them?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Unfortunately?”

"They were assholes. I didn't like them."

"That's not a nice thing to say. I mean, they're dead. You know? You should have compassion for them."

You should've had compassion for me. Everybody should have.

"I can't do that," he typed.

"Why not?"

"I hated them, Erin. I could honestly care less."

She didn't type for a long moment; then— "That's sad. It really is. If that was my worst enemy, I would at least go to their funeral, pay their family some respect. Nobody deserves to be killed that way."

Adam wasn't thinking, but he was coming awfully close to
snapping.
"I don't agree. I think a lot of people deserve to be. I mean, it's probably a distressed kid from school or something. Someone they teased real bad."

"That doesn't mean they deserve to die. How could you even think that? High school kids are high school kids."

"That's not an excuse."

"That's not an excuse to kill anybody, either. Gee, by the way you're talking, you're the one who did it. You didn't, did you?"

"No, I'm just looking at it from a different way."

"That's a weird way to look at it. Maybe you need help."

Come here and I'll help YOU.

"I don't think so. I'm not blind. I don't see things from such a cut and dry place as you. People like you don't make any sense to me. Erin, I loved you with all my heart. You know what you did to me?"

"Adam, I'm only 13. I'm not ready to start a relationship yet. Look at the way you're talking to me. Who would want to be with you if you want people to be murdered? That's so wrong!"

"I think liars are wrong."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Do you think it's wrong to break a promise? Hurt somebody until there's nothing left?"

"Is this because of me breaking up with you?"

"Yeah. You lied to me. You promised you would never leave me. You said you weren't a heartbreaker."

"God, Adam, I'm 13! I'm not perfect."

"And neither is this elusive murderer you think is so terrible. Not everybody leads a normal life like all you robotic people."

"Hey, I gotta go. Please do yourself a favor. Get some serious help."

Roseybabe1234 signed off.

Something inside Adam broke. Again. He looked over at his printer, pulled back his arm, and plowed into it with his fist. The poor machine cracked. Two pieces of plastic flew across the room. Blood dripped from three small gashes on Adam's knuckles as he stood, unaware of a one.