March 2014 Short Story of the Month

BREAKDOWN

It’s dark. Not too dark. Early evening. The sun just preparing to set behind the trees. Nice. Almost beautiful. The car drives slowly forward and pulls over onto the side of the road. It comes to a stop.
Inside the car, Paul Lee’s hand tightens around the steering wheel. It is stained with blood.
He reaches into the back seat and grabs a towel, dries the blood off his hands and wipes down the wheel. A pause. He sniffs the towel. Puts it in the back seat.
Lee looks up to check his rearview mirror. All he sees are his eyes. Cold and gray.
He opens the door and gets out, younger than he looks from his eyes. Almost looks charming, but haggard, like he’s been through Hell. Lee sighs and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a carton of cigarettes. It’s empty. He puts it back in his pocket.
“Shit,” he mutters.
He looks over the car. The blood. Deciding what to do. For a moment, Lee paces back and forth. His eyes don’t leave the road, though. They stay set on who’s coming and going.
“Shit.”
For a moment he stops, calms himself. He walks back over to the trunk of the car and opens it.
Cold eyes, even colder than his, look back up at him. Wide, but empty. Like the sky.
“Shit.”
He closes the trunk and gets back in the car. His hand moves to the radio to adjust it, turning on some music. He relaxes for a brief moment before, again, the car pulls along a little further. And again, it stops.
Again he goes around and, more quickly, opens the trunk back up. He looks down in at the crumpled thing inside and says, apologetically, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I thought we could make it work. I really did. Maybe… maybe I thought… I don’t know, that I could keep you around for awhile. Some of you, anyway. But I just… well, I guess I just don’t see that working out. Don’t be upset. It’s not you…”
He reaches into the trunk and pulls out one (of many) heavy, wet trash bags. Looking at it, he couldn’t quite remember what piece it was. But he thought he felt a mouth.
“It’s me.”
Heaving, he went and hauled the bags—one by one—into the woods.
When all is said and done, Lee emerges onto the road, sweat dripping from his brow. He looks beat. But unsatisfied. There’s no one around here. Just him and the woods. Thank God.
He gets back in the car.
(Yesterday: Lee knocks on the door of his girlfriend Kerri’s house. She opens. She smiles at him but it’s more out of general confuse than actual pleasure at his presence.  Than being happy to see him.
“Paul?” she says. Of course she knows it’s him. “What do you want?”
Sometime between then and now: Lee, on top of Kerri, raises the knife. Which has already been in her once. At least.)
Memories. Shit. Usually he doesn’t dwell on them. But he’s been thinking about this one ever since lunch. Must have been the fish.
Lee starts the car up again and casts only a glance to see if anyone’s around. He’s already past worrying.
“I want more,” he says flatly.
He drives away.

Nick talks to his girlfriend in his empty house.  The dining room. The living room. The bedroom. All devoid of activity. Of life. He’s a handsome enough guy, which begs the question right off the bat of why he’s alone in the house, and he doesn’t have the answer either.
He’s well-dressed. Khakis. Dress shirt. He’s taken off his tie (thank God) but it’s still there hung over a chair, waiting hungrily for tomorrow.
“Will you listen to me?” Nick says to the phone. “No. No… I… well, if you would let me finish. What do you mean, I didn’t let you finish? I’ve had my mouth shut for the past half-fucking-hour. Yeah. I did get a little carried away there. I did. I’m sorry about that. Mary. Come on, Mary. I just wanted to talk. Okay, fine. I guess I want to see you. I do. I really, really want to see you, Mary. I miss you.”
He sits down at the counter and makes himself a drink. His fingers have to tap the bottles to find the one that isn’t empty. He’s had a few already.
“See, that’s the sort of thing that I don’t know if you’re really seeing clearly. How can there be ‘no us’? There was an us last month, wasn’t there? Well, then, where did we go? That’s exactly right. We’re still here. You and me. Mary, all I’m asking is that you hear me out. Listen to my side of things. If you still want to call it quits, fine. But let’s get everything on the table first. Both sides of the story. It’s only fair.”

It’s raining now. He looks out at the house through the window, though the view is obscured.
He parks the car. And does what he has to do.

Nick takes another drink before he continues talking. “So, will you agree to see me? Yes, I’m sorry. You know I’m sorry and you know I just want to make everything right. That’s all. You know that. I just want to make everything okay.”
There’s a knock at the door.
Nick perks up and listens for a second. No, it couldn’t be. He goes back to the conversation. “Huh? Oh, no… it’s nothing. I just thought I heard something at the…”
The knocking comes again. Louder.
“Door,” he finishes. “Sweetie, I think there’s someone here. I better call you back.”
He hangs the phone up. Hesitantly, Nick gets to his feet. He moves, cautiously, toward the door. Of course, he’s a shut-in and doesn’t get too many visitors out here.
Again the knocking. Even louder.
Nick opens the door. There’s a man in the doorway. He’s soaked. Looks tired, worn, and most of all—
“Jesus, you look like you’ve been through Hell,” Nick says, “what’s the problem?”
The man smiles. It’s a thin smile. “My car broke down. I was wondering if I could use your phone? Call a tow truck… you know.”
Nick nods. “Sure, yeah. Come on in. Let’s at least get you in out of this rain.”
He leads the man in through the doorway and closes it behind him. Nick glances out through the door for a second, then looks back over. “You want a towel?”
“That’d be great, thanks.”
“Coming right up.”
He goes off to get one. The man looks around the living room as Nick goes. It’s a clean place, a  neat place. A big place. These are the details he notices. He checks his watch.
Nick comes back with a towel. “Here you are. I’m Nick, by the way. Nick Hodgkins.” He holds out his hand for the man to shake it.
“Lee,” he says, flashing his smile.
“That a first name or a last name?”
“Last,” Lee says.
“I see. Man of mystery, huh? Well, I’m pleased to meet you either way.”
“Sure. Likewise.”
“The phone’s in the kitchen. I was having a conversation, but I had to hang up. It can wait. If you want to use it… what was it you said you wanted to call? A tow truck, was that it?”
Lee nods.
“Well.” Nick sighs. “That could make for a bit of a problem.”
Lee raises an eyebrow. “Problem how?”
Nick sits down. “We’re out here in the middle of nowhere. As I’m sure you’ve seen. Nearest tow truck is still an hour, hour and a half away.”
“Shit,” Lee says.
Nick nods. “Shit.”
“What are we going to do about that?”
Nick thinks it over. “I guess we have a few options on that. We could go out in the rain to look at the damage. We could not do that and just sit here and I make you a drink—,”
“That’s the option. Yes sir. I’d say that’s the options right there.”
“What’ll it be?”
“Whatever you got,” Lee says, “whatever you got.”
“There’s a bottle of scotch out there.”
“It’ll work.”
Nick goes to make the drink. Lee stays seated on the couch. He surveys the room. The young man was right. This is a situation they’ve got themselves here. Nick is a friendly little fuckface. Could get annoying. Worse, could be a friend.
But Lee doesn’t kill guys.
It’s nothing personal. It’s just his way.
Nick comes back with the drinks. “So, not to sound too creepy. But the storm is worse than it sounds, I guess. And I don’t even know if they’re sending anyone else out tonight. If you want, there’s a guest room downstairs. Maybe you won’t need it the whole night. I don’t know. I’ll try to get this fixed for you as soon as I can. Were I in your position, that’s what I’d want. Until then,” he hands Lee a glass, “this is the only solution I’ve got.”
“Thanks.” Lee drinks. Swallows. Sighs. “Guess I’ll have to take that guest room.” Guess I’ll be killing a guy after all. “After all, what else will I do? Sit out there in the rain all night?”
“I’m waiting for a call from my girlfriend,” Nick says, “but if you want to try the tow truck again, feel free at any time. Right now, I’ll go show you around that room.”
“Thanks.”
They go downstairs. Basement’s just as—almost—decked out as the rest of the house. Pretty good shape. Pool table. Nice, big TV. This place was meant for a party? What kind of poor sonofabitch lives here all alone?
Fuck. The guy’s pretty much asking to die.
Sooner or later, someone’s going to have to answer that call. He follows Nick into the bedroom. That’s a little less nice. Still good, but homely. The rest of the house is quite the pad. This feel’s more like grandma’s room. Way he figures, it’s probably where Nick sticks her when she comes to visit. Grandma’s room. This is where he has been forced to stay for a whole fucking night.
Sooner or later.
Now’s good.
“So, you all set?” Nick asks.
“Yeah. Should be able to figure it out. Thanks again.”
“Sure. You want, you got the whole downstairs to yourself. Hell, it’s just me in here anyway. That sound good to you?”
Lee nods.

Nick goes back upstairs. He wants to make the call again. Try her one more time. Debates it for a few seconds. No. He’s said all he could say to her and all there is to do now is wait until she comes around again. She will.
Plus, all of a sudden, he has other things on his mind right now.

So how are we gonna kill this guy?
He’s all alone. That’s the easy thing. Like he said, there’s no tow trucks and obviously his car is working fine so that’s exactly what he wanted to hear. Lee thinks it over one more time. No way to get upstairs at any weapons and get the upper hand on Nick before he figures anything out. Easiest way to go about it is to find something down here.
Look at this fucking huge basement. There’s gotta be something down here. Just time to make a decision. And have a look around.
Lee steps out of the bedroom, making sure to be quiet, and looks around. There’s the main room down here, with the TV and the pool table—probably nothing of use in there unless he wants to take the little bastard out with a pool cue.
Interesting thought.
But it’s not what he wants. Across from him, there’s another door. Hopefully to a work room or something. God, all he needs is to find a little tool box. That’s not too much to ask for, is it? Even if Nick certainly doesn’t look like the handyman type, he’s got to have something. So Lee opens the door. It’s a cluttered mess. Nick probably hasn’t been down here in ages. Not surprising.
Oh, Jesus. Look at that.
Whole workbench. A bench cluttered with tools. Screwdrivers, drills, even a motherfucking hacksaw. Good Lord, yes. Lee steps forward. There’s more! Other saws, more advanced drills. Some expensive shit down here.
The kind of shit that… well… that he uses.
Guess Nick is the handyman type.
Lee steps toward the bench. There’s a shelf. And something else… he moves the shelf aside to get a clearer look at the thing behind it. A bulletin board. Under the clutter of tools he sees file folders.
They’re full of newspaper clippings. Health records. And pictures. Each folder is a girl. Nick is in a few of them. There are other notes too. Immediately obvious similarities, because Nick so helpfully outlined those similarities in red pen. All of the girls were beautiful. All of them were 5’4”—whatever the fuck that has to do with anything, Lee has no idea, but to each his own—and none of them had families. Some of them had few friends.
He’s picky, Lee sees, and he likes that. Nick could have gotten these girls easily if he’d looked into trailer parks or girls that still lived with their parents. Autistic women would make his guidelines pretty easy. But they have to be beautiful.
The bulletin board if filled with cutout pictures of their faces. In some of them, the girls barely even had faces anymore.
Lee puts the folders down.
He reckons he’s made a little mistake.
Time to move. Maybe—maybe he shouldn’t fuck around with this. Maybe it’s better he just gets in his car and goes. Not that he’s afraid, not of a little fuckhead like Nick, but it’s just safer that way. He was looking for something casual. An easy kill. To take his mind off things. Doesn’t look like he’s going to find that here.
So he might as well leave.
There’s a door to the outside down here in the basement. He saw it when he came in. Nick didn’t tell him about it which means Nick was probably planning on killing him too. It will be an easy way out. As long as he uses it right now.
Lee turns.
The door opens.
Hi, Nick.
“I really should have locked that door, huh?” Nick says. He smiles, wide and thin. Lee swears he’s seen that smile somewhere before.
“I guess you should have.”
Nick looks disappointed. “That’s all you have to say? You saw everything in there, right? Everything. And you’ve got nothing else to say? You’re not even scared.”
“That’s right, Nick. I guess I’m not.”
It seems Nick doesn’t accept the fact. “No. You are afraid, you’re just defensive and dealing with it by ignoring it. See this Lee? This is why I only kill women. But I’m going to have to make an exception with you. After all, you’re here, and your car’s all broken down. It’s too fucking easy. You’re practically asking to be murdered.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Oh yeah?” Nick asks. “How?”
“Well, I was thinking for a second there that you and I had a few things in common? But you know something, you ignorant little fuck?”
He punches Nick in the gut twice and knocks him to the floor.
“I don’t think I’ve got any problems killing a guy.”
Nick coughs. Rolls over. There’s a knife in his pocket. He reaches for it. Lee sees the action and grabs it first.
“I want you to die, Nick. Fuck, I want you to die. I’m sorry to see you’re making it a little easy, thought. Last person I killed was my girlfriend. Her name was Kerri. She put up more a fight than you.”
Nick bites his ankle.
Lee kicks his teeth in. “You see what I mean?”
Nick spits up blood in his face. “Sorry,” he says, getting to his feet, “I just like to build up an appetite first.”
He takes the knife from Lee’s hand—doesn’t make any sudden move, no planned attack, just reaches out and grabs the thing—and uses it to stab Lee in the gut.
Lee blinks. He wasn’t expecting that.
Nick twists the blade around and pulls it up to right below the neck. Lee feels his insides spill out and it’s damn right embarrassing worse than shitting yourself in public and oh fuck it actually hurts and it’s just so fucking cold and—
And he’s dead.
Nick makes sure the body falls faceup. He doesn’t want that shit getting all over the rug. He goes back upstairs. Runs the knife under the sink for a minute. Uses a dishtowel to get rid of the entrails that the water didn’t take care of. God, does it stink.
But it’s over quick. He goes back to the phone, then decides to use the portable. If everything’s going to go as he plans, he should pack now. He dials the number again and holds the phone on his shoulder as he waits for her to pickup. He packs as he waits.
The phone keeps ringing.
There are a few knives and he has a separate case for those.
She doesn’t pick up.
He begins loading the knives in.
It beeps. Answering machine will have to do. “Hi, Mary. It’s me again. I just want you to know that I’m going for one of those drastic decisions you always told me I had to make. I know you’re mad, but we’re alone remember. We were alone together. And I don’t want to be alone anymore and I can’t imagine you do. So I’m coming home, Mary. I’m going to do just what I promised to do.”
He holds up the knife, the one he just put in Lee, and loads it in last.
“I’m coming home to make everything right again.”