Murder Club Page 2

  Brent grinned. “Happily.”

  His face was buried in Scott’s crotch once again, and Scott realized he was enjoying this way too much, when suddenly it felt as though there was an explosion and Scott felt himself being propelled by a sudden force that made the car spin and come to a complete stop.

  It took a while for Scott to realize that they’d hit something. He wiped the blood off his face, and called for his partner. “Brent...” but he was met with silence. When he turned to see why Brent wasn’t responding, he saw Brent was unconscious, right next to him. Scott tried to wake him but no luck. Before he could figure out what to do, a sudden knock on the window startled him. He looked through the frost to see a figure peering down at him through the heavy glass. From inside, he couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, but the rapping was becoming obscene, so Scott lowered the window. A man in a blue parka stood so close, Scott could smell the stench of stale food and cheap booze on his breathe. The man stared at him with an almost furious glare.

  Scott decided to be polite, considering they might have hit his vehicle, although it had all happened so fast, he hadn’t seen a thing. He still couldn’t recall what it was they hit, but they would figure it out.

  “Hi,” Scott said to the man, hoping for a response, but all he got was a longer stare. It was a little infuriating. He was about to yell at the man, when someone banged the hood of the car, hard enough for it to startle Scott a second time. At this the man in the blue parka spoke. “What are you two gentlemen doing in the middle of nowhere at this hour?”

  Scott felt anxious about the man and the way he had spoken. “Sir, we’re just passing through, on our way to Allentown, we mean no harm.”

  “Did you know your fly is open?” the man’s words made Scott nervous. This guy wasn’t here to help, he was here to fuck with them. He hurriedly zipped himself back up. “So, is that your girlfriend?” The man said and for the first time, he was chuckling. It was an obvious dig. Scott felt the anger inside him, but he had no choice but to hide it. It wouldn’t be the first time. He could go home and bitch about it all he wanted in front of Brent, but he couldn’t risk losing his temper now.

  By then, the second man wearing a battered old dull green trench coat, carrying a shotgun in one hand, came to the window. He pointed his weapon at Scott.

  Scott tried to alleviate the tension. “Do you really have to point that thing in my direction?” he said, hoping his light tone would signal a peaceful solution to the problem.

  But the man didn’t budge. “How else am I going to make you get out of the car, fag?”

  “Look, my friend is hurt, I need to take him to a hospital—”

  The man cocked his weapon. “Get out of the fucking car, I’m not going to tell you twice. Or my next conversation is going to be with you and your girlfriend’s lead filled face.”

  Scott hesitated for a second and eventually unlocked the car with trembling hands. The man with the gun rudely hauled him out, forced him to stand with his hands in the air. The other pulled Brent out of the car, and Brent came awake and stared blankly at them. “Looks like the girlfriend woke up,” the man in the blue parka said and they both laughed while Scott saw the color fade from Brent’s face when he realized something was off.

  Scott was filled with worry for his partner. He didn’t look so good, but that might have been the shock. His head was bleeding. “Brent, are you okay?”

  Before Brent could answer, the man with the shotgun hit him in the back of his head and forced him on his knees. Scott killed the instinct to murder the guy with his bare hands, and go straight to Brent to see if he was okay. He knew how dangerous head wounds could be. He wouldn’t feel at ease until a doctor cleared him. He wished he knew what these men were up to.

  “You two destroyed our new vehicle,” The man with the blue parka said. “You were driving recklessly!”

  “Sir, I’d be happy to pay for the damages—”

  “Shut the fuck up,” the shotgun man yelled.

  “What do you want?” Scott said, still trying to get them to listen to reason. “Do you need money, we can get you whatever you want, just please let us go. We won’t tell anyone.”

  The blue parka spit out whatever gunk he was chewing and glared at him. “We don’t need your fag money!”

  All this time, he was fighting his anger and forcing himself to be polite, his gaze was on Brent who was barely keeping it together. The man grabbed Brent’s hands and twisted them behind his back until he screamed. Brent’s face looked pained in the headlights of the Prius. “Don’t fucking touch him,” the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant to lose his cool that way, but seeing Brent get hurt fucked with his usual calm. Brent looked up at him and he had tears in his eyes and that was the last nail in the coffin.

  Blue parka walked up to him slowly, while the other still had the gun pointed at Brent. Parka hit Scott with a fist that felt like an iron glove when it spun Scott’s head. “Take it out on me all you want, but I swear to God if you touch him, I’m going to make you and your entire bloodlines regret it.”

  The man scoffed at Scott’s words. “Looks like that bitch is real special to you, huh?” He turned to his partner when he said the next words. “I think they might be under the impression that we’re scared little children because of some fag and his empty threats! Let’s show them who’s in control!”

  When the man with the shotgun pulled Brent up and made him stand, he looked angry but also a little complacent. He took aim at Brent’s leg, but Brent looked calm as he looked the man in the eye without any fear.

  “You’re going to regret that,” Brent said and gave the man a smug grin.

  “Really? You and your boyfriend are going to bring down the wrath of God on us with that godforsaken Prius?”

  “Its good for the environment, you douche,” Brent said, and Scott almost laughed at his cockiness.

  The shotgun man looked furious and took aim, and he shot Brent right below the knee. Brent screamed in pain and the blue parka had to restrain Scott from going toward him. “Stay back, or the next one is headed to his skull.”

  Brent was still in agony. Millions of things were going through Scott’s head. When suddenly, there was a blast, and the headlights of the Prius shut off almost instantly. The men were clearly confused. “Who’s out there?!” Blue parka yelled. “Show yourself you coward!”

  The lights of the Prius were back on. A man’s voice spoke from the darkness. “Okay, okay, I’m showing myself, don’t get your panties in a bunch!”

  There was a whirring sound in the air then, the loud whir of an engine but it stopped. The man came out of the darkness and there was something in his hand. But they could only see a silhouette, he still wasn’t visible to them. He spoke directly to the men. “I don’t suppose you freaks-of-nature hillbillies are going to leave these two alone and be on your merry way to do whatever white trash fucktards do when you’re not fucking your sisters?”

  The shotgun said to the blue parka. “Looks like faggot central over here tonight,” he laughed.

  The silhouette appeared then, for everyone to see. “, I’m straight,” he said. “But I can see why you might be confused as you didn’t see me ploughing your mother’s pussy last night. It was disgusting, just like you, in case you were wondering.”

  The man in the blue parka bared his teeth at the jibe but he was stopped by the shotgun man. “If you keep walking and leave us to our business, you won’t get hurt. Otherwise, there’s a shotgun shell with your name on it in here.”

  “Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t take my offer,” the silhouette man said, and the whir of the same engine was heard again. This time, it was obvious what the sound was: in the man’s hand was a heavy-duty chainsaw. The man held up the chainsaw in two steady hands, and without wasting any time, moved to the man with the shotgun, who looked like he was going to speak but the sharp blades of the saw sank into the man’s abdomen, and he screamed and when t
he man finally sawed through him, the shotgun and two large chunks of the man’s body slumped to the ground in a pile of raw flesh and flannel. Scott watched in awe, as the blood from the sawing of the shotgun man sprayed all over Brent and the chainsaw man.

  The blue parka stood speechless until Scott saw the front of the man’s crotch get an ever-increasing damp spot. The chainsaw man calmly walked over to blue parka who fell to his knees and started begging for his life in a voice that was high pitched and rambling. He was shaking all over.

  “You want to be spared?” the man with the chainsaw said. “I know of a way.” He turned to the bloody Brent. “You okay, Brent?”

  “Other than the fact that I have shotgun shrapnel in my leg, I’m fucking peachy!”

  The man with the chainsaw, aka Zach, grinned. “Quit whining,” he said. “Don’t act like this isn’t Christmas for you.”

  Scott was smiling too. “Hey, he’s hurt, show a little compassion, Zach.”

  “If you say so,” Zach said. “By the way, that whole I’m going to make you and your entire bloodlines regret it, nice touch!”

  “What can I say, I was inspired.”

  “Took you long enough,” Brent complained.

  “I dozed off okay!”

  “How can anyone actually sleep in the trunk of a fucking Prius!”

  “Not my first time being smuggled across statelines.”

  “Someone better come and help me, so I can get some fucking peace! We’re supposed to be on a vacation for fuck sake!”

  Scott went over and kissed Brent. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Scott let Brent lean on him, and helped him to walk a few steps toward the man in the blue parka. “What do you want to do, baby?”

  Brent looked at the man cowering in front of him. Scott knew who he must have reminded Brent of, but he wasn’t going to say anything. He simply squeezed Brent’s hand as a show of support. Brent looked at Zach. “I want him to suffer.”

  The man was in tears and speaking incoherently. Brent was clearly enjoying it.

  “Hear hear!” Zach said, and Scott followed suit. “Hear hear!”

  They watched as Brent limped on one good leg and took the chainsaw. “You better start praying to your racist, homophobic god, because you won’t get out of this alive.”

  The man looked pleadingly at Brent. “You don’t have to do this!”

  For a second, it was almost as if Brent wouldn’t go any further. But then, his eyes were filled with a strange calm. “FUCK. YOU.”

  The engine of the chainsaw whirred back to life.

  The Disruption

  JAMIE

  There was a blue snake in his dream that frightened him. It was bright blue and almost plastic in nature, but in the dream, it had been threatening. He didn’t even know why his brain came up with that image to scare him.

  When after a lot of effort, he managed to push the nightmare away, he realized he was alone in an empty room and in pain. In an attempt to remember what happened, he tried to rip away the bandage covering the entire length of his arms, and he was midway through ripping the right one, when he saw the strange looking wounds. The pain that was already there seemed to be intensifying every second. And then, slowly, like a movie film unspooling inside his head, it all started to come back to him. Seeing the man, the man who was supposed to have all the answers, the one he had pined over for months and how excited he was at finally having found him.

  The door opened, and he walked in carrying takeout. He looked like he had slept peacefully, like nothing could touch him, not even a dying, bloodied man in his bed. He was so gorgeous to look at, it was disturbing. He locked the door and set aside the food, came toward Jamie, and saw the ripped open bandage. “Don’t touch that,” he said. “Unless I give you express permission, do not touch the bandage.” There was a strange level of threat in the man’s words. He fixed the bandage and touched Jamie’s forehead, and Jaime winced.

  “Now, you’re scared?” the man sounded annoyed. This time, when he touched Jamie to check for fever, Jamie let him. Satisfied, he stood and went to the coffee table and started putting the food into plates. “You don’t have a fever,” the man announced casually. “The wounds aren’t bleeding anymore. You should be fine in a few days.”

  He set the food in front of Jamie on the bed, in a tray and then suddenly seemed to have realized that Jamie couldn’t hold anything in his hands. He picked up two chopsticks and sat down with Jamie on the bed. He fed Jamie the first seaweed roll and Jaime almost choked on it. He started coughing violently, so the man got up and got Jamie a soda from the minibar. He even helped Jamie take slow sips until the coughing stopped.

  “I really don’t want to eat—” Jamie protested but the man had another seaweed roll waiting and Jaime had no choice but to scarf it down.

  After this, the man took a break. He wasn’t eating though. He merely stared at Jamie until Jamie started to feel self-conscious.

  At least the sushi was safely down his throat.

  “My name is Alarik,” the man said. “But you probably knew that.”

  Jamie didn’t know what to say. “Ala—”

  “You can call me Rick.”

  Jamie felt his throat getting dry. Alarik Reeves. The name danced around in his brain with memories he couldn’t push away. Without warning, they began to overwhelm him, every thought, every image, every emotion—scrambling to get to the surface and he started to cry, aware that the man sitting in front of him might not like it. As expected, Reeves stood and paced about the room, running a hand through his hair, probably trying to hide his anger.

  Jamie forced himself to stop crying and wiped the tears off his face. The man was not here to wipe his tears. To be honest, Jamie didn’t know the reason for his staying there or for keeping Jamie alive and in his room, feeding him food.

  “Look, if you want me to leave—”

  “If I wanted you to leave, you wouldn’t be in my bed. I wouldn’t be feeding you sushi and keeping you alive.”

  “I don’t understand—”

  “If you want to be with me, you can’t be weak. Weakness pisses me the fuck off. Understand?”

  Jamie was speechless.

  “I mean it,” Reeves said. “No more trying to kill yourself, no more fucking pity parties, your mom fucked you and you liked it, get over it. This is life. Shit happens. I don’t want you crying yourself to sleep every night, and wallowing. All of this stops now.”

  Jamie looked up at the man clueless, and the man glared at him. “Understood?”

  Jamie nodded furiously. “Yes.”

  “Great,” the man said, and came back to sit with Jamie, no longer angry. “Now that that’s settled, we can both enjoy our meal.”

  The Disruption

  BRENT

  There was a reason Brent forgave a lot about Scott. It wasn’t the club, it wasn’t the fact that he was hot, although those things certainly helped; the real reason, the reason no one knew and one that he wouldn’t be able to explain, was the way Scott looked at him. Six years they’d been together, and there were times when they both got on each other’s nerves, and when they got sick they were miserable, but not once did Scott stop looking at him that way, like Brent was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

  The truth was a guy like Scott could have anyone he wanted. And every day that he chose to stay with Brent, could have been spent searching for more but Scott continued to be loyal for some reason, to Brent. Scott must have noticed him brooding because he brought Brent a Gatorade and sat down next to him on the carpet, in front of the fire. They finally made it to the vacation house. Their bloody clothes were still in the bathroom. Usually what they did was planned. What happened today was something unexpected, and Brent still felt a little anxious.

  “How’re you holding up?” Scott asked with the utmost concern in his voice.

  Brent sipped the Gatorade and looked at the fire. “I’m okay,” Brent said. “It’s just a fl
esh wound. I’ll be fine.”

  “I still think you should at least go to the emergency room make sure everything is okay,” Scott was still worried. “You were bleeding pretty badly back there.”

  “I can’t stand going to a hospital right now. What happened today, I’m still fucking rattled, Scott!”

  “Hey, it wasn’t our fault. Those men weren’t planning on letting us leave alive.”

  “I get that, but it shouldn’t have gone that far! We could have left matters to the police department.”

  “Zach is a convicted felon, we couldn’t risk it. Anyway, why is it bothering you so much? I’ve never seen you panic before.”

  “Something about this whole incident,” Brent tried to explain. “It just didn’t feel right. I know we took care of the evidence, but I can’t help thinking we might have missed something.”

  “That’s because you’re over thinking this,” Scott said, and Brent stopped himself from arguing the point further. For one thing, he felt exhausted. “Finish your Gatorade,” Scott said lovingly, “I’ll get you something to eat.” But Brent grabbed his hand and stopped him from leaving. “Don’t go.”

  Scott was worried again, Brent could tell. But he wordlessly sat back down. “Brent, something’s clearly troubling you. Talk to me.”

  Brent looked up at him. “Do you think we’d still be together if it...if it wasn’t for...the club?”

  Scott was clueless. “Brent, are you having existential crisis?”

  “Would you even like me, if we weren’t killing people together! How would that even work?”

  “I don’t know what—”

  “If I asked you to stop, would you do it?”

  “But you’re not asking me to stop, are you?”

  Suddenly, Brent felt helpless. Helplessly alone. Scott grabbed him and forced him to look up. “Brent, I love you baby. I will always love you. You don’t have to be insecure about it, I can’t even think about anyone else. Living without you, that’s not life to me.”