Bits and Pieces

Ch. 5: Tantalize

A/n: Shout-out to Sunshine on the imdb message boards for wanting to see Jerry in here. I tweaked the storyline a bit, switched the fate of a couple characters around.

As Grear Grimsrud slept, he was unaware of the sudden drop in temperature. He was also unaware of the angry-as-hell entity that had entered the room. Carl was back. Grimsrud yawned, muttering, "Pancakes," under his breath as he slept.

"Yeah, next time you get some, I hope you choke on them," Carl grumbled. He began walking back and forth through Grimsrud to wake him up. "Get up! I said get up!"

"What the—?" the criminal said, waking up. "Oh, you're back."

Carl cracked his jaw audibly.

"Damn right!" he snarled. The door to the cell opened and would have squashed him, had he been solid. He went through the door and looked suddenly taken aback as a guard dragged a man into the room.

"I'm innocent, please, ya gotta believe me here!" the man babbled as the guard left the room. Both Carl and Grimsrud knew that whiney voice. It was Jerry Lundegaard, the car salesmen that had gotten them into this mess.

"You!" muttered Grimsrud, looking ready to kill. Carl put up a hand saying, "No, he's mine!"

Showalter took possession of Lundegaard, who screamed as the ghost invaded his soul.

"36 six hours of hell!" Carl growled. "All at once, just for you!"

Jerry screamed again, his features twisting into scarred vestiges that resembled Showalter's own. He fell to the floor, heaving in pain. The car salesman lay still for a moment, before rising to his feet.

"That's better," said Carl, brushing several dust bunnies off of Jerry's prison uniform. "Feels odd, being alive again." In Grimsrud's mind, what was odd was Showalter's voice coming out of Lundegaard's mouth.

"Are you going to be staying like that long?"

"I'll get rid of him when I don't need him anymore," Carl answered.

"When will that be?" Grimsrud asked.

"When I see you in hell."

"Trouble at home?" the Swedish man inquired unfeelingly.

"Shut up," Carl snarled. Grimsrud smiled maliciously.

"Anna didn't know you were there, did she?" he asked. "And what about that weaselish little brat of yours? Did he not recognize his poppa?"

"I said shut UP!" Showalter cried, shoving Grimsrud from him with an inhuman strength. "Tell me why I shouldn't rip out your spine and hang you from it!" he went on, hellish rage burning in his eyes. "And it better be a damn good reason!"

"You wouldn't kill me," Grear replied, still smiling. "You're not strong enough, and you know it, don't you?" Carl narrowed his eyes, his hand clenching and unclenching into fists as if it were the heartbeat he no longer possessed.

"No!" he snarled, backing away and clawing at his hair. "I won't put up with anymore of your Hannibal Lecter psycho-crap! I'm gonna to kill you and I'm gonna flippin' enjoy it!"

"No," repeated Grimsrud in that slow, patient tone. "You were the brains, I am the muscle, that how thing're run. The tables haven't turned; you are still the weak, sniveling little weasel you've always been! Even in death, you haven't changed."

"SHUT UP!" Carl screamed, doubling over with his hands over his ears. "SHUT—UP!" Showalter winced, clutching at Lundegaard's jaw. Carl's wounds were becoming apparent on the physical body of his possession victim. Blood gushed out of a wound to the jaw and cuts and bruises were starting to form on the twisted features of his face. Lundegaard fell to the floor, dead. Carl Showalter stood beside him, alive once again. Jerry had been nothing but a shell, a cocoon, as the dead man had fed off his life force and soul in order to regain the body he had lost. This caused Grimsrud to feel fear, an emotion that, like all feelings, he rarely ever experienced.

"Wuh—how did—?"

Carl cracked his jaw audibly.

"If it's one thing I've learned in my brief tenure in Hell, it's this: physical pain is nothing. Nothing compared to the absolute torment of having no one but yourself, while images of all you've ever known and loved flash through your mind. You'd give anything to reach them, but you can't! That is real pain! Wanting what you cannot have for all eternity! I'd rather go though that wood chipper again and again than see my son grow up without a father and my wife to be alone! I want you to know the same pain I have."

"You can't do that," said Grimsrud quietly, his fear leaving him quickly. "I can't feel."