32
Chap3 Monster
"I'll stop the whole world. I'll stop the whole world from turning into a monster, eating us alive. Don't you ever wonder how we survive? Well, now that you're gone, the world is ours. I'm only human. I've got a skeleton in me, but I'm not the villain despite what you're always preaching. Call me a traitor. I'm just collecting your victims…" Monster by Paramore
"Does anyone know where the hell we are going?" Murphy demanded, his mouth full of sloppy burger.
The anemic autumn moon, drained of its fiery summer blood, gazed sickly at them from behind the smeared glass pane of the diner booth. Murphy slouched alone on one side, his legs finally happy to be spread out across the seat while his brother was crammed beside Elise.
He smirked, quite amused, as the two wrestled over the creased map spread over their extremely late dinners. Runny egg yolk seeped through the southern states, but neither paid much attention. They were too busy arguing between yawns about their headed destination.
"We can't possibly be that far into Ohio," Connor insisted. "We've only been driving about nine and a half hours."
"Believe me; I know how long we've been driving. My butt cheeks keep reminding me," she pointed out. "But I don't think the kid behind the counter has any reason to lie about what town we've landed in."
"She's got a point there," Murphy chimed. He shoved another overcooked French fry smothered in ketchup past his grinning lips.
Neither acknowledged him. The agitated woman was on a real roll. "Besides, if you are so concerned about where we are maybe you should try staying awake and navigating instead of slobbering and snoring all over the backseat."
"Slobbering?" Connor laughed. "I don't slobber, my dear, I"
"Yeah, but you do snore," his twin interrupted. "Like a fucking chainsaw."
This made Elise giggle. "Yes, exactly. Thank you." She took another drag of the sludge the diner called coffee, wincing at its unwelcome but necessary bitterness.
She pointed back to the map. "Now, I'm thinking if we stay on this red line,"
Connor slapped at the map. "That red line will lead us farther down south,"
"I know, but it curves west and keeps us out of the bigger cities along the way." She shrugged.
"Sounds good to me," Murphy piped. He wiggled his brows intentionally at his brother. "It could be quite the adventure."
Connor was not so sold. "Let's get something straight, you two. I'm not interested in taking the slow, scenic route. We're not on a fucking vacation." He turned directly to his brother. "I got shoved into this shit because of your fucking bleeding heart, and,"
Challenged, Murphy shot upright. He gulped down another hearty bite of slop before shooting back. "My bleeding heart? I don't fucking think so. Try divine intervention. You heard her back at Doc's place. You saw what happened, too, you surly gobshite. Don't blame me for this mess. I'm just along for the ride. Might as well make the best of it, too."
Elise wrapped her arms firmly against her chest, giving her heavy breasts a place to rest. She nodded approval.
A faded bottom lip jutted as she spoke. "Very well put, Murphy. Lord knows I didn't ask for any of this either. I had no clue I would wake up yesterday and have a God-given compulsion to avenge and kill the bad guys. I'm just as baffled by the past two day's events as the two of you. Didn't even see it coming."
She shrugged, spreading out her palms to offer whatever she could to either guy willing to accept. "But here we are. And I need to get to Nebraska to my sister. Now, I'm the one that's driving, so we are,"
"Ya call that drivin', sweetheart?" Connor winced. "Ya almost got us killed gettin' on to the,"
"I was in a bit of a hurry!" She balked. "In case you don't remember, my grandfather's goons were on our butts!"
The unappeased man threw his uncontained hands at her. "Then what about almost sideswiping that semi truck after we stopped to take a piss? And on my side of the damn car,"
"Well, if you think you can get us there any safer then by all means,"
"Oh, I need a fucking drink. A hard drink if you assholes think I'm gonna make this trip without going half-ass insane with her behind the wheel," Connor barked.
Their voices were climbing. Murphy noticed the scrawny night waiter and the old sour cook peering at them from the kitchen through the cut window behind the lunch counter. He tried injecting some seasoned humor to lighten the tone.
"Yeah, your grandfather's goons sure would be pissed if they found us all twisted and mangled to death in a nasty car crash. I'd be all hepped up thinking I wouldn't get to put down any more Yakies myself," he gave a slight chuckle.
Connor had had it. He balled up the map, tossing it hard at his laughing brother. It bounced off his chest, landing in the puddle of ketchup smeared around his plate. "Aye, you think this is entertainin'? Ya keep addin' your cutesy little remarks, but we both know why we're really on this job."
His slit, tired eyes moved between the woman crushed against his side and Murphy. "Ya been on the pop for her ever-"
Elise felt some rustling under the table. Someone's boot nudged her heel, knocking her feet from their comfy crossed ankle position.
"Hey!" She squawked.
Suddenly, the guys were slinging unidentifiable words at each other; cold harsh words that reminded her of unrelenting frozen winters. Each syllable was tacked with anger, but she was too impressed by the unexpected exchange to contemplate why they were fighting in the first place.
"Are you two speaking Russian?" She asked, frankly amazed.
They kept going at it; the kicking worsening under the table, but headlights aimed directly at them distracted her from the nonsense.
A vehicle was quickly approaching, parking haphazardly beside their sleeping getaway car. Elise put her face to the glass, peering into the creepy darkness as several people got out. They were moving quickly. Her heart raced.
Soldiers. They are moving in on us. They've pinpointed our location and plan to ambush.
She felt for the handbag at her hip, knowing the gun she'd removed from Big Greasy's death grip was tucked inside. Ready for more.
But am I?
She gulped, grabbing at the nearest arm, tugging crazily. "Uh, guys, seriously, I think,"
"Hey!" The gruff cook hollered, rudely interrupting her panic. "You boys wanna tone it down? We got other customers comin' in!"
"Yes, ma'am," Murphy mumbled. His eyes quickly hit the table. Like an obedient child, he took his scolding silent and brooding.
It was then Connor noticed Elise practically in his lap. She wasn't a light gal, and he felt the burden of her mauling his thigh roughly. Her shiny nails crimped into his shoulder. The thin tshirt covering his shoulder was not much help in buffering the bite. She was stammering fast, watching and wincing as a group of people shuffled into the all-night diner.
"What? What's gotten into ya, woman?" He seethed, removing her hand from him.
She gestured to the door. The boys watched her slither down into the seat, clenching her eyes and jaw. "Someone's here," she eeked out from a tightened throat.
"Of course someone's here," Connor scoffed. "It's an all-night diner. People gotta eat."
Murphy crouched, looking around the artificial potted plant behind their booth. Between the waxy leaves, he could see two children being pushed inside by a set of frantic parents.
He grinned, chuckling again. He eased against the seat, reaching out to tug the silver bangle bracelets collected at her trembling wrist.
"Hey, it's just some kids and their folks. Nothing too scary," he said in a powdery light voice that betrayed his tough as nails surface.
Elise released her eyelids. She could hear the whimpers of a cranky preschooler behind her, and a hurried mother pleading for a bathroom.
The young waiter wasn't in near as a hurry. He threw the woman a tagged key. "Bathroom's outside. On the other side of the building," he told her as if her daughter's urgency was just one more boring nuisance designed to keep him awake on this shitty shift.
Elise watched and listened as the weary blond woman asked her just-as-tired husband to order them coffee-to-go. She cracked a smile as the older boy groaned about being hungry.
"It's the middle of the night," the father sighed. "We'll get to a motel soon, buddy. Then, you'll be sleeping and you'll forget all about food til morning."
"See?" Murphy said, soft and calm, his blue denim eyes comforting her like her favorite pair of worn jeans. Jeans she'd been dying to slip back into for eight long years. "No bad guys."
"But we gotta get outta here anyway," Connor added, stifling another obnoxious yawn. "A motel sounds right about now."
Elise had calmed a bit, nodding her head and regaining regular breathing. "Yes, I need to visit the ladies room before we get back on the road."
"I need a serious smoke," Murphy sighed.
"Aye," Connor agreed. He snagged the bill from the edge of the table. "Ante up."
"Uhhh," Murphy stumbled. He reached into his pockets and came out empty. "Yeah, I'm broke. Dinner's on you tonight, fella."
"I don't have any fucking money! We were supposed to pick up a load from Smecker's guy, but that got blown to shite the minute this troublesome dame arrived,"
Elise sighed, clasping her eyes shut again. "Boys, boys, relax already. Connor, you stay with the bill. Murphy, come with me. Let's see what surprises await us in the trunk of the car."
If I know Little Johnny, he'd have worked out every detail and placed it all, neatly folded, in the trunk of the car. Just like the maimed dead bodies she knew he stored there after a finished hit on an unfortunate and foolish betrayer to the Family.
Connor slouched back into the seat. He picked at what was left of his meal, only thinking of a solid mattress under his back, a smoke, and a beer in his belly.
Elise and Murphy walked wordlessly across the unpaved lot. The gravel messed with her balance in heels she hadn't worn in years, but she marched on, keeping pace with his naturally quick stride.
The look back in the booth, she thought. The softening of his face, his voice. The banter and laughter and camaraderie she was seeing between them. It betrayed every tough, heartless legend she'd heard passed down about the infamous McManus Brothers. Like they had been total nut job murderers reigning down vigilante justice under the guise of God's instruction.
That it was bullshit. Meaningless. Crazy.
But that's not what she was experiencing with them or inside herself. She'd heard the words straight from the Redeemer's mouth. She had seen the look on Murphy's face, an almost euphoric satisfaction, and watched as he unloaded his gun on any sleaze ball that took a swipe at her in that bar. What she experienced had been real and these guys were genuine in everything they did.
At the car, Elise held the key to the tiny lock. She hesitated, biting and sucking in her lower lip. "Before I open this, I have to know one thing."
"What?" He mumbled.
"How do you know me? Because I certainly didn't know you until all this happened."
He had his hands jammed into his pockets. He was staring at his dusty boots like the nervous school boys she came across from the Catholic school. For two seconds, he appeared so vulnerable.
Awkward, maybe. So…it flashed her. Hot. Yes, he was definitely the better looking of the two. She grazed over his tall, lean frame. And sexy as…oh my.
He straightened, groping for his almost empty pack of cigarettes. "We went to the same catechism together as kids. Uh, St. Timothy's Cathedral in,"
She whooped with laughter. "Yes! Oh my golly, I hated that place! All those rituals and prayers we were forced to repeat over and over again. What a crock! But I don't remember you guys,"
He was glaring at her, but behind the irritation was a questioning, almost sorry expression that shut her up quickly.
She started explaining. "Well, you see, I laugh because I've never felt fully committed to the Catholic faith. As soon as I could, I ran from it. I became a Christian. Born again. But, I mean, that's everybody's choice and free will. Whatever works for you."
His hard face crumbled into an amused smirk. "Aye, a Bible Thumper, then?"
More laughter escaped her. She rolled her eyes, knowing. "Yes, yes, Bible Thumper, Jesus Freak, Scripture Snapper, blah, blah, blah." She breathed. "It's just, I felt empty. Then, I found Jesus. And I certainly couldn't justify sitting in church on Sunday babbling on with my rosary next to a man who on Monday ordered the killings of men he called friends or family. My dad," she scoffed.
He inhaled, then released the smoke into the dark above him. "Yeah, that's something you must be ordained to do, right?" He sort of chuckled, and she caught the black humor. It was infectious and made her sputter with laughter. "Whaddaya say we find out what's in the trunk?"
Her smile lingered on him. "Yes. Let's."
She popped the trunk. And just as she suspected, there sat several navy blue suitcases. Squealing with delight, Elise unlatched the first, smallest trunk and found all her toiletries and immense make up bag dumped precariously into it.
"Yes! I love you, Frankie!" she hooted. She rooted further into the bag. "Hey, there are a couple razors in here and some man soap and stuff. I guess he figured if we were going to be forced into a car together for unspeakable amounts of time you should at least smell pleasant."
"No money?" Murphy questioned, apparently not interested in hygiene.
Elise ticked her finger across her lips. "No, that would be in…" she thought for a second, and placed her finger atop one of the medium-sized cases. "This one."
And it was. Lots of beautiful crisp bills tightly conforming to each other in their orderly blue bands. She gently ripped one free and handed it to her escort. "I hope they have cash for a hundred."
"What's in the rest of the bags?" He asked.
She knew. She'd seen her mother pack up women and their families on the run when something horrible was occurring. Clothes. Shoes. A few personals, but nothing too heavy or cumbersome. Maybe a gun or two. She had no idea what to do with one up until this afternoon at the bar. "We'll check em out when we get to a motel. We all need some rest."
He took a final drag on the cigarette before flicking it away uselessly. "I'll go give this to my brother."
"Great, I'm going to the Ladies room. I hope that woman will let me in. I really have to go," she said. "Could you use the change to fill up the tank?"
His face lit with the anticipation of getting behind the wheel of that car. "Hell yeah."
They parted; Elise wobbling through the gravel to the side of the building and him striding coolly to the front doors. But she stopped midway, addressing him again. "Hey Murphy, what's his problem with me?"
He glanced back at the restaurant, seeing his brother slouched over in the booth. "Who, Connor?"
She nodded but her entire body moved, silky and fluid. Her hand found her hip, cocked and ready to be placed upon it. "Yes, Murphy, your brother. Every time he's conscious, he's on me for or about something."
"He's just not too keen on working with partners. Or being forced into fucked up situations like this one. We came to take care of a bit of business and get back home to Ireland."
"I didn't want this, ya know," she reminded him.
He nodded, gnawing at his lip. He pulled out the beads from around his neck and fingered the ornate cross. "I know. You don't choose it." He glanced upward. "He chooses you."
"No kidding," she breathed.
"Connor will come around. He doesn't have a choice."
He stepped back into the building. She waited until the door closed before heading her way to the bathroom.
The door was still sealed up tight. Elise paced a few times around the building, but her bladder was losing its patience. It inflamed, getting madder and madder.
She rapped her knuckles lightly against the door. "Excuse me? Ma'am?"
Nothing.
Behind the door she heard a heavy thump; like a weighted object had been suddenly dropped to the floor. It echoed out from under the crack in the door. Elise stepped closer, plastering her ear to the cold steel.
Something or someone was being dragged. The groans of the overexerted dragger were barely concealing the sound of boot heels trailing across the floor.
She held her breath. There, behind the heaves and heavy sighs, she caught the whimper of innocence. Pure terror. Utter confusion.
The little girl. Anger rose inside her.
She eased the gun from the handbag dangling from her shoulder. Glancing around, she knew she was alone. Murphy was filling up the car and Connor was probably hanging out front, filling up his lungs with tar. If she yelled, whatever madness happening behind the door would speed up quickly, and there would be no saving anyone.
She remembered the little gun trick she'd seen her father play; tucking the firearm carefully into the back of your pants. She gave it a try. The gun dropped at her heels.
"Crap," she uttered. She bent fast, scooping it up. Her cheeks burned. As if anyone is watching.
The second time at tucking the gun, she succeeded. It felt unnatural and campy. Like dressing up like Ghostbusters when she should be playing Dirty Harry.
"Hello?" Elise yanked at the door handle, twisting to no avail. "Ma'am, please. I can't wait another minute. I'm drowning out here!" She called.
Shoes scuffled, panicked, but the door still did not open.
Her pulse quickened. Don't get desperate, she told her racing heart. Time to get a level head. Stay steady. Be smart. But I have to get inside!
"Ma'am, if you don't open the door, I'll be forced to get the manager," she warned. "I have to go."
She was going to count. Maybe to five; possibly to ten…before what? Running for help? Gather reinforcements?
The knob turned slightly on four. Now!
Her breath hitched. She took a step toward the light blaring out the tiny slit of the opening door. A hand was emerging, grotesquely scabbed with wisps of black hair crawling around on it.
She reached for the knob, but the hand reached her first. It clamped on to her arm, pulling her harshly into the crack. Elise stumbled through, and she felt the gun leave her waistband.
Wait! She tried to grapple for it. It fell out onto the ground as the door slammed shut behind her.
Oh, great.
And then the bedlam began.
Elise gasped. There at her feet sprawled the woman. The mother. Aside from the blood trailing from the corner of her downturned mouth, she appeared to be sleeping. But she had no time to check her out.
The hand that had pulled her into this mess was moving her roughly away from the body, shoving her into a row of dingy porcelain sinks.
She looked up. Reflected back at her in the smeary mirror was the bewildered face of a complete Wildman. The same black hair covering his hand jutted out in matted clumps from beneath a purple base ball cap. The tweaked eyes and overgrown facial hair gave him a Charlie Manson effect. He was far from menacing. Even as he stood, scrawny legs spread apart, holding the hammer high at his temple.
Behind him, peeking from a stall, cowered the little girl. She hugged a well-loved stuffed monkey. Her teary eyes dripped as she looked from her unconscious mother to her only savior. Me, Elise surmised.
Elise straightened and turned to face him. She grimaced. She cleared her throat and sighed, "Well, isn't this quite the party."
The crazy man's arm jerked. His held out his hand, the fingers twitching like a dying body. "Gimme your purse, lady," he slurred.
Elise clutched at her purse, feigning offense. "Pardon me, but what for?"
The twitching fingers reached closer. "Cuz I want your money. All of it. Now hand it over."
She shook her head. "I don't have any money," she was drawling now, playing the helpless victim so easily. "Honest, I don't. My, uh, my boyfriend inside has all the money. I can go get him if you'd like,"
The crazy man chuckled, "Ya think I'm fuckin' stupid? Hand it over, and I won't pound you."
Elise's eyes trailed over to the sprawled woman. He followed her gaze. "Like you did her?"
"Yeah, like I did her," he spat. Then, he grinned and cackled like a total freak.
"Is she dead?" Elise dared.
He shrugged his tiny, bony shoulders. "Dunno. Don't care. I need cash."
Elise nodded toward the little victim behind him. "And what about her?"
Another misshapen smile that bore very few teeth. Another low chuckle. "She comes with me."
That's, that's, just awful. Elise stopped breathing. A glitch in the system had occurred, and she no longer felt fear or any empathy toward this drugged out sicko. She no longer wanted to talk her way through this situation until the guys noticed how long she was taking and came looking for her. She wanted to end him herself. Quickly, violently, and without any mercy.
Elise held her head up. Her bottom lip jutted defiantly. "No, she doesn't."
He nodded slowly. "Yes, she does. But I'm gonna pound ya first,"
He took a shaky step toward her, his hammer hand cocked and ready to strike.
She finally exhaled. Elise held her purse in both hands. "You want it? Here. Take it."
She shoved the purse hard into his face as the hammer came down. But he was small and unsteady, and it was so unbelievably easy to stop the blow and grab his arm.
Her purse fell to the ground, and she tripped on it, but she still held the pervert.
He grumbled something foul into her ear as his free hand reached around to choke her. His other hand was shaking the hammer, still trying to "pound" her. She grunted, stomping on his foot with her spiky heel. Her teeth sank into his grimy sleeved wrist.
He howled, but the hammer clanked to the ground. His hard fist landed at the back of her head, and she almost laughed at his feeble, desperate punches.
"I'm gonna kill ya," he threatened, but he was so weak and crazy, Elise just couldn't take him seriously.
She released him long enough to bend for the only weapon in the room. As she bent, he lunged for her, but her backside pushed into him, knocking him back. He kicked at her. Like an animal; demeaning and shameful. She stumbled forward, but it only made finding the handle of the hammer that much faster.
She came back up, holding the hammer, and turned on him.
"Who's in charge now, sicko?" She seethed. She charged at him, holding the hammer to him like he had done to her. He snarled.
They were two raging bulls, horns poised in front, ready for the clash. But when the two came together in one angry tangle, Elise overpowered him, and bent him in a strangling headlock in the crook of her arm. He wriggled and punched at her. His teeth snapped madly at her as his hat tumbled from his head.
She was enjoying the fight. It felt good and right to render him powerless. She glanced at the little girl, wide-eyed with fascinated terror.
"Go back into the stall, sweetie," Elise instructed her. "Shut the door, close your eyes, and cover your ears. I'll come get you in a minute."
She waited, wrestling the infuriated man, until she heard the click of the stall door locking. Then, Elise dropped the hammer. The first blow took her by surprise; its fury and righteousness splitting his skull like an overripe melon.
Gore splattered over her neck, onto her chin, staining her pristine white blouse.
He bucked her, but he was no match for her brute hold. She squeezed him in place, and "pounded" him again. Outside, she heard another kind of pounding. Two fists banging on the bathroom door, demanding to be let in. It was too late to pause. The bloody process had begun, and she had to finish what she started before opening that door.
It only took a few more hits before the man coughed blood and went limp in her grasp. His neck hung from her fleshy arm noose. The macabre mess that once was the back of his head bled onto her in gruesome clumps of hair, flesh, and, and brain matter. She shuddered at the muddle she'd made of him.
And then she felt her mouth move as if her lips were pulled by a puppeteer's expert fingers. A prayer; a prayer for this tormented soul she'd had to put down. To keep down from really killing the woman or harming the little girl or "pounding" her.
The little girl. Elise dropped the corpse and the hammer. Looking at the man, she scowled, and kicked the hammer further away until it clattered against the plastic garbage can beside the door.
Softly, she rapped at the door. "It's okay now. The monster is gone," she said quietly, her voice as exhausted as the rest of her.
The click of the stall was followed by the click of the restroom door, and the room was suddenly filled with too many people. Murphy, Connor, the bored night waiter, the grouchy cook, and the father of the child she'd just saved.
Voices. So many voices echoed around her, bouncing around in panicked cadence. The father dropped the coffees and the lukewarm liquid flooded the floor, mixing sickly with the blood. He was kneeling at his wife and scooping his daughter up. The cook was dumbfounded, but still squawking about wanting some goddamn answers. The night waiter perked up, grinning and spouting, "Whoa! Radical." Connor and Murphy swore and muttered fluently in their home language, both exchanging incredulous glances between the carnage and her.
"What the fuck happened in here?" Murphy asked. He was at her side, but not touching her. "You're a real mess."
Connor was already flipping over the body, grimacing at the foulness of the kill. He had coins in his gloved hands.
Elise was trembling. She pointed at the body. "He, he was in here," she stuttered. Then, she pointed at the coming to consciousness woman. "He attacked her with a hammer. He was going to rob her and steal her little girl." Her eyes found Murphy's half-smiling eyes. "And I couldn't let him do that. That's sick."
"Yeah, it is," he agreed. "Fucker deserved this." Murphy shook his head. "No, he earned it."
The father, still kneeling, called out to Elise. "You saved them. You saved my wife and daughter. Thank you."
"I'm calling the police," the cook blurted.
Murphy tugged at her bloody sleeve. "That's our cue to get lost." He tapped at his brother, finishing his prayer with the trinity gesture. "Come on."
Connor scooped up her purse. He handed it to her along with Big Greasy's stolen gun. "You dropped this outside. But I guess you really didn't need it, did ya, woman?"
Murphy pulled her through the crowd. As they stepped out under the starless tarp of night sky, the teenage waiter spoke up.
"What are you guys? Super heroes or something?"
Murphy smirked. His eyes narrowing on the blood-splattered woman. "Yeah, she's Wonder Woman. I'm Superman. And he's Batman."
Elise shook her head, scowling. "No, no. He can't be Batman. Batman has way more money and is twice as good-looking."
"Hey, fuck you," Connor objected. "I can be Batman. I have a trunk full of money and I do just fine with the looks the Good Lord gave me."
"Technically, that's my money in the trunk. And really, I don't exactly see you as the Lady Killer type with your charming personality and,"
"Okay, fine, he's Green Lantern," Murphy settled it. "Let's get the fuck outta here before that mean cook brings the cops down on us."
"You still have the keys?" Elise asked wearily.
Murphy nodded.
"Good. I'm crashing in the backseat. Wake me up when we hit the next state."
End of Chapter 3