HELL
Randy Noble
Published by Randy Noble at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 Randy Noble
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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It was a warm summer day when Paul stood at the side of Highway 72, his thumb in the air, singing With or Without You, by U2. The warm breeze gently rustled Paul's wavy, black hair. He liked the way the wind felt, but not where he was feeling it, one hundred miles from home.
Just ten minutes previous, he was riding shotgun in his girlfriend’s Toyota. They were coming back from a trip to the city, one night in a hotel, shopping, just a quick get-a-way. Paul had been on the fence with his girlfriend, Susan, a petite blonde working in a gym and studying to become a teacher. Certain things bothered Paul about her that he just couldn’t understand. The most recent was why they didn’t have sex the night before in the hotel. Susan ended up going to bed early, and Paul masturbated in the bathroom.
They had sex all the time, but when he wanted it that night, she brushed him off, and it pissed him off. Not to say there were not other things that bothered him, because of course there were. She never supported any of his ideas. She scoffed at them, laughing, as if they were the most ridiculous ideas anyone had ever come up with.
Paul was happy working at a restaurant as a waiter, having a good time, not in a hurry to get anywhere. This bothered Susan. She wanted him to go to school, to do something with his life. Yadda yadda yadda was all Paul heard.
As she drove, Paul said, “You know, Susan, we should do a trip to Europe.”
Susan rolled her eyes, which Paul didn’t notice.
Paul kept on. “But not just any old trip -- we should do a haunted house tour. They must have something like that, don’t you think?”
Susan, without looking at him, said, “Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m serious. How about it? After this semester is over for you.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Paul. One, you have no money and neither do I. And two, that’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.”
Paul’s eyes started to narrow. “No it’s not. You like that kind of stuff. I think it would be fun.”
“Well it’s not going to happen.”
“Maybe I’ll take Dirk with me. He would totally go.”
“Dirk the dick, that fucking idiot? I don’t know how you can be friends with that guy. He totally mooches all his money off his parents. He hasn’t worked a day in his life.”
“Hey, take it easy. You sure act all nice and friendly when he’s around. He knows you don’t like him, you know?”
“Good. I suppose you told him?”
“Goddamn rights I did. We spend hours trying to figure you out. Why you don’t like anybody.” Paul smiled.
“Why the fuck are you going out with me then?”
“Sometimes I don’t know and today is one of them.”
Susan slammed on the brakes as she pulled the car over to the side of the road, and Paul lurched forward hard against the seatbelt as it locked up. The car skidded to a halt, right tires just in the ditch, left tires on the shoulder.
Before Susan could say anything, Paul grabbed his bag from the backseat and opened the door. “Let me save you the trouble of being a bitch.” Paul started to get out.
“You’re a fucking asshole!”
“You’re gonna be a great teacher some day. Your kids will love hearing,” mocking her voice, “that’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard. F! F, for all of you! You’re all stupid!”
“Fuck you asshole!”
Paul, now outside of the vehicle, did not close the door. “I’m glad to see all that money went to such a great education. Your vocabulary is incredible. Do you have a dictionary? I need to look up . . .“ Paul didn’t get to finish, at least not so she could hear it. Susan took off, the passenger door still open. Paul finished it off for his own satisfaction. “. . . some of those words. You’ll have to tell me how to spell them, because all those multiple syllable words are gonna throw me for a loop.”
And that’s how Paul got to be on the side of the highway, one hundred miles from home.
One car, then two, and then one after the other kept passing him by. He gave up and kept walking. If he heard one coming, he would throw his thumb in the air, not looking back. As he suspected, they would just drive on by. Not that he could blame them -- it’s not something he would ever do. Too many crazies out there hitching.
As the day dragged on, Paul figured he could make some small town by walking and then call Dirk to pick him up, which Dirk would love to do. Not only because they had been friends since they were six, but because Dirk hated Susan, pretty much because Susan hated him. That’s all the reason he would need to pick up his buddy. The bitch is gone, Paul thought to himself. That’s exactly what Dirk would say. You’re a free man, after two months of incarceration. Paul smiled at that, not realizing how bad it had been with her until now.
Paul kept walking, and cars kept passing. The day wore on, and he still didn’t reach any towns. Paul could see clouds rolling in, knowing a nasty rainstorm was coming, but he didn’t care. As long as there’s no lightning, it can soak me to the bone, because I’m a free man.
As the sky covered over with brooding clouds, Paul prepared for a soaker. He heard a car coming, and just from habit more than hope, he threw his thumb up as he kept walking. A large black truck with tinted windows, including the windshield, rolled by, and to Paul’s surprise it came to a stop. He smiled.
The truck had been going at a good rate, stopping a ways up from Paul, and did not back up. Paul kept walking, thinking they were just toying with him, but he didn’t care. Just as he got up to the truck, a black Chevy extended cab, the passenger door swung open.
When Paul got up to the door, he saw a man of about forty with a cowboy hat, jeans, and no shirt, sitting behind the wheel. The driver smiled at Paul, a beer in hand. Everything about him screamed Go away! in Paul’s head, but Paul decided he didn’t want to get soaked after all.
“Howdy Partner," the driver said. "Earl is the name and drinking and driving is the game. Hop on in if you’re looking for a lift.”
Paul paused. “Where you headed?”
“I’m just driving. No where special so wherever you’re going is fine with me.”
The rain started to come down, first lightly, and then like a flood, and that decided it for Paul as he jumped up into the truck, after throwing his bag into the truck bed, and closed the door. Earl didn't seem too drunk and he had made it unscathed from wherever he came from. “Sounds great, Earl. My name is Paul, by the way, and I’m headed to Stone Ridge, if that wouldn’t be any trouble?”
“No trouble at all, Paul.” Earl threw it into drive and floored the gas. Paul put on his seatbelt. They were off, and Paul looked forward to getting back home.
“So, are you pretty warm?”
“I sure am," Earl said. "I’d be riding buck naked, but then a fine person like yourself wouldn’t want to ride with no naked guy. Am I right?”
“Right you are, Earl. I gotta admit I hesitated because of the whole no-shirt-thing, and, well, the beer.”
“I don’t blame you. A lot of freaks out there, that’s for damn sure.” Earl reached into the back and brought up a beer. “Want a beer?”
“Don’t mind if I do, Earl. Thanks man.” And he didn’t mind. He felt like celebrating his recent freedom, and a beer sounded really good to him. He was relieved to see that Earl was not swilling them, seemed pretty alert, and was not weaving all over the road.
Earl handed the beer to Paul, who twisted the cap off, and drank a big gulp of surprisingly cold beer down his throat. As he drank his beer, he noticed one of the two cup holders in the console filled with quarters. When he looked up, Earl was staring at him. Caught off guard by the stare, like Earl was upset with him, he had to say something to stop any potential for an awkward moment. “Thanks for the lift and the beer.”
“No problem. Always glad to help those who have lost their way. So what left you stranded on the road, or have you been hitchin’ for awhile?”
“It’s kind of a long story, but the short version: my girlfriend is a bitch.”
“Gotcha, Buddy. Say no more. I know exactly where you’re coming from. So she wouldn’t suck your dick?”
Paul, in the middle of taking a sip of beer, almost spit it up all over himself, but got control. Some of it went down hard when he was forced to swallow to avoid spewing it everywhere. “No, no, nothing like that. It was more of a respect thing.”
“I hear ya. Women are fucked in the head, if you ask me. More trouble than they’re worth. Ain’t that right?” Earl held up his beer toward Paul, and Paul clinked his bottle against Earl’s. “Cheers, Buddy.”
Paul smiled.
The rain came down hard, the wipers frantically whipping back and forth. Earl drove just over the speed limit.
Paul started to relax, thinking about getting some more golf in now that he was free, thinking of the cute, new waitress at the restaurant he worked at. And then he heard Earl unzip his pants. As much as he wanted it to be something else, anything else, the sound was a distinctive one he couldn't mistake, especially because Earl was shirtless and jacketless. Paul couldn’t help but try to see what Earl was doing, from the corner of his eyes, without turning his head. And, sure enough, Earl had his penis out, and it was erect.
Paul hoped if he turned the other way and pretended not to see anything that Earl would stop what he was doing, but no such luck.
“Hey, Buddy, look at this. I’m hard as a rock and I wasn’t thinking about fucking or nothing.”
Paul didn’t turn to look. “That’s okay man. I’ll take your word for it. Do you mind? You’re making me real uncomfortable.”
“Oh really? I’m sorry, Buddy. I mean, me giving you a ride and all when it’s pissing buckets, and me wanting to do whatever I want in my own -- well, my vehicle now -- and you’re uncomfortable? I’m so very fucking sorry.”
Paul thought that Earl was drunker than he looked, and regretted getting into the truck. The thought of jumping out occurred to him, but they were going way too fast for that. He took a big swill of beer.
“Why don’t you pull yours out too, and we can jerk ‘em off.”
“That ain’t going to happen, Earl. I think you better just pull over and let me out.”
“Well that right there ain’t gonna happen. I’ll tell you what though. Why don’t you grab one of them quarters in that there cup holder and give it a toss.”
“Fine, whatever,” Paul said as he reached over without looking and picked out a quarter. Paul didn’t like where things were going. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like the coin toss options.
“Tails we jerk off, and heads you suck my dick,” Earl said.
Paul definitely preferred tails, even though he knew he would never be able to get it up in the situation he was in. But it didn’t matter, because there was no way he was going to do either one. He considered bashing Earl with his beer bottle, but Earl was a pretty big guy so he didn’t think it would affect him. If he could just flip the coin so it landed on the floor, maybe it would distract Earl enough so he could jump on the brakes and make a run for it. Maybe there was a farm near by that he could run to.
When Paul turned, all thoughts of escape left his mind. Earl picked his teeth with an eight-inch knife, his penis still erect and sticking out of his pants. Fuck! was all that came to Paul’s mind, but not the kind Earl was looking for.
“Best be flipping that coin real soon. I don’t want to lose this thing.”
“Earl, I’ll pay you to not do this. I’ll give you whatever you want . . . financially. Just -- I can’t do what you want. I won’t.”
“Is that a fact? You’re alive right now, because of me, Buddy.”
“What? What the fuck are you talking about? Yeah, you saved my life by getting me out of the rain. You’re a real hero. I’ll call the press, and you’ll be on the front page.”
Earl smirked. “Best watch what you say to me. You’ll make this real easy for me. I shit you not, Buddy, I’ll stick this fucking knife right in your ear, right up to the base of the handle.”
“You’re fucking psychotic!”
“I’m fucking something. Now flip that fucking coin!”
Paul’s heart pounded in his chest, his mouth dry. He had no idea what he could do to get out of the situation. His only thought of escape was to try and open the door and jump for it, but he doubted at the speed they were going that he could open the door, or at least, not quick enough before Earl buried the knife in his head.
Earl kept his speed just above the speed limit as the rain continued to pound down, thrumming on the roof of the truck like a thousand little drums. Further up, a sign read: Hastings 1 KM. Paul didn’t notice it.
Paul flipped the coin up into the air using his right thumb and forefinger. It went up, almost to the roof, and he caught it, clasping his hand into a fist around it.
Earl said, “Open your hand and let's see what we’ve got.”
Paul did as he was told, and it was as he feared: heads.
“Start sucking boy-o, and don’t you stop until I’m finished. You best be swallowing too ‘cause I don’t want to mess up my truck. You even try to spit any out and I’ll stick this knife in your throat.”
Paul felt like vomiting. He didn’t know how he was going to get through it. He just had to do it. Close his eyes and do it. He closed his eyes.
“Whoa, whoa, hold it a second there mister. Early bird gets the worm, but you need to toss that there quarter out the window first.”
“What?”
“The quarter, ya dimwit. It’s all used up. You can’t use it again in a flip. Throw it out the window.”
Paul shook his head in astonishment at Earl’s wisdom, or lack there of. He rolled down the window and tossed the quarter out into the ditch. As he did this, he noticed they were coming to a town.
“Would you look at that,” Earl said as he put his penis back in his pants and zipped up.
Thank Christ, Paul thought to himself.
“Quick, Buddy, grab another quarter and flip it.”
“What? Again?”
“Flip a fucking coin! Quick!”
Paul did, and it was heads again, which Earl promptly noticed with a glee that Paul didn’t think was possible from the man.
“Here we go, Buddy. You and me. It’s so great having someone here for this.” They approached a gas station with a couple of people filling up their vehicles. A teenage girl stretched beside her dad’s car. Earl yanked the truck to the right, towards the girl.
“What the fuck are you doing, Earl?”
Earl grabbed the quarter from Paul’s hand, rolled down his window with the hand that was on the steering wheel, and tossed the quarter out.
“Earl! Don’t fucking do this!”
“Shut up!”
They were very close now. Earl gunned the engine, which caused the girl to look up, but it was too late.
Paul went for the wheel and Earl backhanded him in the face.
The girl started to move as the truck smashed into her. She was part way to a turn, and when the truck hit her it threw her up and to the right, causing her to twist in the air. She smashed into the back end of a car parked in front of the store by the gas station.
The girl’s father saw everything too late, his jaw opened in dumbfounded awe. He ran towards her as Earl and Paul raced through and back onto the highway, a cloud of dust in their wake.
“Man, that was a good one. Don’t you think, Buddy?”
Paul shook his head as he rubbed his face where Earl hit him. This can’t be happening. It can’t be. “I’m not your fucking buddy, asshole! Stop this fucking truck right now! I won’t be a part of this. You deserve to die. No fucking quick death either. A slow, painful death. How many Earl? How many have you killed?”
“Whew, that’s the spirit, Buddy.” Earl smiled from ear to ear. “That’s the stuff. You and me, man, you and me. When you do one, then I’ll take you back with me. That’s for sure.”
“The police will come after you. You won’t get far.”
“Not much further to go. Just need to do one more and guess whose turn it is?”
Paul threw up. He managed to get his head down so it went on the floor, but it sprayed everywhere, including on Earl.
Earl took the knife, raised it up in the air, and brought it down into Paul’s left thigh as hard as he could.
Paul screamed.
“That’ll teach ya,” Earl said. “Look at this fucking mess, and you got some on my leg, retard.”
Paul hammered on the dash with his right fist, screams becoming rage.
Earl grabbed the handle of the knife and wrenched it out, and that brought a fresh burst of screams from Paul. Blood poured out of the wound, pooling on Paul’s leg, and then ran down onto the seat.
“Ah shit,” Earl said. “That’s my fault. Didn’t think that one through, that’s for sure.” Earl put the knife away in a side pocket on the driver’s door.
Paul rocked forward and back, clenching his teeth, trying to hold out the pain.
“Best get something on that before you bleed to death. Don’t make no never mind to me, but if you don’t want to die and all.” Earl reached behind him, brought up a jacket, and tossed it on Paul’s lap. “There you go, Buddy. Wrap that around your leg.”
Paul took the jacket, lifted his leg up, and regretted it as soon as he did. He winced at the fresh pain, but got the jacket underneath his leg and wrapped it around the wound as best he could. The blood came through the gray material, but it was better than nothing.
“Looks like we might have to speed things along, and I’ll just take you with me anyway. It’s nice to have an initiation and all, but . . . would you look at that?”
To their left, down a gravel, grid road there was a sign: Pokoni 15 KM. Earl hit the brakes, went past the intersection in a skidding slide, cranked the wheel and drove partly into the ditch, and then up onto the gravel road and towards the town of Pokoni.
“Betcha we can score another one in that town,” Earl said.
Paul didn’t say anything. He had to get out. His mind filled with ideas, but none of them were any good, especially with his leg the way it was. Thoughts of punching Earl and jumping out rolled over and over in his head, but it would be suicide. He considered trying to throw the transmission into reverse, but then an even better idea donned on him. He couldn’t believe he didn’t think of it before. It was his only chance.
They didn’t talk much before they got to Pokoni, Paul too scared of the consequences. Earl stared forward, a big smile on his face, and an erect penis in his pants.
As they got closer to Pokoni, the rain let up, and Earl started talking again. “Aren’t you excited, Buddy?” Earl looked over at Paul, and then down at his leg. “Oh yeah, I forgot about your leg. Must hurt like a motherfucker.”
Earl waited for a response from Paul, but didn’t get one.
Paul would not respond unless he felt he had to, unless he felt Earl would hurt him to get an answer.
Earl continued the conversation with himself. “That’s cool. Nothing to say until we do the deed? Until you do the deed, I should say. And after that, you still owe me a little suck-a-doodle-do, and we’ll be off.”
Neither of them said anything for a while, not until Paul saw the sign saying they were one kilometer away from Pokoni.
“Earl?” Paul said.
Earl looked at him and then back at the road. “What’s up, Buddy? We’re almost there.”
“I’m just curious about a couple things you said earlier.” Paul did not look at Earl. He didn’t want to see another erection. “You said I was alive because of you. What did you mean by that?”
“I thought you would have figured that out. You were walking on the side of the road. I flipped a coin, and it came up tails.”
Paul nodded to himself, his eyes far away, his leg still pumping out more blood than he wanted to know about. “And you said something else, something about taking me back with you. Back where, Earl?”
A big smile spread over Earl’s face. “To hell, Buddy. To hell. You didn’t think tails just meant me picking you up and going where you wanted to go, did you? I’m afraid not. Nope, you’ll be coming to hell with me.”
Paul didn’t respond. He didn’t want to fuel the fire.
They approached the outskirts of town, where there happened to be a school with a playground, loaded with kids.
“This is too fucking good to be true. Look at them all. There must be at least twenty kids. Quick, there’s barely time, flip a coin.”
Paul picked up a coin from the tray, and flipped it into the air as Earl veered towards the fence in front of the playground. Heads. Jesus!
“Now toss that coin out the window and take the wheel. Get as many as you can.” Earl gunned the gas.
Paul’s thoughts raced, but he new what he had to do. The horror of it all came down hard on him. He saw the children’s faces, laughing, not a care in the world. Not one of them could have been more than seven or eight. Paul started to roll down the window, as Earl stroked himself over his pants. The truck crashed through the metal fence, mowing it down.
As they crashed through the fence, Paul took the quarter he flipped and tossed it back into the tray.
The truck barreled towards the kids at just over eighty miles an hour.
Some of the kids in the schoolyard whipped their heads towards the truck as it crashed through the fence. They screamed, and then they all scattered.
Earl heard the coin drop and started to turn, but not before Paul grabbed up as many quarters as he could and threw them in the back seat of the truck.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” Earl took his attention away from the wheel and turned around. His foot came off the gas.
As he did, Paul grabbed the wheel and kept it straight on, towards the school. All the kids were off in different directions and out of their path.
The truck slowed down as soon as Earl let his foot off the gas, mostly because of the wet, sloppy ground.
“Don’t worry, Earl, I’ve got it,” Paul said as Earl turned around.
The truck smashed into the side of the school, to the right of the playground, at forty miles an hour. The brick wall crashed in, and the beltless Earl flew through the windshield and rocketed into another wall inside a classroom.
Paul wrenched against his seatbelt as the truck collided with the wall. His head lurched forward and almost smashed against the dashboard, and then his body snapped back. Now his ribs hurt almost as much as his leg did. No airbags deployed.
The truck got no further than the outer wall, as the concrete foundation did not give. The back end of the truck lifted off the ground, when the front end almost made its way through, and then came crashing down.
Earl’s cowboy hat sat in the front seat. Paul could not see where Earl was.
Even though Paul knew Earl should be dead, his heart pounded with dread. He needed to get out of there and quick, but the smallest movement hurt.
Earl stood up, inside the classroom, his bald head covered with gashes and blood. And something protruded from Earl’s head. Paul couldn’t quite tell for sure, but they looked like horns. Large horns, like a ram.
As Earl got up and started walking towards the truck, Paul could tell they were horns for sure. Without thinking about the horns, or how Earl could get up and walk after smashing through a windshield, through brick, and into a wall, he forced himself to slide over to the driver’s side, screaming in pain while he did.
The truck was dead, and Paul desperately tried to start it. It didn’t turn over at all. Paul felt sick -- sick that he was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Earl neared the outer wall, and Paul looked away from his wide, unblinking gaze. They were the eyes of a madman. Paul noticed Earl’s knife in the side pocket of the door and picked it up.
Earl made his way through the opening in the wall, coming towards the driver’s side of the truck.
Paul braced himself with his right foot pushing down on the floorboard.
Earl got up to the door and wrenched it open. As he reached in to grab Paul, Paul swung around with his right hand and stuck the knife as hard as he could into Earl’s cheek.
Blood poured out of Earl’s cheek, but he did not scream. He grabbed Paul and threw him out of the truck, the knife sticking almost up to the handle in one cheek and pointing out through the other side of his face. As Earl moved, the knife jiggled in his fleshy cheek.
Paul screamed in pain as he was thrown to the ground. He gritted his teeth and stood up, trying to hobble away as quick as he could, but Earl was on him immediately.
“You ain’t going nowhere, Buddy Boy. You fucking cock-knocking-fuck rat. No fucking where but where I’m gonna send you.” He stared at Paul with a rage Paul had never seen before.
Earl knocked Paul back down to the ground, with the back of his right hand.
Paul plopped down on his butt.
Dark clouds loomed above, low in the sky, dormant but threatening.
Earl glared at him. “You were going anyway, you stupid fuck, but now you’ll suffer."
Paul heard sirens in the distance and broke his silence as soon as he did. “You know, Earl, I know where the quarter is. I never threw it into the pile.” Which was a complete lie, but Paul didn’t care.
“Do you think I give a flying fuck about that quarter any more? I can get myself some new ones.” Earl paced back and forth, in front of Paul. “Man, I’m going to enjoy this.”
The sirens got louder.
Paul didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know anyone who had horns on their head, and the idea that Earl was actually from hell became a reality in Paul’s mind. The horns went back, away from Earl’s head, and then curled back around. He could see flakes of ivory hanging off the horns, probably damaged in the crash. Paul watched Earl pace back and forth, looked at his horns, and then at the knife in his face.
Paul, desperate to keep alive, kept speaking, saying anything that popped into his mind just to keep a dialogue going with Earl. “Do you have to suck everyone’s dick down in hell? Is that why you wanted me to suck yours?”
Earl stopped pacing, ripped the knife from his face without a whimper, and threw it down. The knife landed between Paul’s legs, sticking in the ground.
Earl leapt down by Paul, piercing one of the points of his horns into Paul’s cheek, while pressing down on the wound in Paul's left leg with his right hand. Blood covered the bottom half of Earl’s face and ran down his neck and chest in a gooey mess.
Paul screamed.
The sirens were very loud now.
Earl pulled his horn out of Paul’s cheek and stood back up.
Paul rocked back and forth, as he tried to hold back the pain.
“I suck no one’s cock, fucker, and no one will suck yours either.” Earl bent down and grabbed the knife, then unzipped Paul’s pants and grabbed his penis up.
Cars screeched to a halt nearby.
Earl raised the knife high into the air.
Paul closed his eyes.
Car doors closed and screaming voices rose into the air, but Paul did not hear them.
Earl brought the knife down as gunshots went off, and then it all came crashing into reality for Paul. He had felt dislocated, like he was in a dream, but now he opened his eyes and took it all in.
Earl stood up, the knife still in hand, as bullets pelted him in the chest and legs. He did not flinch, as he walked towards the police.
Paul tried to get up, after quickly tucking his penis back in his pants.
*****
Jason Veraly, a twenty-year veteran with the police, a little soft on the sides, tall, strong looking, watched as Earl came towards him. In his time as a cop he never had to fire his weapon until now. “Stop! Put the knife down!” he kept screaming at Earl, but Earl kept coming.
Other than Jason, there was a rookie, Andrew Orntholl, who looked like he should be in high school, and Andrew’s partner, Hank Evans, older than Jason by a few years.
Jason’s car was parked with the driver’s side facing away from the school. He aimed his gun at Earl over the hood of his car.
Hank, who always drove his car no matter how much Andrew begged him to drive, parked the car straight towards the school. Hank took cover behind the driver’s side door, and Andrew behind the passenger door.
Once Earl was up and walking away from Paul, Jason called a cease-fire. Hank let a couple shots off as Earl came towards them, missing Earl a little wide to the left.
Jason turned and looked at Hank. “Stop firing!”
Hank let off two more shots. One shot hit Earl in the upper right thigh, and the other missed.
Earl kept walking, as if he had not just been shot four times in the chest and twice in the legs.
“You let off one more shot, and I will relieve you of duty,” Jason said.
Andrew sat behind his door, wide eyed, silent, and his gun still in the holster. He hadn’t fired one shot. When Earl was about to cut Paul with the knife, Hank let off the most shots, and Jason fired two.
Jason made eye contact with Andrew. “Andrew, radio for backup.”
Andrew did as asked. He reached into the car and grabbed the radio, asking for backup from dispatch.
Jason knew Hank probably wondered the point of calling for backup, as they were the whole police force in Pokoni. The next town with a police presence was thirty kilometers away, and it would take them longer to get to the scene before it would all be over. It didn’t matter. Protocol. Always protocol.
Although Jason had never fired his weapon before, he knew a man who took that many bullets could never survive it, much less walk. Had Earl been wearing a shirt, Jason would have guessed he wore a bulletproof vest, but with no shirt, blood soaking his chest and his jeans, Jason was stunned how the man still functioned. Jason figured he was hopped up on one drug or another, and would collapse soon.
Earl pressed on, halfway between the school and where Jason, Andrew, and Hank waited.
As Earl got closer, Jason made out the horns on Earl’s head. He saw them before, but couldn’t make out for sure what they were, but now he knew, figuring Earl glued them to his head.
At first, Jason was concerned that Earl might have a gun hidden in the back of his pants, so he got them all to take cover, but then Earl stopped walking and turned around. No gun.
Jason got up and came around the car, approaching Earl. "Hank, you’re with me," Jason said. Hank complied and followed beside Jason. “Andrew, cover us.” Andrew stayed where he was, managing to get his gun out of the holster.
*****
While the police were busy with Earl’s invincibility, Paul managed to get up, but he didn’t know where to go. His salvation lay towards the police, but Earl happened to be psychotically going that way, and after everything he’d witnessed, he couldn’t count on any of the police surviving. He hobbled away from Earl and the police.
As Paul neared the left side of the school, he felt something tug at his shirt, and wished he had been watching behind himself. The tug became a jerk, and he was flipped around.
Earl was fifty yards from Paul, but his left hand was not. Paul had to shake his head a couple of times to process what he was seeing. Earl’s left arm had stretched the distance, like his arm was made of rubber, and pulled at Paul’s waist on his pants, trying to pull him back.
Paul pulled and twisted, closing his eyes as tight as he could and gritting his teeth to abate the pain, and almost broke free. Earl dropped the knife on the ground, and rubber-armed his right arm out and over, like a snake slithering through midair, stretching impossibly long, and pulled at Paul with both hands.
Earl kept one hand on the back of Paul’s pants as he reached up and grabbed Paul’s hair with the other, and pulled him to the ground. Once Paul was on the ground, Earl grabbed his hair with both hands and started yanking him back.
Paul screamed.
Jason and Hank stopped walking.
Earl pulled Paul towards himself, his arms shrinking back into themselves. Just feet away from him, Earl released his right hand from Paul, and brought that arm all the way back in and grabbed the knife. Paul continued to scream in pain as he was dragged by his hair towards a smiling Earl holding a knife.
*****
Jason snapped out of his daze, mouth gaping at what seemed impossible yet could not be denied. “Hank, take him down. Go for the head. I think it’s the only way we’ll take him out.”
Hank smiled as he aimed his semi-automatic nine-millimeter pistol at Earl’s head. Jason followed suit, but he wasn’t smiling.
They both fired their weapons, once each.
Earl let go of Paul. The knife dropped to the ground, sticking into the grass. Earl’s left arm came back and away from Paul, to normal size, and then Earl fell forward onto the ground.
Hank and Jason moved forward, their guns pointed at Earl.
Jason looked up at Paul, who was lying on the ground and not moving, and yelled over to him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay, I think, but I’m bleeding pretty badly.”
Jason picked up his radio and pressed the talk button. “Andrew.” Jason released the button and waited. He pressed it again. “Andrew.”
Andrew’s voice sounded over Jason’s radio. “Sorry. I’m here.”
Jason spoke into the radio. “Call for an ambulance. Out.”
Hank moved closer to a still, face-planted Earl, as Jason stopped to talk to Andrew.
“Hold up, Hank,” Jason said. “Don’t get too close.”
“There’s no way this guy can still be alive. We both got him in the head.” Hank stopped, shrugging his shoulders.
Speaking to Paul, Jason yelled “Sir, please hold on. An ambulance is on the way. I’ll be over in a second.”
“No problem,” Paul said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know he looks dead, Hank, but after what we saw, who knows. I’ll go in and check him out. If he even twitches, unload your clip into him.”
“You got it. No problem.”
Jason stepped up to Earl’s body and bent down to look at him, sticking two fingers on his neck. “There’s no pulse.”
*****
Earl whipped around, both eyes shot out, fire blazing from the wounds, turning his head left and right. The fire shot out in a thin, narrow stream. Jason’s head came off and plopped to the ground, the fire from Earl’s eye sockets cauterizing Jason’s bloody stump of a neck.
Hank froze. Guilt immediately washed over him. He kept thinking there was no time, no time to save Jason. It happened so quickly. He pushed these thoughts away as quickly as they came. There would be plenty of time for that later.
The fire continued to spout out of Earl’s eye sockets in a five foot arc. Earl cocked his head to one side, as if listening. Hank was fifteen feet away.
Hank knew the freak couldn't see, but it didn't make him feel any easier about it. He looked over at Paul, who had turned and craned his neck to see what was going on, still lying on the ground. Hank brought his right index finger up in front of his mouth in a shushing gesture, and Paul nodded.
Hank turned and looked over at the cars. Andrew stared back, eyes wide. Hank turned back around to avoid the freak of nature from sneaking up on him. As quietly as he could, Hank put his gun back in the holster, never taking his eyes off of Earl.
Earl was not moving or saying anything. It seemed like he was listening, waiting for any sign of where Hank or anyone else was.
Hank turned back toward Andrew, and made a pump-action motion with his left hand, and mimicked holding a rifle with his right hand and arm.
Andrew nodded.
Before Andrew turned away, Hank held up two fingers, and Andrew nodded again.
Hank stared at Earl and waited.
Earl broke the silence. “You can’t kill me, and I’m not going back until I choose to do so. Not until you're all dead.” Fire continued to vent out of both eye sockets, but not as strong and not as far. It slowed further, and finally stopped.
Hank got a glimpse of Earl’s charred, sunken eye sockets, and could see no more fire.
Andrew came towards Hank very slowly, carrying two shotguns.
*****
Paul stood up, the pain flowing throughout his body for a few seconds, and then down to a dull throb in his leg. He was woozy, but pressed on. A pool of blood surrounded his feet.
Hank faced away from Paul, probably watching Andrew’s slow approach.
Paul spoke to Earl, hopefully for the last time. “Earl.”
Earl turned towards the sound. “Buddy, where have you been?”
Paul tried not to look at the pool of blood on the ground where he had just gotten up from. “Earl, when I was twelve I did something I regret to this day.”
“What’s that, Buddy?” Earl said, as he bent down feeling around the grass, and then picked up the knife and walked towards Paul’s voice.
Hank motioned frantically for Andrew to hurry up, but Andrew did no such thing.
“I was in grade seven, and a couple friends and I used to torture the shit out of this one kid. I don’t know exactly what it was, but just something about him that bugged the piss out of me and my friends, you know? The usual bullshit when you’re a kid. He was richer than us; he dressed different; he talked different; he was smarter; take your pick.” Earl edged toward him, not even trying to hide his intentions with the knife hanging by his side. “I mean, we did everything to this kid, mostly just empty threats like beating the crap out of him, pestering him about his thick glasses, you know?”
An ambulance siren filled the air.
Hank ran towards Andrew.
Earl continued toward Paul. “Is there a fucking point to this story before you bore me to death?”
“There’s a point, Buddy Boy. There’s most definitely a point. This one day, we caught him doing some work after school, in one of the classrooms all by himself. My friends grabbed him up as I started asking him if he was a fudge packer, and he had no idea what it meant Earl, but I bet you do.” Paul smiled.
“Keep talking my friend. Sass me while you can. You know where you’re going.”
The ambulance siren got louder.
Hank grabbed a shotgun from Andrew and they both turned and ran towards Earl, now ten feet from Paul.
“My friends turned him around, and I started kicking him in the ass, and kept asking him ‘Are you a fudge packer, Ralph?’. I kicked him over and over, tears pouring down his face, and he screamed at me Earl, but you won’t believe what. I mean, we’re torturing this poor kid who never hurt no one, and he’s crying and shaking like a leaf, and you know what he says Earl?”
“What did the poor little faggot, fudge-packing geek say, butt fuck?” Earl said.
The ambulance screeched around a corner, towards the police cars.
Hank closed in fast on Earl. Andrew lagged slightly behind.
Earl turned toward the sound of the ambulance.
Paul backed up as he spoke. “He said to me -- no, he screamed at me, ‘You’re a fucking fudge packer. All you pricks are fucking fudge packers. What do you think about that?’”
Hank, still moving, brought his shotgun up and pointed it at Earl’s head.
“What do you think about that, Earl?” Paul asked.
Hank stopped just out of arms length of Earl and waited for Andrew. “Andrew, get that gun on him now. RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”
Earl turned towards Hank, and Hank pulled the trigger. Andrew followed suit a second after, both shots taking Earl’s head apart, the blasts ringing loudly in the still air, over the blare of the ambulance.
Fire exploded, like a geyser, from Earl’s exposed neck as he collapsed onto his knees.
Everyone backed off. Paul clenched his teeth as he hobbled away.
The fire, as quickly as it shot up, sucked back down into Earl’s neck, and then Earl flipped over onto his neck like he was attempting a head stand and the fire exploded out again, into the Earth.
The Earth cracked out, like a smashed windshield in a car, as the fire from Earl’s neck gouged a hole in the Earth.
Earl’s body forced itself into the hole, even though the hole was too small for the body. He squished in, bones cracking, blood squirting out, the arms shattering to pieces and flopping like rubber. The legs came last, the bones shattering like the arms, the skin folding up, bone shrapnel puncturing flesh, and then he was gone. The hole sealed itself back up, with only the cracks in the ground as any evidence anything had just happened.
Everyone stared at each other in astonishment as the ambulance came onto the school grounds up to Paul, Hank, and Andrew.
After, when Paul lay in a hospital bed, recuperating, he chuckled to himself. He thought back at how the ambulance drivers had reacted, the look on their faces after witnessing Earl folding himself up and disappearing into the ground. He had to laugh at something, or he would go crazy.
At least the cops had some witnesses to what would have been impossible to explain otherwise.
Paul’s friend, Dirk, went off to find some beer and sneak it in, and Paul was glad to have someone around. He needed something to dull his senses, to make him forget everything that just happened.
His sleep came in short spurts, usually interrupted by a nightmare. Paul wondered if he would ever sleep soundly again.
Sure enough, half an hour after he left, Dirk came back with a backpack full of beer. Paul gladly had one, and then another, until he passed out.
Two hours later, Paul slept as Dirk sat in a chair by Paul’s bed. Paul tossed and turned.
Dirk smiled as he flipped a quarter up in the air. It came back heads.
###
Thanks for reading my story. I had a lot of fun writing it. Once I got going, the characters took over.
I've had a few people comment on the ending, one person saying Dirk would never do that, that it was out of character for a person who has been Paul's friend for so long. Most people get the ending, and I intentionally left it open for interpretation. My interpretation is one of either Dirk was possessed by the same thing that possessed Earl's body, or that maybe it was just Dirk flipping a coin in the air while his friend slept, maybe not thinking about how horrible it would be for Paul to see, but lost in thought at all the things that happened to his buddy. You decide.
Thanks again for reading and I hope you were entertained.
Randy Noble