Special Smashwords Edition
American Nightmare
by
T. K. Murphy
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
American Nightmare
Special Smashwords Edition
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2 The Date
5 The Boss
The Layoff
Robert Malcolm Jr felt the pain and fear at the pit of his belly. He had just read the email asking his team and several other teams to have a joint meeting in two hours. He knew what that meant. 52 yr old Bob had worked in this mega corporation in San Francisco for 22 years. He had started as a security guard for the building. Then got a job in the help desk and worked up the chain and was now a Project Manager in the IT department. Along the way, he had worked in many departments and this was his family-especially since his nasty divorce four years ago. The company did not offer pension benefits anymore, but he would qualify for a retirement package in three years and that included health benefits.
Then the email came. He had seen the signs before. Slowly a team of Indians had started working in his office. They were only going to help the team, he was told. They were from a very big consulting firm and the new IT head was from that firm too. That did raise a few eyebrows, but corporations were not good to people who stand out and so nobody raised any questions. Slowly they learnt the job and started handling more of the work. Concerns were raised, rumors were swirling-but they were here to help the employees –that was the official line. They worked for almost a year and initially took over the mundane tasks and then started to do the more complex stuff. But as long the rest were getting paid, nobody cared, although they knew intuitively that something was wrong.
Then the email came and Bob and his fellow workers were huddled into a giant conference room. His manager Marcy, her boss Dick and the HR representative were there. Dick started, "First of all, I want to thank you for being the best team I have had the pleasure of working with. Unfortunately the company is facing very tough conditions and we have been forced to let you all go. This was a very difficult situation and we had no other option.” Then the HR representative started going through the policy details and how they would be let go and that they would all have individual meetings to get familiar with the packages. Bob’s worst fears were now confirmed. Yes they were being let go. The entire department, along with many other people had been outsourced to this company and most operations would now be done in India. The accompanying corporate nonsense about how valued they were and how they sorry they were to lose talent etc was the most painful. Why couldn’t they be more honest? Then they set up individual meetings with each employee. They got a nice severance package. Some were asked to join as consultants –but most were given a few weeks to a month and asked to pack up and leave. The sick thing was the company had just pulled in its best quarter ever and was sitting on a humongous pile of cash.
Bob was devastated. This was his life. He was 52 years old and had been with the company for 22 years. He had yet to qualify for retirement and had diabetes- making it very difficult to get health insurance. He would be eligible for COBRA for a short period of time, but beyond that he was on his own. His ex wife worked for the city in a low paying job, but she and the four kids all had insurance through her. Bob did not take home much, between his alimony and child support which was garnished from his wages. Bob had also lost his house in the divorce. He now lived in the North Bay in Sonoma County. He was 52, no job, no health insurance and still reeling from his nasty divorce and now this. Many of his friends in other companies that had been laid off, still had to find jobs. Quite a few had stopped paying their mortgages.
Bob still had to come to the office for another month and ensure the transition had to go smoothly. He had to aid his own replacements to take over his job. Being the good corporate trooper that he was, he complied. But he grew increasingly despondent over the next few days. How had his life gone so horribly wrong? He had done everything right. He had worked hard, married, took care of his kids and never even abused the medical/sick day that his company generously offered. He had always done his work on time and rarely if ever had a complaint. That had been his story almost all his life. Bob was raised in coastal Oregon, as an only child of a handicapped mother and an alcoholic, absentee father. His father was abusive, but thankfully rarely there. His father came up occasionally to grab some money from mom, but ever since his mom had a fired a shotgun over his head, he disappeared. His mom was legally handicapped and got her regular disability check, but was not very mobile. Bob did everything from buying food to chopping wood and went to school too. He was the dutiful, good child that everyone admired. He also went hunting with neighbors on occasion- the only relaxing thing he ever got to do. Then when he turned 19, his mom died, leaving him all alone. His paternal grandmother lived close by-but she was a drunk too-but not abusive. He visited her occasionally.
Bob was devastated then and didn’t know what to do. One of his neighbor’s cousin had moved to San Francisco and owned a restaurant and was here for the weekend. Bob talked to him and was offered a dishwasher job. He would be paid under the table and allowed to sleep in the back of the restaurant. The restaurant was in a seedy part of town and had been broken into a few times. Bob agreed and moved. It was interesting –totally new. Bob continued being the good boy and got paid a pittance and barely had a social life. He somehow managed to get a job in a security firm and worked very hard and then when the company got a contract for the corporation, he was posted there. He had gotten along well with most and soon found himself a lower level job in the corporation and never looked back. The company paid for his education and he got a degree too. Along the way, he met his wife Stacy and had four kids and life was good.
Then the divorce came out of the blue four years ago. Stacy was not the most stable person and an alcoholic. She abused him mentally and even physically at times. But Bob, the ever-sacrificing saint, just took it and tried his best to make it work. Then Stacy’s mom who had just been widowed came to live with them and things went south from there. Bob never had the nerve to put his foot down. In the office, he was very good, got things done and worked hard and did the work of almost two or three people. He never could say no or pick a fight with anyone. At home he did the cleaning, gardening and pretty much the bulk of the chores. Stacy and her mom were a bad combination and soon Bob was shut out of whatever little intimacy he had. The divorce came through and Stacy threatened him with all sorts of things and considering his nature, he did not even fight. He was so used to putting everyone’s need above his, that he simply could not stand up for himself. She got the house, the kids and a wonderful deal on alimony and child support.
Bob never could confront or fight with anybody. He was scared almost. Scared of himself. Scared of some deep, dark thing that was welling within him and threatening to break through to the surface. The surface was his carefully, constructed persona or ego. The ever helping, supremely sacrificing, loyal, hard working person. That was who he was or so he thought. That was the one person everybody saw. The meek pushover. The person whose feelings never mattered and the more they pushed, the more Bob bent over backwards to compensate- almost afraid that his deeper, darker side might break free. He did not know who else to be, this was him.
Then the layoff happened. He could not make sense of it all. At least the divorce, he could blame it on women and the laws favoring them and go hang out with like minded people and complain about how wronged he was and what a saint he was. But this, there was no explanation, no reasoning. He had been in the company for 22 years and this new guy at the top only for three years. The top guy had brought in his former colleagues right from the start and there was no explaining it away- it looked like a hit job. He had very good performance reviews. He always did a good job, worked very hard. But everyone was fired, not just him and to top it all off, the national political atmosphere had turned against people like him. He was being called a lazy, drunk creature that did not work only so they could collect unemployment benefits. Benefits that would barely be a quarter of what he was making and that does not include the benefits and stock options and 401k matches.
Bob was despondent. Utterly dejected and really did not know what to do. All his life, he had been the good guy, the self-sacrificing lamb, the one people could call at 4 am for help. That was his identity and now that did not matter. His divorce had almost broken him-for he could not make sense of it. But he had his work and his work family to fall back on and he poured his energies into work. Now this.
Bob finally said goodbye to his company and filled out his unemployment forms. He lived out in the North Bay close to the Russian River in a barn in the woods. After his divorce, he moved there as the woods reminded him of his home growing up in Oregon. Bob did not get see much of his children- Stacy made sure of that. The property was an old horse barn, but the owner Ethel was now 80 years old, deaf and had stopped breeding horses. She had rented out the help’s quarters and Bob lived in a cabin away from the main building. It was old Ethel and him all alone. He liked the solitude. But now he felt trapped. It was a long commute each day on the Golden Gate transit bus and back and he worked late and often worked at home too. But now, nothing. His colleagues still had mortgages and were as despondent as him and all terribly worried-especially with the economy the way it was.
Bob took the bus anyway and got off close to the Golden Gate Bridge. He took another connector and got off to the base from where he could walk on the bridge. Funny he never noticed its beauty as he commuted everyday over it. But today it looked wonderful as that chatter in his head stopped. He walked on and came to the middle of the bridge and there was a big Chinese ship going underneath. He was transfixed by it. The bay and the ocean on the other side were so clear. Bob stared onto the water and the islands and San Francisco for a long time - he felt at peace and he wanted to jump into the waters below- never to worry about his troubles again. Then he remembered an interview about a person who had done the same, but had survived and broken his back. That scared him-to wake up in a hospital possibly in a coma or paralyzed. He walked back and went home again.
Bob’s addiction was work. It defined him, it consumed him. He took pride at beating the odds and moving up. Now everything was ripped from him. That too by people from other countries and he was forced to teach them how to do his job! Nothing he could come up with, made sense of his situation. Yes he could vent and fume, but that would not get his job back. Now he had to go file court documents for reducing child support and face the dreaded Stacy and her mother again who always treated him like a failure no matter what he did. He felt like a sand castle with the waves lapping and threatening to devour him. The waves were that inner darkness; the inner demons that he had held at bay for so long. The rage at never having his needs met, the anger at having to endure an abusive marriage and yet be treated like the abuser by the system. The rage at having worked so hard for decades and being tossed aside like a piece of garbage so that the management can get a bigger bonus. The rage at being in a populace that now considered hard working people like him to be welfare cheats, while not holding any of the nasty people who caused this economic collapse accountable. That bugged him the most. He did not have a single thing to hold onto and was so lost and lonely. His mental projections about who he was were breaking down and he no longer had an identity.
Bob decided to do the one thing that could always get him to cool down. A trip up the Sonoma and Mendocino coasts. The Sonoma coast is a wild and rugged piece of country. Sparsely populated, spectacularly beautiful, windy, and foggy. It was his personal paradise and reminded him a lot of growing up in the Oregon coast. Unlike the better-known Big Sur coastline south of San Francisco, this wonderful place was just rugged, beautiful and rarely had any people. On weekdays, you could have the whole park or beach to yourself. He slowly drove there and still did not have any peace. He stopped at Salt Point state Park-one of his favorite jaunts. But as he started to hike, he started to scream and cry and lose it completely. He was having a breakdown. He was not conscious of his actions and the words that were coming out from him. They certainly did not seem to be coming from him. “Fuck them, I will kill every one of them,” he screamed, while waves and waves of rage and strange emotions bubbled over. His conscious mind desperately tried to regain control. Desperately screaming, ‘I am in control”. But to no avail and he started to sob uncontrollably and alternatively screamed in rage. Emotions he did not even know he had, started to well up to the surface. However he had skillfully pushed them under the surface for so long, that he did know what they were and acted like a man possessed by demonic forces. He screamed, he cried, all the time his conscious persona desperately trying to regain control. Everything was collapsing within him. The isolation and splendor and the rugged coast and the waves only served to incite the rage in him, the darkness, and the dark corners of the psyche that he never expressed in his life. Now there was nothing to hold them back and as the onslaught started, his conscious mind did not stand a chance. What could it say to hold the tides back? He had lost everything and was 52, not getting younger and faced a dismal future. But he still waged a furious battle. Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw two hikers in the distance. That gave his mind its chance and he regained his sanity and composure. He then walked over and then started running towards his car that was half a mile away. He could feel his innards ready to burst through and was too scared. He got to his car and was panting so hard, but got in and turned on the music. The modern world’s comforts soon got his attention back and he was soon back to being good old Bob again. But he would never be the same again.
Bob was a slight man. Very thin, almost bald and what was left had turned to grey. He tried to be in the background as much as possible. He was very submissive and tried to be as non-threatening to people as possible. He had always been that way. Maybe it was the lack of a father or playing second fiddle to his dominant, handicapped mother, but that was all he could ever remember and that was his identity. Then this happened. It frightened him. It brought forth feelings he didn’t realize he had. Violent impulses, anger, a need to be heard and the resulting chaos had fractured his identity beyond repair. Who was he? He had no hopes for the future and so his mind could not latch on to that to keep him busy. The only thing available to him was low level menial jobs-the kinda jobs he had started with and had worked his way up from.
He had nobody back in Oregon-except his decrepit old grandma. He didn’t see his family much and his work friends were all scattered. He had a lot of free time. The rent was very low and so he was ok financially. But he worried about the future and the more hopeless he became; the more his inner rage worked its way to the surface.
The Date
Bob was increasingly despondent. Bob hadn’t dated anyone since his divorce. He was too traumatized and he really didn’t know how. He had met Stacy at the restaurant where they worked and married her and was really never into the bar scene. Now without a job, he felt even more worthless. He was scared but lonely and finally after a lot of researching, he decided to hire a prostitute. He felt he could control the situation better and maybe then work up his courage to go on a date. He did not have to worry about Ethel. She was deaf and barely mobile. There was a working horse ranch a few miles away and the illegal immigrant Jose who worked there came by once a day to check on Ethel and do the chores and Ethel paid him some cash. Jose was in his mid fifties. He had been an illegal immigrant for a long time. Had family back in Mexico. In the old days, when the border was more porous, Jose would go back and forth easily. Now it was strict and it took a lot of money to pay the coyotes to lead them through the desert and you could still get caught. So Jose had not gone back in quite a while. Another illegal who worked with him at the ranch was Maria and she was his lover. Jose was an alcoholic and walked the few miles back and forth and often passed over drunk on the way, when he was done with his chores. But he was a good worker. He had a huge beer belly, was strong as an ox and worked very hard, but was paid a pittance and no benefits of any kind-all under the table. Bob wondered if this was the future American workers were staring at?
Bob knew when Jose came - it was an established routine. Ethel was deaf and rarely ventured out, except to sit in the back of her house and stare at the creek running through the property. Her only son lived in Boston and rarely visited. Bob was on good terms with both of them. Bob even helped Jose connect with his family in Mexico by opening an email account and allowing Jose to communicate with his kids and send photos. They had grown so much. Jose was even thinking of going back to Mexico. Bob wished he had some place to go back to-but he was all alone and out of options.
Bob scanned the webs for prostitutes and he was obsessed. He started sending them emails and chatting and really enjoyed it. Of course he had to start a separate email account for these activities! Bob was too paranoid after the Patriot act passed and the government had used parts of it to catch New York Governor Elliott Spitzer hiring a prostitute. His good self was now paranoid, but because of the way his life had turned out, it had no hold on him anymore. He was now functioning from some deep, dark space, something he never knew he had. Then finally he plucked up the courage to make an appointment with Candace. Candace looked to be a woman and not a girl. She was shapely, blonde, wore a lot of makeup and strangely resembled Stacey a lot. Perhaps that is why he liked her. He talked with her a lot about things they would do and she agreed to come and meet him at his place for her regular fee and some extra money for gas. This frightened him immensely. It was one thing for it to be a fantasy, but this was a small town and he was terrified. He did not respond for a day and then it was like that deeper space in him took over and made the appointment. What was happening to him? He was no longer in control of his actions. It was almost like something in him became strong, took over and pushed him aside and started to do things. He no longer had full control over his mental faculties. This was extremely horrifying, as he always was very controlled, very logical and very quiet person and now he was turning into some strange creature that functioned from primal instinct.
He thought about cancelling the appointment, but couldn’t get himself to do so. He made some food and took it over to Ethel. He loved this area. He had a meat grinder at home and made sausages and the area had a large number of small organic farms, that he bought meat from. He was used to butchering and dealing with carcasses as a kid. He often cooked for Ethel who usually only ate junk food otherwise. Ethel could talk but could not hear and would launch into one of her tales that she had already told a thousand times. She had bred Paint horses and had three stallions of very good lines and a thriving business. But slowly her son moved out and her husband died and she had to sell them. She always had so many tales about horse shows and talked about color patterns –overos and tobianos she called them- bloodlines, judges. “Hello Bob, brought me some home cooked food?” said Ethel. “Yes Ethel” said Bob. “What was that? You are always so soft, I can’t hear you” said Ethel and burst out laughing. “Did I ever tell you how my stallion won so many ribbons? I slept with the judge. He was a married man and I slept with him-a good-looking guy. He always placed my stallion first and so I always took my horse across the state to wherever he was judging. Now of course my stud was a good horse, but this just gave him something extra. Oh those were the days. My husband suspected something, but never could put it together and ya know.” Ethel went on and on and this was like the hundredth time she had repeated the same tale. She did not even look at Bob when she was talking, just off in her world. Except Jose and Bob, nobody really came by anymore. The owner of the horse ranch down the road was a former student of hers and they graciously sent their help Jose to go over to check on her. Ethel paid him extra and he enjoyed it as it involved light chores and some free junk food and free alcohol. Bob helped Jose with his email and to connect him with his kids in Mexico.
Ethel was her usual self, talking non-stop and eating at the same time. Jose came by at his appointed time and did the few chores and left. Sometimes Jose passed out on the way and woke up later. But he was strong as an ox and dressed for the weather and it never seemed to affect him. The rain usually woke him. Bob was worried he would die someday as it could get cold some days, but he always seemed to be ok. Bob usually was sweet and listened to Ethel, but now he was beginning to get very angry for some reason. He was raging all over and extremely angry. He couldn’t bear to listen to her voice and was fuming. He could not figure out why and pretended he had to go somewhere and left in a hurry. What was happening to him? What did sweet old Ethel do to him? Perhaps he should consult a mental health specialist? But at some level, he was beginning to enjoy this. It was some part of him that he never knew he had. He had spent his life never listening to his feelings, never caring about himself and his needs. Always putting his family, office, career, and friends beyond him. His brain could hold it all together, as he was successful and so there was a narrative. There was meaning and purpose to the whole thing. But now there was no meaning anymore. Everything he had worked for in his life had gone up in smoke and to top it off, there was nothing to look forward to. But his conscious narrative was still wired to the concept of working hard, paying your dues and rising to the top. If anything bad happened to someone, it was their fault. Now it was him in his 50s, no job, broken family, no brighter career prospect despite doing it all right and yet broken and alone and lonely. He could not come up with an argument, a meaning, and any sense to explain his predicament. All the bandits who had made this economy a mess were still getting millions in bonuses and flying in private jets. What had he done wrong? He had always done the right thing, why was this happening to him?
Bob’s mental state was in a continuous state of flux. His well-worn patterns that had served him well for decades did not serve him anymore. But for decades he had suppressed so many things and they were bursting forth like a volcano and the more he tried to put a lid on it, the more it wanted to burst forth. It was a furious battle. Some might say a battle between good and evil, others a battle between ego and soul-but Bob was just in too much flux to notice. His old tired personality tried to reassert itself and the new resurgent one increasingly pushed it aside.
It was getting closer to the date with Candace. Bob was increasingly nervous. There was a part of him that just wanted to have sex, lots of it and in a crude, crass way. This was a part he had never explored. He and Stacey were the typical married couple who barely had time for each other and in the four years after divorce, he had walled himself off. But this brought on all the inner cravings outside and his limited persona did not know how to handle it. It felt like an immense battle and Bob tried his best to run away –but how do you run away from a battle waging deep within yourself?
Candace was a prostitute since her early teens. She had run away from her abusive home and lived on the streets. She was only 29, but looked late forties. Years of drug and alcohol abuse had taken its toll. Candace usually insisted on a condom, when she was not high. She had not gotten herself tested, as she was too afraid to find out what she had. She also had a long arrest record for numerous offenses, which made getting a regular job almost impossible. She knew she was getting older and did not know what to do as the clients stopped calling. She had nothing to live for. She had been robbed, beaten and had customers run away without paying her. It came with the turf, especially now that she was not walking the streets anymore. The Internet was her friend and she posted a younger version of herself for her ads. Most of the time she got away with it, as she raised a huge scene and she at least got some money. 29 is pretty young, but she looked mid forties and so people felt cheated.
Candace was getting ready. She had a beer and got into her car. She was feeling good. She had been to Marin county many times –many beautiful homes. Many of the men would refuse to pay once they saw her and realized she was not the person in the ad. Some she would just bully and have sex. Others were too meek to bring it up, although their eyes would show their confusion. Then others would refuse and she would start creating a ruckus. Most paid her, as they didn’t want their neighbors to know. She enjoyed this game, it was the only power she had over others. Sonoma County was another story. More rural and some houses were on acreage. Many did not care if she raised a ruckus, especially if they were in a remote location. Sometimes she could not swindle them. But she took those bookings on slow days.
Bob was a mess. He hadn’t had sex in four years and had never hired a prostitute. He was terrified, had an upset stomach and was very nervous. He thought of calling it off, but it was too late. He was terrified his neighbors may find out or the police and that he may be hauled to jail. “What have you got to lose?” said his inner, resurgent self. “You did everything right and you have lost your job, your family and are a 52 year old unemployed man with diabetes and don’t have a home. All your jobs have been off-shored and you only have the small time jobs that you started your career with. What have you got to lose?” Bob did not have an answer. Bob was also alarmed that he was increasingly talking to himself. He remembered all those homeless people talking to themselves. On his daily commute by bus, there was a commuter who talked to himself almost all the way. He never could figure out why this person commuted to San Francisco everyday. But he was too polite to stare or ask. Was he going crazy? But this strange inner self made so much sense. What did he do wrong? He was a good son, a good husband and father and a very good employee. He had ended up with nothing. His professional experience meant nothing and his personal life was hell. He had nothing to show for it and all the people who did not care and who were ruthless seemed to be ahead in this new world. His sense of self and how the world functioned did not make any sense.
Candace was approaching the Marin/Sonoma county border. Traffic was easing up. Some days she felt sorry for herself. But her mother was a drug addicted abusive woman, with a knack for choosing violent, abusive boyfriends. She ran away at fourteen and lived on the streets. She started working the streets early and took drugs and alcohol and never really recovered from there. She did not have a kid, but otherwise she turned out to be a carbon copy of her mother. She did not know how to get out or even wanted to get out. At this point, life was just one big merry go round of drugs, sex, stints in jail and rehab and men paying for it. She was coming to the exit now and slowly pulled into the house. It was beautiful and she loved the woods. She had grown up in the city and as a child had dreamed of working on a farm and wanted to be with animals. But now was too far-gone. She pulled up close to the cabin in the woods and knocked on the door.
Bob was trembling with fear. He did not know what to do. He stared from the window and Candace had caught his stare. When she stepped out of the vehicle, he was stunned. This was not the woman he had agreed to hire. There must be a mistake, perhaps the woman in the ad was sitting in the car and this was the pimp or her friend?? This made him even more nervous. Would the woman/pimp be waiting outside while they were having sex? This would make him really uncomfortable. But Candace knocked on the door, while calling from her cell. Bob answered the door, in his most submissive self and with a great big smile. “Hello I am Candace,” said Candace. “Candace, ah, ah Candace-you are Candace, but, but, ah, ah” Bob struggled for words. “Aah, ah, what? Listen you hired me for an hour and if you want to spend an hour stuttering and talking, that’s fine by me.” said Candace as she pushed her way in. Bob was stunned. This was not the woman in the ad, this was three times the size of the woman in the ad and he still wasn’t sure what had just happened-she looked horrendous. “You, ah, don’t look like your ad,” said Bob. “You ain’t all that yourself, so sit your ass down and let’s have some fun,” said Candace in response.
The previous Bob would have complied. But now he could feel the anger welling up and the rage. He had hired a prostitute and he couldn’t even get that right. He was fuming, “Why has the world conspired against me? What have I done wrong? Can’t you just give me one hour of sex and fun?” Bob was fuming inside, although he looked to be his meek, demure self on the outside. Candace barely noticed. She was used to this. She did look good when she was younger, but not anymore. She had developed a nasty personality to match and except for the new client calls, she did not get many calls. This was her way of making more money and most men just paid her something for her to shut up and get out-provided she raised a big ruckus. Sometimes she wondered if someone might harm her-but it had never happened-she seemed to be a magnet for the meek ones. In a big city, there were plenty of new fish and tourists out having a good time and cheating on their wives back home. They did not want the publicity either. Candace lit up a cigarette and took a puff, “You just gonna stare at me the whole hour. That’s fine by me as long as you pay me. I will do whatever you want.” Bob was fuming. His normal self was trying to shut down the dark storm clouds emerging, but could not do so. “I think you had better leave, I will pay you the gas money, but, but, ah, this is not right, I booked with the ad in the “Bob said, before being cut off. “I don’t care what you booked for, you little weasel, you pay me the full and I leave or else, I am warning you, I will bring your neighbors running here.” Candace had seen Ethel in the main house and so she was a little braver. She figured Bob wouldn’t want his neighbors to know. What Candace hadn’t figured out was that Ethel was deaf and barely moved. “Listen, you better get started or just pay me to leave, you silly little men can’t get it up and have to hire women to get it done and you think you can stiff me?” Candace asked, raising her voice all the time and increasing her insults.
Normally Bob would be cowering down, bending over backwards to please Candace. He hated being in the spotlight, hated being picked on and always wanted to be the good guy. Candace had judged him to be that too. These men were all big company people and yet couldn’t handle people like her-they were like zoo animals that could only perform and live in their cages. Their constructed cages of reality, with their procedures and their hierarchy and their decision making process. What fools! All their fancy doctorates couldn’t prepare them to deal with a woman like her! She enjoyed it and she was enjoying it even more today to pick on this mousy old man. But today was different. Bob’s inner forces took over, “shut up,” he said. “Excuse me?” said Candace. Maybe it was the way she said it or the sum total of all his frustrations, but Bob lost it completely. He attacked her with all he had. Bob punched her and broke her jaw. Candace was stunned and bleeding and fell. Bob had become an animal, like a savage hyena ripping apart its prey and beat her with everything he had. Candace reached for her gun she had in her purse. Bob noticed it and they fought for the gun and in her weakened state, Candace was no match for Bob. Bob got the gun and started pummeling Candace with the gun. Candace tried to fight, but Bob got up from the floor and started to kick her. Candace was begging,” Please let me go, I don’t need the money, just let me go” but she was getting weak. Bob felt so good, so alive. He felt like a living breathing life form and not a machine, not a computer that was supposed to perform as per the programming. He was alive and the adrenalin was surging through him. He noticed his metal lamp, grabbed it and bought it down on Candace’s knee. Candace screamed in anguish as she felt intolerable pain in her knee. ”You were going to bring the neighbors down weren’t you-you dumb bitch?” Bob roared tauntingly. “Well she can’t hear and is deaf,” said Bob smiling and laughing. Candace was rolling on the floor with blood all over the carpet; she was delirious and struggling to hold on to consciousness. Her attention was trying to go to many places, to keep a hold on reality. She had flashes of her mommy and realized she still loved her.
Bob was like an enraged bull. The more Candace screamed and begged for mercy, the more he attacked her. Candace was begging, screaming, and threatening him and this only enticed Bob even more. He was transported into this primal plane and felt like a predator ripping his prey apart. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. Suddenly there was a loud noise and Candace did not feel anything, she felt peace and her consciousness was fading. Bob looked down at Candace; he had shot her in the head. He felt his normal self-coming back and yet he stood there laughing at this whole thing. He howled like a wolf and then roared like a lion. “I am going crazy,” said Bob and he laughed. Then he saw Candace and more of his normal self-started to come in. His fearful self started to come in and he wondered if she was really dead. The other part of him rushed out and he shot her again, through the head and the heart and felt her pulse just to be sure. She was gone. Bob sat down, adrenalin still rushing, but beginning to slow down. He was covered in blood and brain matter was splattered across his carpet and walls. He did not know what to do. He sat down for a few minutes. Jose had left before Candace’s appointment and would not be coming till tomorrow. He was nervous, angry, pacing, fearful with multiple voices all talking within him. “Shut up” he screamed at himself. “Relax and everything will be fine”, “Fine, what do you mean fine, we have a dead body and blood and brain matter all over the cabin.” “So what, we can clean it up and make it go away, how many animals have you gutted?” Bob’s different selves started conversing with himself. He was panicky, still angry at Candace, fearful, terrified at being caught and yet supremely relaxed and he was feeling them all at the same time. Instead of experiencing life sequentially, he was experiencing all things at once. He did not what to do, then just sat there and turned on the TV. For a while, he watched the TV.
Bob fixed himself dinner. When he came back to the living room, Candace was still there, dead. Bob was surprised, almost not expecting to see her there. For some strange reason, he chuckled. He ate dinner, while watching TV and then sat on top of Candace and watched some more TV and finished up dinner. His innards were still buzzing, almost like a diesel engine that is still warm after running for a while. He fell asleep there, on top of Candace. The next morning, he woke up with a nasty headache and with Candace still there. His cabin stunk. He was in a daze. He showered and came back, Candace was still there. Bob now realized that he had to get rid of the body. He just did not know how. He had watched too much of those crime scene dramas and was scared of being found out. But in a couple of hours, Jose would be here and he might notice the stink-not to mention all the coyotes and maybe the neighborhood bear too. Bob’s cabin was a nice setup, a living room, a bedroom and a kitchen. It had electricity, a shed where he kept wood and a garden. It was in the woods and he loved it. Bob suddenly remembered his meat grinder and the ax and decided that would be the best way to get rid of the body. He was afraid that otherwise, someone may find it and it may lead back to him. Those crime scene dramas made it look very easy. Bob brought the ax in and started chopping Candace up. He put her remains in the freezer. He was halfway through it and suddenly remembered Candace’s car. If Jose saw it, he might unwittingly tell someone. He had to get rid of it. Candace had the key in her purse and Bob started the car. It was a newer Honda car. Bob wondered how she could afford such a new car? Bob drove it down into a mud road behind his cabin and under some dense branches and parked it there for now. He would still have to get rid of Candace, before worrying about her car. Bob finally finished clearing up Candace, although her blood and her pieces remained splattered across his living room.
Bob could see Jose walking up the path from his employer’s horse ranch. Jose went straight to Ethel’s and started his chores. Bob was mortified. What if Jose decided to come knocking? He did that sometimes to check the Internet and see if his kids had sent him any emails. Not often, but maybe once a week. Bob was nervous, he didn’t have time to clear the blood and then he looked at his shotgun in the wall casing. He hadn’t used it in a long time. It was from his childhood days. He took it out and waited for Jose. Jose finished his chores and left. Bob heaved a sigh of relief. Bob really liked Jose. Jose always treated him with respect and he had gotten to know Jose’s family. But at the moment Bob felt like an animal and all that did not matter at all. But as Jose left, Bob started to feel a little fearful and a little bad about what he had done to Candace. But then the other part of him took over and he did not feel bad at all. He savored it and relished it. He felt like a man, a human, something with feelings. But now he would have to get rid of all evidence. He had used odor neutralizers during his childhood days. But Jose was gone and so he opened the windows a little and then went out and bought an odor neutralizer. He chatted with Charlie the shop owner for a while, who was his usual jovial self. Charlie and his sons went hunting and fishing often and reminded Bob of his neighbors while growing up. He came back and sprayed the neutralizers. He meticulously vacuumed his entire living room and bleached the whole cabin. He cut up the carpet and burned it . He then went to work on the body with the meat grinder. His friend Lex a few miles down had three big rotties. His friend Lex was out of town and Bob had agreed to feed them for a few days. Bob fed them the mashed up remains of Candace. The dogs seemed to love it. Soon Candace was no more. Bob checked the dog poop, just to make sure nothing turned up, but it was ground up and so it looked ok. Bob cleaned it and now relaxed.
Once the danger ceased, Bob returned to his usual self again. Yet now it was almost like there were two parts of him. One was Bob the submissive person and the other the caged animals that had broken free and were not going back in any time soon. Anytime Bob felt a little bit of guilt, that part unleashed itself and Bob became quiet again. He actually began to enjoy that part of himself more. A few days passed and Bob hadn’t decided what he would do with the car yet. He had removed the license plate and the VIN number. He also found that Candace had a stash of three thousand dollars in the glove compartment and another thousand in her boot. He laughed, almost taunting her in the other side. Bob was slowly getting back to his quiet existence, but now the uncaged animal side of him refused to sit down and be quiet and started to nag him. Bob tried to go the library and surf the Internet and join forums. But he was not the same and nothing worked. There was a restlessness in him, something he had not experienced before.
The Second Date
Bob was a lot calmer now. It had been two months now and nobody had noticed Candace. He religiously searched the missing person’s reports and volunteered at their groups. But Candace never came up anywhere-perhaps she was all alone. Bob gained a lot of confidence and was now getting ready to try dating. He was terrified of what he had done and did not want to repeat it again. But it was almost like his psyche had split into several pieces and each was acting on its own and so he really did not feel remorse. It was one jumbled mess in there.
This time, he took steps to make sure that there would be no repeat of the prior session. He took to the Internet again and found Allison. Allison was a sweet, young girl and looked very youngish. Bob explained to her that he had been cheated before and so he needed her to be exactly like she was in her ad. Allison had a chat service going on and asked Bob to log in and he did. He could interact with her online and so he realized it was the real person. He again confirmed that he would not agree to a different person. The date was set and Bob was ready.
Bob was not apprehensive at all this time. Bob made some food and walked over to Ethel. Ethel was sitting by the back, watching the creek flow. “Oh, you startled me” Ethel said. Bob smiled and gave her the food and he started eating his dinner too. Ethel launched into one of her stories again and Bob was not paying attention. His attention was elsewhere. “You know, you have changed somewhat-are you dating someone?” Ethel asked. “Who me? No, no “, Bob said and laughed and shook his head side to side. Ethel then launched into another one of her stories. Bob started to get angry and then he realized why. Ethel was deaf, but even otherwise; all she wanted was someone to listen and really didn’t care about his point of view. He was tired of that, tired of being the doormat and then smiled and said something and walked away. Again he descended into chaos. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just talk and be friends, but the deep dark waves were surfacing and he fled and started to eat something and tried to divert it by watching TV. It worked sometimes.
Allison was getting ready for her appointment. Allison was a sweet young girl barely just in her twenties. She had an angelic face and was a natural blonde. She was a foster child and at eighteen found herself on her own. She teamed up with two friends who were the same. Oliver was a year older than her, six feet six inches tall and weighed three hundred pounds. He had glasses on and was very aggressive. Jonathan was the same age as her and was black. He was very slim, good-looking and very energetic. Jonathan and Allison had fallen in love and Oliver and they formed a family unit of their own. Both Allison and Jonathan had websites and chat rooms of their own and slowly had started prostituting on the side. They viewed it as business and still loved each other. Oliver provided the muscle power and was very tech savvy. Both had planned to go to school, but with the economy the way it is, they wondered why bother with it? It is not like there would be a job waiting for them. Allison’s mom was locked up in a mental institution for killing her father. She did not have any relatives. Jonathan was molested by his step father and his mother ignored it. His relatives did not want to raise him as many were in utter disarray. Thus he ended up in foster homes. Oliver was orphaned by his adoptive parents. He was adopted by an older couple who died and he had been in foster care ever since. The three could understand each other and worked together and were happy, despite their line of work. None of them had been arrested so far. Drugs and alcohol helped ease any pain away.
Jonathan was driving and had started early, as he wanted to walk on the Golden Gate Bridge. They stopped at the northern parking lot and the two lovebirds walked on the bridge. Oliver waited on the bridge, content to take in the view of the islands, the bay and the city. The two returned back and were getting ready to leave. Allison and Jonathan were planning to quit and maybe start a small restaurant somewhere. They were getting tired of the city life and its sterile lifestyle. All three longed for a place to belong and care about. Then they headed to Bob’s house. Allison marveled at the beautiful place. The beautiful cabin set in the woods. It was evening and the fog started to roll in and it was gorgeous. Allison smoked a joint and relaxed. Maybe in a year or two, they might have enough money saved up to buy a place of their own.
Bob was watching from the window as the car rolled in. They parked a while away and Bob saw the two men and Allison. Allison kissed Jonathan and walked up to the cabin. Bob grew panicked. The black kid looked young, but the white guy was humongous and terrified him. Were they here to rob him? Bob panicked and got his shotgun ready, and kept it hidden in the closet by the door. Allison walked up and called Bob on the phone while knocking on the door. Bob opened the door. “Hi, am I as I advertised on the ad?” asked Allison as she smiled beautifully. She was very attractive. Bob mumbled yes and said, “Come in.” “So what you want to do?” asked Allison. “Huh, yes, huh those your friends in the car?” asked Bob. “Oh those two, don’t worry about them, they just gave me a ride as I don’t have a car-let’s get on with it” said Allison giggling and feeling up Bob. Bob was nervous and getting a relaxed at the same time, when he heard a car door slam real loud. It was Oliver. Bob got up to see what was going on. It was the big man getting out of the car and talking on the phone. The slim, young black man was already out of the car and staring at the cabin. Allison’s phone rang and she picked it up and said “Hi baby”. That was their password to make sure everything was going all right. Bob panicked. He felt trapped. He felt he was going to be robbed by the three of them and that they would definitely kill him. Waves of fear arose and yet outwardly he looked fine. Allison kept the phone down and smiled and said, “Come on over Daddy” and started to take her clothes off. Bob panicked even more. The car was parked away from the cabin, but he could see them through the foliage very clearly as it was thinned out. Bob’s paranoia increased tremendously. In his mind, Allison was trying to distract him, so that the other two could swoop in and kill him and take his belongings. He felt like a trapped cat.
Bob said he had to go to the restroom and would be back in a minute. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, Big daddy”, said a very smiling and seductive Allison. Bob was now sure Allison and her friends meant to kill him. Bob picked up his butcher knife and a towel and came back. He had the huge knife behind the towel in his hand and pretended like he was wiping his hand. Every muscle in him was tense and his concentration was intense on Allison, like an eagle on a hare. A small voice said to him, “Maybe she was just talking to her friend?” “Shut up” came the furious reply and Bob became as cold as a lion watching its prey. He smiled at her and she smiled back and started to say something, when he shoved the towel into her mouth and with the other hand started slicing her up. He kneed her and was stabbing her very precisely. Humans were not that different from animals-all had hearts, lungs, brains and arteries and veins. The only thing that was different in a human was location and Bob was pretty experienced with animals. Allison came out of her shock and lunged sideways and tried to put up a fight. But despite the adrenalin rush, she was too injured and sustained deep internal injuries. She screamed in pain, but the only thing coming out was muffled voices. She tripped and fell and grabbed a light that fell too. Bob stabbed her even harder and slowly the life ebbed out of her. She could not feel anything anymore. Bob continued to stab her continuously, but she did not move. Bob then heard Allison’s phone ring. He started butchering her in the neck area and managed to cut almost half off. The phone went to message. Bob now got up and edged to the window. It was the fat man on the phone and both were looking at the cabin. Perhaps they were coming in to rob him now. Oliver and Jonathan had just heard the commotion and were worried. “We should check them out, something feels wrong, she always answers the phone,” said Jonathan. They tried a few more times, no answer. Oliver did not want to disturb the client, but it was not like Allison to not pick up a call from them. The noise also frightened them. Jonathan could feel it intuitively-something was definitely wrong. They decided to just knock on the door and say Hi.
Bob saw them coming towards the cabin. His worst paranoid fears were confirmed. They were coming to kill him. Bob closed the curtains fully. He loaded the shotgun and ran towards the back exit. He exited and doubled back through a path in the garden and the woods. He came upon the parked car and slowly inched forward, first making sure no one else was in the car. The two men were at the door and were still trying to call Allison once more. She did not pick up the phone. Jonathan knocked on the door.
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