Skulls Page 2

  The heady scent of flowery perfume and deodorant hit him as he stepped inside. He sneezed and waved at the air, blinking his eyes as he went around the couch to get out of the line of fire. He passed by the dining room table to see two dirty settings of plates, glasses and silverware to match. They were spread out luxuriantly as if there’d been five people there to eat, rather than just two.

  He marveled at the mess as he went to the kitchen. The perfume smell faded slightly, only to be replaced by the scent of over-fried meat, of some kind. He looked to the stove and saw two greasy pans still on the burners. Little black chunks of crispy remnants lay in each. A pan of yellowish noodles sat in between, the sauce on top dried to a deep umber.

  He picked up the pot and shook it. The noodles defiantly stayed in place. He set it down, putting wary distance between him and the entity inside the pot.

  Nothing edible in the pans, he popped open the fridge and sighed. Two tiny pieces of over-cooked steak sat in a small plastic bowl, drowning in bitter-smelling steak sauce. A wilted ear of corn sat lonely on the top shelf between a legion of Budweiser cans and the tub of yogurt that Jacob was sure had died, returned to life, eaten itself, and died once more, only to be buried in the same container. One of the cans was open, filling the refrigerator with the tangy smell of beer.

  Jacob picked up the half-empty can and took a swig, sighing at the taste. He took another sip, then set the can back exactly as he found it.

  He grabbed the last Coke from the bottom shelf and slammed the fridge. The fine crystal glasses stacked on top clinked together. He bumped the door with his hip to hear the sound again before returning to the living room where he hoped he wouldn’t need a Hazmat crew to accompany him.

  More interested in sugar and caffeine than whatever lurked on the stove, he plopped down on the couch and snatched up the remote. He hit the power button, and then hit it again when nothing happened, pressing hard until the small TV came on with a crackled hiss. The picture wavered before popping into view. Dancing with the Stars screamed at him from the screen.

  Jacob stabbed frantically at the remote until the channel hopped to shrieking static. It was only a fraction more tolerable. Then at last, his ears ringing, the volume dropped low enough he didn’t feel like he was sitting behind a 747 preparing for takeoff.

  The batteries needing a eulogy, he tossed the remote across the couch and went over to change the channels on the set. He flipped through the seven or eight channels that actually pulled a signal from the aluminum-foiled bunny ears on top of the TV, and then flipped through them again. Back on Dancing, he shut the set off and flopped onto the couch. The dark-veined paneling more interesting than the television, he popped open his soda and took a big gulp.

  The hazy scent of Ann’s perfume still lingered as he stared at the wall. Images of the bunker crept unbidden to his mind. His fingers began to tingle as though he were touching the skull again. He rubbed his hand to get rid of the feeling. The black sockets peered out at him through his imagination, glimmers of lives past buried deep inside. He couldn’t help but think somewhere within the skulls were the spirits of the people they’d once been, hidden from the world and yearning to be remembered.

  Jacob laughed as rational thought argued with his imagination. Less than twenty yards from the edge of Jenks’s property, he couldn’t possibly have been the only person to ever stumble across the bunker. Having been suspected of murder, and the bodies never found, every inch of his property would have been searched at one time or another. Evidence like that couldn’t exist so plainly as to be overlooked. There had to be more to it.

  Jacob shook his head and chuckled for believing the skulls to be the gory mementos of a serial killer. Given the history of the Ruidoso area, if they were even real, they were more likely part of some Indian tribal burial. Perhaps it was an altar to the spirits of their people. That made a lot more sense.

  Shaking the thoughts loose from his head, he swallowed the last of his Coke and hopped up to start his chores. The mystery of the skulls solved, he prepared himself for the battle ahead. He eyed his opponent across the room. The pot pretended it didn’t notice.

  * * * *

  Dishes done, the trailer as clean and as odor free as possible, Jacob showered. He did his best to tame his wild hair. Humidity conspired to animate every strand. He ran the brush through it fifty times without success. At last, surrendering to the inevitable, he tied it into a ponytail and left it at that. At ten p.m., he locked up the trailer and headed for Cass’s house. He zipped through the trailer park as fast as he could. He heard muffled shouts in the distance and cut through the trees to avoid a group of squatters who’d camped outside an abandoned trailer. The flickering light from their barbeque grill fire cast dancing shadows in Jacob’s path. The distinct smell of burning pine stuck to his nose as he hopped the wrought iron fence that encircled the park.

  He ran around to Sudderth Street and stuck to the wooded side. It was about thirty minutes until he reached Country Club Road. The winding street worked itself up from trailer homes to sprawling estates within just a few blocks and Jacob quickly felt out of place. He always did.

  From the snarling threats of pit bulls and Doberman Pinchers at the start of his trip, he emerged on the other end of the street to be assaulted by the high-strung peals of Chihuahuas, Poodles, and Pomeranians. They bounded along the fences as he walked past, determined to impose their Napoleonic will upon anyone who would listen.

  Jacob just walked faster, hoping no one would look out their window to see who was walking through their neighborhood, riling up their animals.

  The yipping mutts faded behind him as he rounded the corner to see Cass’s house. The yard lights were on, as always. He glanced up at her parent’s window and smiled to see it dark.

  Comforted by their adherence to routine, he continued to the end of the yard. He cut across it and used the shadows to shield his movements from view. He hopped the wooden fence to the backyard and made his way around the pool and past the back door. Nearly to the other end of the house, he grinned as he saw the rope ladder hanging from Cass’s open, second floor window.

  He whistled low and made his way up. Cass met him at the top and smiled down at him.

  “You’re a little late tonight.”

  He crawled through her window took a deep breath. “It was steak night.” The pained look on his face must have said it all.

  Cass laughed. She covered her mouth to muffle the sound as he drew the ladder in and shut the window. With a huff, he plopped onto the couch.

  Jacob surveyed the room like he always did. He couldn’t help it. Her bedroom was easily half the size of his parent’s entire trailer, and a million times better furnished. It was like walking into a luxury hotel.

  Well, not walking. That would imply Cass’s parents welcomed him there. He’d used the front door only a handful of times since he’d started seeing their daughter. They would probably never accept him, but it was enough that Cass did.

  Jacob admired her as she dropped onto the couch beside him. He smiled at her transformation. Bright pink shorts and matching top, her hair pulled into a bun, the Cass he knew was gone. She’d been replaced by her parent’s sweet, innocent daughter.

  “What are you smiling at?” She asked. Her voice dropped to a growl.

  “Nothing, Pinky.” He covered his face as a pillow careened off his head.

  “Don’t give me any shit. You know how it is. It’s just easier to be what they expect me to be sometimes.” Her smile faded.

  “I know, I know.” He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just teasing you. At least your parents have expectations.” His voice twanged with bitterness. He regretted opening his mouth, the conversation going terribly awry.

  She sighed and met his eyes. “Aren’t we a couple of emos?” She hopped up, went to the small table beside the door and c
ollected a serving tray with a covered plate on top. She returned and set it in his lap with a motherly grin.

  Glad of any excuse to change the subject, he pulled the lid from the plate. He stared at the thick slab of filet mignon, wrapped in bacon. The vegetable sides still steamed. The delicious scent of a properly cooked meat wafted to his nose. He leaned back with an overwhelmed smile.

  “Thanks, Cass.” He nearly choked on the words.

  She poked him in the ribs, her face going sullen as she ran her hand along his side. “Somebody’s got to feed you or you’ll wither away. I worry about you when the wind blows.”

  He grinned, unrolling the silverware from the cloth napkin to the accompaniment of his growling stomach. He didn’t want to discuss it. “What are we watching tonight?”

  Cass worked the remote. The TV and DVD player kicked on. “I figured we’d watch a romance.”

  Jacob snarled and glared at the screen until the opening credits for Psycho rolled. He chuckled. “Ah, it’s a classics night.”

  She adjusted the volume and settled in beside him. “We’ve watched all the new slasher flicks, so I figured this would be a good change of pace.”

  Jacob nodded as he stuffed a quick bite into his mouth. More interested in Cass’s attention, he set the tray aside. He draped his arm over the back of the couch and let her sink into his side. Once she settled, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder to keep her there.

  “Besides, with you wanting to become a serial killer, I thought you could learn something.” Her quiet laugh tickled his side.

  “Glenn is going to be the killer, I’m the coroner, remember?” He squeezed her against him. “I get to cut them up after they’re dead, not before.”

  Cass shivered. “I couldn’t imagine being there in the morgue with a bunch of dead people. It’d freak me out.”

  “It’s not the dead ones you need to worry about.” He motioned toward the screen.

  Cass agreed and snuggled in even tighter. “It’s a good thing I have you here to protect me. I’d be real scared otherwise.”

  “Yeah, right. You don’t need me. You don’t need anyone. Nobody’s brave enough to come after you.” He smiled down at her. “But I’d be there anyway to watch you kick their ass.”

  * * * *

  Jacob ran down the darkened streets, slipping into the bushes anytime a vehicle passed. The chilly mountain air numbed his lungs as he jogged up to his front door. He was relieved to see the driveway empty.

  He dug in his pocket as he heard the distinctive rumble of his father’s pickup. It echoed through the trees. He scrambled and finally got his key into the lock. He shut the door quickly behind him, locking it with shaking hands before racing to his room.

  Without bothering to take his clothes off, he climbed into bed and piled the blankets on top—not that he expected his dad to check on him. He lay there breathing heavy and tried to settle his heartbeat as the truck pulled into the driveway.

  He heard his stepmother’s voice as it drifted through the thin walls. Her words were slurred and agitated. His father hushed her—not because he was worried she’d wake Jacob, but because he couldn’t concentrate on opening the door with her yammering in his ear.

  After what seemed an eternity, the front door slammed open and heavy feet stomped inside, rocking the trailer. Another slam followed a moment later and the mumbled chatter moved away toward the other side of the house.

  He heard rustling in the kitchen. The crystal glasses chimed as the refrigerator door slammed shut. Its sound was followed by the loud hum of the microwave. Further back in the trailer, the floor vibrated and his father’s voice was suddenly absent. Ann’s tuneless humming drifted to silence shortly after. A few minutes after that, the microwave cried out to a silent house.

  Too worn out to do any more than remove his shoes, Jacob settled in under the blankets. It would be hours before he slept.

  Chapter Four

  Vaguely remembering hearing his father’s truck pull out of the driveway, Jacob crawled bleary-eyed from bed hours later. Still dressed, he wandered out of his room and sighed at the mess that awaited him.

  A half-full milk carton sat abandoned beside an empty bowl on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, splashes of milk and cereal all over. A coffee cup, knocked on its side, fed a tiny brown river that dripped onto the seat of the wooden stool below. A thick puddle formed in the carved indentions.

  He grimaced and ran his hand over the warm milk carton as he passed. He left it and went to the fridge. He pulled it open and looked inside only to close it right away. Muttering, Jacob snatched a glass from the cabinet and filled it at the sink. He swallowed the water down, grimacing at the warm, slightly metallic aftertaste and dropped the cup into the sink. He splashed a little more of the water onto his face. His wet hands sliding across his hair, he smoothed it back out of his eyes. He surveyed the rest of the kitchen.

  He glanced over at the microwave and opened the door without expectation. Inside sat the small bowl with its two lonely pieces of meat. The plastic edge had melted oblong. The walls were splattered with seared steak sauce. They were like backward stars against the white. He shut the microwave, knowing he’d be back to clean it later, then headed to his room to collect his shoes.

  He thought it better to get going on his chores before he fully woke up to realize what he was doing, so he dragged himself outside. He dug through the stacked junk in the shed and pulled out what he needed to cut the grass. After beating the decrepit lawn mower into being functional, its sputtering engine threatening to quit every few minutes, he was as ready as he was going to be. He headed off into the wild to conquer the half acre of weeds and shrubs his father called grass.

  * * * *

  The day was a blur of sneezes and violent curses aimed at the stalling mower. Through it all, Jacob heard his name being called. A little more than half finished, he was loath to turn the mower off. He didn’t think he could get it started again. He shut it off anyway when he saw Cass’s face peeking over the fence.

  The mower whined to silence, its death rattle a grinding whir. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and waved her over.

  “Hi,” she said sweetly as she opened the gate, once more dressed in her uniform of black jeans and Metallica T-shirt, steel-toed boots adding a couple inches of height. There was no trace of pink to be found anywhere.

  Chris, Dee, and Glenn followed her in. Dee’s bright blond hair was the only hint of color to be seen amongst the group. It stood out amidst all the black.

  “We were headed out to the canal to drink a couple of beers. You in?” Chris asked. Dee hung heavy on his arm, waiting for Jacob’s answer.

  Jacob looked to Cass, then back to the yard. If he wanted to spend time with her later, he’d have to get the yard done. He gave her a sad smile and turned to Chris. “No, man, I can’t today. I have to finish up here or my dad will put his boot up my ass.” He saw Chris trying not to smile.

  “C’mon, dude, it’s beer,” Glenn said, all the grace of a used car salesman.

  “Nah, you guys go ahead.” He waved them on, fighting the urge to give in. “Maybe I’ll catch up with y’all later.”

  Chris just shrugged and lit a cigarette. “Don’t expect there to be any beer left.”

  “More for me,” Glenn added. He was already heading for the gate.

  “Last chance.”

  Jacob shook his head. “Sorry, guys.”

  “All right. Laters.” Chris gave a half-hearted wave and followed Glenn out. Dee jumped to keep up.

  Cass put her hand on Jacob’s arm and gave him a big smile. “You sure?”

  He pushed his sweat-slick hair out of his face and nodded. “My dad’s going to be hung over as shit when he gets home. If the yard’s not done, there’s no way I’ll be able to go out tonight.” He put h
is hand on hers and squeezed. “I don’t mind missing out on beer if it means I get to see you later.”

  “Hurry up, Cass,” Chris shouted from the driveway.

  “The natives are getting restless,” Jacob added.

  She rolled her eyes and gave him a quick kiss. She had a crooked grin on her lips. “See you tonight.”

  A car horn sounded. Jacob growled in response, then smiled back at Cass. He reluctantly let her hand go as she ran off, closing the gate on the way out. He heard the roar of Chris’s Camaro before its wheels squealed and it tore off down the road.

  Alone again, Jacob turned back to the yard. Glancing out across it, he felt a chill ricochet along his spine. The stone barriers protecting his stepmother’s withered fruit trees looked like headstones against the cut grass. In the cemetery of his mind’s eye, he thought again of the skulls.

  Though he’d put it out of his head, certain there was nothing sinister in their display, he kept coming back to them. His curiosity piqued, he wanted to look them over again, to see once and for all if they were real. To see if he could figure out how they got there and why.

  He looked at the yard once more and then to the sun. Though he’d started a little later than he intended, he figured he still had several hours before his dad made it home. That was plenty of time to run up to the bunker and take a look, then get back and finish up.

  Convinced he could make it in time, he headed off. He stuck to the trees when he reached Sudderth Street, just in case Chris happened to drive by. He knew Cass wouldn’t be happy if she caught him.

  He bolted across the road once he was sure he wouldn’t be seen. In the woods, he worked his way around the hill where they’d been playing Zombie the day before. He followed along the barbed wire fence until he found a point he recognized.

  He waited a few minutes, surveying the tree line to make sure he was alone, before hopping over the fence and backtracking his way to the bunker.