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I took his neck in my hands, wrapping both my hands around it and squeezing. He was frantic; I was calm. The difference between the hunter and the hunted. He punched me in my side, near where I’d been stabbed, but I didn’t show an ounce of pain. I only squeezed that neck of his harder.
Fuck. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill him right here and now.
But I didn’t. My grip on his neck loosened just a bit as I leaned down and whispered, “A quick death is too good for you.” My hands went to the sides of his head, gripping it, and I slammed it back against the floor, knocking him out.
No. I had something else in mind for dear Dave.
Chapter Eighteen – Brett
I took what I needed from the Mulanie’s garage. A shovel, some duct tape, and a four foot thing of rebar. Don’t ask me what the Mulanie’s were doing with it. It was nice and rusted, and it’d make a perfect marker. I also took a small hammer for the rebar so I could get it nice and deep.
I pulled Dave’s truck into the garage before loading him up in the privacy of a closed garage. I’d tied him up before this, his wrists taped behind his back and his ankles as well, so he couldn’t run. His unconscious, crumbled body fit perfectly on the seat next to me. The truck was high enough off the ground that I wasn’t worried about anyone pulling up next to me and seeing inside.
Besides, it wasn’t like I was going through the inner city with him. No, where we were going, it was old paved roads with no edge lines.
I’d probably have to get gas, but I’d get it on the way, at some old, tiny, rinky-dink gas station that no one was at, with no cameras. I was used to constantly scanning my surroundings for stuff like that, so it wouldn’t be hard.
And if Dave woke up? I’d knock him back out. I wasn’t worried about giving him a concussion. The man would be dead soon enough, so what was a little brain damage on top of it? It’s nothing worse than he deserved for what he’d done.
As the day wore on and I got closer and closer to my destination, I couldn’t stop wondering why Charlie hadn’t told me. From what it sounded like, it wasn’t a new thing. I couldn’t be upset with her for not telling me, because I had no idea what it was like.
I never cared about anyone, not like this. My cousin? Yeah, he was like a brother to me, and losing him had made me go off the rails for a while. But Charlie… it was different with her. I hated that this fucker had hurt her like that, and for years.
How did no one notice? Was she that invisible to them?
Fuck. Why didn’t I go after Dave immediately? I could’ve helped her. Knowing I wasn’t imagining things last night, knowing it was this prick who was in her room, doing God knew what to her all night, enraged me to no end.
I hated that I didn’t protect her. I hated that someone had slipped through my fingers. I’d never forgive myself for it.
It was well into the afternoon by the time I had everything ready. It was my favorite place, my field. And since it was in the middle of a poor area of the state, no one flew planes overhead. It was literally as private as a place could be, and you could get right to it by driving off the road, if you knew where to go.
It was my field. My cousin’s and mine. Now that he was dead, I supposed it was just mine. It’s where we took ‘em, after we caught them. They were always dead, though. We’d never taken anyone here while they were still alive. The sayingthere’s a first time for everythinghad never rang truer.
I drove right up to the spot, right where I’d do it. I got out of the car and went to get the rebar from the truck bed. Dave was slowly coming to—he’d woken up twice on the drive, and I’d had to asphyxiate him to get him to pass out again. One hand on the wheel, the other holding his mouth closed and clamping his nose shut. You know, normal Tuesday stuff.
With the hammer in hand, I picked the right spot in the field, set the rebar up, and pounded it down into the dirt. Around me, the wind blew, rustling the knee-high, overgrown grass. Too early in spring for any wildflowers, but once they started to bloom, this field was covered in them.
I should bring Charlie here, when it was blooming time. I think she’d like it.
And she’d like it even better knowing her uncle’s body had helped to feed them.
Once the rebar was in the ground, I checked it to make sure it was steady and immovable. I went to the truck, tossed the hammer in the back, and flung open the passenger door. Dave had started to sit up, but he was groggy and dazed. I reached over him to grab the duct tape and then pulled the man out. He fell to his knees in the grass, and it took him way too long to get to his feet.
“Come on, man,” I deadpanned, “I don’t have all day.” My serious demeanor vanished the moment I laughed. “I’m just shitting you, buddy. I have all the time in the world. You, on the other hand, do not.”
I pulled him along, stopping us once we reached the rebar pole ten feet away from the front of the truck. He had to switch between hopping and taking tiny baby steps due to the tape around his ankles.
“What the fuck is this?” he asked, finally cognizant enough to speak. Dave looked all around, taking in the fact that we were totally alone here, in the middle of nowhere.
Stopping him in front of the rebar, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the tiny blade. With the duct tape in one hand, I yanked him around, so his back was against the rebar. He tried to fight me, but I stopped him by leaning close and pressing the blade against the tender part of his neck, just below his ear.
It was kind of funny that the threat of death got people to cooperate, even when the only thing waiting for them across the road was death itself. Death was coming one way or another, and I guess some people would do anything for just a few more seconds.
The blade cut into the duct tape easily. I dropped it to the grass once its job was done. As I ripped off the old duct tape and pulled his hands behind the bar, he pleaded with me, “Please, just let me go. I won’t tell. I’ll leave. You can have her. You can have Charlie, okay? She isn’t worth this—”
Halfway done taping his hands behind the rebar, I abruptly stopped and reached around to his neck, squeezing it hard as I hissed, “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Charlie’s worth a million of you. I only wish I could bring you back from the dead so I could kill you again.” With that, I released his neck and resumed fixing him to the pole.
Around and around his wrists the tape went, so thick there was no way he’d be able to free himself. But, just to be sure, once his wrists were done, I tore the tape and forced him down to his ass. I taped around his midsection and chest, around the pole and his upper arms. Around and around I went, working diligently.
