Cameron plugged the radio into an outlet. A song by Joy Division came on, making Dan wonder if Cameron enjoyed anything from her own era. Cameron turned the volume low and approached the pit with a smile. All three of them looked down the hole. And when they saw the darkness that seemed to have no end, nobody said a word.
7
Nicolas followed Cameron’s car, humming along with a song on the radio. When Cameron made a pit stop at Roger’s place, he turned the radio off and drove around the corner. He parked, waited, and followed them once they were driving. When they stopped at Cameron’s place he slowed but kept moving. Through the rearview mirror, he watched Cameron change from one car to the next. This wasn’t good. He wanted her to be alone at some point soon. Following them undetected could only become harder now that they made two pit stops.
He turned the car around, waited a few seconds, and followed Dan’s car to Stone Path Road. He knew Stone Path very well. He lived on a small, nearly uninhabited loop called Stone Crescent, and the two streets were attached. Stone Path Road and Stone Crescent were shaped like a lollipop on a stick. Stone Crescent was the lollipop. Stone Path was the stick. This meant both streets were a dead end, and there was no way for Cameron to escape without him knowing. No way at all.
Cameron was trapped.
Nicolas pulled next to the ditch, turned his engine off and let Dan drive away. He waited a few minutes, giving Cameron time to settle down, get comfortable, and kick off her shoes. During this time he lifted Fuzzy by his broken legs and squeezed the rodent as hard as he was able.
A smile crept across his face.
Claws scratched frantically. Eyes bulged. Teeth snapped together in a mix of pain, fury, and desperation.
Nicolas said, “Oh Fuzzy, what’s wrong, buddy?”
Still clamping his fingers like a vice, he changed gears inside his mind. Nicolas smashed the rodent against the dashboard three times, causing animal innards to explode against the window and floor. Guts splashed everywhere. Now Nicolas’ feet were kicking, his mouth was wide open and his glasses fell to his lap. He slapped the animal’s mangled body against the passenger’s seat repeatedly, bouncing it against the padded fabric.
Suddenly he was furious.
His face turned red and his eyeballs quivered like he was having an epileptic fit. Screaming, he crushed the rodent’s body against his chin and inhaled the wild scent with a loud and noisy snort. Blood dripped from his fingers. It ran down his face and neck. After a few seconds he blasted the tiny creature’s body against the steering wheel like a slave driver cracking a whip. Fuzzy snapped in half. The rodent’s head, chest, and his two front legs flew through the air, smacked against the windshield, and fell onto the dash. Gore hung from the exposed ribcage like pasta.
Nicolas looked at the mangled legs squished between his fingers. Anger, frustration, and excitement, became diluted with feelings he didn’t understand: loss, despair, misery, confusion. The emotional overload was too much. He began crying. His face turned red and his bottom lip launched into the foxtrot.
“It’s not fair,” he exclaimed, loudly. “It’s just not fair!”
When he was done with his brief, yet psychotically expressive bout of mourning, he rolled down the window and tossed Fuzzy’s legs outside. They hit the ground with a SPLOTCH and rolled in the dirt. He lifted his glasses from his lap, wiped the dribbles of gore from the lenses, and placed them on his teary-eyed face. He started the car and drove, ignoring the string of intestines that was clinging to his hair and the blood dripping from his chin. He didn’t care how he looked––driving down Stone Path Road with his fingers strangling the steering wheel and guts rolling off his stubble, but he did consider shooting himself. He also considered setting the town on fire, and wondered what it would be
7
Nicolas followed Cameron’s car, humming along with a song on the radio. When Cameron made a pit stop at Roger’s place, he turned the radio off and drove around the corner. He parked, waited, and followed them once they were driving. When they stopped at Cameron’s place he slowed but kept moving. Through the rearview mirror, he watched Cameron change from one car to the next. This wasn’t good. He wanted her to be alone at some point soon. Following them undetected could only become harder now that they made two pit stops.
He turned the car around, waited a few seconds, and followed Dan’s car to Stone Path Road. He knew Stone Path very well. He lived on a small, nearly uninhabited loop called Stone Crescent, and the two streets were attached. Stone Path Road and Stone Crescent were shaped like a lollipop on a stick. Stone Crescent was the lollipop. Stone Path was the stick. This meant both streets were a dead end, and there was no way for Cameron to escape without him knowing. No way at all.
Cameron was trapped.
Nicolas pulled next to the ditch, turned his engine off and let Dan drive away. He waited a few minutes, giving Cameron time to settle down, get comfortable, and kick off her shoes. During this time he lifted Fuzzy by his broken legs and squeezed the rodent as hard as he was able.
A smile crept across his face.
Claws scratched frantically. Eyes bulged. Teeth snapped together in a mix of pain, fury, and desperation.
Nicolas said, “Oh Fuzzy, what’s wrong, buddy?”
Still clamping his fingers like a vice, he changed gears inside his mind. Nicolas smashed the rodent against the dashboard three times, causing animal innards to explode against the window and floor. Guts splashed everywhere. Now Nicolas’ feet were kicking, his mouth was wide open and his glasses fell to his lap. He slapped the animal’s mangled body against the passenger’s seat repeatedly, bouncing it against the padded fabric.
Suddenly he was furious.
His face turned red and his eyeballs quivered like he was having an epileptic fit. Screaming, he crushed the rodent’s body against his chin and inhaled the wild scent with a loud and noisy snort. Blood dripped from his fingers. It ran down his face and neck. After a few seconds he blasted the tiny creature’s body against the steering wheel like a slave driver cracking a whip. Fuzzy snapped in half. The rodent’s head, chest, and his two front legs flew through the air, smacked against the windshield, and fell onto the dash. Gore hung from the exposed ribcage like pasta.
Nicolas looked at the mangled legs squished between his fingers. Anger, frustration, and excitement, became diluted with feelings he didn’t understand: loss, despair, misery, confusion. The emotional overload was too much. He began crying. His face turned red and his bottom lip launched into the foxtrot.
“It’s not fair,” he exclaimed, loudly. “It’s just not fair!”
When he was done with his brief, yet psychotically expressive bout of mourning, he rolled down the window and tossed Fuzzy’s legs outside. They hit the ground with a SPLOTCH and rolled in the dirt. He lifted his glasses from his lap, wiped the dribbles of gore from the lenses, and placed them on his teary-eyed face. He started the car and drove, ignoring the string of intestines that was clinging to his hair and the blood dripping from his chin. He didn’t care how he looked––driving down Stone Path Road with his fingers strangling the steering wheel and guts rolling off his stubble, but he did consider shooting himself. He also considered setting the town on fire, and wondered what it would be
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