The Devil Next Door

33

“Listen to me, Dick,” Louis said to the mud-covered man with the axe, the man who had once been Dick Starling. “Just listen to me, Dick. We’ve been friends for years, you and I. Just please put down that axe, all right?”

“Friends?” Dick said, as if he were trying to make sense of that word.

“Yes, Dick. We’re friends. I trust you and you trust me.”

Dick cocked his head like a confused animal and grunted. A low guttural sound that was completely unnerving. Filthy with mud and blood, dry leaves and sticks clinging to him, he looked like some primeval savage.

“Dick? Do you understand?”

Dick Starling just stood there, darkness filling his eyes and looking like it wanted to spill out like tears. His mouth was hooked in a contorted grin and he was breathing very fast, his chest rising and falling. He looked from Macy to Louis, couldn’t seem to make up his mind what he wanted to do.

But he was thinking.

You could almost hear the primitive machinery of his mind whirring. And Louis was pretty much thinking that it was a very simple mind that Dick Starling now possessed. Gone were all the things that had made Dick, Dick. Whatever powered that brain, it cared not about the NFL or swimsuit calendars or basketball pools or sports betting. It had lost interest in the ’66 Camaro kept under the tarp in the garage, the one the old Dick babied, buffed and polished and tuned, taking it out only for vintage car shows. Things like that meant nothing to the new and improved Dick Starling. He didn’t even give a shit about his wife or his two daughters.

All of that had been replaced by much simpler imperatives… to hunt, to kill, to fuck, to eat. Maybe Earl Gould was right.

All of them out there… animals, they are regressing to animals, throwing off the yoke of intelligence and civilization, returning to the jungle and survival of the fittest…

“Dick,” Louis said, his voice very calm even though his heart was trying to pound a hole through his chest. “Dick… listen to me. It’s important that you hear what I say.”

But Dick didn’t seem to think that was important at all.

What was important here, friends and neighbors, was getting this fine piece of teenage snatch and raping it, then maybe slitting its throat, letting that hot blood pour into your mouth because that was the world’s oldest orgasm, the smell and taste and feel of the blood. Only tightass Louis Shears didn’t seem to know that because… well, because, he was still hung up on outdated, trifling things like morals and ethics and civilization.

“Louis,” Dick finally said and it looked like it took some real effort just to be coherent. He shook his head, licked his lips. “Louis, goddammit, don’t go fucking up things. I’m taking that bitch and you can either join in or I’ll go right through you. How’s that sound, old pal?”

Louis was scared.

Hell, yes. Like watching your best friend change into a werewolf right in front of you. Because, honestly, the change was that complete, that total. Dick was a slavering, shaggy monster, hungry for conquest and meat. Everything that civilization, his parents, and environment had taught him were acceptable behavior had been thrown right out the window. What was left, what was in control of him, was something much older, something atavistic and basic, something from the dawn of the race.

“Dick, you’re not touching the girl. I can’t let you touch the girl. I think inside you know that. Just try and think, Dick. Try and be rational, okay? You were always a good man and I think some of that goodness is still in you.”

“Fuck you, Louis.”

Louis stood his ground. “Don’t do it, Dick.”

Don’t be threatening, Louis warned himself. He’s just an animal. If you get territorial on him, he’ll have to fight you. He won’t have a choice. You push him into a corner, he’ll come out clawing.

Which was pretty good advice, but Louis figured Dick was locked hard in an aggression mode and he was going to attack either way. The thing was, though, that you couldn’t let him see fear and at the same time, you couldn’t appear too threatening. Dick had to be treated like a mad dog, nothing more.

“Where’s Nancy, Dick? Where’s your wife? Where are the girls?” Louis said, hoping this would be like a slap across the face.

“Nancy… Nancy’s dead. I killed her, Louis. She didn’t understand how it is. She fought against it. She didn’t see how… pure things are now. So I took this axe and I fixed that bitch.”

“Louis…” Macy said.

But he couldn’t risk taking his eyes off Dick for even a second. He was not a fighting man. He was not a violent sort. But down deep he was a man as any other and if it came down to it, he would fight to protect what was his. He would not sacrifice Macy to Dick Starling. He could not and would not let that happen.

“Get out of my way, Louis.”

“Can’t do that, Dick. You know I can’t.” He just shook his head. “C’mon, Dick. Think, try and think—”

“I don’t wanna think! I hate thinking!”

“—please, Dick, just try. Something’s happening in this town. Some kind of sickness has gotten people and it’s got you, too. It’s making you do bad things.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Louis,” he said, “and I’ve never, ever felt so alive before.”

Enough conversation and they both knew it.

Louis would have had an easier time convincing an ironing board it was a doorstop than changing Dick Starling’s mind. Louis steeled himself and Dick attacked. He made another coarse grunting sound in his throat and swung the axe with everything he had, two-handed. Louis ducked past it and the blade struck the refrigerator with a clanging sound, denting the front right in and leaving a six-inch gash. Macy screamed and Louis shouted and Dick snarled, bringing the axe back around. The blade missed Louis’ chest by a scant two or three inches. But the backward swing through Dick off balance and Louis went right at him, grabbing the axe handle in both hands and fighting with everything he had for it. Under ordinary circumstances, it might have been a dead heat. Louis was taller than Dick, but Dick outweighed him by thirty pounds.

But there was nothing ordinary about this situation: Dick Starling was an animal filled with animal fury.

Louis threw everything he had into it, trying to throw Dick off balance, but Dick wasn’t having it. When he couldn’t wrench the axe free from Louis’ grip, he kicked and stomped and then put all his maniacal strength into it. And, dear God, what they said about crazy people being strong was true. Louis held onto the handle and Dick still swung it, swung it and Louis through the air, slamming him down on top of the table. Dick was just mad. His eyes were wide and shining, drool foaming from his lips, a stink of blood and bad meat coming off of him in rank waves.

“I’ll kill you, Louis!” he muttered with almost a growling sound. “I’ll fucking kill you, kill you, kill you…”

Louis hung on, giving Dick a few good kicks to the legs that did nothing but infuriate him. He kept lifting Louis up and slamming him back down again and again and Louis knew, just knew, there was no goddamn way he was winning this one. Dick would tire him out, kill him, and then… and then…

And that’s when Macy stepped up behind Dick and struck him with an empty wine bottle. The impact was heavy. It made a hollow, thudding sound and it stopped Dick. He looked more confused than anything. Then Macy swung it with everything she had and it smashed right over his head in a spray of green glass.

He folded up instantly.

Dazed and disoriented, he tried to crawl across the floor at Macy, groaning and spitting. Louis jumped off the table and kicked him in the side of the head with everything he had. Dick went out cold.

“Thanks, honey,” Louis panted, trying to catch his breath.

“He isn’t dead, is he?” she asked.

Then Dick moaned. Nope, not dead at all.

“We better do something with him,” she said.

Louis smiled at her. Little Macy was no cringing wallflower, not when she got her ire up. There were plenty of teenage girls who would have screamed and ran, but not this girl. If you had to be trapped in a nightmare like this, then Macy was the girl to be trapped with.

Louis reached down and grabbed Dick’s ankles. “Open the door,” he said.

Macy opened the back door and Louis dragged him from the kitchen, grunting and puffing. It was no easy bit. Maybe it looked easy on TV, but in reality dragging a full-grown man around was hard, sweaty work. And Dick was nothing but dead weight.

Louis got him to the steps and let him roll down. He heard Dick’s head bang off the steps, but he didn’t feel a single twinge of guilt over it. With Macy’s help, he dragged him through the grass to the garage. It was no easy trick getting him through the door, but they did it.

“He’s going to thank us for this later,” Louis panted.

He took duct tape and taped Dick’s wrists together behind his back, using a lot of it. Even a madman couldn’t tear his way out. Then he took a length of chain and passed it around Dick’s taped wrists and wound it around a support beam that went from floor to rafters above. He slapped a Masterlock on the chain and that was that.

Macy stared down at Dick. “You heard what he said, Louis. About his wife. About Nancy.”

“I heard.”

Louis hoped it wasn’t true, but he figured it was.

Nancy, for godsake.

She was one of the nicest people you could hope to meet. When Michelle and he had moved into the neighborhood, she had been the first one at the door. She brought over a wicker basket with a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread in it. That’s the kind of person she was.

Outside, Louis tried Michelle’s number on her cell. Nothing.

“Maybe she’s still at work.”

Louis shrugged. “She should have been home an hour ago even if she worked late.”

But he dialed up Farm Bureau anyway. It couldn’t hurt. It was answered on the fourth ring and Louis brightened a bit. “Hello? Carol? Carol, is that you?”

Carol was Michelle’s boss. “Who’s this?”

“Louis. Louis Shears.”

“What do you want?”

Louis was not feeling so bright now. He could hear it in Carol’s voice: the madness. It didn’t have her all the way yet, but she was close. Just teetering on the brink of darkness.

“Is Michelle still there?”

“No, she’s not here. I’m here.”

“Carol, when did she leave?”

“Who cares? What do you want her for, anyway?” There was a smacking sound on the other end that might have been Carol licking her lips. “I’m here, Louis. Why don’t you come down. I’ll wait for you.”

Louis hung up. “C’mon, Macy, let’s get out of here.”

They ran to the car, but Louis already had the feeling that he was simply too late…