The Hand That Feeds: A Horror Novel (7 page)

8

Angela loved the red dress. She’d bought it for her and John’s first anniversary. It made her feel sexy, maybe even a little easy. John loved the red dress too.
He strictly forbade her from leaving the house when she put it on. She caressed his ego and he gave in; there wasn’t anything Angela couldn’t get him to do with a little caressing. Her heels were high and she wore her lipstick thick.

E
ight o’clock came around and she was ready to go. She ensured John one last time that they were making the right decision. With a harsh glare, he agreed and gave the truck keys to her. He watched her leave and wouldn’t be able to get the picture out of his mind for hours.

Finally alone, Angela found
a radio station she liked, turned the volume as loud as it would go, and drove off. She didn’t think about what she was doing, at least not in the form of right or wrong. She was a mother and she would do whatever it took to take care of her son. Ashville was forty-two miles from the Mason family home. It was what counted for a big city to the people in the heart of Kansas. Angela spent many Friday nights of her youth either trying to get into a bar on Williams Street, or getting tossed out of one. The Dusty Bottom was a particular favorite of hers, and when she finally pulled into the parking lot, she was ready.

The lot was packed thick with trucks. The particular type of men who frequented the watering hole was partial to big trucks, leather boots, and cowboy hats. Most of these men weren’t what you would consider Rhodes Scholars
, and that was precisely what Angela was looking for. Her dress drew plenty of attention and by the time she reached the entrance, there was a small pack of men following. She pretended not to notice the on lookers as she headed for the bouncer. He eyed her up and down, smiling, and then offered a nod of his hat before he let her cut to the front of the line.

Angela
reached the bar and picked out three potential candidates, based mostly on ease and relative looks of stupidity. The music was loud and made it impossible to hear anything lower than a yell. She found a spot at the bar, leaned up against the sticky wooden surface, and waited. It took less than two minutes before the first man strolled up to her. He hadn’t been in her initial count, but from the look of him, he should’ve been. He leaned against the bar and a rush of Stetson cologne and sweat engulfed her. She recognized his face, but couldn’t place the name, lucky for her, he was more than willing to fill in the blanks.

“I know you, don’t I?” he asked,
the twang in his voice thick.

Angela looked him up and down, admiring his choice in boots and the brown stain of dried sweat around the edges of his hat.

“Greg, Greg Hunter,” he said.

The name brought Angela back a few years
, but she knew him at once. They went to high school together. She even remembered a heated petting session under the football bleachers in their junior year. She smiled; this would be easier than she thought.

“How could I forget you
, Greg,” she said.

He
smiled a wide toothed grin and then ordered a round of shots for the both of them. It didn’t take him long to start reminiscing about their high school years. Greg turned out to be a historian of sorts, at least in the town’s lowliest of information. He had dirt on nearly every person they’d gone to school with, and from the sounds of it, that included Angela and John.

“I heard you had to go up to the hospital in Manassas a while back,”
he said.

He threw back another s
hooter then motioned to the bartender to bring another round. Angela was surprised by the comment. She’d tried to keep her visit to the psyche ward as hush as possible. Her sister didn’t even know about it. She finished off her drink as she tried to think of a response.

“You went to that mental hospital?” Greg
asked.

Angela let out a big laugh.
“No, my son had some problems during birth,” she said. “They wanted to take him up there, not me.” Greg smiled, but she could see he was deciding if he was going to believe it or not. “He lost oxygen during birth and it affected his brain,” she said. “They wanted to run some tests on him, that’s all.”

She
watched Greg’s shoulders relax and she knew he’d bought it.

“He okay now?”
he asked, uncomfortable with the conversation.

“He’s great,” Angela
said. “Everything’s great.”

Greg pulled out the charm
from then on, moving further down the bar every ten minutes. By midnight, they were practically standing on top of one another. Greg bought more rounds than either of them could count. He was on to the slurring and smiles stage, while Angela struggled to maintain.

She
poured several drinks onto the floor when Greg wasn’t paying attention. Even so, she’d had to finish off more alcohol than she’d had in a long time. She wasn’t responsible for keeping the conversation going; Greg was more than willing to carry on with his opinions of everyone they’d ever known. Angela looked at her watch and considered moving the plan along. Greg caught her checking the time and he took the opportunity to grab a hold of her hand and pull her close enough that their sides were touching.

“You’re not going to call it a night are you?” His eyes fell to her chest and he didn’t appear to have the ability to hide it. “We still got a lot of cat
ching up to do.”

“Why heavens no,”
she said. “But you know,” she looked over at the entrance, “we sure could talk a lot easier somewhere else.”

Greg’
s smile made him look ridiculous. Angela held back a laugh.

“Where did you have in mind?” he asked.

“Why not my house,” she said.

Greg’
s eyes found a moment of clarity and he looked up at her face.

“You
r house? What about John?”

“Don’t you worry about
him,” she said, then put the palm of her hand on his chest. “He won’t bother us.”

Greg looked stumped. He
appeared to be calculating the pros and cons of the decision, but got lost somewhere in the process. Finally he nodded. “Let’s go,” he said with a grin. “I’ll follow you.”

#

John was losing his mind. He paced back and forth in the living room stopping every couple of turns to peer out the window. Angela told him to try and watch television, but that didn’t last very long. She’d been gone for five hours and he considered calling the bar.

He’d been against her plan
, but she worked him over like she always did. He couldn’t stand against her and she knew it. She’d always worn the pants in the family, a trait handed down from his father, something Angela always picked at him about. John swore under his breath, took another look at the living room window, and then continued pacing.

“I can’t do this,” he said.

He adjusted the grip on the hammer he was holding.

“There’s no way.”

He stopped moving and looked down at the clawed end. Angela told him the clawed end would work the best. He shook his head and tossed the hammer on to the couch.

“What the hell are we doing?”

John couldn’t see Alex’s door from the living room, but he’d heard the scratching. He didn't know why the boy scratched. John wondered if it was a sign that he needed to eat. Angela said that had to be it, but John had his doubts. He’s trying to communicate with us, she’d said. Are you going to turn your back on him now, when he needs you most?

“Shut the hell up,
” John said.

He picked the hammer
up off the couch and as he did, a beam of headlights slid across the back wall. John dropped down to the ground and froze. He listened and waited. The truck shut off and the sound of a second vehicle coming to a stop hit him like a ton of bricks. He knew she’d done it. There was someone with her and she meant to follow through with the plan. John wanted to run out of the house, but he didn’t have time.

The key hit the front door lock before Angela’s voice
reached John’s ears. He turned on his heels and as fast as he could move, ran down the hall and into his bedroom. He stood on one side of the doorway with his heart pounding in his ears. Sweat ran down his face as he adjusted his hold on the hammer. He heard a man’s voice, followed by Angela’s.

“I like it.”

“It’s home,” she said.

“Well, why don’t you show me the rest of the house,” the man said.

John felt sick. He could hear them kissing. He heard his wife moan like she did with him.

“You want to see the bedroom?”
she asked.

John was sure his heart was going to explode.

“Hell yes,” the man said, slurring his words.

John poked his head around the side of the doorframe. The light from the living room shined down the dark hall onto
Alex’s door. The small turn leading into his bedroom blocked the view. The shadow of two figures filled the light in the hall and John jerked his head back and wrapped both hands around the hammer.

“I always knew you wanted a piece of me,” the man said.

“Then you need to give it to me,” Angela said.

Her voice was deep and slow, almost a whisper. John was getting angrier by the second. He could hear them rubbing on one another
, then he heard the sound of clothes falling to the floor.

“Come on
, let’s go in here,” the man said.

The tone of Angela’s voice changed.
“No, don’t touch it,” She said in a frantic response.

“Don’t go getting angry with me,” t
he man said. “What the hell’s the matter anyway?”

“Come on, damn it,” Angela said.

John could tell she was talking to him and not the man in the hall.

“Oh
, I’ll be coming,” the man said.

John could hear them push and pull at one another.

“Get off me,” she said now sounding scared.

John prepared himself. He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath.
He was about to step out into the hall when Angela’s voice stopped him.

“Just wait,” she said. Her tone was more relaxed, coaxing.

“Forget it,” the man said.

John could tell
he was further away.

“I don’t get it,” the man said. “You bring me back here. You give me the signs
, then go and turn all Ms. Prissy on me.”

John risked a glance out in the hall and didn’t like what he saw. Angela was standing by herself, her back against
Alex’s door. She was naked except for her heels. The man was back at the entrance to the hallway in the living room. John could tell by the look on her face that she’d seen him. He was stunned by her and couldn’t help, but stare. He stood there mesmerized by her body, despite of everything going on.

“I’m sorry,” Angela said.

The shadow of the man moved in the hall and caused John to pull back. He heard him take a few steps and then stop.

“It’s just that it’s been a long time for me,”
she said.

John could tell she was back in control of the situation and she knew it.

“Is that right?” the man asked.

“You have to be gentle,” she said.

“Oh, I can be gentle.”

The man continued down the hall
, then a second later, the sound of lustful kisses filled the enclosed space. John was angrier than before, and seeing his naked wife made the situation worse. In his head, he could see the man rubbing his dirty hands over her body.

“I want to go in here,” the man said.

Angela hesitated. “My bedroom’s right down here,” she said.

“I don’t want to go in there,” the man said
, sounding clearer than he had before.

“This is my son’s room,”
she said.

“He in there?”

“No, but-”

“Then who the hell cares?” the man said. “You can wash the sheets before he gets home.”

John knew he had to act. The man wasn’t going to be swayed into the bedroom. John readied himself again, holding the hammer firm. The sound of Alex’s door opening filled the hall. John panicked as he took a step out. He couldn’t see Alex’s door or the man. Angela was in the doorway, her butt covered by the man’s hands. John crossed the distance in two steps, but froze when he heard a noise from within the room. The moan was loud and angry and the sound of it made John shake with fear.

“What the hell is that?”

John heard the man’s question and the panic in his voice. Angela was trying to pull away from him, but the man clamped on to her and wouldn’t let go.

“What the hell’s in here?”

John couldn’t will himself to move. The moaning turned to a snarl like a wild dog. Angela pulled herself away and grabbed a hold of John. She tried to get the hammer from his hand, but he wouldn’t let go.

“What is this
?” the man asked. “Get off me.”