Torn (5 page)

“May I help you?”
A
female voice called out.

Chuck turned around. “Hi, Chuck Wright, I’m a reporter with the Johnstown Democrat.”

She didn’t
recognize the name of the paper;
that was obvious.

So Chuck lied. “And also with People Magazine.”

The woman smiled brightly, “Yes. How can I help you?”

Chuck pointed at the doors. “Professor Cobb. Where can I find him?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t a clue.”

“Do you work here?”

“Yes, I do. I’m Assistant Dean.”

Chuck snorted a laugh. “And you don’t kno
w where he is. He’s the head of.
…” He reviewed his notes. “Geology?”

“Ecological Studies. And I don’t know where he is.”

“Did he just leave? Vacation? What?”

“They took him.”

“Who?” Chuck started to take notes.

“Afte
r the incident, he and Dr. Reye.
…”

“Who is D
r
.
Reye?”

“Co
lleague
, friend.” She answered. “They took them by ambulance.”

“Both?
What happened?”

“Don’t know.”

Chuck paused in writing.

“Seems Dr. Reye called emergency services for help, but they t
ook them, and before I knew it some g
overnment services were in here sealing off the room.”

“Can I go in?”

“We’re supposed to keep everyone out.” She said innocently. “I’m sorry.”

Turning on the charm, Chuck gave
her
a smile. “Come on. Just a look. Aren’t you the least bit curious as to what happened in that room?”

She titled her head. “Well, yeah.”

Chuck winked. “A peek.”

After exhaling, she reached for her keys. “A peek. But hurry. The soldier went for a soda.”

Chuck laid his hand on her wrist as she went to unlock the door. “Soldier.”

“Military, yes,” she s
aid. “I told you the government c
ame in.”

“Thank you for this.”

“Not a problem.” She inserted the key.

A clearing of a throat
made her pause.

Chuck looked up and w
h
ined. “No.”

Dr. Andrew Jeffers walked down the hall with two soldiers.

“Now, who’s following who?” Chuck asked.

“You mean ‘whom’.” Jeffers corrected. “Ms. Withers, can you excuse us.”

“Certainly,” The woman rolled the key into her hand, gave an apologetic glance to Chuck, and backed away.

“Mr. Wright” Dr. Jeffers walked closer. “You are fast becoming a pain in my ass as I said before.” He reached forward snatching the camera from Chuck’s chest pocket.

“Hey.” Chuck snarled. “Fine. Forget
it
. I don’t need that. I have other proof.”

Snidely, Jeffers held up Chuck’s phone. “You mean this? Now you have nothing.” He handed that to a soldier.

“You went in my car.” Chuck said. “What the hell?”

“I told you to drop this.”

“What are you doing here?” Chuck asked.

“I’m doing my job.”

“So am I,” Chuck responded. “And you won’t hold me back. I got proof once, I’ll get it again.”

Jeffers slowly turned
. “No you won’t.” H
e gave a nod to the soldiers.

Before Chuck could question, his arms were grabbed.

“Take him,” Jeffers said, and then walked away.

Jesse
took
quick shower
s
. Not like most men who took extremely long showers and used t
he excuse, “I had to wash twice”
as a cover up for the fact that they were jerking off. Jesse was in and out. Bret had enough time to send Chuck another simple message when the water lines squeaked—Jesse was done—and Sally yelled in
through
the back door.

“Bret, you have a few minutes?” she asked.

Bret turned from the computer. Sally was in
the kitchen with Buster. “Yes, w
hat’s up?” she met up with Sally. “Hey, you
,
Buster.”

Buster giggled and reached his hand out. “Bug. Big bugs.”

“Yes, I know.” Bret glanced to Sally. “Did you find another?”

“No, th
e exterminator is here. Can you…
can you come over. He looks like a rapist.”

“Bug guy rapist.” Buster kicked his legs.

Bret chuckled. “He looks like a rapist?”

“Yeah, like your husband when he works on the yard.”

“Jesse doesn’t look like a rapist.”

Buster repeated, “Jesse rapist.”

Sound traveled. Jesse heard. His loud, “What was that?” made them hunc
h. His
feet barreled down the steps and he came in
to
the kitchen.

“See.” Sally pointed at Jesse whose dark, curly, hair was wet and tossed about.

“What are you teaching Sally’s kid?” Jesse asked.

Bret waved her hand at him. “He’s repeating. The exterminator is at Sally’s. She said he looks like a rapist and I’m going over.”

“Oh.” Jesse nodded.

“In fact.” Bret sang her words. “She said he looks like you. Hmm.”

“Sounds about right, last week I made it on the post office wall for par
k
ing meter fraud.
” Jesse gave a pat to Bret’s head then kissed her. “If you need me
.
…”

Bret snickered. “
Well, you are the undercover bug expert
.”

Jesse grumbled and Bret left the house with Sally and Buster.

To say Bret was insulted was putting it mildly. Sally thought the bug guy looked like her husband? Bret wondered if Sally was looking through rose-colored glasses and if the entire neighborhood viewed Jesse as some overweight, sloppy, pudgy
-
face
d, former
ly bad
-
skinned man. To her the only thing that they had in common was the hair. That was it. The bug guy didn’t even have the same color hair as Jesse. In fact, he was much shorter than Jesse’s six four frame.

“He doesn’t look like Jesse,” Bret said irritably
to Sally, then cringed as the bug guy bent over
,
exposing his plumber’s crack. “God.”

Buster pointed. “Bug guy.”

“Yes,” Bret nodded. “Bug guy.”

“Bug guy sex Bret. Jesse said.
…” Buster yelled. “Thank you!”

Over his shoulder, the disgusting bug guy peered at Bret.

She flashed an annoyed smile and through gritted teeth spoke to Sally, “Your son has a big mouth.”

Sally shrugged.

The bug guy cracked his head as he reached for a tool.

“What’s that?” Sally asked.

“Oh, state of the art…
probe.” He grinned at Bret.

Bret rolled her eyes.

“This here goes in the wall,” he explained. “I
made a small hole and this let
s me see inside. Gives that true in-depth look.” He disappe
ared under the sink again. “Now.…” He grunted. “I’m…oh, yeah. Got a nest. Big one
…shit.” He paused.

“What? What?” Bret asked.

He came out from the sink. “I have to pull
out some of the wall. That okay? I c
an’t reach the entire nest. Kind of extends.”

Sally looked horrified. “You have to break my wall.”

“No, no,” He shook his head. “Who ever put this kitchen in put a removal panel over the pipes. Not a problem. Just got to pull it off.”

“Then what?” Sally inquired.

Simply and matter
-
of
-
fact
ly
he stated, “I kill the nest.”

Sally exhaled. “Go on. Please.”

They stepped back further toward the kitchen wall.

“Play.” Buster kicked out his legs. “Play.”

“Sure.” Sally set him d
own. “In the other room. Okay
?”

Buster took off for the living room.

Bret and Sally waited and watched. The bug guy
continued working under the
sink. However, it wasn’t the sound of the panel breaking that made them look at each other.

A hiss.

A loud hissing, cracking sound emanated
from under the sink
.

“What
. . . .
What was that?” Bret asked.

Under the s
ink, the bug guy didn’t respond…
at first. Then, “Holy
M
other of God!” He screamed in horror, and as his body squirmed out there was a thump.

He started to cough, sounding as if he were choking.

“Hey.” Bret inched with Sally. “Are you
okay
?”

Just as they neared the sink, nearer to the shaking bug guy, the hissing grew loud, and then suddenly, like a river, the roaches scrambled out. There were so many there was no distinguishing a
single
roach from the thick black mass.

As
the
y screamed
, the bug guy scurried out for his f
reedom. Face purple, he held on
to his t
hroat and
reached out for help as c
ockroaches crawled at a rapid pace from his mouth.

They were everywhere. Bret tried not to scream
but couldn’t help it. Repeatedly, she yelled out, “Jesse!” hoping her husband could hear the commotion
next door. Her hand extended toward
the bug guy, and roaches flew up her arm. There had to be fifty. Then
others started
up her leg.

“Oh, God.” Bret tried flinging them. She felt the pinches, the pain. “They’re biting me.” She shuddered, shook, swept them
off
, but they just kept coming.

Sally was crying, her hand frantically wiping the bugs from her
legs
. Bret looked quickly to
ward the bug guy. He was gone, b
uried beneath the roaches. The second she heard Sally whimper ‘Buster’
,
Bret grabbed her arm and they flew to the living room.

The cru
nching was as bad as the bugs, b
ut not as bad as the scream.

Buster cried.

They made it to the living room; cockroaches crawled up the walls, the furniture
. . .
everywhere, then the front door swung closed.

Buster ran out
side
.

Bret cleared the cockroach from her eyes
with a shudder of disgust and a swipe of her hand over her face, and out the door
she bolted with Sally.

“Buster!” Bret called out. “Jesse! Help!” she screamed as she made it to the porch.

“My baby
!
” Sally’s voice raised in hysterics. “Oh God, my baby!” Over and over, she screamed it as she raged past Bret, nearly sending her sailing into the porch railing.

Bret turned—a
flash of Sally and then…
Buster as he ran to the street.

Sally chased him. In hysterics, Buster kept running. The huge gaping hole filled with water was in his path.

The construction workers seemed clueless and
Bret cried out, “Someone grab
the baby! Get the baby!”

It seemed to happen in slow motion. Like she was in a dream, her legs could
n’t move fast enough to get her off the
porch. Her heart pounded, ears burned, as she hurried. Sally was almost there, her hand extended, begging Buster to stop. He didn’t.

Everyone rushed to him. A fireman close by caused a short-lived sigh of relief. Everyone was certain he had Buster. Certain. They even stopped running.

Suddenly, the tiny two year old, almost embraced in the fireman’s hold, sank into the dept
hs of the sluggish water-filled twenty-foot
death trap.

Sally jumped in after him.

Both sunk.

All human beings are
equipped with the heroic drive. In some, it kicks in autom
atically. A construction worker
had it,
and
he dove into the pit with all that he had.