Chapter Twenty Six
Gina
It was nearly midnight as I made my way down to Zenobia’s apartment. It was time.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Zenobia called me yesterday all ready to end this thing with Percy. I listened to her and told her we would take care of it today. She was very convincing on the phone when she called, but I’m not so sure now.
“…uh… yeah, yeah, I’m ready but we have to do it quick before I chicken out, okay?”
“You mean chicken out of the whole thing?”
“No…no, just the whole speeding it up thing. Being stuck in here with him is driving me crazy. I know I want him dead, but the thought of literally taking his life… yeah, we need to do it quick.”
“All right Zee, I’m ready when you are.”
We made our way from the living room back to the bedroom where Percy had been kept. The smell wafting from the bedroom was accosting. It smelled like deteriorating flesh. Zenobia quickly made her way to the adjoining bathroom and began to run water in the tub. The last time I had seen Percy was the first day we latched him down. Seeing his slack jaw and emaciated appearance in the low light was startling. He looked like death warmed over. I could see why it had been so hard for Zenobia. Seeing Percy was hard to stomach; living with him in this condition had to be unbearable.
Zenobia emerged from the bathroom. She was trying to look confident and I appreciated that. I don’t know that Percy even knew I was in the room. There was little to no movement and he never looked my way. With him in such a weakened state, the next part would be easy.
Zenobia moved to the head of the bed and I took position at the foot. Just as we had collectively tied Percy down to the bed, now it was time to collectively untie him. I released the first of the leather straps on his right leg. He didn’t move. I released his second leg and still there was no movement. Maybe he was just too weak to muster the strength or even recognize that his legs were free. But I wasn’t taking anything for granted. I moved close to the head of the bed just in case. Zenobia released his left arm and Percy still did not respond. We got his other arm released, and still nothing.
Sufficiently convinced that either he was unconscious or too weak, we lifted him from the bed and moved him as quickly as possible into the awaiting bathtub full of icy water. Zenobia held him by the shoulders and I held him by the legs. No sooner than his body recognized the coldness, he was immediately wide awake; flailing his bony arms and kicking his thin legs. His scream was choked by the gag that was still lodged securely in his mouth, but his eyes told the story. His reaction was so unexpected that Zenobia dropped him; his head striking the water faucet jutting from the tiled bathroom wall. The icy water was now co-mingled with blood turning from a blushing pink to a deeper red. The strike to Percy’s head did not knock him out. It did just the opposite. He started to fight against us even harder; trying to grab the edges of the tub to lift himself out of the water designed to seal his fate.
Zenobia started to freak out.
“Oh my God, Gina!” she screamed, her voice echoing from the acoustics in the bathroom.
For a moment she was frozen as I continued to struggle with keeping Percy down in the water.
“Zenobia!”
I screamed her name with no account for who may overhear the noise emanating from apartment 112. I needed her to focus. She knew what needed to be done, and now was not the time to panic.
Calling her name helped to snap her back to the reality of the situation we were dealing with. She reached into the icy water and began to push Percy’s head underneath. His eyes were wide and frightening. He was fighting against us with every ounce of energy he could muster. Zenobia tried to hold his head under the frigid water but Percy bucked and pushed against her remerging to the surface and gasping for air.
She tried again, but Percy thrashed his head and bucked against her; bloody water splashing the yellow tiled walls surrounding the tub.
This wasn’t working. We had to move fast!
“Get on top of him!”
She looked at me momentarily as if she didn’t understand.
“Get in the tub, Zenobia!”
Holding Percy down as much as she could with her hands, Zee threw one leg over and then the other, straddling Percy’s frail body. Her weight on top of him helped to slow down the flailing. She reached for his head again and pushed it under the water; leveraging her weight against him.
“His eyes, Gina! His eyes! I can’t, I just can’t!”
She was scared and starting to give up.
“You have to do this, Zenobia! There’s no turning back now! Think about your baby and everything this bastard has ever done to you…”
The words from my mouth were choppy as the adrenaline rushed through my veins. I needed to help her now more than ever. I climbed in the tub behind her; weighing Percy’s body down even more.
Something in Zenobia clicked and the growl that poured from her lips filled the capacity of the bathroom. She pushed against Percy’s head with everything she had; leaning in with her shoulders. From behind her I could see the muscles in her arms flexing and tightening as she drowned the life out of her tormentor.
“Die you son of a bitch! Die!”
What had been thrashing and flailing ceased in an instant. There was no more movement from Percy Atkinson. Time seemed to stand still. Seconds felt like minutes that turned into hours. Zenobia was still transfixed; her elbows locked tight and her hands still forcing Percy’s head underneath the water.
I touched her elbow to encourage her to let go, but she shrugged me off; lifting from his body and pushing his head even harder – the animalistic sounds escaping her lips enunciating the kill.
“Zenobia…Zenobia…it’s over…it’s over,” I reassured her grabbing her by both elbows and trying to pull her away. I finally felt the tension in her arms break as she collapsed back down in the tub; releasing Percy’s head as it began to float slowly to the surface of the water.
“It’s over…” I said as she collapsed back onto me and sobbed uncontrollably. I understood her emotional release and the reason she cried. She had conquered her demon. She had settled with the man who had made her life a living hell for all these years. The enormity of the situation was surreal. We sat there and she cried until she felt better. Up until this point I don’t know that I recognized just how cold the water had been. Once things were still, I felt a chill up my spine. Percy was dead, but we were not finished. There was still one more thing that had to be done.
I climbed out the tub and helped Zenobia out as well. The floor was splotched pink and red and was slippery from the splashed water. We made our way out the bathroom; dripping from the unexpected turn of events. Zenobia made her way to the living room and came back with her hope chest; a perfect transport for a corpse. Making our way back into the bathroom, I made my way over to Percy’s body. I lifted his head out of the water and closed his piercing eyes. We lifted Percy’s remains out of the tub just enough to topple him into the trunk. Although the trunk was deep, the lack of width made it necessary to force him in the container; bending, shoving and folding his body into the compacted compartment. At one point I thought I heard a snap like a bone breaking. Once safely latched, we pushed the trunk into the bedroom and positioned it by the front door. The trunk was heavier than I think we both anticipated, but it would have to do. We didn’t have another plan…
Although it was the wee hours of the morning, we couldn’t risk anyone seeing us in our wet and blood-stained clothes. We dried off and Zenobia gave me something to change into. My shoes were still wet but I dried them out as best I could; hoping that walking across Zenobia’s carpet would alleviate as many of the wet track marks as possible.
Once we were changed, we made our way to the front of the apartment. I grabbed my keys from the side table, opened the door and looked out into the hallway to make sure
the coast was clear. Seeing that no one was stirring, we inched the trunk out into the vacant hall. The weight of the trunk against the hard tiled floor made a high pitched screeching noise. Pushing it was not going to work. We were going to have to lift it and carry it to the back of the building.
We moved the trunk out the doorway sufficient enough for Zenobia to close and lock the door behind her. It was slow and grueling work, but we made it the few hundred feet to the back of the apartment building where I had parked Berta the night before. We sat the trunk down by the backdoor and the thud echoed eerily down the hallway. We waited to see if the sound had startled anyone. Fortunately no doors opened onto the hallway from an inquisitive neighbor. I made my way out of the building and popped the trunk to the car. Berta was old so there was no automatic opening with the key. I doubled checked the alleyway to make sure it was clear. Zenobia and I lifted the trunk down the three stairs that led from the building. With a huge heave, we were able to lift the trunk into the back of the car. We had underestimated the height of the makeshift casket. Berta’s trunk would not close.
“Dammit!” Zenobia muttered, stomping and pouting like a spoiled child. We needed to move quickly. We couldn’t afford to leave the trunk like this. Even in the early morning hours it would draw too much attention. I didn’t have anything inside of Berta that would hold the trunk closed so Zenobia ran back into the building to see what she could scrounge up.
I paced the backside of the car like a caged animal stopping in my tracks every time I heard a noise. There was a low rumbling that I could hear in the distance but I couldn’t make out what it was. I hoped Zenobia would hurry. It wouldn’t be long before the early morning risers would be making their way from slumber to awake.
Zenobia resurfaced and handed me a couple of the leather straps we had used on Percy when he was alive. One wasn’t long enough to latch the trunk so we double knotted a few of them together and prayed it would work. The rumbling I heard that was previously at a distance was a bit louder now. We hurried as best we could not knowing who or what the sound represented. Maybe it was nothing, but we couldn’t be sure. Once we got the trunk fastened as best we could, we climbed into Berta to make the drive to the spot.
I backed Berta out of the parking lot and into the alley. I didn’t turn the headlights on until I had the car straight enough to move down the narrow passageway. Once I flipped the light switch, I found out what the rumbling was. It was the trash truck slowly making its way down the roadway. There was no way we could both make it down the alley at the same time, and given his size, Berta would definitely lose in a game of chicken. Reluctantly I pulled back into the parking lot. The truck was moving at a snail’s pace; stopping every few feet to empty the garbage cans. Either we could wait it out or take the alleyway in the opposite direction. The only problem with that is that on the opposite end traffic was notoriously more congested even at night. Whatever way we decided, there would be a delay. Zenobia started to get antsy with my indecisiveness.
“Let’s go! The sun will be up soon. We gotta’ get this done and get back.”
“I know…I know…”
I threw the car in reverse and eased back trying to see if I could get out and go the other way. The truck horn blared; piercing the monotone droning of the night. Startled, I slammed on the brakes; Berta’s tires screeching in an effort to respond. The truck was right there and when it passed the trembling from its ample size reverberated through the car.
I looked at Zenobia and she looked back at me. We both were wide eyed and I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath the entire time. My heart was racing a mile a minute.
“Shit that was close!”
“Too damn close,” I replied as I cautiously moved out into the alleyway; the rumblings from the trash truck now farther in the distance. Once again I lined Berta up with the alley and put the car in drive. We meandered our way through trashcans left strewn about by the trash collector. Finally we exited onto the thoroughfare that would lead us to our destination.
The roads were as dark as I remembered when I had done my test run just weeks before. Tonight there was a heaviness in the air. Dense fog covered the roadway and made visibility almost nil. It was hard to see even with my fog lights on. I had to drive below the speed limit just to make sure we stayed on the road. Fortunately I remembered the course and was able to make the necessary turns to get us back to Waverly Road. I approached the road especially slow as it was not marked with a blinking street light or even a stop sign. It was just a dirt road that seemed to appear out of nowhere. There was only a crooked street sign marking its existence. Zenobia was attentive as we navigated our way down the road as this was her first time traversing this path. Between the overgrown evergreen trees and the immensely thick fog it was even harder to see. I slowed Berta down; her speed barely registering on the odometer.
“This is soooo creepy,” Zenobia sounded out eerily against the still of the night. “It’s absolutely perfect!”
Her excitement was a bit off-putting considering the circumstances, but I understood. She had to be feeling exhilaration mixed with fright. I know I was on edge. Every sound caused me to jerk. I had paced out the spot and knew we were getting close. It was hard keeping Berta in the center of the dirt road with so many potholes to avoid and the many twists and turns. I rolled the window down to try and get a better perspective. We had to be careful not to get too close to the edge that the tire slipped into the trenches that lined each side of the roadway. Balancing the tires as best I could, I pulled Berta over into what would be oncoming traffic and parked.
“This is it,” I announced to Zenobia. She looked at me and a slight smile parted her lips. Without speaking she opened the passenger door and made her way to the back of the car. I followed her, being careful not to slip as I was positioned myself closest to the drop-off. By the time I got back to the trunk, Zenobia was working feverishly to loosen the ties that held the makeshift coffin in place. We managed to get the leather ties loose, but the trunk had been bumped around in the car ride and tilted forward teetering on the edge. Before either of us could react, the trunk tipped forward and fell top down onto the gravel pavement with a resounding thump.
If it wasn’t so aggravating, it would have been almost funny. But considering the circumstances, laughter was not a part of the equation. Zenobia and I maneuvered the trunk right side up; the weight of Percy’s body shifting and rocking inside. Once we got it squared on its bottom, Zenobia released the latch that kept the body closed in. A stench immediately filled the air.
“Ewww, let’s get this over with!”
I couldn’t agree more. Both of us got behind the trunk and started to push it towards the edge of the road
“Should we dump the body or the whole thing?”I knew how Zenobia had felt about her hope chest at one point, so I didn’t want to be presumptuous.
“The whole thing…I don’t want a constant reminder of my past.”
She sounded sad, but that didn’t stop her from giving a huge shove to the trunk causing it to cascade down the drop-off and into the darkness that lie beneath. All was quiet again as the trunk came to rest beneath whatever lay beneath the expansive bed of evergreen trees. Even though it was still rather dark we stayed for a moment to make sure no evidence of the trunk could be seen from where we stood. I think we really stayed for the mental satisfaction of knowing no random passerby could see it.
Satisfied, we made our way back to the car. The engine was still running so I put Berta in gear and began to move out on the dirt road towards home. We reached the clearing up ahead and the road became a little brighter. It was much easier to see and I was able to speed up a bit. Thank goodness the road was still deserted with the exception of a few cows beginning their morning graze in the open pasture. We made our way to the connecting street and headed back to our apartment building.
Suddenly Zenobia began to giggle and then burst ou
t in full-fledged, seemingly uncontrollable laughter.
“What’s going on with you?”
“Gina, I feel fantastic! I want to scream from the highest mountain top, I AM FREE! Gina, I’m free! It’s over…it’s finally over.”
Zenobia rolled the car window down and screamed at the top of her lungs, “I’M FREE!”
I was glad for her. I could only imagine how relieved she was that her nightmare was finally over. I wanted mine to be over, too.
Her elevated mood remained until we got back to our building. My parking spot was still available. I pulled Berta back in just as the sky was starting to change colors; moving from absolute darkness into the kind of light that only the dawning of a new day could bring. Turning off the engine I asked Zenobia if she needed me to come back to her apartment and help her clean up the mess that had been left. She declined my offer, thanked me profusely and leaned over from the passenger side and hugged my neck tight. We said goodbye as she exited the car and bounded up the stairs into the building. For the first time in a long time she was truly happy.
Exhausted, I dragged myself out the car and made my way upstairs to my apartment. Some of my neighbors were beginning to stir. As I passed their doors I could hear televisions on and mumbled conversations. Finally reaching my door, I stuck the key in and let myself in. It was good to be home. Locking the door behind me, I made my way straight to the bathroom. I needed to get cleaned up. I thought about taking a bath but considering everything that happened, I opted for a hot steamy shower instead. Tonight was a good night. I helped out a friend in need. I felt good about it regardless of the wrong that was done. When I laid my head down on my pillow, the morning sun poured into my bedroom. I rested knowing that one less tormentor was out there to hurt women. Yeah, today was a good day…
Epilogue
He was home alone; very uncommon for him on a Saturday night. It had been planned that way. Drinking dark rum on the rocks, he was enjoying the quietness after a long day. The television was playing one of his favorite movies and his socked feet were propped up on the leather footrest nestled snuggly against the couch he was lounging on. An unexpected knock at the door jolted him from his mellow mood. He wasn’t expecting anyone. At first he considered ignoring the knock hoping that whoever it was would take the hint and go away.
The knocking persisted and became stronger. He knew he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Having to get up and answer the door was an aggravation he hadn’t anticipated. He padded across the living room floor to the front door. The volume from his television blared loudly. Peering out of the peep hole he couldn’t tell who it was, but he decided to open the door anyway as the pounding on the door continued.
Unlocking the deadbolt, sliding the chain from the door, and turning the knob to open it, the big wooden door was pushed in on him forcing him to stumble backwards. In an instant three masked men were in his home. One closed and locked the door behind the trio as the other two assertively moved towards him. He tried to protest to no avail. One of the masked men knocked him all the way to the floor while the other one punched him determinedly in his chest causing the words of protest to stop dead in his throat. The one who locked the door moved towards him and grabbed him by the ankles; kneeing him in the groin when he tried to kick and fight back.
His assailants were silent and deadly in their intentions. He felt that in his spirit and tried to fight them off as best he could. Another deafening blow to the underside of his chin stopped the words that were spilling from his lips; his teeth cutting his protruding tongue as he tried to speak. Fresh red blood spewed from his lips as he tried to find out why they were there and what they wanted with him. One of the masked men kneeled above his head and forced both his arms open like a man hung on a cross. His legs were pulled together tightly and the second assailant sat on top of his socked feet restricting all movement from the knees down. The third assailant, the one who had unleashed such power in striking him sat upright on his chest; his face just inches from the face of the man on the floor.
Fumbling and stuttering he offered him everything he could think of - his wallet, jewelry and even the emergency money he had stuffed in his sock drawer. There was no acknowledgment from the men who held him down. When his offerings of money and jewels didn’t work, he begged for his life. With his gloved hand the seated assailant reached behind him into the waist of his pants and removed an 8 inch steel blade with a pearlized handle. The blade shined as the light from the entryway bounced against the steel like a reflector. The assailant took the tip of the blade and pressed it against the nose of the man on the floor. Then he spoke.
“I heard you like to beat on women.”
The man on the floor cried foul swearing that the statement was not true. The assailant pushed the blade further into the man’s nostril and pulled it violently to the right severing the connective tissue that separated one nasal passage from the other. He wailed from the immeasurable pain; blood pouring from his mutilated nose, running down both sides of his anxiety-riddled face and puddling in the canals of his ears. He pulled against the forces that held him captive but to no avail. The men holding him down tightened their grip; inflicting more pain as they reminded him of just how hopeless his situation really was.
The denial of his assaultive nature became even the more fervent as he tried to convince his assailants that they had the wrong man. The tears streaming from his eyes failed to strike an empathetic chord with the men who came to call on him. They did not pose a question, but rather made a statement. His answers were useless and his fate was sealed.
“Who told you that? Why are you here? Why are you doing this to me?” Stammering, he begged for answers but none were forthcoming.
“You’re asking the wrong questions,” the assailant straddling him interjected. “The real question is who sent us to see about you.”
His voice quivering with the inevitability of his circumstances, the man on the floor asked the question. He needed to know why he had been chosen. Even though he was on the verge of fainting, he had to know why such harm had befallen him.
“Who…” he began breathlessly”. Who sent you?”
Leaning in even closer the primary assailant wasted no time in answering his question.
“Your wife…”
It took a second for it to register and before he could process this new found reality in his mind, the third assailant leaned back. He positioned the now blood-stained knife firmly against the neck of the man on the floor and slashed his throat from ear to ear. The force of the blood spray splattered the walls and ceiling of the entryway. The three assailants exited the residence leaving the second tormentor dead on the floor in a pool of his own blood…
(Stay tuned for part two)
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