Lifers 21

The patrol car pulled up just ten feet short of the man lying in the road; at the same time, Jill and Vicky took a few tentative steps back.

The officer inside the car switched on a high-intensity spotlight situated on the roof, its solid white beam turning until it aimed directly at them. In response, they each raised a hand in order to block out the light. A few seconds later, a tall, thick set man climbed out and walked into the peripheral light coming from the beam.

Standing still, and remaining silent, the black silhouetted figure placed a rather large hat, on his rather large head. He stepped over the body in the road without looking at it and, without any sign of urgency, walked toward the girls.

Jill watched as the officer moved towards them, if he was less than seven-feet tall she was a racoon’s auntie. And looking at his shoulders, she guessed him almost as wide. Once he’d stopped moving, he turned to take a very short, very casual look at the dead man. The men running through the woods, with the dogs and the flashlights, stopped once they reached the tree line. She noticed these people looked rather tall too.

Without taking his eyes off the girls, the officer spoke. ‘Take em’ home, Zach,’ he said, with a composed, unhurried twang in his voice,

The one he’d obviously referred to, Zach, along with another man, turned pulling four dogs back into the woods. Two others turned and joined them, leaving six men carrying shotguns, all stood still, and all staring at the two pretty strangers, both in tight blue jeans, and even tighter T-shirts.

‘It wasn’t-’ attempted Jill.

The big man in the uniform held up a large gloved hand before turning back to face the others. ‘You lot too,’ he said, with a jerk of his head. ‘Go on, git, we don’t have much time.’

Jill got a quick glimpse of his face as the last flicker of moonlight reflected off it. He looked severely pock marked, and had a thin scar running from his right ear down to the corner of his mouth.

Without a word in reply, the six men turned to leave and disappeared into the dark of the trees.

‘Not you, Young Billy,’ he said, ‘gonna need you to do some drivin’.’

Jill watched Young Billy pass his gun to one of the others; she turned back to the officer to try once more to explain what happened. ‘As I was-’ But once more the huge hand was in her face, halting her explanation.

She looked at Vicky, and Vicky at her, neither one sure of their fate.

When the others had gone, the officer turned back to face them. ‘Vehicle belongs to wanna you ladies?’ he said, nodding at Vicky's car.

‘Yes, it’s mine,’ she said.

‘You were drivin’ I take it?’

‘No, I was,’ said Jill.

‘You got a licence, missy?’

Jill didn’t like the term he used, but she wasn’t about to complain. ‘Yes I have, but first don’t you-’

‘Can you go get it for me?’ his voice was still composed and just as unhurried.

‘But what about-’

‘Now!’ he shouted, causing both of them to jump, ‘...and bring back the damn keys along with you!’

While Jill went to get her licence and the car keys, nothing was said between Vicky and the officer. Jill returned passing her licence to him. The one he’d called Young Billy, stood half way between the dead man and the edge of the road, Jill noticed he fidgeted nervously, as though needing to urinate.

The officer held Jill’s license to the side reading from the spotlight. ‘Colombia?’ he questioned.

‘No, Columbia, North Carolina,’ she said, emphasising the correct vowel usage; she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea and start searching the car for drugs. ‘We were on our way to Richmond when-’ why bother, she’d only get the big hand in her face again if she tried.

He took another quick look at the body before returning his attention back to the girls. ‘Looks like you’ll both be comin’ with me,’ he said, putting the licence in the top pocket of his shirt. ‘Now ... is the car driveable?’

‘Yes,’ said Vicky. ‘It only has a cracked windshield, and maybe a dent in the front fender.’

He held out his large gloved-hand in the direction of Young Billy. ‘Okay, give Billy here the keys.’

Billy looked to be in his late twenties, to mid-thirties at the very least, but after seeing the bunch he’d arrived with, Jill thought he probably was the youngest of them. He looked scrawny, thin, underfed even. He wore a bib and braces with a dirty orange vest underneath. His hair was shaved very short, except for the top bit, which made his head bare some resemblance to a pineapple. He reached out for the keys and, as Jill handed them to him, he smiled at her. That’s when she noticed his odd-shaped, discoloured teeth in the spotlight.

‘Billy, you go by Tarboro ridge, and do drive carefully; we don’t want you slippin’ over there now do we?’

‘Yes, I mean no sir, Mr Rob-’ Billy was stopped by that same large gloved-hand striking his face. The ferocity of the blow causing Jill and Vicky to jump.

‘Sir will do fine, Billy Fisher,’ shouted Mr Rob.

Billy looked at the ground like a scolded schoolboy in a Principal’s office. ‘Y-yes, s-sir.’

‘Does he actually know how to drive?’ asked Jill, worried that he may not have the correct amount of living brain cells to master little more than a passing thought.

‘Well he ain’t never killed no-one,’ said Mr Rob, as he looked conspiratorially over his left shoulder before leaning in toward the girls. ‘Least not while he was drivin’ a car anyways. Know what I mean?’ he laughed, half looking behind at the twisted body. ‘Now, if you two wouldn’t mind turnin’ round for me,’ he said, reaching into his back pocket.

‘Surely you’re not arresting us?’ protested Vicky.

‘What? You can’t do that, we’ve done nothing wrong,’ shouted Jill.

He pulled two long strips of black plastic from his back pocket and spoke in that composed manner of his. ‘I’ll ask you one more time. Turn around, and place your hands behind your back. And if I were you, I’d shut the fuck up!’

After what Young Billy Fisher just received, they were wise enough to follow his instructions. Putting their hands behind their backs they turned to face Vicky's car, Young Billy had put the roof back up, and was now reversing it back on to the road. One of the front tyres grated on the bent fender, and the radiator was losing steam. They watched as the red tail lights, defused by exhaust fumes and steam, gradually disappeared into the night. Neither one of them aware they would never see the car again.

“Zzzip” ‘Hey,’ shouted Jill. ‘That’s too tight!’

‘You can drop the flashlight, missy,’ he said to Vicky.

Jill heard it hit the floor and watched as Mr Rob kicked it into the deep grass at the side of the road.

“Zzzip” ‘Ow, Fuck you, you asshole,’ shouted Vicky, then a swift, vicious strike, caught the right side of her head sending her to the ground. Her left knee hit the road first and with no hands to save her, the left side of her forehead struck the road. Not hard, but with enough force to scrape off a couple layers of skin. She screamed out as she landed, so did Jill.

Mr Rob pointed at Vicky. ‘Watch that fuckin’ pie-trap of yours bitch!’ he shouted, spittle shooting from his mouth and glistening in the spot-light beam. He leaned over gripping Vicky’s hair with his left hand pulling her to her feet.

‘Leave her alone you fuc-’ Jill shouted, but stopped knowing finishing the sentence would result in her getting the same treatment.

Mr Rob turned, glaring at her; the rim of his hat shadowing most of his face. ‘Follow me, please,’ he said, his voice once more composed, and once more unhurried, and again showing the same disregard as before, he stepped over the body in the road. He reached the patrol car opening one of the rear doors, and as Vicky slipped in, he rested his hand on her head. ‘Don’t want you bangin’ that pretty little noggin of yours now do we?’ he said, smiling.

Vicky shook from under his glove and pulled away from his reach. By now, small droplets of blood had seeped from the graze on her forehead, and were coalescing into larger drops.

Mr Rob rested his hands above the gap of the open door and pushed his head into the car. ‘Scoot over, missy,’ he said; his face only inches from Vicky’s.

As ordered, Vicky slid across the seat allowing Jill to climb in just as the door was slammed. Jill looked across at her friend, and wasn’t too happy with what she saw. Jill was scared, there was no doubt about that, terrified in fact, but the expression she saw on Vicky’s face, frightened her even more.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

Vicky's eye make-up ran down her face in two black lines that thinned out as they reached the corners of her mouth, and now there was one red line running down the left side. She only nodded to Jill.

‘The stronger we are the clearer we’ll think. We can’t let him know we’re scared of him, Vicky. If we do ...’ Jill didn’t see the point in finishing the sentence, attempting to realise their fate didn’t seem like a good idea right now.

Vicky took two or three deep breaths before turning to Jill. ‘What’s he going to do with us?’

She really wished she had an answer for that question, but then again, if she had a wish in the first place, it would be to wish she hadn’t left highway 85.

Mr Rob was in the spotlight walking back towards the patrol car; his gait, now jerky, told Jill he was dragging something along the ground. When he reached the rear of the car he stopped to open the trunk. Jill heard a thud’ud sound, like he’d thrown something heavy inside. Then the trunk was slammed shut again. She looked beyond the tight mesh grille through the windshield of the car, to where the body should have been; the thud’ud sound had now been explained.

Mr Rob was again in the spotlight, this time walking away from them when he stopped to pick something up; on his return, he tossed what he’d collected from the road on to the front passenger seat. Jill thought it looked like the boot belonging to the body now lying in the trunk. Then, just before he climbed in himself, the hat he’d been wearing flew across her line of sight.

With his open door still activating the internal light, he turned to face them. ‘Now then,’ he said, looking over his right shoulder. ‘You ladies just sit back, and enjoy the ride.’

That’s when Jill saw them, Mr Robs’ eyes were the bluest blue she'd ever seen, and if anyone but he had flashed them, she probably would have crumbled helplessly. But what the hell was that stench coming from him? Body odour? Piss? Both? It soon brought her back to her senses, and also brought the acid burn of bile to her throat. And something else reeked as though it’d died in the car, and was still in there with them.

‘Where are you taking us?’ asked Vicky.

Mr Rob didn’t respond.

‘Hey,’ said Jill. ‘You didn’t read us our rites.’

He turned to look over his shoulder once again. ‘You have the rite to remain silent; anything you say may ... no,’ he said, correcting himself. ‘Anything you say, will, result in severe pain, and immense discomfort. So if I were you, I’d keep my big bitchin’ mouth, well and truly shut. Ya fuckin’ happy now?’ he shouted.

The car started up and Mr Rob turned it around in the road, then, driving off at a leisurely pace, he began whistling. Jill looked up at the rear-view mirror to see him looking back at her. That’s when she recognised what the tune actually was.
“I’ve got you ... under my skin.”