Jane’s front door was locked when the car pulled up outside.
Its headlights were off, shrouding it in darkness, but the silhouette of an old sports car was still obvious where it blocked out the light from across the street. Stripe decals on the hood dully reflected the moon high above, and the dark gray panels covering the body made the rest of the car seem darker in comparison.
An SUV came to a stop alongside the curb behind it, the running lights turned to their lowest setting and movement visible through the darkened windows. The engine turned off as all four doors swung open, and people began clambering out, idle chatter mixing with the sounds of metal on metal. Heavy wrenches and hammers hung low, brutal and blatant. A meat cleaver caught the flash of the interior lights before they shut off, shining a spot onto the front of a house that seemed to be either empty or full of sleeping people.
The sports car stopped idling, and two people emerged from each of the front doors a moment later, not obviously carrying any weapons but as prepared as the others. All of them wore gloves and dark clothes, with raincoats and sweaters to hide or repel stains. Any conversation stopped when the driver of the sports car walked towards the curb, looking around and shoving his hands into his leather jacket pockets.
The passenger opened one of the rear doors and removed an aluminum baseball bat, a flowing pattern scratched into the taper. “Are you sure she’s still here?” He asked.
“I’m pretty sure, Louis,” Brad replied. “She yelled right into the phone.”
“But there’s no cars here,” Louis said as he ran one hand over his ponytail. “If Michael’s with her, he’d be driving around.”
“He probably hid it or something, I don’t know. We don’t really need to go looking for it, he’s dying here or dying soon anyway. If we do find it, just, like, slash his tires. Shit won’t be hard.”
Kelly pulled her hood up to hide her hair and hefted the pipe wrench in her hand. “So you want to kidnap Sarah but just kill Michael?”
“No, kill them both, guys.” Brad’s hands moved around inside his pockets. “We need to kill Sarah for the plan, but we need to kill Mike Jay so he doesn’t kill us first.”
“But doesn’t killing Michael make us look better?” She asked.
“No, he doesn’t work with the plan, you know why. We need Sarah for this.”
Alex and Taylor grunted in acknowledgement, a claw hammer and cleaver at the ready, respectively. Aaron pulled a bandana up over his face, pulled his black baseball cap down even lower, and fiddled with the handle of his baton, the retractable shaft extended to its full length. All six of the people there were ready to go. Taylor had her hair tucked down inside her sweater, Alex had slipped on a set of kneepads and elbowpads and wrapped a bandana over his head, faint curls poking out from underneath, and Louis was doing preparatory swings with his bat. Kelly gave Aaron a look of concern, and he shrugged at her before slapping his hand with the wrench.
Brad walked up towards the door and pressed an ear to it, listening. There was no sound inside, no clear indication of anybody being awake at all. He shook his head, and pulled a straight razor out of his pocket, gesturing towards the door.
“You first, Louis.” He smiled.
Louis stepped up to the door, tested the lock, and waved Kelly up alongside him. She took hold of the doorknob and waited for his cue to open it, watching through the front windows. Louis nodded, and she turned the knob and pushed the door open.
The door swung wide and slammed against the foyer wall, letting out a loud crash on the impact. There was silence for a second, and then the blaring of an alarm, shrill and harsh from somewhere in the kitchen.
“Fuck it!” Brad yelled. “Go fast!”
Louis jumped through the doorway with his bat raised, looking around at the foyer and the set of stairs to the next floor up off to the side. He took a step to the side and rushed up the stairs while Alex, Taylor, and Aaron rushed through the foyer and into the kitchen.
There was the sound of shattering porcelain as Jane jumped up from her seat on the couch, the bowl in her lap breaking when it hit the floor. All three of the people in the room approached her, backing her up against the far wall. She raised her hands in fear, her lip trembling, as Brad entered the room with Kelly close behind him.
“I–I don’t know where they are!” She cried. “She just ran away after yelling at you!”
“Yeah, bullshit,” Brad replied. He jerked his head at Taylor, who grabbed one of Jane’s hands and pressed her cleaver to her throat. “She was here, and you let her get away. I was gonna give you an offer to turn on her, y’know. Whatever.”
“Brad, I swear, I don’t know where they are!” Her voice was high-pitched and nearly hysterical, the sound of fearful frenzy egged on by the blaring alarm. “Please, I don’t, can you just let me go, please I don’t know anything-ing–”
Her breath hitched, catching into a shrieking sob, and Taylor pushed that cleaver closer to breaking her skin. Brad crossed his arms and let the razor dangle, disappointed.
“Come the fuck on, Jane. I know you know. Just tell us already.”
She shook her head and flinched away from the knife, the thinnest of cuts being traced on her throat. Taylor slammed her hand against the wall and jerked her closer, raising the cleaver to the bottom of her jaw while Louis entered the room, his bat held in his hands.
“Nobody’s upstairs,” he said. “I checked the hallway, the closet, paced the place out. Her parents are still in their room and there’s nobody else hiding.”
“Gotcha,” Brad said over his shoulder. “We’ll head out once Jane gives us an answer. We’re so far south that the cops can’t get here that fast.”
She shook her head, her face crunched up and terrified, and Brad was about to command Taylor to make a cut when he just barely heard something wet behind him over the alarm.
Everybody standing in the living room spun around to see Louis stagger forward, a small tear in his sweater and drops of something dark flowing from underneath the fabric. He pitched towards the ground, his bat propping him up and preventing him from fully face-planting, and pressed his free hand to his chest before losing his grip on the bat and falling to the ground, still.
Michael wiped his hunting knife on his sleeve and looked around the room from the doorway.
Everybody moved.
He moved faster.
He ducked underneath the swing of Kelly’s pipe wrench and let it crack against the wooden framing. His other hand swung up with the steak knife, tearing through her raincoat and into her stomach before cutting into her waist and thigh, a trail of blood spraying out from the new rip as he dragged the knife down. She staggered forward, stumbling into the wall, and he stood back up and stabbed the hunting knife forward into Aaron’s stomach, wrenching it upwards to his ribs until the knife stopped against the bottom of his sternum. He dropped his baton, wood cracking as it hit the floor. Michael pushed him off the knife and turned to face the others.
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Taylor dropped Jane’s hand and lowered the cleaver, twirling it around in her hand. “I’ve always wanted to fight you,” she slurred, stepping past Brad and letting Jane throw the back door open, sneak out of it, and slam it back shut. “I wanted to see if you were all you were cracked up to be–”
He lunged for her, thrusting the point of the hunting knife towards her throat. She wrapped her free hand around his wrist and pushed him to the side, exposing his back as she raised the cleaver. His wrist twisted in her grip as he pulled to the other direction, almost spinning her around, but she let go of his wrist and let the momentum carry her a few steps away before raising the cleaver above her head, gripping it with both hands, and swinging down at him as he dashed towards her. He caught the blow on the flat of the hunting knife and grunted at the sound of grinding metal before letting his legs fall out from underneath him and hitting the ground.
Alex’s hammer swept through the space above him, a wild swing that left him unbalanced and that barely missed Taylor’s arm as she stumbled forward. They crashed into each other, a tangle of limbs flailing around without balance, and Michael kicked his legs out in a flip-up to standing.
He looked at Taylor and Alex trying to pick themselves up off the ground, vulnerable and confused, and then to Brad, kicking at the now locked backdoor. Neither was paying attention to him, and he quickly inspected the hunting knife for any lasting damage before advancing on Brad.
Something in the door’s reflection caught Brad’s attention, and he spun around before wildly slashing with the razor. None of the attacks came close to Michael, and he caught Brad’s wrist, pressing it against the cold wood of the steak knife’s handle as he held the knife and his arm in the same hand.
“This is your last chance, Brad.” His tone was cold and voice unhappy. “Back off now, and we can act like this never happened. We get out of here before the police arrive and go back to normal, without whatever plan you have.”
Brad pulled at his grip, almost breaking out, but not managing it. He glared at Michael.
“If you don’t want in on this, then fine. But don’t get in my fucking way,” he growled.
Michael sighed.
Disappointing.
Jane had asked him not to kill anybody in her house unless he absolutely had to, and he had already pushed the limit of that request. But that was what the other steps were for.
He pulled a leg back and kicked Brad in the knee, the sound of the impact underscored by the subaudible groan of bone bruising and deforming under an impact. It wasn’t broken or twisted, and Brad retaliated by grabbing the side of his face and trying to jab a thumb into his eye. Michael let go of his wrist, swinging the hunting knife up to ward off the attempt to put his eye out, and stepped back as Brad slashed out with the razor. He dodged the next several swings as he kept walking backwards, picking his way around the furniture and bodies on the floor, only stopping when he saw Alex and Taylor stand up behind Brad.
Brad followed his gaze, over his shoulder, and shouted at them. “Why the fuck are you two standing there? Help me for fu–”
Michael grabbed his collar and yanked him forward, pulling him just past the doorway. He let go and reached for the top of the great porcelain cabinet, pulling it down and letting it fall directly in Brad’s path.
He looked up, fear creeping into the bluster in his eyes, and dropped the razor to catch the cabinet before it could crush him. Cups and plates rattled inside, but nothing seemed to break, and Michael saw him clench his teeth before turning and running for the front door, making sure to dodge around the supplies scattered on the floor from the newly open cabinet under the sink.
He raced over the front steps and across the lawn, his boots ripping grass from the dirt as he ran. The sports car was still unlocked, prepared for a quick getaway, and he pulled the passenger door open and slid into the seat.
Sarah was hunched in the driver’s seat, desperately fumbling with her dagger and the ignition cylinder. She was biting her lip in concentration even as her fingers failed to connect the dagger to the wires, attempting to mimic the connection the key should have been making.
“Hurry up,” he said.
“I’m trying,” she shot back. “I’m not good at this.”
“I know, but you were the only option.” Michael kept his eyes on the front door. “Louis is dead for certain. Alex and Kelly will likely bleed out.”
“Oh, sure, you had to kill him. When Jane asked you not to.”
“He had the more dangerous weapon of anybody and was actively standing guard. He would have caught you before you had exited the cabinet.”
“Oh.” She flinched back from the wires as one shocked her. “Shit. Okay, okay. I think I’m getting there, I’m just going to tie a few more wires together.”
“Hurry up. Brad won’t take forever to get that cabinet off of him.”
She nodded, but Michael barely had time to process it before Brad was running across the lawn and straight for the car. He pushed the door back open and rolled off the seat, running to meet Brad, only for him to brush straight past him and vault over the hood of the car. He smashed the driver’s side window open and pulled Sarah through without breaking a sweat, slamming a fist into the side of her head before slashing the razor along her cheek and pressing the blade to the side of her neck, letting all the nicks and cuts from broken glass on her face keep bleeding.
“Don’t. Fucking. Move.” He snarled. Sarah flinched away, and he pressed the razor in, drawing blood immediately. Michael raised an eyebrow at the move.
“That wasn’t lethal, but the next one will be.” Brad looked him in the eyes. “Now get over here and get in the driver’s seat. Put the knives away, too.”
“Should I drop them?”
“Fuckin’ sheath them, I don’t care. Just get in the seat.”
Michael did as he said, returning his knives to their sheaths as Brad slowly moved around the car towards the passengers side. He walked around the front and stepped down into the open car door, settling in the driver’s seat and looking out the passenger window.
Brad opened one of the backseat doors and threw Sarah inside, letting the razor dig cuts into her arms and legs as she fell forward. She hissed in pain on landing, before looking to Michael with fear in her gaze.
He raised a finger to his lips. She needed to stay calm and stay quiet.
Death was not a certainty, as long as one was still alive. It was only imminently likely in certain situations. This did not qualify, yet.
Brad yelled behind him. “Dipshits! Get Louis’s body in the car, meet me at the spot!” He got into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut, tossing the keys at Michael and holding the razor close to his face.
“We’re driving somewhere now, and fast. The cops are going to be here soon. Start the car, and take a right onto Homewood street. You go forward–”
“I know where to go.” Michael cut him off as he started the car. “You want us to go to the woods.”
“Yeah,” Brad hissed. “The fifth left, and keep going. There’s a dirt road. You go there, before the cops show, and you listen to what I tell you to do, or I kill you and your bitch friend in the backseat. You too, little fucker, don’t try anything. You got that?”
Sarah slowly nodded, and Michael just started driving, glancing in the rearview mirror to see Alex attempting to shove a body into the backseat of the SUV. He suppressed his reaction and kept driving, the route to where Brad wanted to go already in his mind.
There was only one place he would have ever wanted to take them.
To the depths of the woods. To a place with soft ground.
A place were bodies were buried.