Chapter 10 (Kurt)

Kurt continues his downward spiral.

Stooping down Kurt dug through the young man's pockets. After finding the Mustang's FOB and small roll of bills he stood up and glanced around. No one seemed to be watching.

 Sliding into the car he started it up and backed over the body. He turned the vehicle east and followed the bus. A few minutes after leaving Linda went inside the restroom and started to scream. 

 A few miles west of Eau Claire the traffic came to a standstill. Kurt tapped the wheel impatiently and looked around. A long line of traffic was forming behind him and the forward progression was minimal. In front of him was a tan colored Silverado that belched black smoke and had seen better days. 

 The door of the vehicle flew open and a stubby man with faded jeans and a bomber jacket stomped out. He climbed into the bed  of the pickup and faced east with hands on hips. Shaking his head he jumped down from the truck and walked towards Kurt. Rolling down the window Kurt smiled.

 "How can I help you, Sir?"

 "This Goddamned traffic is what I need help with. What in the Hell is going on? Our truck radio is repeating some Godawful message about a spreading pandemic. Have you heard anything? Don't all you kids have those fancy computer phones? What's your phone saying?"

 Kurt picked his phone up off the seat and held it in front of the man.

 "The internet's down. That's a pretty bad sign."

 "I need to get to Marshfield. My daughter lives there with my two granddaughters. What's your phone saying about this traffic?" the man pleaded.

 "Listen you gelatinous pile of s**t. The internet is down. How the f**k do you expect me to check the traffic report with no f*****g internet?"

 The man stammered briefly and looked confused. He looked at the traffic building behind them and then back to Kurt.

 "Well can you call someone?" he asked in a resigned tone.

 "Listen Farmer Joe. Let me explain what's happening. From the little I know and have heard there's a pandemic behind us. About an hour ago the bus I was in almost ran over a corpse that was laying in the middle of the highway. The police are so busy that they didn't even show up to scrape a f*****g body off an interstate. Think about that for a moment."

 The farmer stared down at his shoes. Kurt imagined he was kicking a pebble like a dejected six year old.

 "There is some good news though. Due to this lapse in law enforcement I have been able to kill with impunity."

 The man became wary and started to back away.

 "You stay right there you ugly f**k!" 

 Kurt said those words with barely opening his mouth; hissing them like a snake.

 "You and who I can only assume is some ugly fat wife in that passenger seat" Kurt said easily while gesturing towards the truck "are probably sick. You're going to spread this pandemic to your daughter and her family. Your granddaughters are probably going to die shitting blood and screaming for their Daddy who probably had the sense to run away a long time ago. If she looks anything like you that is."

 The man looked ashamed. He didn't even seem to be frightened by the mention of murder. 

 "I'll do you a favor. I'm going to follow you to your daughter's house and I'm going to save them the misery and just f*****g kill them for you. If you and your wife are still alive I'm going to kill you both. But first I'm going to rape her. I want her to have at least one man f**k her who doesn't look like a Goddamned toad."

 "You son of a b***h." the man feebly whispered.

 Kurt flung the car door open and the man was knocked on his a*s. Steeping out of the car he held the towel in hand and let it dangle. The weapon was saturated in gore as was Kurt. 

 "Hey there!" a man with thick bifocals and a bald head yelled as he stuck his head out of a car window "Leave that fellow alone!"

 Kurt stalked towards the vehicle and swung the towel. It neatly clipped the side mirror off and the man frantically rolled up his window. The driver of the car whipped a U turn and fled the scene. Kurt turned back towards his original prey and smiled.

 "Start running you fat pig."

 The bald man scurried across the pavement and ran towards his truck. Kurt could sense people watching him and felt powerful. He wasn't concerned about police. He knew it was going down. Things were getting heavy. 

 The farmer got into his truck and Kurt could tell the man was scared. He saw him gesturing wildly to his wife then the reverse lights lit up. The man backed down into the gravel shoulder and turned the car westbound. Without looking as Kurt he accelerated past. Kurt smiled then followed the truck at a careful distance. He had been meaning to go to Marshfield anyways.

 After a few miles the man figured out he was being followed. He was taking backroads and trying to evade Kurt but it was a futile process. Kurt already knew the destination. 

 There was a pack of Marlboros in the glove box. Kurt lit one and continued following the man's meandering course. As smoke trickled out his nostrils he smiled. The man was afraid. Kurt was getting another erection.

 Near the outskirts of Marshfield Kurt skirted a wreck and watched what appeared to be two men devouring a woman. "What in the f**k?" he murmured as one of the men looked up at him with a vacant stare. 

 Accelerating he left the scene behind him and focused on the truck again. Off in a desolate field he saw a family running towards a farmhouse. A young father was staggering under the load of two found children. His wife or girlfriend lagging and clutching a bloody side. Behind her a group of four sprinting figures were closing the gap. The woman fell and the man turned around. Putting down one of the children he pulled the woman to her feet by roughly yanking on her arm. Just as she was coaxed upright the pursuers collided with the family and the scene became confused. The small child that had been set down attempted to flee but was grasped around the ankle and pulled into the seething writhing mass of violence. Kurt glanced back once more and shuddered. It was a good shudder. One of pleasure.

 After crossing into the city limits Kurt had a few near misses with vehicles frantically fleeing the increasing madness. Even in a small town the carnage was amazing. Bodies littered streets and some houses burned. A small girl stood in the street; her blonde hair stirring in the slight breeze and her jacket covered in blood. Kurt passed her and ignored the pleading eyes.

 Finally the Silverado parked in front of a squat duplex and the man and woman hastily exited the vehicle and ran for the front door. As Kurt drove by the man and him exchanged a brief look. He smiled. The man did not. 

 Rounding the corner Kurt parked in front of a lavender colored house and killed the engine. He watched the house for a moment. The front door was ajar and broken glass littered the front porch. After a moment of relative silence he stepped out of the Mustang and clutched his towel in a white knuckled grasp. Approaching the front door he hailed the house.

 "Hello in there!" he called out.

 Silence responded. He scaled the steps and winced as he stepped on broken glass. The sound deafening in the quiet neighborhood. Stepping through the door he looked around. The living room was a mess. A small end table had been knocked over and was shattered into splinters. Skittles littered the floor  in a rainbow mess and a large green depression glass candy dish was broken into large pieces.   

 Kurt heard the sound of breaking glass further back in the house. Moving quietly he approached the sound. He tip toed down a long hallway and came into a narrow galley kitchen. A woman lay on the ground and a bloodied teenager crouched over her. Kurt couldn't tell if the teen was a male or female; the clothes were androgynous and a bloodied mop of dishwater colored hair hump limply. Then the creature noticed him.

 Raising it's head the thing screamed. The eyes were the color of old mayonnaise and the teeth covered in gore and bits of what appeared to be flesh. 

 Kurt swung the towel weapon down onto the creatures head to little effect. Leaping up the teenager lunged for him with clawing fingers. Scrambling backwards Kurt's hands slid over the range and grasped onto a large cast iron skillet. Swinging the pan he smashed the creature in the face. The thing staggered then redirected it's attack. 

 Striking with the pan again Kurt felt the creatures skull buckle. He reached out with his left hand and grasped the teenager around the throat. Driving the thing backwards into the cabinets he swung the pan repeatedly onto his adversary until the thing went limp. It slumped to the ground and Kurt released a relieved breath. 

 Kurt grabbed a dishtowel off of the formica counter and wiped the gore from his face. He placed the pan back on the range then began to scavenge. In an upstairs bedroom he found an old single shot shotgun under a bed. A shoebox near the weapon contained a pocketful of cartridges. Loading the gun he left the room then went downstairs. 

 Glancing down the hallway he could see the legs of the creature protruding from the kitchen. A spreading pool of black blood was forming. The air reeked of blood; like a fistful of tarnished pennies. Kurt smiled and left the house.

 Leisurely walking down the sidewalk he cradled the gun like a European aristocrat on a quail hunt. Shots rang out in the distance and a car alarm droned on. He didn't have a plan. He didn't have a worry. Kurt was just enjoying the moment. 

 The Silverado pickup loomed in the foreground and Kurt approached the house Farmer Joe was hiding in with his family. No doubt they were curled into little balls and pissing themselves. His pace quickened and his heart started pumping with excitement and euphoria.

 After climbing the steps he rapped on the door with a boney knuckle. "Are you in there toad?" Kurt mocked.

 "Leave us alone!" an old woman mewled. 

 Kurt peered into the peephole and saw an eye staring back at him. He lifted the shotgun and fired into the hole. "Four!" he yelled out in a yodeling falsetto.

 A garbled cry sounded from within the house and he smiled with satisfaction. Breaking the gun open he ejected the spent shell and loaded another. Twisting the doorknob he found it to be locked. Shrugging his shoulders as if he had just farted in a crowded elevator he approached a large window. With the butt of the gun he smashed the glass then swept the barrel around the edges to clear any offending shards. Yellowed lace curtains fluttered in the window like mummy wrappings.

 He stuck a leg through the window and was about to climb in when he was stabbed in the meaty part of his thigh. It was a hesitant prick that barely registered any pain. He leveled the shotgun and fired into the room. A woman cried out and during that panicked moment entered the house.

 A young woman lay on the ground clutching her belly. She was sobbing silently and rolling from side to side. Dark blood pulsed from between her fingers. Farmer Joe was laying next to her with hands plastered to his face. An old woman was in the corner; stone faced and silent. 

 "How are the grandkids?" Kurt asked her.

 The woman flinched but said nothing. 

 Kurt glanced down at his thigh and saw a spreading blood stain on his pants. Shaking his head he looked down at the younger woman.

 "Is that how you treat guests? Didn't your parents tell you I was coming?"

 "You sons a b***h." the old man croaked.

 "Manners." Kurt mentioned "How are your grandkids ever going to learn good manners when they see guests treated like this?"

 "You keep your f*****g hands off those kids!" the old man hoarsely shouted.

 "What we need is a gag." Kurt replied as if suggesting they needed some coffee cake.

 He bent down and pulled the young woman's hands away from the stomach wound. Glancing at the black hole he saw ropey intestines. The organs looked like strings of pink saltwater taffy. Reaching inside he grabbed a handful and pulled some out. The woman began shrieking so he crammed them into her mouth. After narrowly dodging a bite he rabbit punched her in the face a few times until she passed out.

 "Leave my momma alone!" a young voice wailed.

 Kurt felt a small child jump on his back and he easily tossed the kid aside. The knife the woman had stabbed him with was laying on the floor in a pool of blood so he picked it up. Grabbing the young boy's ankle he pulled the thrashing youth towards him. He placed the blade against the boy's throat and slowly pushed it in. The boy coughed blood and tears welled in his eyes. Kurt released him and the kid kicked feebly a few times then quit moving. 

 "Is there any coffee?" he asked.

 The question was met with silence.

 "Weren't we just talking about manners?" 

 "In the kit…kitchen." the old woman stammered.

 Kurt stood up and walked towards the rear of the house where he assumed the kitchen was. He found it untidy and odorous. TV dinner boxes overflowed from a trashcan and unwashed dishes littered the small kitchen table and counters. 

 A percolator simmered on the range and he hefted it. The stainless steel carafe was piping hot and nearly full. There was an open cabinet full of earthen mugs and he quickly filled one. Taking a small sip he smacked his lips.

 "Now I've already met one of your grandkids. Where is the other?"

 Once again he was met with silence. Walking back into the living room he stood over the old man. 

 "Coffee?"

 The old man sobbed. "You better not touch Cindy you f*****g anima…"

 Kurt poured the scalding coffee onto the man's face and received an automatic reaction of agony and indignation. When the carafe was empty he pummeled the man in the face with it until the carafe resembled a crumpled beer can. Flinging it aside he walked towards the woman. She curled into a ball and Kurt took off his pants.

 After raping the woman numerous times Kurt became bored. Instead of killing her he let her live. Like a surviving trophy of his misdeeds. It was an arousing thought. 

 He poked around the dirty house until he found little red headed Cindy hiding in a closet. He coaxed her out by twisting her arm until it snapped like a dry twig. Surprisingly the little girl showed little reaction to the shattered arm. Pulling her out by the flopping appendage he dragged her into the living room. The girl stared at the remains of her family; either she was incredibly stoic or catatonic. 

 Kneeling down Kurt laid gentle hands on her shoulders. In a tender fatherly voice he asked "Cindy, do you like fishing?"

 The little girl stared off into the distance vacantly. Kurt assumed the silence was an affirmation.

 "Great!" he yelled gleefully as he clapped his hands together.

 The girl winced but continued to stare at the yellowing curtains dancing in the wind. Kurt walked to a vacuum cleaner and severed the cord with the knife. He looped the severed end around her neck and tied a sloppy bowline knot. 

 Kurt jerked the girl like an unruly dog towards the front door and unlocked it. Walking towards the street he dragged the girl who had resigned herself to a probable death. 

 "The thing about fishing," Kurt explained "is that you need good bait. Do you know what bait is, Cindy?"

 As expected the girl was silent. Kurt pulled her into the air and let her choke and thrash for a moment. After letting her down he repeated the question. The girl coughed for a moment then looked up at him. 

 "Like a minnow?" she asked while rubbing her throat.

 "Yes, Cindy. Just like a minnow." 

 Then Kurt tied the other end of the cord to a telephone pole.