Part 4
Rupert squirmed away from the stranger, his butt leaving a clean streak across the bench seat. Hoping to use the passenger door for his exit, Rupert lunged toward the open door. The man’s hand, cold and strong, grabbed hold of his shoulder and yanked him back. The door slammed shut.
“Nuh-uh, little man,” he said, eyes boring deep into Rupe’s. “You’re staying put.”
Deep behind those glassy blue orbs, something moved, like worms wriggling in a can. Terrified, Rupe shrank away, struggling to free himself from the stranger’s icy grip. The man gave a gravelly laugh.
“Hang on, kid. We’re going for a ride.” The strange man threw the car into gear and hit the gas. Impossibly, the car took off like a shot.
Rupert pressed his back against the passenger door, his knees drawn up to his chest. The movement of the car had his stomach doing flip-flops. Not only was the car moving when it shouldn’t be, it was moving incredibly fast. Outside the window was a blur of color with no form. It frightened Rupert to look at it. He wanted to close his eyes against the sickening sight but forced himself to stay vigilant. If he got the chance to leap from the car, he needed to take it.
Around him the car began to change. Though Rupe could still hear the old upholstery rip and split with every move he made, and he could still taste the dust in the air, to his eyes the interior looked pristine. No sagging, no tearing, no broken glass; it looked like new.
“Hello, boys,” the specter – Rupert was certain he wasn’t really flesh and blood – growled.
Two more men, these younger and leaner looking, appeared in the backseat. One slapped Rupe on the shoulder with a wicked grin.
“Welcome to the party, Pee Wee,” he said.
Rupert curled into a tighter ball. In the spot between the driver and himself, a woman appeared. Waves of chestnut hair cascaded over her shoulders. If Rupert had entertained the thought that she would be of any help to him, it quickly dissipated. Even at his tender age, he could tell in the first glimpse of her, that she was wrong somehow. The smile she gave him was twisted and cruel. Her deep brown eyes opened too wide, as if something had startled her so deeply, they got stuck that way. When she turned those eyes on Rupert, her head listing to one side, a paralyzing fear gripped him.
“Aren’t you a tasty morsel,” she said, her high-pitched voice scraping along Rupert’s nerves like metal scraping against metal. Her tongue, red and fat, slid across her bottom lip. Rupert shuddered with revulsion. “Do I get to keep him, Frank?” She turned to her companion, one hand grasping Frank’s arm while the fingers of the other toyed with the buttons on the blue sweater covering her sundress.
Frank slid an arm around her shoulders. “Oh, we’re keeping him,” he said.
Laughter drifted from the backseat.
“We got a gig first, Leilah. Don’t distract him,” said the man closest to Rupert.
“Not to worry, Donny,” Frank reassured his pal. “I know what I’m doing. Right Charlie?”
“Right, Frank,” the man next to Donny said with a grin.
Frank gave a nod. “I always know what I’m doing.”
Out the window, the colors faded to a dusty yellow brown, like Rupe was looking at old pictures put into motion. Sepia, his father had called it.
The world beyond began to take shape. First, there was only a long dirt road. Then, trees appeared here and there along the sides. Up ahead, a town popped up. The dirt gave way to blacktop and the car slid silently along the street. Ghostly figures appeared; the women in skirts and blouses, the men in suits or overalls. None took notice of the Pontiac as it cruised by.
Frank pulled up to the curb in front of a stone building. The letters above the door read: First National Bank of Tulsa. Rupert’s stomach clenched up. Something very bad was about to happen, he was sure of it.
“Everybody out,” Frank said, holding the door open for Leilah.
Rupert didn’t move. His heart was thundering against his ribcage like he’d just ran a mile.
“I said, everybody out, little man. That includes you.” Frank reached across the seat, grabbed Rupert by the front of his shirt, and dragged him from the car.
Leilah wrapped her long, cold fingers around Rupert’s wrist, pulling him along with her as she followed Frank into the building. The other two thugs waited at the bank door – one inside, one outside. There weren’t many people inside the bank. A woman and two men stood behind a long counter helping the handful of customers lined up to be waited on. No one gave the group a second look until Frank pulled out his gun. Where he pulled it from, Rupert couldn’t say. It wasn’t there and then it was.
From behind them, Charlie shouted, “Everyone down on the floor!”
The people gaped at him but didn’t move. Angry, Charlie fired three shotgun blasts into the ceiling. Rupert flinched with each blast, wishing to fall to the floor himself, but Leilah kept him on his feet.
“On the floor!” Frank bellowed, leveling his own gun, this one a pistol, at the people themselves. Everyone hit the ground.
Like a large cat in pursuit of prey, Frank stalked among the prone bodies, making his way to the counter and the tellers who cowered behind it. Leilah followed close behind, dragging Rupert along with her.
The tellers lay close together, faces pressed to the hardwood floor. The woman tried to remain quiet, but tears dribbled from her eyes causing her to sniffle. The man next to her held tight to her, attempting to comfort her, until Frank stopped in front of them.
“Get up,” he commanded, pointing the pistol at the man, whose eyes grew wide with fear. Stumbling to his feet, his hands raised above his head, he gestured at the gun.
“You don’t have to do that, mister. I’ll give you the money,” he said, a quiver in his voice.
“That’s why we’re here, bub,” Frank said, grinning. “Hand it over.”
From beneath her sweater, Leilah produced a dusty bag. She held it out to the man. Hands shaking, he took it. Placing it next to him on the counter, he began stuffing it with the bills stacked in the drawers. Twice, money slipped from his shaking hands, fluttering to the floor. When he bent to pick it up, Frank pressed the gun barrel to the man’s cheek.
“Don’t be getting any ideas while you’re down there,” he growled. “I’ll kill ya and not think twice about it.”
The man swallowed, hard, but remained silent. Quickly, he scooped up the money and shoved it into the bag. Tears leaked from his eyes. Without looking at Frank, he thrust the bag into his waiting hand.
“Good boy,” Frank said, handing the bag back to Leilah who stuffed it into her sweater. “Now, back on the floor.”
The man complied. Rupert hoped this was the end of it, that they’d leave this place and he’d go home to his family. Or maybe he was home. Maybe this was all some crazy dream, though it felt real.
“Kid,” Frank growled, dragging Rupert to him. “Now, you’re gonna earn your keep.”
Frank pushed the gun into Rupert’s hands, aiming at the cowering teller. Rupert tried to push the gun away, but Frank held tight to his hand, forcing the boy’s fingers around the handle.
“Shoot him, kid,” Frank commanded.
“No!” Rupert struggled to free himself from Frank’s grip.
Frank laughed and tightened his hold on Rupert’s hand. The gun handle pressed painfully into his palm.
Leaning close to Rupert’s ear, Frank said, “You’re gonna do this kid, or we’re going back to the farmhouse and I’m gonna kill your parents. Leilah there will hold your eyes open so you can see everything. And I won’t make it fast. Oh, no. I’ll kill ‘em slow so you can listen to them scream. Now, shoot, kid.”
Frank released Rupert and straightened up. The gun wavered in the boy’s hands.
Rupert stood shaking, tears of his own stinging his eyes. A hitch in his chest had his breath clipping in and out, hissing between his clenched teeth, as he struggled not to cry. Regrets poured through his mind. If only he’d stayed away from the car. Pops had told him it was dangerous, but he kept going back to it anyway. He should have resisted when it called to him, dragged at him, pulled him out to the field like a metal shaving to a magnet. If only he’d listened. Now, he might never see his family again.
The man on the floor looked up at Rupert, fear etched on his face. Rupert stared into his pleading eyes.
“No,” Rupert whispered.
“You’re going to do it, or I’m going to do it,” Frank hissed in his ear. “Either way, this man is going to die.”
“Hurry up, Frank,” Charlie called from the doorway. “I hear sirens. We gotta go, man.”
Leilah pressed her face against Rupe’s cheek, her breath tickling his ear as she spoke.
“It’s easy,” she whispered. “Just squeeze the trigger. Come on, kid. Do it. Do it now.”
Rupert couldn’t do it. Looking at the man lying on the floor, he felt sick to his stomach. Rupert relaxed his muscles and let his arms fall to his sides. The gun dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. Rupert flinched. Backing away, he collided with Leilah.
Furious, Frank backhanded the boy, sending him sprawling. A sob burst from Rupert’s lips, but he didn’t cry out. This made Frank angrier. Scooping up the pistol, he fired. First into the man he’d been tormenting, then into the other two tellers. Screams rang out from the living as the shots echoed through the stone building.
Scrambling to his feet, Rupert fled certain Frank would put a bullet in his back. Instead of a bullet, he felt the steel grip of Leilah’s fingers gripping his arm once more. Firmly, she guided him out the door with the rest of the group.
Frank yanked open the driver’s side door and Leilah forced Rupert back inside the car. She slid in beside him as shots rang up and down the street. The police, it seemed, had arrived.
Rupert cowered in his seat, slipping down onto the floorboards, his hands pressed tight to his ears, his head tucked between his elbows, as more shots were fired. The three men clamored into the car. The engine roared to life and Frank slammed down on the accelerator. The car lurched forward, bouncing Rupert’s head off the seat as they took off. Dust swirled around him, filling his nose, causing him to cough and gag.
There was a burst of gunfire, the bullets tearing into the body of the car. The back window exploded in a spray of shattered glass, and Charlie shrieked in pain. The car lurched to the right, throwing Rupert against Leilah’s knees. He pushed away from her, trying to get as much space as he could between them. Even with his back pressed against the passenger door, he felt she was too close. Rupert glanced up at her, expecting to see the fear he felt reflected on her face. Instead, a laugh burst from her grinning lips. She turned her wide eyes to Frank who grinned back.
“How ya feeling, baby?” She asked him.
“Like a million bucks!” Frank responded.
Leilah threw back her head and laughed. Frank gave her knee a squeeze before turning his attention to the road.
Through the driver’s side window, Rupert saw a police car pull up even with them; lights flashing, sirens blaring. In the backseat, Donny leaned over Charlie, aimed his double-barreled shotgun out the side window, and fired at the car. Rupert heard the thunk-thunk of the bullets hitting metal. Return fire came from behind them. Donny’s gun clattered out the window and onto the road. Rupert could see Donny slumped over Charlie, his head resting on the window frame.
The police car slammed hard against the Pontiac with enough force to send it careening off the road. Charlie gave a yelp of pain. Both he and Donny disappeared from Rupert’s view. Rupert laced his fingers around his head and bent forward, trying to keep from braining himself on the door as they flew through the scrub brush. Each bounce knocked the side of his head against the glove box on the way up and the other side of his head on the seat when the wheels touched ground again.
Frank yelled out a string of curses, the likes of which Rupert had never heard before. Holding tight to the steering wheel, foot hard against the accelerator, Frank struggled to bring the car back onto the road. Pressing the foot-feed all the way to the floor, he forced the Pontiac forward. More shots rang out as they pulled away from their pursuers.
Rupert could hear gasping in the backseat, the sound of someone struggling to fill his lungs with air. From Rupert’s spot on the floor, he could no longer see either of the men who had been sitting there, but he could hear their moans.
Something warm, wet, and sticky seeped into the knees of his jeans. Looking down, he saw a puddle of blood engulfing his legs, flowing to him from under the seat. Rupert gulped. He tried to move away from the spreading blood, but there was too much of it. There was only one way for him to go, up. Reluctantly, he slid onto the seat next to Leilah.
The cop car was gaining on them again, the siren growing louder by the second. Rupert turned in his seat to see how close they were. The front of the car was even with the backseat. Frank swerved in their direction in an attempt to force them off the road. They bumped against the car, but the officer driving held the cars tight together. The cop in the passenger seat, aimed carefully out his window and fired. Frank grunted. The Pontiac lurched to the right as Frank slumped over the wheel. Leilah screamed and clutched at his arm.
“Frank! Baby, talk to me,” she begged, dragging his body towards her. The wheel turned with him.
Frank’s eyes rolled up as his head lolled against Leilah’s chest. Blood dribbled from between his lips, tracked down his cheek, and onto her blouse.
“Brake,” Rupert whispered.
Even if they had heard him, it was too late. Rupert saw the tree out of the corner of his eye, seconds before they slammed into it. Rupert bounced against the dashboard then back against the seat.
Frank’s face hit the edge of the dash with a sickening crunch, his chest was crushed against the steering wheel as Leilah flew forward and crashed through the windshield. She lay there, half in and half out of the car, whimpering feebly. The sound of her life draining away, ceased. To Rupert’s amazement, she faded away.
Turning quickly in his seat, Rupert looked for Charlie and Donny. Both men were gone, leaving behind a puddle of blood soaking into the seat and running rivulets down the side of it onto the floorboards. Now Rupert was alone in the car with a dying Frank. He had no idea where the others had gone or if they would – could – return. What if Rupe, himself, disappeared? Or worse, what if he were stuck here?
Frightened to near panic, he returned his gaze to the killer in the front seat. Frank had pushed himself into a sitting position. Blood burbled from his mouth with each shallow breath. The front of his shirt, soaked with blood, stuck to his chest emphasizing the concave left by the steering wheel. Frank’s left arm hung at an odd angle where the bullet had shattered his shoulder. His right, slowly moved to the gear shift, put the car into reverse, and backed away from the tree. The car wrenched free with a squeal of metal and spinning tires. As soon as the tree relinquished the bumper, the tree vanished taking the surroundings with it. They were moving again. Flying through the formless void like before. Only this time, Frank was dying.
“Time’s up, kid,” he muttered. Drops of blood sprayed from his lips onto the seat between them. “It’s just you and me.”
A shudder shook the man’s body; he moaned. His eyes fluttered closed. For a moment, Rupert thought Frank was dead. With a quickness that belied the weakness of his dying body, Frank’s hand shot out and grasp Rupert’s arm. The eyelids flew open, his gaze focused on the boy.
“I’m not going alone,” Frank wheezed. “I’m taking you with me, or sending you instead, but I’m not leaving here without a bargaining chip.”
“Let go!” Rupert slapped at the man’s hand, fear roiling in his gut. Panicked, he wrenched his arm back and forth, but he could not break the dying man’s grip.
Frank began to laugh. A sickening gurgle accompanied the sound.
A sob rose from Rupert’s chest. Before him, the specter began to change. The muscles shrank until the skin drew tight across the bone. Frank’s face, once full, was now emaciated, his blue eyes sunk deep into their sockets. The skin yellowed and grew taut until it shriveled too much to cover the bones. For one horrendous moment, Rupert could see the shattered splinters of bone where Frank’s ribs once were. The organs beneath turned to mush before his eyes, spilling from his body onto the seat. On the man’s head, the hair thinned. Clumps fell around him revealing speckled flesh that became dry flaps around a graying skull.
Unbelievably, the eyes rolled in Rupert’s direction and the dissolving corpse spoke to him. The voice ragged and gravelly, but distinct.
“You’re mine, kid. I’m not leaving here without you.”
Rupert screamed in horror. The skeletal hand tightly gripped Rupert’s wrist. No matter how hard he tried, he could not break the dead man’s hold. Rupert screamed again, his voice rising high in desperation, his throat burning with the strain of it. The phantom began to pulse, fading in and out. His maniacal laughter growing to fill the car, mingling with Rupert’s cries.
Darkness engulfed him, and Rupert was falling.