Page 42 of The Knucklebone Brothers

"Dr Pepper, huh?" I said, a slow grin spreading across my face. "Well, give me a few of those then."

He nodded, turning to the big, old-fashioned cooler behind him. "We don't have many," he grunted, pulling out three glass bottles. "Folks 'round here mostly request that Coca-Cola stuff."

He handed them to me, the glass cool and heavy in my hands. He paused, looking at the three bottles in my hand, then back up at my face. A weird look crossed his face, his brow furrowed like he was trying to piece together a puzzle that didn't make no sense.

I just grinned wider. "What? Can't a man enjoy a little trip down memory lane?" I said, giving him a wink. "Got a powerful thirst for nostalgia."

He picked up the two masks I'd set on the counter, turning them over in his hands. "You Knucklebone boys and your masks," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Been obsessed with 'em your whole lives. Don't suppose it matters if it's Halloween or not, does it?"

I just grinned, leaning an elbow on the counter. "Can't help it, Mr. Hemlock. Some of us are just born with a face to hide. The rest of y'all are just ugly all year 'round."

He shook his head with a soft chuckle. I paid, grabbed my bags, and headed for the door, the bell tinkling my exit.

As I was loading the last of the bags into the truck, I heard a commotion by the community board. Lacey was out there, her stringy blonde hair flying around as she tried to tack a flyer to the corkboard. A couple of local boys, no-account wastes of skin named Jimmy and Dale, were leaning against the wall, blocking her way.

"Hey, Lacey," Jimmy drawled, his voice full of lazy condescension. "Why you wastin' space on the board for that crazy cousin of yours?"

"Yeah," Dale chimed in, picking at his arm. "She probably just ran off again. You check the psych ward? Bet she's back there, where they keep the crazies."

Jimmy laughed, a nasty, grating sound. "Shit, Dale, didn't you fuck her once? Said she was a wild one, but probably crazy in the sack, too."

I could feel a hot, white rage building in my chest, a fire that threatened to consume me. I stopped what I was doing, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. I could see it all, playing out in my mind like a movie.

I'd grab Jimmy first, my hands wrapping around his throat, squeezing the life out of him. I'd watch his eyes bug out, his face turning purple as he struggled for breath. Then I'd take my knife and cut him open, from his throat to his belly, his guts spilling out onto the pavement. I'd take his heart, still warm and twitching, and I'd eat it, right in front of everyone.

Dale would be next. I'd break his legs, the bones snapping like twigs, and I'd drag him behind my truck all the way back to the holler. I'd hang him up in my workshop, like a piece of meat, and I'd use his skin to make a new lampshade. His skull would make a nice bowl for Lilly's water.

I took a deep breath, the vision fading, but the rage was still burning hot. I slammed the truck door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street. Lacey looked over at me, her eyes wide with fear, and Jimmy and Dale stopped laughing, their faces paling.

Instead of scurrying away like I expected, Jimmy and Dale straightened up, puffing out their chests like a couple of bantam roosters. They thought they had an audience with Lacey there, and they weren't about to lose face.

I just smiled, slow and easy. I pulled a pack of smokes from my pocket, tapping one out and sticking it between my lips. I flicked my lighter, the flame dancing in front of my face for a second before I lit the cigarette. I took a long, slow drag, the smoke curling out of my nostrils like a dragon.

Then I started walking, my boots crunching on the gravel. "What's goin' on over here?" I asked, my voice low and casual, like I was just stopping to chat about the weather.

Jimmy, the one who ran his mouth about Rory, puffed up his chest. "Stay out of this, freak," he sneered. "Don't you have a sister to go bang in the freakshow holler?"

Dale chimed in, a nasty grin on his face. "Yeah, we're just talkin' 'bout this one’s stupid cousin. The crazy one. Bet she's spreadin' her legs for some trucker by now, just like she did for me."

I stopped, the smile disappearing from my face. I looked at Lacey, who was staring at Dale with a look of pure horror. I moved her behind me, my body shielding her.

"What did you say?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.

"I said I fucked her," Dale said, his voice full of arrogant pride. "She was so drunk she couldn't even stand up. Just laid there like a dead fish. Best piece of ass I ever had, though. Left her there in the dirt when I was done."

That was it. The red haze descended, and all I could see was his stupid, grinning face. I moved so fast they didn't even have time to react. I grabbed Dale by the front of his shirt, my fingers twisting in the fabric, and I shoved the lit end of my cigarette right into his eye.

He screamed, a high, piercing sound that was music to my ears. The smell of burning flesh and hair filled the air, and I just grinned, twisting the cigarette deeper into his socket. He thrashed and clawed at my hand, but I was stronger than him, my rage a fire that fueled me.

Jimmy tried to jump me from the side, but I was ready for him. I let go of Dale, who fell to the ground, clutching his ruined eye and screaming, and I turned on Jimmy. I drove my fist into his stomach, the air rushing out of him in a whoosh. He doubled over, gasping for breath, and I brought my knee up, smashing it into his face. I felt his nose break, the cartilage giving way with a crunch.

I wasn't done. I grabbed him by the hair, my fingers tangling in his greasy locks, and I slammed his face into the wall of the general store. Once, twice, three times. Blood sprayed across the building, a pretty pattern in the afternoon sun. I let him go, and he slid to the ground, a heap of broken bones and bloody flesh.

I looked over at Dale, who was trying to crawl away, his one good eye wide with terror. I walked over to him, my boots crunching on the gravel. I knelt down beside him, my face inches from his.

"You're gonna apologize for what you said," I whispered, my voice low and menacing. "You're gonna take it back, every last word. Or I'm gonna have to kill you. And I really don't wanna do that. See, I'm redecoratin', and I was thinkin' a new footstool made outta your back would look just lovely in my workshop. So, what's it gonna be, Dale? An apology, or do you wanna become a piece of my furniture?"

He just whimpered, a pathetic sound that made me sick. "I'm sorry," he sobbed, his voice thick with pain and terror. "I'm sorry. I didn't... I was just... I'm sorry."