Stagecoach Road Page 10

  Phhhhooooot! The dart sounded as Benny fired the drug into Tommy’s right thigh.

  “Hi Tommy!” Benny yelled. “It’s my turn!”

  Tommy let out a weak scream as he fell to the ground, not fully realizing what was happening.

  The drug worked quickly as Benny ran back to his car then pulled up to the store to collect his game. For a moment though, it looked like Tommy was able to get up. Tommy made a vain attempt to get to his car but was only able to stagger a few feet until he dropped like a rock, but was still fully awake, and laboring to breathe. Benny pulled his Camry next to Tommy’s helpless but very much alive body, and dragged him onto the back seat and sped away, heading for Stagecoach Road. Benny then pushed a cassette into his tape deck. It was cued to play American Pie.

  Benny glanced at the back seat.

  “Sort of brings back good old memories, doesn’t it Tommy?” Benny said as he turned up the volume.

  “Them good old boys were drinking and singing this will be the day that I die.”

  “I said, DOESN’T IT TOMMY?” Benny sternly repeated, knowing full well Tommy was paralyzed and couldn’t speak.

  Benny turned off County Line Road and onto Stagecoach Road. He lowered the volume on the Don McClean tune as he slowly drove down Stagecoach Road, now completely immersed in thick fog. He passed the final house before entering the dismal asphalt abyss and into the black of night on his way to the tree. Benny turned on his brights which were barley sufficient to light the gloomy pebbled street below. As he headed for the tree he saw a shadowy figure in the distance and slowed even more, just in case it was a deer. Tommy was breathing heavier and heavier as Benny came to a complete stop on the side of the road, finally reaching his destination. That shadow turned out to be a deer that quickly scampered away into the woods.

  Benny turned off the engine. There was tomb-like silence as he opened the driver’s side door then got out to open the back door, taking the ball of twine from his backpack along with the blue lantern flashlight which he quickly switched on. Tommy’s eyes were wide open, and glowed in the lantern’s light as he burned a frightened death stare at Benny--just now realizing the identity of his captor.

  “Yes, Tommy,” Benny said as he unwound a long piece of twine, cutting the end with his six-inch knife as he took off his Bears cap and sunglasses. “I’m exactly who you think I am. Oh, certainly you must remember me. Oh, yes. I’m Benny Weinstein. The Jew. The stuttering fool you used to torment. My high school friend was Eddy Moss. Remember, the nigga? You know, the one with the severed cock,” Benny said as he lowered the knife within an inch of Tommy’s genitals. “Now you’ve got to remember me. I would be awfully disappointed if you didn’t. Oh, did I forget to mention Twila Fairfield?”

  Saliva started running down Tommy’s chin, not being able to swallow.

  “I certainly remember you,” Benny whispered as he flipped Tommy over onto his stomach, binding his hands behind his back--making four strong knots.

  Five minutes elapsed since Tommy was shot. Benny grabbed the tranquilizer gun again and loaded another dart--this time a little less potent. Tommy started to grunt.

  “Ut, ut,” Tommy throated as his left hand started to come to life.

  “Oh no, Mr. Gunther,” Benny patronizingly said. “You mustn’t move.” Benny then gave him another dose. Phhhhooooot! This time in the stomach.

  “We’ll get along just fine,” Benny said as he nodded his head. “But you have to stay still. I want to tell you a bedtime story,” Benny continued, in full control, as he dragged Tommy deep into the woods onto a waiting pile of dry leaves. Benny then tied Tommy’s ankles together and perched the lantern on a stump. There was no escaping.

  Tommy wet his pants as he struggled to move his frozen eyelids. Benny opened up his backpack and removed a number of items.

  “Let me further refresh your memory,” Benny said as he loaded yet another dart into the gun. “About twenty years ago I wasn’t feeling so well. I remember a car coming down this road--this very road! And who was in that car? Why it was you, Tommy. It was you! And you brought along some friends. Is your memory coming back? And there I was. I can remember it like it was yesterday. You and your friends. Oh, what were their names?” Benny sardonically said while snapping his fingers. “Ah yes. I think their names were Gerald, Murphy, and Frank. But feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.”

  Benny saw Tommy’s heart thumping through his blue buttoned up shirt. The words Gunther Tire & Auto Supply were stitched above his name. His eyes were wide open in surprise and started to dry out. Benny poured water on them--not to make Tommy more comfortable, but just so Tommy could see him.

  “I see you have a nice business,” Benny said as he took out the G.E.D. book from his backpack. “You must be the smartest of the four. So I’m going to give you a little test and a chance to free yourself from this horrible predicament you’re in. If you pass,” Benny said, while opening up the book, “you get to go back to your wonderful life and forget this ever happened. And I’ll forget the beating you gave me that night back in ‘73 that put me in the hospital for several weeks. I’ll forget about that. Isn’t that nice of me? Now, this could be a little tough since I know you didn’t finish up at Wirt. You may have been absent when the fine teachers there went over this material. But I can assure you they did. In fact, in all fairness, I’ll let you quiz me after I quiz you. Fair enough?” Benny asked, hogging both sides of the conversation. “But I’m letting you go first. And, oh, you have to pass, otherwise you won’t get a chance to test me.”

  Benny took out a few shots of epinephrine and more darts. He then jogged back to the car to get his newly purchased tire iron he bought at Tommy’s store. Gosh, he almost forgot that. Then he hurried back to Tommy’s motionless body and wrapped three thick pieces of duct tape around his mouth. He purposely let the last dose of Sucostrin wear off.

  “Now,” Benny continued, “let’s get started with the test.”

  A raccoon’s fluorescent green eyes blazed just a few feet away as Benny took out a package of colored stars. Crickets were happily chirping on that cold night. Tommy was envious of their unbridled freedom.

  “OK,” Benny said as he turned to Chapter 8 in the thick study guide. “U.S. history. I think I’ll start with U.S. history. My personal favorite. I’ve always been fond of U.S. history. Tommy, do you like U.S. history?”

  The effects of the drug were subsiding. Tommy was able to wiggle his shoulders and managed a few groans. His hands and ankles were still impossibly tethered by the twine. He breathed deeply and deliberately through his nose, the only available life vent.

  “Now, I’ll start off easy. And I want clear, distinct responses,” Benny said as he put on a pair of drugstore reading glasses and clutched a small box of grade school aluminum stars. “And if you don’t know the answer, just say so and I’ll go to the next question,” Benny continued, knowing full well Tommy’s mouth was bound by duct tape. “But if you do know the answer, you get a gold star. If you get three gold stars in a row, I’ll let you go!”

  Tommy managed to shimmy his pelvis a few inches. Benny saw this, grabbed the tire iron and held it over Tommy’s head.

  “If you don’t keep still I’ll have to use this,” Benny threatened.

  Tommy didn’t move.

  “OK, now I’ll have to start again,” Benny said, miffed at his hostage. “You know, Tommy, that really chaps my ass. I told you to keep still. And what do you do? You move your pelvis.” Whack! Benny hit Tommy’s left shin with the tire iron. “Now for the last time--KEEP THE FUCK STILL!”

  But Tommy was still. He wasn’t moving. And he reeked of urine.

  “I can see you moving,” scolded Benny. “I’m losing patience with you. Now for God’s sake--KEEP THE FUCK STILL!” Benny repeated. Whack! Whack! The tire iron picking up speed with each blow. This time harder, on the right shin. Tommy, now able to uses his vocal chords, let out a muffled yell through the tape. This made Benny even madder.
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br />   “I did NOT say you could talk!” Benny shouted, admonishing his helpless plaything.

  Tommy started blinking his eyes, afraid to do even that much.

  “First question,” Benny stated, with tire iron in hand. “Who killed Abraham Lincoln?

  Tommy pleaded for mercy with his eyes as he desperately tried to make a sound through his fastened lips.

  “I SAID,” Benny repeated, only much louder this time, “WHO KILLED ABRAHAM LINCOLN?”

  Tommy regained the use of his legs and arms, but was unable to walk due to the tight twine. He managed to roll over once. The sight of Tommy trying to get away infuriated Benny, and he kicked Tommy in the head as hard as he could until he stopped moving but was still conscious.

  “Let’s take this from the top,” said Benny. “Now, for the last time, WHO KILLED LINCOLN? And I want you to enunciate. I know you never had a stuttering problem so I expect you to enunciate just fine.”

  Tommy was powerless as he lay there on his back while Benny parted Tommy’s bound legs. Benny swiftly kicked Tommy in his groin five times, as hard as possible, rupturing Tommy’s testicles. Tommy, dripping with sweat, tried to scream but fainted from the pain. Benny then grabbed a shot filled with epinephrine and poked the needle into Tommy’s right bicep.

  “As a chiropractor,” Benny said with a smile as he drew the needle in then out of Tommy’s arm, “I know I’m not supposed to be administering any type of drugs to my patients. It’s not part of my Indiana chiropractic license. You won’t tell anyone, will you Tommy?”

  Tommy quickly regained consciousness. Benny then lowered Tommy’s pants and pulled out Tommy’s little dick, shriveled by the cold air and drugs. He showed Tommy the knife.

  “You better get this next question right,” Benny threatened as he sharpened the blade on a large piece of gravel. “I’ll give you one more chance at a U.S. history question. This one you can’t miss.”

  Benny thumbed through the history section.

  “All right. In what year did the United States invade Germany and free the Jews from Hitler’s concentration camps? And if you miss this one, I’ll make you a little more Jewish than you want to be,” he said, pointing to the knife.

  Tommy didn’t budge as Benny repeated the question.

  “What’s your answer?” demanded Benny while mouthing the Gestapo siren. “Wha--ooo, ah-oo, ah-ooo, ah-ooo.”

  Tommy, his lips cemented with duct tape, could do nothing except wait for Benny’s next move. Benny then kicked Tommy in the mouth as hard as possible, smashing three of Tommy’s front teeth, which made a queasy squish beneath Benny’s sneaker.

  “Aw! Everybody now--aw!” Benny said while stripping the tape away from Tommy’s bloodied mouth. “Did I crack your teeth?”

  Tommy’s gums were hemorrhaging. The broken teeth stuck to the tape as Benny flung the whole mess to the ground. The Sucostrin was wearing off. Tommy was able to speak in short sentences.

  “H-h-h-errr idea. H-h-h-h-rrr idea,” mumbled Tommy.

  Benny took a hold of the knife and started sharpening it again, not knowing what Tommy meant by her idea.

  “Oops!” said Benny in a devious tone. “I’m about to commit another illegal act against my chiropractic license. I think I’ll do a little surgery, too.”

  Tommy’s pants fell to his ankles and his mouth was now visible as Benny shot him with another tranquilizer dart. Phhooooot! Tommy’s vocal chords were again paralyzed as was the rest of his body. He was still able to feel and hear everything with great intensity.

  “Boy, I’ll tell you,” Benny said, shaking his head as he finished scraping the blade, now razor sharp. “Where are your friends now when you need them? They don’t appear to be around anywhere. They sure were around about twenty years ago. And what happened to you? Where’s that brave man I once knew who beat the living shit out of me so long ago? What happened to him? Oh, there he is!”

  Benny put the knife down for a second and grabbed his cigar lighter from his bomber jacket.

  “How ‘bout a little fire, Scarecrow?” Benny laughed, borrowing a line from his favorite childhood movie as he flicked on the flame and lit it under Tommy’s dwindling prick.

  The flame quickly singed the hair off of Tommy’s ruptured sac as more saliva streamed from his mouth. Tommy again lost consciousness. Benny reached for another shot of epinephrine, quickly reviving his victim for more torture. Benny then reached for his old fashioned camera and took a picture of Tommy who was sprawled out on the leaves, soaking in his own waste.

  “You flunked the test. Not one question right. No stars for you,” Benny said as he got up, putting the box of stars in his pocket and making his way to his hidden Jon boat. It was almost 10:00 p.m. with a full sky of brightly twinkling stars.

  Benny placed a few more pieces of duct tape over Tommy’s broken smile. Tommy was fully awake as he saw Benny hitch the boat to his car and clean up the scene, removing as much evidence as possible, dismissing a few blood droplets. Benny started his motor then got out and lifted Tommy’s passive body into the boat. Benny dropped Tommy’s body onto the center slat which made a loud thud, rocking the vessel for an instant. Tommy’s right arm rested on the giant dog cage which was already in the boat. Benny then shot another dose of Sucostrin into Tommy’s right calf muscle, covered his body with a black tarp, and got into the car.

  “We’re going fishing,” Benny announced as he pulled onto Stagecoach Road and headed towards County Line Road then towards the Marquette Park Lagoon.

  The small tires on the boat trailer wobbled as Benny drove down the gravel road and made a sharp turn. It was quiet and dark down County Line Road. No other cars in sight. Benny looked in his rearview mirror, making sure the boat was still secure and his human cargo had not fallen out. He then turned left down Oak Street. He saw another car coming his way from the other direction. But that’s all it was--just another car, not a cop. He was careful not to speed or run any stop signs as he passed the Beach Pharmacy, the place where he bought Fizzies as a kid, then he continued on Oak Street. On the passenger’s side he saw the white, foamy waves of a cold Lake Michigan crashing up against the night shore. Not a dog on the beach that frigid spring night. Just up ahead he saw the old, massive, gloomy Pavilion fast approaching and the lagoon’s even colder cement pier on the right. He slowed to 15 mph and carefully turned into the Pavilion’s parking lot then drove down another hundred feet, close to the shore. He stopped, looked in the side view mirror and to his horror he saw Tommy jump out of the boat, but with his hands still tied behind his back. The Sucostrin wore off and he somehow was able to free his legs. Benny forgot he loosened the knots to part his legs when he kicked Tommy in the balls. Benny quickly grabbed the tire iron and chased Tommy down and batted him in his left knee with three sharp blows, fracturing his femur just above the knee cap. Tommy dropped to the pavement and spun around like a wounded bird, still trying to get away. It was no use. Benny quickly went back to his car and loaded another dart then fired it at Tommy, hitting him square on his left shoulder. That’s all it took to regain control.

  With Tommy secured and laying on the pavement next to the car, Benny took the large metal cage, his lantern, and the rope, then set them down next to his car. He tightened his backpack buckle, unhitched the boat and dragged it to the water then came back to fetch Tommy. He pulled the once brave bully down the stubbly hill and hoisted his body into the boat. Benny went back up the hill to get the cage and the rest of his supplies, placing everything next to the motor. Benny looked around, making sure no one was in earshot, then pushed the button on the Evinrude motor. The motor quietly purred while he took an oar and stuck it in the shallow water to push himself away from the shore. He positioned the rudder and trolled slowly out to the middle of the water. Tommy’s eyes were wide open, looking up, and he could see the stars above--he knew, for the last time.

  Lake Street was just two hundred yards away. It was 10:23 p.m. and no one was on the bridge. The lantern was not yet lit.
Lucky for Benny it was so cold that night. It was the break he needed.

  The Jon boat was nearing the base of the abutment close to the shore. That’s where Benny stopped and anchored. He snugly bound Tommy’s legs and left him in the boat and sloshed out to tie the end of the sixty-foot rope to the bottom of the bridge, climbing ten feet up the concrete structure. He found a protruding rusty medal rod sticking out of one slab and fastened the rope, pulling hard on it twice and tightening the knot. He climbed back down to get the cage. The drug was wearing off. Tommy started to wiggle around--his last chance to save his life. Benny hurriedly tied the other end of the rope to the top of the cage and opened the three foot side door. Benny pulled out his knife.

  The weak waves of the shallow water kissed the shore. There was an eerie silence. The boat was five feet from the bridge. Benny slogged to the boat through the seaweed and was overcome by a sudden flashback of his beating so long ago. The only face he saw was Tommy’s. It was as clear as it was that night on June 14th, 1973, with Tommy holding him down while the others pummeling his young, innocent frame. The fear, helplessness, and horror flooded his tormented brain. Then back to the present moment, he saw Tommy’s right leg move. Benny grabbed his knife and pulled Tommy out of the water by his shirt and stabbed him three times in his gut. Blood gushed out of Tommy’s belly and mouth as Benny, in a maniacal act of rage, severed Tommy’s penis, picked it up and forced it passed the duct tape and Tommy’s broken teeth down his throat. Tommy was fully awake--blood pouring out of his severed appendage. The water and boat now crimson.