Misfits
Part Four
The man, the dead man, was sprawled out on the forest floor. Shiloh didn’t feel sorry for him, he was a monster. There was no hate though, no anger. He used a lamp, one with a heavy brass base. He meant to kill with the blow. No doubt there. He was going to kill Shiloh and lock the door and leave and assume that the police wouldn’t waste any time investigating the murder of one of those people. Maybe there should have been anger or even hate, but there wasn’t.
There was hunger though. Shiloh grabbed the body by the wrists and pulled it along with ease toward the fence. Always a cheap motel, always the outskirts of town, but never too cheap. Never one of the places that rents by the week, full to brim with meth addicts or working girls. The motel had been nearly empty, the man ran through the woods after Shiloh lashed out in self-defense, he only got a block or so. The other side of the fence was a dry cleaner, a dance studio, and one of those post office kiosks. Across from that was an empty field with a for lease or sale sign and across on the other side was an office building. Luck showed a hand in things there. There were no people here, not at night. Shiloh looked around carefully anyway before lifting the body and heaving it over the fence.
The corpse landed with a heavy thud and Shiloh took a few steps back before taking a running jump over the fence. Best to do it all alone and before Wendy was on hand to see it. She was jealous, always. Ever since they were small children. The jealousy was always masked with her careful tone, emulating father’s way of speaking without even realizing it.
“Never let anyone see you change. Never do anything a normal child couldn’t do unless you know you are alone.” Those were the words she always used but they never held up. They were alone, together, nearly every hour of every day and still Shiloh had to hide. Play weak, play little, play dumb, because otherwise the yelling would start.
The van came around the corner and pulled up close to the corpse, Wendy stepped out already motioning at Shiloh and the fence. “You should have waited.”
Wendy was going to yell either way. The newest counter on hand was saying nothing, hoping the fire puts itself out. Shiloh grabbed the corpse and started pulling it over to the back of the van. “I said, you need to wait for me, someone could have seen you.”
Shiloh kept quiet and put the corpse down long enough to reach for the handles on the van doors. The yelling started, father came into it, he always did. Start with guilt, always guilt. Shiloh reached down and pulled too hard on the corpse. Skin ripped, tendons popped, tissue tore. All the usual sounds of pulling apart a carcass. Shiloh was quick to drop the arm but the shirt was already turning dark red at the torn armpit that still kept the arm somewhat attached to the rest of the corpse.
The yelling stopped.