CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Kenneth Still rubbed his face. It felt like sandpaper.
He wasn’t sure if that was his hand, his face, or both.
He read the notice again. He had a general idea of what it said, but sometimes the terms differed depending on jurisdiction.
He needed to understand those terms very clearly.
He couldn’t afford a night in jail right now.
EVICTION NOTICE
The rest of the notice detailed the rent owed and informed Kenneth that he would still be required to pay his back rent plus fees even after he was evicted. Pretty standard stuff.
“Sorry, Ken. I didn’t have a choice.”
Kenneth turned around and saw Buck, his manager, standing at the foot of the stairs with his hand in his pockets.
Buck stared at his feet, his shoulders slumped.
“The landlord’s pressuring me to collect this rent, and since you can’t pay, they want me to kick you out.
I tried to tell them you’ve been doing your best, but—”
“It’s all right, Buck,” Kenneth interrupted. “It’s not your fault.” He forced a smile, which Buck didn’t see because he didn’t look up. “I’ll be all right. I can stay with my brother in Atlanta.”
Buck perked up very slightly at that. “Okay. Sounds good. And you’ve got all thirty days too. They won’t pull any of that crap like trying to move your stuff out early or show the apartment while you’re still there.”
“Got it. Thanks, Buck.”
He walked inside before Buck could say anything else. He let the door close behind him, took a deep breath, and let it rush out of him.
His brother didn’t live in Atlanta. The parts of him that hadn’t rotted yet lived in Arlington National Cemetery, but if those parts and all the rest were still alive, they wouldn’t have taken Kenneth in. It looked like he was going to spend a while on the street again.
He rubbed his face once more and walked to his refrigerator.
He would have to drag his furniture to the curb at some point with a paper sign that read FREE.
Same with his TV. He might take the mattress with him so he could have something to sleep on at night.
It was a little foam thing that didn't weigh more than thirty pounds.
And he didn't want to sleep in the bed of his truck anymore.
He opened the fridge and grunted when he realized there was nothing there.
He had a few dollars in his pocket, enough to grab a burrito from the Taco Bell.
It was too bad he couldn’t have taken the cash from the people he’d killed, but even that slight risk would have been too dangerous.
Quantico was a small town. He knew this eviction notice was coming eventually.
Someone might have seen it on his door and thought, “Where here’s a man who has motive to rob people. ”
He sighed and rubbed his temples. He’d run to Taco Bell later. He was weary to the bone right now.
He trudged to the couch and dropped heavily onto the cushion. The ancient springs shrieked in protest. Something snapped inside, and he settled another inch into the cushion. Whatever.
He heard footsteps outside his door. Probably Buck putting an eviction notice on another unit. Kenneth was almost certainly not the only person to default on his rent in this shitty complex.
He didn’t blame Buck. The man was a depressed loser just like Kenneth.
Maybe not quite as much of a loser but definitely depressed.
His nose was starting to blossom from an alcohol habit Kenneth doubted he would ever kick, and the last time Kenneth had seen a woman anywhere near Buck, it was a Karen tenant complaining that the laundry machines weren’t taking her quarters.
A man could only survive so long in that kind of state. Eventually, they either collapsed or exploded. Like a star.
Buck was collapsing. He was going to condense to a white dwarf, crushed by the weight of his own existence, too dim for anyone to see save for a small group of obsessive people who liked staring at small, meaningless people.
Kenneth was collapsing too. He couldn’t honestly describe the past week as an explosion.
A few dead bodies in parks wasn’t a release of massive proportions.
He was becoming a dwarf too, but not a white one.
He wasn’t even bright enough to shine in his own four walls.
He was becoming a red dwarf, an even dimmer remnant.
He would wander around, occasionally spewing radiation that might vaporize an asteroid here and there, until he lost all of his energy and faded into a black dwarf, a lifeless remnant drifting unnoticed through the universe. Maybe that’s what he already was.
He switched on the TV. He kept it on a news channel. At one point, he had done so to reassure himself that some people had it worse than he did. Later, he watched it to live vicariously through other people who had it better than he did. Now he just put it on through force of habit.
Guess I won’t have that habit for much longer.
The news was running some sort of special interest piece. Something about a charity that helped rehome abandoned and abused dogs. Images of barking dogs wagging their tails and jumping happily into the arms of laughing children and beaming parents flitted across the screen.
Anger stirred inside of Kenneth. What right did they have to be so happy? Why did their lives get to be so perfect? What did they do to deserve any of that?
His fingers gripped the edge of his couch cushion, tearing new holes into the fabric.
A smiling blond reporter with breathtaking blue eyes and a body that would have driven him weak back when he thought he actually had a chance with women like that talked with another smiling blonde woman.
This one was pretty too, more of a girl-next-door look than a supermodel look but just as breathtaking in her own way.
“So Miss Declan,” the supermodel reporter asked, “What would you say is your favorite thing about dogs?”
“Well, Amanda,” Miss Declan replied, “They just bring so much joy to people’s lives.
Every time I look at my dog, I just get so happy.
I mean, I really feel like the luckiest person on Earth to be able to help people connect with their own perfect companions.
Each time I see them smile, it just makes me even happier. ”
“You fucking bitch,” Kenneth muttered.
“That is just wonderful,” Amanda replied.
“As a dog owner myself, I am so grateful for the work you’re doing for your community.
In fact—I don’t know if they told you this yet—but I will be presenting you with the Prince William County Community Achievement Award this afternoon at Veterans Memorial Park! ”
“Oh my gosh!” Miss Declan exclaimed. “Oh, that’s so exciting!”
“It’s going to be a hoot!” Amanda trilled.
She looked at the camera. “Folks, bring your dogs and bring your appetites because the Quantico Police Department and the Prince William County Sheriff's Office are hosting a benefit lunch at two o’clock this afternoon at the Veterans Memorial Park dog park where our very own Miss Natasha Declan will receive the Prince William County Community Achievement Award!”
“You goddamned whore,” Kenneth hissed.
He switched the TV off and got to his feet, trembling.
He paced back and forth in his spare apartment—his only until the police came and repossessed it—and wondered why the hell he was about to be kicked out of yet another apartment, while that grinning slut was going to get a damned medal.
For helping dogs? What about people? What about him?
Was anyone going to adopt him and take care of him?
No, he was going to starve to death if he didn’t freeze to death if he didn’t get stabbed or eaten by a goddamned bear.
But he’d get her first. He’d snuff that bitch out first. Veterans Memorial Park dog park? He knew exactly where that was. He’d found that another bitch, the jogger, right at that same park.
He headed out to his truck, not bothering to lock the door behind him. He didn’t need anything there anyway. He hopped into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The engine roared to life, then popped, then blew up. His hood dented slightly upward, and black smoke poured through the gaps.
“God damn it!” he cursed. “Whoreson motherfucker!”
He slammed his hand on the dash, and a piece of plastic cracked off. He rested his head on the steering wheel and took several deep breaths to calm himself.
It was okay. He could take the bus to the park.
Potomac Public Transport had a route that ran from Stafford to Arlington.
He’d hop on the Quantico stop and use his last few dollars to get himself to Woodbridge.
Then he could walk from there. He’d be there in time.
He’d find that bitch, and then he’d follow her, and as soon as she was alone, he’d kill her.
He opened his glove box and pulled out his gun.
The .22 was a little purse gun he’d stolen off a hooker in Detroit before he made his way southeast to Quantico.
The ceramic bullets had been harder to find, but he managed to buy some from an officer at an Army Reserve base in Kentucky.
That had cost him almost six hundred dollars—all of the money he had left in his now-closed bank account—but it had turned out to be worth it.
He only had one left, and he only had time for one murder before he needed to figure out how he was going to live with no apartment and no truck. One more bullet for Natasha Declan.
It was destiny.
He tucked the gun into his pocket, hopped out and headed for the bus stop, leaving his dead truck smoking in the parking lot. One more happy little shit stepped on. That should keep him level long enough to figure out his next move.
Or to decide he didn’t need any more next moves.
It wasn’t like things were going to get better.
His whole damned life, he’d fought hard, but no one had ever given him a chance.
It wasn’t like he was a bad person. He was honest. He paid his bills when he could.
He worked hard when he had a job. It was just that for some reason when shit had to roll, it always rolled to him.
There was no reason for it. Just bad luck. Just bad goddamned luck.
Well, he was the bad luck now, and he was going to be bad luck to one more privileged asshole who had never seen bad luck in her life. Then he would decide if he was going to save his last bullet for himself or try once more to pull himself to his feet and move on.
He had a feeling he was going to opt for the former choice.