You Only Die Twice

Chapter TWENTY-FOUR





When they reached the truck, daylight had waned. But they made it through the woods. They came upon no other hunters, no other animals. They were safe now. They were in the clear.

The road was quiet. The truck looked as if it hadn’t been tampered with. Everything appeared good and right. God was with them.

God also was the reason they chose this place that was so far away from anywhere, it was barely there at all. Monson, Maine. A place where you could drag a whore into the woods and let her fend for her life until the decision was made to end it.

But the woods weren’t all that Ted Carpenter imagined them to be. The moose, for instance―he never saw that coming. And Lord knows, he never thought he’d have to run from one, only to get lost. Getting lost surprised him because they had studied the woods so carefully. And then there was the hunter, bursting through the trees, only to be killed by Kenneth and sent to hell by him.

They were being challenged as a team, and he personally was being challenged by Kenneth, who now was opening up the large plastic storage box that was at the front of the truck bed and removing from it the tactical night vision goggles they’d wear when it got dark. He watched the young man before him and wished that, in his youth, he had been as similarly focused when it came to doing God’s work. He respected him on that level. He just needed to bring him around and let him know that, as God saw it, it was he who was in charge.

“Kenneth,” he said, “can we have a word?”

“We don’t have time for a word, Ted. We need―”

“We have time, Kenneth. I need to have a word with you now.”

The direct tone of his voice made Kenneth look up at him. He met his eyes―those ice blue eyes framed by the thick dark lashes that caused every woman to melt when he approached them at bars like The Grind―and held his gaze with an unflinching authority Kenneth hadn’t seen in them before.

Generally, Ted’s eyes were without emotion―at least that’s what his mother used to say about him when she was alive (“They look dead to me. You look dead to me. What’s wrong with you?”).

It’s also what some of his teachers used to say to her. They’d tell her that they were worried about him. No friends. No social activities. Just him and his worn-out Bible, the reading of which took precedent over school work. Since his mother was a God-fearing woman, she protected him when it came to his Bible studies, but she also told him that learning math and English and history also were important.

“You’ve got to make time for all of it, Teddy,” she said to him one day, when another concern arrived from one of his teachers.

“Yes, Mama.”

“Just do enough to get some average grades―nothing spectacular because the good Lord knows you don’t have anything spectacular in you―then you can get out of there and become the holy-rolling preacher we all know you want to be. You can gather your flock then. You might even be happy then. Happy enough that it will show in your eyes.”

“Yes, Mama.”

And that’s what he did. He graduated with a 2.1 GPA, which was enough to get him out of high school with a solid D average and start thinking about his future.

In front of him, Kenneth shifted. “What do you need to say, Ted?”

“That you’ve been sinning.”

“That I’ve been what?”

“Sinning. You’ve been sinning. I don’t think you realize it because things are tense again, but you’ve been sinning. You need that brought to your attention and you need to correct it before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?”

Ted pointed a finger toward heaven. “Too late for Him.”

Kenneth screwed up his face at him. “What are you talking about? How have I been sinning?”

“I’m your elder.”

“So what if you are?”

“What does the scripture say about your elders, Kenneth?”

His face went blank for a minute. The Bible said plenty about elders. Ted could tell he was trying to decide where he had made an offense, but he wasn’t willing to wait for him to figure it out.

“You’re trying to lead this operation―you said you were the ‘Chosen One,’ whatever the hell that means―when we’ve only ever worked together as a team. You’re trying to establish yourself here, trying to push me aside and take control, but I won’t have it. 1 Peter 5:5 says that ‘Likewise, you who are younger, be subject to the elders.’ Have you forgotten that? By rising up and trying to run the show, by having an edge in your voice when you speak to me in utter disrespect, you are sinning. For your soul’s sake, I suggest you repent. Because unless you repent, you will perish.”

“I disagree. I don’t see how I’ve sinned.”

“Are you arguing with me, or with Him? There’s a big difference, Kenneth, and I’m not the only one watching. You know what you’ve done, you know the tone of voice you used with me when I got lost in the woods. You also know how you’ve treated me since. Get on your knees and repent. Bow down now and repent or perish. Listen to Acts 3:19: ‘Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that time of refreshing may come from the Lord.’ Are you hearing me? Are you hearing Him? Your choice, boy, but I pray you make the correct one, because I’d hate to work without you.”

And Kenneth Berkowitz, who never had bowed to anyone except to God, thought of what Ted said to him and came to the conclusion that he was right. He had sinned against his elder. He had spoken to him with a condescending edge. He lifted his head to the sky and closed his eyes, which became moist after a moment of shame and regret.

Sometimes, he felt that all of this was too much, too tiring and taxing, but he had to believe that what he was doing with Ted was right and worth the effort. If he didn’t believe that, then what was the point? What was the use of doing any of this?

Just as Ted had lost his way in the woods, he was on the cusp of losing his way with God. He put his hand on Kenneth’s shoulder, nodded at him and dropped to his knees.

In the distance, there was a disturbance in the air.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me, Kenneth,” Ted said, turning to his left and looking down the road, where he thought he could hear something, though he wasn’t exactly what. “It’s not about me. You need to admit your guilt and promise to God that you will never repeat the sin again. Are you willing to do that?”

“Of course, I am.” He started to weep.

Now Ted understood the sound. A car was coming in their direction.

“I didn’t mean any of it,” Kenneth said. “I’m just caught up, that’s all. I know we work well together. I’ll never do it again. I promise. And I do repent. I do.”

“Kenneth, I need you to stand up.”

But Kenneth didn’t hear him. He was in touch with God. He was in the in between. He was on a higher plane and his soul was dizzy from it. “I know I did wrong by You today. I’m so sorry to You and to Ted. Please forgive me, Father.”

“You need to stand up. Now.”

“What Ted and I have created has helped to cleanse the world of its whorish sinners. We’ve made a difference. Not nearly enough, for sure, but we’ve done things that no one has done and we will soldier on.”

Soon, the car would crest the hill far off to their left. “Get up,” he said to Kenneth. “Get up!”

But Kenneth, in the full throes of the Lord and how he had sinned against Him, lowered his face to Ted’s boots. He pressed his cheek against them, he kissed them, he lifted his hands to Ted’s calves, he leaned his face against his knees, and he cried. When he did so, the car came over the hill and Ted nudged Kenneth with his foot.

“Get the f*ck up!”

But it was too late. The sight of a grown man on his knees in front of another grown man in a barren place like Monson was enough to get that car to slow down and for its driver to take notice. As if in a fog, Kenneth turned to it slowly, tears streaming down his face as the car rolled to a stop beside them. It was a gold LeBaron, probably from the early eighties, with barely any treads on its tires and eaten through with rust. A portion of one of the rusty holes was covered with a bumper sticker that said, “Honey Boo Boo is Ma Boo.” Inside were three men, all wearing orange vests and orange caps. Rifles probably in the trunk.

Hunters.

The passenger, an obese man with a thick, grisly gray beard that was so bushy, it concealed his mouth, raised his eyebrows at them and pressed a button that rolled down the passenger-side window. Sitting in the passenger seat was a skinny man half the driver’s age with a thin black mullet. He was chewing something that wasn’t gum or food.

Tobacco, Ted thought.

The passenger sneered down at Kenneth, who was still on his knees, and then he looked over at the man who was driving. Ted noted that the driver’s gut was so big, it sagged upon the steering wheel.

“What’s goin’ on?” the driver said.

“My friend here just got the news that his daddy died. He’s not taking it well.”

“That so?” the driver said.

Ted nodded. “Just got the news on his cell.”

“Well, if that’s true, that sucks. But between us? It looked like he was about to give you a blow job.”

“A what?”

He raised his voice. “I said, it looked like he was about to suck your dick. Right out here in public.”

Everyone in the car broke into laughter. Kenneth stood and faced them. For a moment, it was clear that they were assessing his size and his sheer muscular bulk, and that they were surprised by it. Then something else flickered in their eyes. Recognition.

“How do I know you?” the driver asked.

“You don’t.”

“Not true. I’ve seen you somewhere before. Recent.”

“You’ve never seen me before.”

The men in the car exchanged glances. “He look familiar to you two?” the driver asked his friends.

They nodded, but all agreed they didn’t know why. “It’s not as if we hang around with a couple of fags,” the man with the mullet said.

“What makes you think we’re a couple of fags?” Kenneth said.

“Because you were on your knees about to suck him off. Looked pretty f*ckin’ obvious to me.”

“I said he lost his father,” Ted said. “I told you he was upset.”

“Why don’t I believe that?”

In Ted’s jacket pocket was his Glock. It would be easy to grab and to use, provided they didn’t have guns in their laps, which they might. “I don’t give a shit what you believe.”

A silence stretched.

The driver stared at Kenneth’s face. “I know you, boy.”

Kenneth stepped forward. “Want to know what I know?”

“Enlighten me.”

“I know that sloth is a sin. And so is gluttony.”

“Gluttony? What the f*ck is gluttony?”

“Greedy and excessive indulgence. Since you probably don’t even know what that means, let me bring it down to your level. It’s eating everything in sight. It’s not stopping. It’s gorging yourself full of food and then eating more.”

“You callin’ me fat, boy?”

“Are you suggesting that you’re not?”

“He’s callin’ you fat, Roy,” the man in the passenger seat said.

“Actually, I’m saying that Roy here is a lazy fat f*ck. And as for you, Smokey, it looks like Satan himself ate away at your diseased teeth and rotten gums.”

“You got a mouth on you, boy.”

“And least I can see mine,” Kenneth said to the driver.

“Nobody calls me fat, motherf*cker.”

“I believe I just did, Roy. That, and you’re a disgrace. You’re a sinner. And the rest of these beasts in this shithole of a car with you? They’re all the same, because sinners attract sinners like flies to a piece of dog shit. You all breed sin. I can smell it on you. It reeks of filth. It’s spoiling the air.”

“Can you believe this shit?” the man in the backseat said. He was somewhere in his fifties with short, wavy blond hair. His skin was pockmarked and had a reddish complexion. “That cocksucker is tryin’ to take us on. What fag thinks he can take on the three of us? Couple of fruits, that’s who. Boys, we got us a strawberry and a dingleberry thinking they can give us shit.”

They started to laugh again.

While they did, Ted Carpenter pulled his Glock out of his jacket pocket and pointed it at the driver. “Hands up, Roy,” he said. “That also goes for the rest of you.”

But nobody moved.

“You think no one is gonna hear a gunshot, a*shole?” Roy said. “Or three gunshots? Or twenty? Because that’s what it’s going to take to take us out. This place ain’t nothin’ but a pool of silence. They’ll hear it all, they’ll call the police and you’ll roast in hell. F*ck you if you can’t take a joke.”

“So, now it’s a joke?”

“Sure, it’s a joke―on you, shitf*ck. Go ahead. Shoot. Or do you even have the balls to shoot us? When someone hears it, your asses will be hauled to prison, and in the end, even if you do kill us, you’ll die in court, you’ll be sent to prison, and right there, all of your faggot dreams will come true. Your asses will be f*cked long and hard by dozens of other faggots, which I bet is just how you’d like it.”

“Have you noticed that my gun has a silencer?” Ted asked.

Three sets of eyes looked on the barrel of the gun. By their blank expressions, they hadn’t noticed. They looked back at him and said nothing.

“Put your hands up where I can see them.”

The driver, Roy, looked at the man beside him.

“I asked you to put your hands up.”

“Just do it, Jimmy,” Roy said. “F*ckin’ do it.”

“You’re name is Jimmy?” Ted said to the man beside Roy.

“You don’t need to know my name, faggot.”

Ted cocked the gun and pointed it at the man’s forehead. “I’ll ask again. Is your name Jimmy?”

The man looked at the gun and swallowed hard. “Look, we didn’t mean to cause any trouble, OK? We’re all just a little drunk. We spent the morning at Judy’s in Bangor. Beer and eggs, but I ain’t gonna lie. It was mostly beer. Shootin’ the shit, watching some TV. Now, we’re going huntin’. Yearly tradition. That’s all. No need to take any of this personal―” He stopped short and turned to Kenneth, his eyes wider than they were a moment ago. “The TV,” he said. “You’re the guy in the drawing they showed on the news. That was your face. That’s how we know you.”

“You saw my face on the news?” Kenneth asked.

Roy leaned down and looked at Kenneth. “That’s right,” he said. “That’s you. You’re the one this whole f*ckin’ state is lookin’ for. You’re the one wanted for rape.”

“So, there goes your faggot theory,” Kenneth said. “And just so you know, when I raped that whore, I pounded the shit out of her. I made it hurt. And right now, behind me in those woods, is her friend Cheryl Dunning, another whore we’re going to kill because that’s what we do. We rid the world of diseased sinners like them and, frankly, like you.”

Knowing this had to end now, Ted Carpenter pulled the trigger and Jimmy’s head, with its ratty mullet and his ruined teeth, exploded onto Roy’s face and his balloon of a gut. He yelped in horror, pushed Jimmy off him and scrambled to put the car in gear while the man in the back seat started to scream.

Ted aimed his gun at his screaming mouth, shot and silenced him. Then, before any other car could appear on either horizon, he took aim at Roy, who was trying to get the LeBaron’s thankless transmission into gear, and blew a hole through his temple, which sent his head smashing through the side window.

But he didn’t die. At least not then.

Like some sort of massive, maimed animal who couldn’t be brought down with a single shot, he started to convulse. His jaw yawned open and his tongue darted out as the shock of his own impending death pressed down upon him. No part of his body knew what to do with itself. His hands quivered as his arms lifted and slammed against the dashboard. His legs raised and fell. Because of his enormous, rock-hard ball of a stomach, which was wedged against the steering wheel, he couldn’t really move. He was imprisoned by his own gluttony. When his head turned sharply in Ted’s direction, the man’s eyes seemed to have doubled in size. From the bottom of his bottomless gut, he let out some kind of roar. Was it anger? Fear? Didn’t matter. Whatever the sound was, he was certain it was Satan speaking to him, and so Ted put a bullet through one of those bulging eyes and Roy, who had a Honey Boo Boo bumper sticker covering a hole in the side of his car and who had eaten himself into a four-hundred-pound birthday suit, slumped forward, dead.

Ted looked at Kenneth, who seemed thrilled by the kills.

“Why do I want to eat them?” he asked.

“Take that up with God. We need to hide the car. Now. Your face is out there. She obviously went to the police and didn’t take your advice. But that’s fine. We knew the risks. We want our cause out there. We want people on alert so they’ll change their ways. But anyone could come by at any minute and recognize you, Kenneth. So, move.”

But Kenneth didn’t. “Let me eat them,” he said. “Or just let me have a taste. Come on, Ted. Let me eat the fat one.”

“Move your ass, Kenneth. I’m serious. We need to get them and this car off the road before someone else comes along.”

After they pushed the car into the woods, Ted stood in the middle of the road and assessed the situation.

What he saw made his stomach sink.

They’d done their best, but he knew someone would see it. He knew that as well as he knew God Himself. The LeBaron’s gold trunk was sticking out like a massive gold brick. Sunlight glinted on it. Somebody would see it, they’d find the men inside, the sheriff would be notified, then the state police would get involved, and a search would commence, especially since their truck was parked on the side of the road.

He turned to Kenneth with a stone look on his face. “Gather branches,” he said. “Get them from the fir trees and cover the car with them. We’ve got to make sure you can’t see any trace of it.”

“What about the tire tracks going into the woods?”

“I’ll rough them up with my boots and cover them with leaves. You tend to the car, I’ll tend to the tracks.”

When they finished, it was just past sundown, but still bright enough to tell that in daylight, you wouldn’t be able to see the car.

Still, that didn’t stop Ted Carpenter’s worries. Earlier, the men said that for them, hunting was a “yearly tradition.” He had no reason to doubt that because he was certain that’s how they fed their families over the winter months. Someone would eventually miss them. Phone calls would be made. “Have you seen Roy?” “I haven’t. Have you seen Jimmy?” “No.” Then the chaos would unspool. Their families knew in which woods they hunted. The police would be called. And if a police dog was brought anywhere near here? It would smell their bloody bodies in an instant and the chase would ensue.

He looked at Kenneth. “Get the goggles,” he said. “We find Cheryl Dunning now, we kill her and then we get the hell out of this state before it’s too late.”