The Butterfly Killer

Chapter 23

23

Roman lifted Marcus onto his back. For a second, Marcus thought he was too heavy for the man to carry, but Roman found his footing. His hands held Marcus’s thighs around his waist, fingers tensing over the sensitive skin of the back of his leg. He clenched his thighs at the touch.

Roman hummed. “Ticklish?”

Marcus lowered his face into the crook of Roman’s neck. It was too intimate, he knew that, but the wind pelting in his face was freezing his nose. His eyes were dry too. He didn’t know how Roman could stand it.

“No,” he grumbled into Roman’s skin.

He was very ticklish. He wasn’t going to let Roman know that.

The snow had melted in a slush that left the ground muddy. Marcus wasn’t strong enough to carry himself down the hills toward the sparse trees at the base of the mountain. Roman had been carrying him for a few minutes and wasn’t out of breath yet.

Marcus wondered how long it would be until Roman got tired. He was thinking he might be able to take him out, but what would he do then? He assumed Roman had a car somewhere near the road, wherever that might be, but he didn’t know where that car was.

He was betting on Roman getting them to the car and then maybe knocking the man out. There was a slim chance he would succeed, but he had to take a chance one way or another.

He’d been thinking the plan over for some time. He couldn’t trust anything Roman said, even if he wanted to believe Roman had a way to get to the true Butterfly Killer. Marcus wasn’t in the mood to be taking chances. He wanted to go home. He wanted to lay in his couch that was falling apart and he wanted to rot away in front of his TV as the mold in his tiny kitchen spread across the ceiling.

He wanted to catch his mother’s killer. He didn’t want to be captive of a copy cat!

Roman shook Marcus’s thigh. “Still with me?”

“I’m not dead if that’s what you’re wondering.” He felt like it though. There was a fever rising from his leg. He didn’t want to know if it was becoming infected or not. He hoped Roman had done a decent job at healing him.

“But you wish you were?”

Marcus’s brows furrowed. “What?”

He lifted his head. The sun was bright on the snow still on top of the mountain and it shined back in his eyes.

Roman didn’t say anything for a moment. There was only the sound of his feet trodding along on the soft ground. Marcus was lulled by the swaying motion as he held onto Roman. He was about to rest his head back on Roman’s shoulder, easily brushing the strange question off, but Roman then spoke.

“I just mean…you don’t want to be here.”

There was almost a question in there. Also, and Marcus didn’t want to be wrong about it, there seemed to be a bit of hope.

Marcus didn’t know what to make of it if it was hope in Roman’s voice. It seemed…too much paired with what they’d done with each other already.

He watched the barren landscape go by. It was like watching a film because it didn’t feel like he was really here, seeing this in the flesh. The cold that covered his body was flanked by the warmth of being pressed against Roman’s back.

It took him awhile to find the strength to speak. Though, it wasn’t so much as strength as it was the capability. It was like his throat had stopped working as he thought about his messy apartment and sitting in front of the television. Watching animal documentaries wasn’t so much as entertainment as it was a necessity to have something playing in the background so he didn’t feel so alone when he was home. In some ways, being around death was more social than being cooped inside his apartment.

He turned his head to the other side, pressing his cold cheek to the nape of Roman’s neck. He felt Roman shiver.

“If we’re still playing pretend…” He hesitated. He gauged Roman’s reaction. Roman was quiet, listening. Marcus continued. “…I’d stay.”

But it was all pretend. Hypothetical. They were playing a dangerous game, one that would only end with both of them getting hurt.

The crunch of the still defrosting dead grass beneath Roman’s footsteps was an echo of Marcus’s heartbeat. It thumped not just in his chest but in his ears. He swallowed. The taste in his mouth was akin to licking salt stone.

He closed his eyes. Roman carried him away from the cabin and toward the dispersed trees. The mountains loomed, but he couldn’t stand to look at them anymore. He knew he should have still been looking at his surroundings. He should actively be coming up with a plan for escape or at least try to figure out where Roman had been keeping him this entire time.

There was a reason he didn’t. A reason that kept his head buried in Roman’s neck like a coward burying his nose in the sand.

He wasn’t quite asleep when Roman stopped. He was on the cusp of sleep, drowsy and in a state of dreaming. It was the first time in a very long time that he wasn’t haunted by horrible memories when he closed his eyes. This state of thinking kept him in the mountains where he watched nature unfold beautifully. Somewhere in the distance he thought he heard running water. He imagined it was a large waterfall.

But when he looked around them, he saw it was no more than Roman pouring a cup of old coffee onto the ground.

Marcus was no longer slung on Roman’s back. He was in the car, lying in the backseat with a blanket thrown over him. It smelled like powdery rose perfume.

Roman had the driver door ajar. The overhead light was on as it was night time. The forest was all consuming. Marcus wrapped the blanket tighter around him. He could deal with the smell. He’d get used to it. He didn’t think he would get used to the trees that looked like people watching them through the thin windshield.

Roman straightened and tossed the empty paper cup onto the floorboard. He slammed the door shut. He spotted Marcus out of the corner of his eye and turned to look at him properly.

He didn’t need to say anything. Marcus knew what was expected of him: complete obedience.

They held gazes for a moment. The minute wasn’t up before Roman looked away. He turned to face forward. He turned the overhead light off and then started the car. It sputtered like it was on its last breath.

Now Marcus wondered if Roman had left the car down the mountainous terrain because it couldn’t handle the slope or if it had been giving him trouble before then.

He didn’t ask as Roman reversed out from the sparse woods. There wasn’t really a road he was following. Somehow he made it out of this part of the woods and made it onto a path carved out by other cars years before them.

Marcus stayed awake surprisingly. The blanket was warm, comforting, even with the old lady smell that made his nose burn. He twisted so he was on his side and watched Roman drive.

The faint glow of the headlights washed over the sharp points of his face. His nose wasn’t small and it wasn’t broad either. A nice medium that fit his face perfectly. He looked paler than he usually did. His complexion was naturally bronze, but now it was washed out by either the cold wind or the artificial lights.

Marcus, lost in a bleary state, thought how ironic it was that the Butterfly Killer was being chased by someone who was just like them. Roman’s cannibalism should have been frightening. Marcus should have felt some sort of apprehension about it.

But all Marcus could feel as he was in the high state of sleepiness was “finally”.

That cunt was going to get what they deserved.

Marcus did end up falling asleep. It didn’t feel like any time had passed when he woke again. He stared at the ceiling, watching as an occasional car went by. There were only a few every ten minutes or so, but then they became more frequent the closer they became to town he assumed.

He sat up a little. He felt more refreshed than he’d been in days. That wasn’t saying much since he’d been sleeping in the recliner and before that stress kept him up most times in the thin bed. The backseat wasn’t going to do his back any favors, not when he had to scrunch himself up.

The radio was on. It was playing some kind of western audio play.

“—stick ‘em up, Louise. Your brother is good as dead.”

“Even dead, he’s still more man than you’ll ever be!”

There was multiple gunshots. Marcus jumped as each one popped right after the other. If he wasn’t awake, he’d now be.

“Louise had picked up her dead brother’s hand which still clutched his pistol. She unloaded the last two rounds straight into the heart of her betrothed,” the narrator, said.

Marcus was disappointed when the narrator ended the program with a promise to air the next episode next week. Two minutes of dialogue and he was already hooked to know why Louise’s fiancee had killed her brother and where the story was heading.

He was so engrossed with the story he hadn’t realized he was leaning on the passenger seat, staring at the radio as if that would make it easier for him to hear.

It was Roman’s chuckle that roused him from his deep concentration.

“Liked that, did you?”

Marcus’s face flushed. He didn’t know why. Roman hadn’t said anything vulgar, but it felt as if he had.

“It sounded interesting.” He forced himself to look at Roman.

Roman wasn’t looking back at him. His eyes were on the road. Responsible. Safe. It seemed he didn’t have a death wish or that he was unstable.

Marcus had come across many people in his field of work that fit that description. Though, most of the time they were working alongside him.

“Hm.” Roman nodded. “How’s your leg?”

Another thing Marcus had forgotten about. At the mention of it, there was an ache of pain that went through it. He shrugged it off.

“Better. Thank you. For carrying me.”

Before, he would have made a snide-remark about Roman being the cause of it in the first place. It was just another thing he let roll off his back. It was getting easier to let things go. Easier to forgive Roman for the horrible things he’d done.

Marcus promised he would start making Roman pay for his past choices once he wasn’t hobbling around on one foot.

Roman did look at him briefly at that. There was a question in his eyes.

“We’re staying at a motel. Get some rest. We’ll be leaving early in the morning.”

Marcus squinted at the clock. “Is that right? It’s already past midnight.”

Roman’s mouth quirked. “We’re leaving before sunrise. How well can you function on four hours of sleep?”

Marcus snorted. “Give me two cups of coffee and I can do it with just two. I’m a cop. Sleep deprivation is a requirement.”

Roman’s smile could have blinded Marcus if he hadn’t looked away in time. He’d anticipated it. That was why he turned his head to avoid it. Every time Roman smiled—a genuine smile, not the cruel ones—it made him more human. The more human Roman became to him, the harder it would be to hurt him when the time came.

He didn’t want to say kill. Even thinking it now was making his stomach twist which shouldn’t be happening. He was nothing to Roman and Roman should be nothing to him in return.

Roman nodded toward the radio. “You can change it to something you like.”

The western play had turned into baseball reruns Marcus was not at all interested in. He reached over and scanned through the channels.

He paused when he heard a familiar beat. His pulse quickened. He was sure he’d mistaken the song for something else, but the more he listened, the more it became apparent that the song playing, eerily, was the one he’d been playing in his head as he danced with Roman.

He was about to change to the next channel when Roman started to hum along.

Roman tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. His head tilted from side to side.

Marcus stared at him like he was witnessing the most horrifying thing to happen to mankind. He knew he looked prettified, maybe like his life was about to end and that there was no hope.

Because that was the moment Roman won.

All the plans Marcus had made or could make crumbled as Roman sung along without missing a lyric.

“Oh, did I not mention this is one of my favorites?”

The bubble that was Marcus’s brain popped. He was submerged into a boiling pot of acid that made him itch all over. And as he itched away, he peeled off his skin. The pain cycled over and over. That itch remained.

He flinched away from the radio. He flung himself into the backseat, hiking the blanket up to his nostrils. He inhaled, breathing in the scent to clog his thoughts.

The music seemed to get louder. He closed his eyes. That wasn’t enough. He threw the blanket over his head and squeezed his eyes.

This feeling…It was panic but also calm. He was scared but also safe. This juxtaposition made him feel ill and in turn, made him crave it. He shook his head as if he could make the thoughts make sense.

The song was a throwaway, yet it meant everything to him. It wasn’t just because Roman knew it, that he’d danced with Marcus as Marcus hummed it—it was a song Marcus now realized his mother played a lot and it reminded him of her.

The car ride stretched on. Even when the song ended, it felt like they were still miles away from where they were heading. Marcus didn’t know where Roman was taking them so they could have been hours away, but by what Roman said earlier, it sounded like they were nearby.

He pulled the blanket off his head when it became too stuffy.

The fresh air was better. His head wasn’t entirely clear from the almost panic attack he had, but the world didn’t seem too off-kilter anymore.

He’d taken the blanket off just in time. The lights of a small dark motel came into view. There was a town further down the road, but from the sparse lights, it didn’t seem big.

Roman pulled into the parking lot. The car made a sputtering sound and then a jerking motion.

It completely went out just as Roman parked.

There was loud silence in the gloomy darkness surrounded by shadows casted by the low lights.

“Is it…dead?”

Roman opened the door. “It happens. I’ll have it running in the morning.”

His nonchalance didn’t convince Marcus, but he wasn’t going to argue. Getting stuck here might give him the chance to find a way to escape. Roman surely couldn’t know this place as well as the cabin. And they were closer to a town. Up at the cabin, Marcus was caged in by the weather, but now, he’d survive on the streets for awhile. He’d done it before.

Roman opened the backseat. Slowly, he held out his hand.

Marcus blinked at the hand like it was a snake Roman was offering him. He took it, still clutching the blanket to him.

It wasn’t as cold as it was up in the mountains. Still, the chill made him want to crawl back into the car. He missed the warmth he took for granted, but before he could turn back around, Roman closed the door and started pushing him toward the motel office.

The bell tied to the door jingled as they walked in. The white florescent lights brightened the small cubicle room while simultaneously made it seem darker. The shadows in the corners were more pronounced and harsh. The office table bowed beneath the dinosaur computer taking up most of the surface area.

Sitting behind the computer was an average young man with dark circles under his eyes. He was playing a loud mobile game on his phone when they came in. He turned it off as they approached the counter.

“How many nights?” He picked a random set of keys from beneath the table.

“Two,” Roman answered.

He pulled out his wallet and began to hand a card over. The man shook his head.

“Cash only.”

Roman frowned. He stared at his card like there was something wrong with it and that was the reason the man wasn’t taking it.

The man pointed to behind them. “There’s an ATM there.”

Roman looked at Marcus as if he could help. Marcus gave a shrug. Roman gave Marcus a long look. The commandment couldn’t have been clearer. Marcus was to stay put.

He did. As Roman went to the ATM, he awkwardly stood at the table. The man started to go back to his mobile game when Marcus put his hand on the table.

The man’s eyes darted upward. He leaned back. Marcus shook his head. He mouthed “help” and then “call 911”.

The man’s brows scrunched. He made a face.

Marcus mouthed the same things over again, but the man still didn’t understand what he was trying to say. Frustrated and nervous Roman was going to come back soon, he grabbed a pen and looked for something to write on.

He heard the ATM dispense money. There was a soft click as Roman grabbed his card.

There was a ledger to the side. Marcus grabbed it and began to write on it.

A hand fell down onto his. He didn’t stop writing. He was compelled to keep going. He needed to do this. He had to do something.

“Sorry. He’s drunk.”

Marcus almost blurted that he wasn’t. That probably wouldn’t help his case.

With gentleness that made Marcus grind his teeth, Roman pulled Marcus’s hand away. He pinched Marcus’s fingers hard so he was forced to drop the pen.

The man watched with a curious gaze, but he didn’t seem like it was the craziest thing he’d seen. It made Marcus wonder what happened in this motel though he didn’t really want to find out.

Roman shoved the money across the counter. The man picked it up and counted it.

The man handed the keys over and scribbled something down on the ledger, right where Marcus had been writing. Marcus strained to see his own scrawled words. They were almost illegible. The sliver of hope he had diminished.

The man gave a nod to Roman when he was done.

They walked out.

Marcus shivered. Not from the cold. It was the anticipation of the punishment that was to come when they made it to the motel room.