All this time, & still roaring. & the old women would’ve heard, & would believe I had been there. Returned to the mowing & took comfort in it as sometimes you do—back & forth, back & forth across the width of the lawn. & happening to see, glancing around—what was it?—A DOG SNIFFING AT THE VAN! A DOG!—& for a moment stood staring then clapped my hands & shouted for it to get away, & it stood staring at me for a moment & I yelled Get home! Get away! & the dog turned & trotted down the driveway. & went away. & at 6:54 P.M. I quit mowing & pushed the mower into the garage. Checked the van in the driveway seeing it seemed O.K. & no sound from the rear. Went into the house & told Grandma I was done for today, the back lawn was mowed. It was 7:00 P.M. & I had to leave. & Grandma & the other old woman looked at me. & Grandma said, Quentin, your face, & I said What about my face? & Grandma said, You look over-heated, dear, why don’t you wash up. So I washed up. & saw in the bathroom mirror Q__ P__ looking at me dazed & sunburnt-seeming. & a vein of blood in the left eye. & the hairline receding. What of your future, son?—you are over thirty years old. & the beer gut, & tight belt if I’d worn a belt which I did not, with these khaki shorts. & returned to the kitchen where Grandma & the other old woman were talking about Q__ P__, I know. & it crossed my mind I might kill them both now, & the other one out in the van, & dispose of the three corpses at once & that would save time, & I wouldn’t have to think about it anymore.
Grandma saying, Oh Quentin but can’t you stay for dinner & I said. & Grandma said Oh but I wish you would! I don’t think you eat right, living alone. A bachelor’s life is a hard one. & I said should I drive Mrs. Thatch home now. & Mrs. Thatch was staying for dinner it seemed & said oh no she would take a taxi home. & I was moving toward the door & Grandma cried Oh Quentin wait! & gave me an envelope which would contain $$$ & I took it & thanked her & left. & at the van, which was the new shining green-brown Dodge Ram & not the other, THERE WAS THE DOG AGAIN—a skinny breed with stringy hair & curving tail like a monkey’s, & alert eyes & I shouted Get away! Fuck off! & clapped my hands & kicked at it, & it ran away. Was it SQUIRREL’s dog? My .38 pistol in my pocket, should I kill the dog? No sound inside the van. Got inside, & backed out of the driveway crooked & onto the lawn but on the street drove O.K., the steering wheel was sort of tight in the new van & the bulk of the van clumsy. But I was O.K. It was 7:12 P.M. West in slow traffic along Lakeview to the lake. These hours of Q__ P__’s plan before returning to 118 North Church in the darkness had never been worked out clearly I realized & were but a blur. As in a movie there is a FADE OUT, & a FADE IN to a later time. But I could not do that. I did not have that power. I was in Time. & the clock lacking hands, & stuck. & the Dodge Ram burning gas faster than the Ford. You might be a little surprised, be prepared for the price of a full tank when you gas up the salesman said.
But I could not think of that now. Parked in Summit Park overlooking the lake & ate Froot Loops, for I was hungry, & drank from one of the wine bottles cautious to keep it hidden in the bag. For what if a cop saw, & came to question me. & the .38 pistol in my pocket I could not use in safety because the sound of the shot would be heard. Because that is the weakness of a gun, & why a knife is superior. But to kill any living thing with a knife is not easy. You would want to avoid it if you could. The sun was still high in the sky above the lake & I thought It will never get dark. A ridge of dark ragged cloud like broken teeth at the edge of the lake, & brighter sky above. & my ZOMBIE a burden to me & not the joy I had expected. & I finished the first bottle, & must’ve dozed behind the wheel, & woke hearing a snort which was out of my own throat. & still the day was light! & the sun glaring above the same ridge of cloud. Like a blind eye, yet it is still glaring. & the waves of Lake Michigan lapping & tepid in the heat. Toxin-waves Junie said. What have we done to nature! Junie said. She will look into your eyes & know: & what must you do? I turned to stare at the plywood partition behind the seats & it was—just there. & no sound beyond. & for a moment could not remember who was back there—which one of my specimens. For everything that happens, has happened. & will happen again. & remembering then the boy climbing out of the swimming pool—so shining with life. & began to feel revived again, & excited. For he was mine now, & always will be so. In sickness & in health & till Death depart.
So started the motor & drove through the picnic area, so many people! families! so many kids! the smell of charcoal-grilled meat, & slowly through the park & this weird thought came Yes but you could release him even now, dump him into the woods & somebody would find him. For it is TODD CUTTLER he saw, & not Q__ P__. But I was pissed with him. Always you get pissed with them, & want to punish. Taunting me & following me in my head all these weeks. Looking through me in the Humpty Dumpty like there was nobody where I sat. & provoking me, that sidelong dimple-smile & green eyes. & I was driving south into Mt. Vernon along the lake & began to feel a warning. & turned on the radio to listen for news, for it was 8:08 P.M. now & by now SQUIRREL would be missed. & maybe the police had been notified? & beginning to search, & set up road-blocks? There was nothing on the news. But that might’ve been a trick. Yet I could not return home till nighttime, & dark. & there is where you fuck up, Quentin, for all your plans. I heard the mockery in Dad’s voice yet did not blame him. & so decided suddenly I would turn, & drive north of the city after all, on Route 31 familiar to me as my own face. & so past Holland, & past Muskegon & by 9:20 P.M. & darkness I was beyond Ludington & in the Manistee Forest & feeling O.K. knowing I had made a right decision. For it had not been so, what I had told Dad’s lawyer. That the Mt. Vernon cops cruised North Church & harassed me.
Yet it seemed now so obvious it was so. & I did not know it. & SQUIRREL’s disappearance in Dale Springs would alert the police to known sex offenders in that area. & how any would there be—dozens, a hundred. & Q__ P__ on the computer with these. & so it was shrewd to escape Mt. Vernon, & I parked on the side of a forest trail & went into the rear of the van & the light came on & the smell of urine stung my nostrils & excited me & I saw the body, the boy, flat on his back on the floor, head hidden in the burlap sack, part naked & his skinny rib cage moving still breathing! still alive. I had crushed something in his throat I believe—windpipe? larynx? & so tied him with tape & rope it was like a child would tie somebody, wound round & round. Hello I said. Hi. Squatted over him & touched & caressed & stroked but the little penis was limp & cool like a dead thing, I squeezed it to rouse some life in him & his muscles jerked & he seemed to cry out inside the sponge. I yanked off the burlap sack—& there was his face. His face, but changed. & not so good-looking now. The lower part of his face was taped over but the eyes fluttered open. Now you see my true face, now you know your Master. Splashed Evian water on him & a focus came into his eyes & I saw the terror in them. I won’t hurt you, I am your friend. If you don’t fight me. My voice tender & cajoling. Yet he did not seem to hear. There was the terror in his eyes, & the tension in his body tight as a board. A homely kid with blood-caked nostrils, I was getting pissed at him. His cock shriveled so tiny, like a ten-year-old’s, & that look in his eyes. & thrashing his head, & trying again to fight—to fight me!—weak as a broken worm.