Read Online Top Ten by Ryne Douglas Pearson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ryne Douglas Pearson
Ads: Link
abuse of her, grabbing her by the hair, saying something to her. And her shaking her head. And finally nodding.
And showing her the thing he’d ripped off the wall–the missing most wanted bulletin, Ariel had decided. He’d shoved it in her face. Rubbed her nose in it, at one point. Was he threatening her with it, saying ‘ Do you know who I am? Do you know what I am capable of? ’ Was he saying that?
If so, why would that make him mad?
Ariel watched the tape until it turned to snow then rewound it again. She rubbed her eyes and went to her stomach, laying with her head at the foot of the bed, hands with soda and remote dangling over the edge. She sipped the soda and listened to the tape machine whir. When a loud and abrupt click signaled its stop she put the can of soda on the bronzish carpet and pressed play yet again. Time thirty one or thirty two or thirty three. She’d lost count.
It began again, and in a moment she saw him surprising her, then he was gone and the system cycled through lobby, counter, and sorting room before coming to the back lot again. The cycling continued in two second snippets. Ariel saw a flash of the knife and then she was back in the lobby again. Counter. Sort room. And back lot again as he held the knife before her, displaying it.
Ariel paused it there. The scene quivered. She came off her stomach and sat cross-legged now on the end of the bed, leaning toward the frozen scene on the motel TV. Toward the image of Michaelangelo showing Doris May his knife. Displaying it for her. Displaying it...
...calmly.
His stance was steady. There was no animation. She was frightened. He seemed composed. Experienced .
And he was that, wasn’t he, Ariel realized. So why was he calm here and later...
She fast forwarded the tape to where he appeared to her to become agitated, there at the table, just before he ripped the most wanted bulletin from the wall.
She paused again, but was not quick enough on the button and ended up on an empty scene of the counter. She rewound, and found her place this time, stilling the image just right.
There, he was showing it to her. Showing it. Saying something, because...
She advanced the tape a bit, through counter, sorting room, and back lot, until she saw Doris May nodding.
She froze it there. There on Doris May terrified and nodding. Nodding to what, though? A question? ‘ Do you recognize me? ’
She let it play again through the cycle, and stopped on a more frightened Doris May, her hair bunched in Michaelangelo’s fist. He was showing her the bulletin again—no, he was forcing it upon her, angrily, enraged, leaning toward her, over her.
Again she stilled the scene. Stilled it on his rage. And the object of his rage, Doris May, already bleeding and now having a piece of paper shoved in her face. Why?
She had nodded. Counter. Sorting room. Back lot. He was enraged . Why? Had her response not been what he wanted?
But her response to what?
Ariel shook her head tiredly and let the tape play again. Let it play through. Through a minute or so at the counter and Doris staring at the bulletin, Michaelangelo next to her, just standing there, looking at it together.
Why?
And then there she was, looking back to him. Counter. Sorting room. Back lot. Her head shaking. Saying something. ‘No’? ‘Please’? What? Counter. Sorting room. Back lot. And Michaelangelo putting the bulletin on the table, his knife going to her breast. Counter. Sorting room. Back lot. And Doris May slumping to the floor, her life gushing out her neck. Counter. Sorting room. Back lot.
Ariel watched it happen again. The cutting. The butchery. The slaughter of Doris May. The pieces of her being carried one, two, three at a time past the counter. Those pieces being taken into one room off a small hallway visible from the sorting room camera, then directly across the hall to another as Michaelangelo made himself busy with his art.
Ariel sipped her soda as Michaelangelo came back to
And showing her the thing he’d ripped off the wall–the missing most wanted bulletin, Ariel had decided. He’d shoved it in her face. Rubbed her nose in it, at one point. Was he threatening her with it, saying ‘ Do you know who I am? Do you know what I am capable of? ’ Was he saying that?
If so, why would that make him mad?
Ariel watched the tape until it turned to snow then rewound it again. She rubbed her eyes and went to her stomach, laying with her head at the foot of the bed, hands with soda and remote dangling over the edge. She sipped the soda and listened to the tape machine whir. When a loud and abrupt click signaled its stop she put the can of soda on the bronzish carpet and pressed play yet again. Time thirty one or thirty two or thirty three. She’d lost count.
It began again, and in a moment she saw him surprising her, then he was gone and the system cycled through lobby, counter, and sorting room before coming to the back lot again. The cycling continued in two second snippets. Ariel saw a flash of the knife and then she was back in the lobby again. Counter. Sort room. And back lot again as he held the knife before her, displaying it.
Ariel paused it there. The scene quivered. She came off her stomach and sat cross-legged now on the end of the bed, leaning toward the frozen scene on the motel TV. Toward the image of Michaelangelo showing Doris May his knife. Displaying it for her. Displaying it...
...calmly.
His stance was steady. There was no animation. She was frightened. He seemed composed. Experienced .
And he was that, wasn’t he, Ariel realized. So why was he calm here and later...
She fast forwarded the tape to where he appeared to her to become agitated, there at the table, just before he ripped the most wanted bulletin from the wall.
She paused again, but was not quick enough on the button and ended up on an empty scene of the counter. She rewound, and found her place this time, stilling the image just right.
There, he was showing it to her. Showing it. Saying something, because...
She advanced the tape a bit, through counter, sorting room, and back lot, until she saw Doris May nodding.
She froze it there. There on Doris May terrified and nodding. Nodding to what, though? A question? ‘ Do you recognize me? ’
She let it play again through the cycle, and stopped on a more frightened Doris May, her hair bunched in Michaelangelo’s fist. He was showing her the bulletin again—no, he was forcing it upon her, angrily, enraged, leaning toward her, over her.
Again she stilled the scene. Stilled it on his rage. And the object of his rage, Doris May, already bleeding and now having a piece of paper shoved in her face. Why?
She had nodded. Counter. Sorting room. Back lot. He was enraged . Why? Had her response not been what he wanted?
But her response to what?
Ariel shook her head tiredly and let the tape play again. Let it play through. Through a minute or so at the counter and Doris staring at the bulletin, Michaelangelo next to her, just standing there, looking at it together.
Why?
And then there she was, looking back to him. Counter. Sorting room. Back lot. Her head shaking. Saying something. ‘No’? ‘Please’? What? Counter. Sorting room. Back lot. And Michaelangelo putting the bulletin on the table, his knife going to her breast. Counter. Sorting room. Back lot. And Doris May slumping to the floor, her life gushing out her neck. Counter. Sorting room. Back lot.
Ariel watched it happen again. The cutting. The butchery. The slaughter of Doris May. The pieces of her being carried one, two, three at a time past the counter. Those pieces being taken into one room off a small hallway visible from the sorting room camera, then directly across the hall to another as Michaelangelo made himself busy with his art.
Ariel sipped her soda as Michaelangelo came back to
Similar Books
