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ecotone99 · 4 years

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[HR] The Peaches

Gerald pulled his Geo Tracker up to the house fifteen minutes early to his appointment with Mrs. O'Brien. He hated to be late. His baseball coach in high school preached the same motto to his team during his four years at the school; "To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, to be late is to be dead". Gerald liked that axiom.

He pulled the dusty sun visor down and slid the mirror open to give himself a final glance before going to the door. His blue scrub top had a small dirt smudge on the shoulder, probably from the seat belt. The car had more rust than metal, the interior upholstery was falling apart, and the transmission slipped more often than not, but the old Neon had done well the last two years. Just one job left. After that, Gerald could by whatever car he wanted. He just had to make sure to make this one count. Gerald's gaze then drifted up to his slim, oblong face. He forgot to shave this morning and his dark stubble peppered his pale skin. His eyes gave away his late nights, with dark bags hanging like loose teeth flanking his long crooked nose. Gerald drew back his lips like a dog snarling to expose his pearly white teeth. He held this look in the mirror for some time before deciding it would be best to tone down the smile a few degrees. Yes, that's it. The perfect used car dealer's smile. Mrs. O'Brien would either like him or she wouldn't, but it would not matter for long anyway. People in his line of business tended to die often. Gerald opened his door with a loud creak and climbed out to take a good look at Mrs. O'Brien's humble abode. His car had some trouble climbing the mountain roads leading out of Maggie Valley to Mrs. O'Brien's cabin. Her log home sat at the very precipice of the mountaintop community, overlooking all the other homes sitting on the hillside and the valley town of Waynesville below. From this vantage point, Gerald could see Shady Lane Trailer Park, the place he called home. He laughed. Not only was his car out of place on the slopes, he was as well. The air was still chilly this morning, his breath coming out in little white puffs. The closest cabin from Mrs. O'Brien sat two hundred yards below, and being this late in the season Gerald doubted anyone else would be living in the hillside community. Out-of-towners and old rich fucks are the only ones that could afford these homes sitting like castles overlooking the peasants. It made for a quiet morning atop the mountain, though. Gerald liked quiet. Gerald stepped up onto the wrap around deck, his footsteps amplified by the mountain acoustics making each step sounding like a giant monster making it's way down the slope. He liked that, it was appropriate. He rounded the corner and stopped at the heavy oak door. Gerald gave two hard knocks on the door. Nothing. He knocked harder this time. Gerald thought he heard something stir inside but once again, silence. Christ, he thought, don't tell me the bitch died already. This time Gerald did hear something, faint, but definitely there. Then again, louder this time, with more sense of urgency, as if she were afraid that she might not make it to the door in time. "Come in! Yes, please, come right in, dear!" Good, Gerald thought, with his teeth bared in malicious smile, Too feeble to make it to the door. This should make things rather easy. He hid the smile and replaced it with what he considered a genuine look of concern and care then creaked open the door a few inches. Unlocked. She's the trusting type, too. Gerald poked his head into the house, "Mrs. O'Brien?" "Yes, yes, dear. Please, come in," she responded before breaking into a coughing fit. Gerald slipped into the home and closed the door gently behind him as he placed his bag on the hardwood floor. His eyes were immediately drawn to the wall of windows that overlooked the valley below, still barely visible through the morning fog. Stuffed animals heads hung on every wall, each with it's dead eyes staring at him. He liked that. The great room consisted of living space, dining area, and kitchen. A staircase climbed up to a loft that ran the length of the great room to a walled off second story room which Gerald guessed would be the master bedroom. Still no sign of Mrs. O'Brien. "Hello?" he called out, his voice amplified in the great space. Shuffling came from the hall just passed the kitchen area. "Yes, hello? Is that you, Gerald?" A walker with tennis balls on both beet appeared from around the corner of the hallway followed by the woman that appeared in the file Gerald read before making his trip up the mountain. "Yes, ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. O'Brien," he lied. Mrs. O'Brien flashed him a smile that revealed more gums than teeth. "So you're here to kill me, right?" Gerald's fake smile faltered and a genuine look of surprise took its place. "Excuse me, ma'am?" he asked. Mrs. O'Brien's nearly toothless smile grew wider and she let out a tremendous laugh that surprised Gerald. She let go of her walker briefly to clap her hands together softly before she lost her balance and returned both hands to the safety of the handles. "Oh, goodness," she said, still chuckling, "You should have seen your face, kiddo. Did the good people at Horizon Home Health not warn you of my morbid sense of humor? I figured my last helper, Jackie, would have given you the scoop on ol' Mrs. O'Brien." Gerald relaxed a little and his faux smile and look of care returned to his face. "I'm afraid not, Mrs. O'Brien. I just didn't want you to think I was some kind of monster." Not yet, at least. We'll save that for later. "Actually, Jackie hasn't been into work the past few days. That's why they sent me today." Mrs. O'Brien's smile turned sour and her eyes had a glimmer of tears. "Oh, goodness. When the scheduling folks called me I just assumed she finally got her vacation she asked for. Is she okay?" "Well, she did put in for the vacation but our boss never signed off on it," Gerald replied, "I'm sure we'll her from her any time now, we have a pretty relaxed atmosphere at Horizon. My boss was just happy that I was able to come in her place." Gerald picked up his bag and motioned with it to the table, Mrs. O'Brien nodded and Gerald made his way over to set up his gear. "If I hear anything from her, you'll be the first to know." Mrs. O'Brien looked assured. "Well I appreciate that. Everyone there seems to be so close, like a family. That's why I like when you pay me your visits." "We are fairly tight-knit," Gerald lied. In reality, Gerald didn't give two shits about Jackie or her whereabouts. She was an airheaded cunt who was frequently late. To be late is to be dead. Jackie's recent absence did have its benefits, though. One last job, Gerald thought. "Well, honey," Mrs. O'Brien started, "If you're going to be with me for any amount of time we better get one thing straight, cut the "ma'am" and "Mrs. O'Brien" bullshit, please? I'm Cheryl to to my friends, and with such a handsome face as yours, I'm hoping I can call you a friend. Gerald gave a short, forced laugh. "Very well, Cheryl, I think I can manage that. Now, what can we do for you today?" Cheryl O'Brien fought with her walker, placing it in an angle to the kitchen table before plopping her fat body into the chair. Her nightie slipped shortly, flashing her hairy snatch at Gerald. He gave a slight grimace, she gave no notice. "Could you get me my afternoon snack, dear? I know that's a bit below your usual duties, but I am quite hungry. I usually go for peaches at this time of day. I keep them in the pantry, first door on your right down the hallway." Gerald gave a polite smile. "I would be happy to, Cheryl." She gave him a weak smile before breaking into another coughing fit. Gerald turned into the hall and opened the pantry door. His hand fumbled for the switch on the wall next to the door. He found it. A fluorescent light flickered alive with a hum. Gerald stood in the doorway, confused by what he saw. The pantry had three shelves, each running the length of the eight-foot long walls and coming together at the back on a five-foot wall. A single fluorescent light fixture with two bare-tube bulbs illuminated the room. It was very plain as far as pantries go; the contents, however, were the confusing aspect of the space. Peaches; well over three hundred cans of peaches lined each shelf. The shelves were stacked four high on each shelf, not a single can out of place. A voice broke Gerald out of his confusion. "Diced or sliced, dear, I don't mind!" Cheryl called from the dining room. "I'll see what I can come up with," Gerald called back playfully. Gerald walked back into the great room area where Cheryl waited for him. Her nightie slipped again in his absence, this time exposing a sad, sagging breast. Gerald politely shielded his vision. "Oh, goodness," Cheryl started, pulling the gown up to her chin, "I'm so sorry. Jackie usually isn't as punctual as you were today; I'm usually very-well put together." "No harm," Gerald replied, faking a forgiving smile. He set the can of peaches on the table. "Now, where can I find a bowl or-" "No matter," Cheryl cut in, "This will do just fine." Before Gerald could offer once more, Cheryl reached across the table and pulled the tab on the can of peaches. She turned the can on end and slurped the peaches straight from the can. Most made their way into Cheryl's mouth where she chewed them with an open mouth, while others down on or under her nightie. Gerald watched hiding a look of disgust as Cheryl overturned the orange mass in her mouth, thrashing every peach against the few teeth she still had in her repulsive mouth. She continued gobbling until she slurped the last diced peach from the can and placed the can on the surface of table, now littered with the half-chewed bits that escaped her repugnant hole. "You'll have to excuse me, dear, "she said licking her lips, "I was hungrier than I thought." She belched. Gerald gave her a half-assed smile this time. "No matter. I needed to have a record of food intake today, looks like we can cross that off the list." Cheryl smiled at him, masses of peach clung to her few teeth and the water from the can gleamed on her chin, neck, and cleavage. This may be the easiest one I've done, Gerald thought. "It also has a shower on your list for the day, Cheryl. Would you like to take care of that now?" Gerald asked, trying to hide his sarcasm. "That would be lovely, dear. The bathroom is the second door on the right. Go ahead and run the water for me, please? The water heater has an element that's been acting up and the water takes forever to heat up." Perfect, Gerald thought, The dumb bitch is giving me an opportunity to scope out the place. "Of course, Mrs.- ...I mean Cheryl." Used-car salesman smile. Cheryl's smile widened before she broke into another coughing fit. "Please excuse me," she said after regaining control of her breathing, "I'm still getting used to the air up here."

Gerald turned the corner into the hall. "Beautiful place you have up here, Cheryl. I love the location." For once, that was the truth. It would be days before anyone would be up here to check on the broad, plenty of time to get what money or valuables he needed.

"Isn't it beautiful? Jackie said the same thing the first time she came here. She was delightful."

"Yeah, we are all hoping she comes back after the weekend," Gerald called back. He looked back on habit to see if she made it into the hallway yet. With that walker and cough, she will be like a cow with a bell. He stole a glance into an open doorway, her bedroom by the looks with a hospital bed, daily medication containers, and pill bottles that littered her bedside table.

"I certainly hope so," she called back, still struggling to get to her feet in the dining room, "When I had her for lunch on Tuesday she left her purse here. I wouldn't think she could get too far without it!"

"Odd," Gerald called back, uninterested. He found what he needed. Tucked under an old rocking chair in the corner of her bedroom was a Sentry Safe lock box. The key was hanging from the lid. "Are doing alright in there, Cheryl?", he called back to her.

"Yes, dear, these legs just aren't what they used to be."

Gerald, satisfied with what he had found, made his way into bathroom where he would spring his trap on the old bitch. He flicked on the lights, felt through the curtain of the shower and turned the water on full blast. He slid behind the door and wrapped an end of a towel in each hand, a crude but effective garrote. "Ready whenever you are, Cheryl," he shouted into the hall.

Gerald smiled at his own wit. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. He heard splashing water and his smile faded. The water from the shower was flowing over the tub walls, forming small rivers on the floor that led to his feet. He hadn't bothered to open the shower curtain, the water effects were just for show to lure the old cunt in. Gerald looked into the bathroom mirror to get a look of what was obstructing the drain and he dropped the towel.

He felt his feet splashing in the water that now covered the entire bathroom floor as he staggered to the shower curtain. He blinked slowly, grabbed curtain, and shoved it aside.

Gerald killed before. He travelled often and travelled far. He always had a different name and background when he applied for these jobs, he was good a forging, faking, and acting. His kills were clean, usually strangulation. Sometimes he used insulin if the client required it for controlling diabetes.

This was not clean.

He covered his mouth and fought the urge to vomit or scream.

Jackie's blonde hair was red with the bloody water that surrounded her. Her face, what was left of it, secreted pus from the sockets that once contained eyes. Her nose was bitten off and floating by her shoulder. Each breast was a gory stump and her intestine hung out like tentacles for the lower half of her body was gone.

"Yes," a mangled voiced said from behind him, "When I had her for lunch Tuesday she forgot her purse."

Something whizzed by Gerald's head and a purse splashed into Jackie's watery grave, spraying Gerald with carnage. He did not dare turn around, his feet were rooted the linoleum floor.

The mangled, distorted voice continued, like a some alien child trying to emulate the English language; "I've killed before. I travel often and I travel far, always with a different name and background. Turn and face me, you may recognize my kind."

Gerald felt a warm fluid spread across the front of his pants. Something slithered around his feet be he did not look; he locked his eyes shut and began a pathetic cry. "You'll have to excuse me," the voice snarled, "These legs aren't what they used to be," the creature let out a tremendous cough, "And I'm not quite used to the air up here."

The being was close now. Gerald could feel its heat on his back.

"Face me, Human. Does mies jeschet boene doesef douvema enitemaus. What do you call me, Human?"

Gerald felt himself rotating and forced his eyes open.

He looked into the mouth of madness and saw the black maw of the universe stretch and grow exponentially without end or beginning.

Then, he knew nothing.

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