“4104″ — Part 02

 

“You have to share,” said Annika. “Sharing means you have a kind heart.”

Harlan “Pedro” Willis smiled with his mouth closed. His teeth were stained and rotten and he knew she would notice. They always noticed. It wasn’t so bad once you got a few drinks into them. But they always noticed.

He shifted on the plastic edge of the sandbox. Wiping sweat from his palms on the fabric of of his jeans, took up the plastic shovel. This he gave to her. She plucked it eagerly from his hands. It was bright and yellow and had a character’s face painted on its plastic blade.

“Thank you,” she said.  “My name is Annika. What’s yours?”

“Pedro,” he said. He smiled again.”Are you here all alone?”

“You don’t look like ‘Pedro,’” said Annika.  “I’m twelve. I like this park. I was on the swings before, but I decided I wanted to play in the sand.”

The little playground was quiet, screened from the adjacent motorways by double stands of trees and a security fence that was used to secure it at night. The dampening effect rendered the nearby traffic almost silent. There were surveillance poles at either end, but these had been repeatedly vandalized. They were currently inoperative. Willis checked the sky for drones. It was a beautiful day.

“Are you all alone, Annika?” Pedro asked again. His lips felt dry. He ran his tongue along them. He could feel his fingers, feel the tingling in his fingertips, as he looked at her.

She wore colorful leggings and an oversized sweater bearing knitted flowers. Her hair was gold and reached her shoulders. A purple ribbon held it back. Annika hummed as she dug a trench in the sandbox.

“Daddy said I could play here,” she told him.  “He said I could play as long as I want.”

Willis looked around. The swings, the climbing wall, the gravity well… they were all empty. He scanned the trees around the park but saw no one. The parking lot was empty except for his own truck.

“I have lots of toys,” said Willis.  “You could come to my house. We could play there.”

“I’m hungry,” said Annika. “Can I have breakfast?”

“Of course!” Willis said, too quickly, not caring.  “All the breakfast you want. Let’s go.”  He held out his hand.  She took it.

“Your hand is sweaty,” she complained.  But she went with him.  He hurried her to the truck, feeling his heart hammer in his chest, worried that at any moment her father or some other park-goer would appear and ruin it. He did not start to believe in his good fortune until she was seated at his kitchen table, happily eating waffles printed in his dining nook.

His back was to her. The cooler door was open. He held the dropper of benzodiazepine.

He was trying to decide how much to give her, how many drops to put in her orange juice, when she spoke up.  “It’s warm,” she said.  “You keep it warm here. Can I play video games?”

“Of course you can, honey,” said Willis.  “The console’s connected to the television in the bedroom.”

“Okay,” said Annika. “But it’s so warm. Can you open the windows in the living room? The big ones? I like big windows.”

“Sure, honey,” said Willis.  He hurried to do it, pocketing the dropper.  When he came back to the kitchen she was already drinking the juice.  He frowned.  “Finish your juice, beautiful,” he said.  “And I’ll fix you some more.”  His voice cracked. He didn’t care.

Annika got up and went to the cooler. She began rummaging through it, making a pile of vacuum-sealed steaks. Then she examined the printer menu. Whatever she saw pleased her. Willis thought she had a beautiful smile.

“Let me show you the games, honey,” he said. He could hear his own pleading. Every part of him ached. “Right after you have your—”

“No,” said Annika. “I’ll play them by myself. Good-bye, Mister Pedro.”

The floor creaked. Willis turned, looking for the noise, head down. A very large pair of boots was waiting. The boots were were worn by a man. The man was also very large.

Willis looked up and opened his mouth to scream.

The big man folded heavy hands over Willis’ face. And squeezed.

 

* * *

 

Peyton woke on the living room sofa. It was almost big enough. Sunlight streamed through the open windows. The early breeze was cool. He had slept in his boots and his feet would be swollen. His joints ached.

He stood and went to the kitchen. Annika had made him steaks and Neggs in the night, leaving them on a plastic-covered plate in the dining nook. He stepped over the dead man on the floor and, plate in hand, ate the steaks with his fingers. He did not eat the Neggs. They had served Neggs in prison.

Annika was in the shower. He would need one as well. He estimated they had a day, perhaps two, before the pedophile’s employer or parole officer sent a drone to check on him. Peyton and Annika would need to be gone well before that.

The shower noise stopped. He checked the bedroom down the hall from it. The gaming console was still on. Its game was suspended or paused. Peyton did not understand games, but he had seen them played. He was glad they made Annika happy.

He felt the ambient moisture increase. Annika appeared at his flank wearing several towels, one of which was wound on her head. She paused to hug him. He kissed the top of her head through her towel.

She retrieved her clothes from the cleanser on the bedstand. He turned away while she dressed.

“You’re so smart, Daddy,” she told him.  “He said almost exactly the things you said he would. And he had good games. Do all the men who visit the park so much have good games?”

“Only some of them,” said Peyton.

“He must have had a kind heart, to share with us the things we need.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then you gave him a kind heart,” she said, convinced. “He had better food than I thought he would.” She looked up at him, briefly concerned. “Did you find your lunch?”

“I didn’t eat the Neggs,” he told her, nodding.  “I don’t like them.”

“Nobody does,” she said.

He waited for her to finish dressing.  “When you’re ready,” he said, “It’s time for us to go. We’ll have to find a new place to stay tonight.”

“There are other parks,” said Annika.