The following night, Ernie arrived at the park at exactly nine-forty-five. He pulled the long hunting knife from the slot in his boot and ran his thumb along the razor-sharp blade. Blood oozed from the small gash and he licked it away. He snickered under his breath and returned the knife to its holster. First he would cut out her lying tongue, then before she drowned in her own blood, he would carve the heart from her body while it was still beating. But first they would play the Truth or Die game. He knew he would fry for his crime, but hell would be worth it.
He patted the small tape recorder in his pocket and smiled. He knew her weakness. When she felt the sharp point of the knife press against her jugler, she would confess her part in the robbery. She would also admit how her fine upstanding husband helped plan the robbery, then lied to protect Alice and keep the money.
Ernie knew all the horrile things that went on inside the prison walls. After the police heard Alice's taped confession, Johnny would discover the horrors for himself. There are certain things that are worse than death. All in all, Ernie figured Alice would be the more fortunate of the two.
At precisely ten-fifteen, the patrol car crawled down Salem Avenue, then turned left onto Oak Street. Ernie crept from the shadows and resumed his surveillance of the front door of 433.
Just like every other night, at ten-thirty sharp, the front door opened and Johnny came out. Alice waited in the doorway, they kissed, he drove away, and the porch light went out.
And just like all the other nights before, the lights downstairs went out one by one. But Ernie didn't see the back door open, and the shadow slip into the kitchen and up the stairs.
The upstairs light came on, then went off thirty minutes later. Ernie waited for another fifteen minutes. He cracked his knuckles, did six deep knee bends to loosen his joints and twisted his ankles back and forth to prevent any cracking noises once he was inside the house, then he squeezed his eyes shut to help them adjust to the darkness. He was ready.
He crept across the street, taking care to remain in the shadows. He made his way stealthily around to the kitchen door and went to work on the lock. A moment later, the lock clicked and he pushed the door open silently. He moved soundlessly across the kitchen, down the hall and up the stairs. He located the bedroom door on the right and slowly turned the knob.
At that moment, the bedside lamp flashed on, temporarily blinding him.
"Hello, Ernie," Alice said, "I've been expecting you."
As his eyes became accustomed to the light, he saw her sitting propped against the pillows in the middle of the king-size bed. She hadn't changed much in six years. Her hair was the same shiny black it had always been; her body beneath the covers looked as slender as always. Only her eyes had changed. Where once they had held awe and fear of him, they were now cold and fearless, like two sapphire marbles in her pale face.
She spoke again, her voice dripping with scorn. "I figured you'd be here sooner. What took you so long?"
In that instant, Ernie would have hated her even more, had it been possible. He spoke for the first time. "You double-crossing little tramp. I've waited for six years to get even with you." He slid the knife from his boot and the blade flashed in the light from the bedside lamp.
He began walking toward the bed, expecting to see the old familiar fear in her eyes. She only smiled and snapped her fingers twice. Ernie heard a sound behind him that turned his blood to ice water. The hand holding the knife began to shake. "Alice..."
"I'm sorry, Ernie," Alice interrupted him, "you see, Leo's been waiting too."
Slowly, he turned toward the doorway and found himself staring into the ugly, snarling face of the despised puppy he had given Alice ove six years ago, very much alive and 'very' grown up and still bearing the scars of Ernie's abuse.
Ernie aimed the knife at the huge Doberman's heaving chest. His palms were sweating. Then he heard Alice whisper softly, "Come get him, Leo."
For the first time ever, The Surgeon dropped his knife. The last thing he saw was the red tongue dripping saliva, and the huge gleaming white fangs lunging at him...
The courts ruled Ernie incompetent to stand trial. He never goes outside to walk around the grounds. He never participates in any of the group sessions. In fact he has never spoken a word to the other inmates at the facility for the criminally insane, where he now resides. He lies on his bed, his horribly disfigured face contorted in misery. He just lies there and stares at the ceiling with his one good eye, the other has only a socket where an eye used to be. The inmates whisper about him. They say he can't talk, that he no longer has a tongue. But Ernie can talk. Others have heard him mumbling in his sleep. He always repeats the same phrase, over and over. If one listens closley, they can make out the words: "I never counted on Leo being alive."
© 1991 Leeuna Foster
