Toeing the Line

It's all fun and games until you find out you're heir to a bloody family legacy.

This is a little different from what I normally write, but I actually had a lot of fun. Readers, be warned, it’s a bit of a black comedy, and it’s about serial killers. If you’re cool with that, read on.

Written for Day 7 of Flash Fiction February.

Source: Pexels

In the silence that followed his father’s last breath, James shook his head. Perhaps he hadn’t heard him correctly. And yet, the confession echoed through his mind as clear as day. His father was not the man James supposed him to be; he was much, much worse.

James didn’t grow up in a happy home, despite the white picket fence, golden retriever, and parents who stayed married. You know, all of those benchmarks that scream, “These people have their shit together!” But it was all an act. His dad wasn’t a wife-beater or anything, but he wasn’t your average family man, either. He was often locked away in his study or the basement, and there were strict rules against lingering by doorways.

So sure, James was provided for. Loved, even. But his childhoodbore the mark of some evil he couldn’t quite name, until now. His father’s confession rattled something loose like a rotten tooth, bloody on his tongue. Memories.

The human mind is a funny thing, protecting us from some of the worst moments of our lives. Hoarse screams rising from the basement like a miasma, odd smells from the study. And worst of all, for James, was seeing his father’s arms red all the way to the elbow. James had nearly blacked it out, convinced himself it was a Halloween costume. But this whole time, the WHOLE time, his father was murdering people in cold blood. In their home. And his mother was just cool with it. In fact, she apparently endorsed it. How had James’ father put it?

She knew it was a necessary evil, and though she couldn’t stomach the work herself, she helped in her own way.

“It’s the family business,” his father smiled, right before his heart gave out.

“Fuuuuuuuuuu–” James groaned, placing his head in his hands. Was he complicit in this shit, too?

The question kept resurfacing as he walked home, his body still numb from the shock of losing his father. Cancer took him, in the end, and maybe that was the universe balancing the scales or something. It wasn’t until he was staring up at his very own childhood house of horrors that he really let himself think about the other part. The family business. What the hell did he mean by that?

As if on cue, James’ phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled out the phone to see his big brother’s name lighting up the screen. The universe is being really funny today, Jame thought.

“Hello?” James said, choosing not to ignore the call.

“Heyyy, brother. Old man kicked the bucket, eh?” Matt’s voice was way too jovial, and James found himself rolling his eyes. As usual with his brother.

“How the hell would you know?”

“The contingency plan, dude.” Matt’s voice was all grating surfer bro, despite the fact that they grew up in New Hampshire.

“Right,” James trailed off.

“He made sure I’d be notified when he died, just don’t worry about the details,” Matt said.

James closed his eyes and inhaled on a four-count like his therapist said. Something about box breathing, or grounding, or whatever. He felt like he was in some sort of bad dream right now, because nothing was making sense anymore.

“Do you even care?” James whispered. He wasn’t sure why, really; he just thought if he tried to speak any louder, he might just start screaming and never stop.

“Do you?” Matt echoed, his voice suddenly serious. It was a good point, James had to admit. He and his dada weren’t on the best of terms anymore, and after the revelation… good riddance. Probably. But he was still James’ father. They had some good times together, in between all the absentee bullshit and weirdness. Maybe.

“Look,” Matt said after the silence lingered a little too long. “Dad tasked me with getting you up to speed on the family business, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“Oh hell no,” James said. “You’re a part of it? I should be calling the cops, Matt. Do you understand?”

“He thought you might freak,” Matt admitted. “Just come around back, okay?”

James didn’t bother asking how Matt knew where he was right now; there was obviously way more at play than he could possibly understand. When had Matt joined the family business, and how had everyone kept it from him for all this time? There were just too many fucked up layers to unpack right now.

Still, his feet carried him where his mind was afraid to go, around the back of his childhood home and to the basement door. Matt leaned against the door frame in a totally casual way, and not at all like someone whose dad has just died. His clothes, however, were anything but casual. He looked like a mad scientist with his white lab coat, huge rubber gloves, and goggles. Oh god, was that a speck of blood?

Then, Matt stepped to the side, and James felt the blood drain from his face. He swayed on his feet as he took in the sight before him–the corpse of a human man with an axe in his chest. It looked like he’d been dragged here through the mud.

“Are you insane?” James’ voice was shrill. “Somebody had to have seen you.”

Matt waved a hand as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Help me, will you?” As he asked, Matt grabbed the corpse by the legs and jerked his head in the direction of the door. Against his better judgment, James opened the door, if only to get the corpse out of broad daylight. He wasn’t prepared for the basement, which he’d never seen in his entire childhood, to look like a freaking laboratory out of some kind of sci-fi movie. There were fancy holographic screens along the wall, tables full of various beakers and concoctions, and what was undoubtedly autopsy equipment in the center of the room.

“Sick, right?” Matt said, coming up behind James, who stood slack-jawed in the center of the room. With the click of a button, the corpse, which had been dragged to a specific spot in the room, began to rise into the air on a slab coming up from the ground.

“It’s like the bat cave for fucking serial killers,” James said, the dread dripping from every syllable. And yet Matt beamed with pride.

Without missing a beat, Matt grabbed a bone saw from a nearby table and lowered his goggles. Approaching the corpse, which still had an axe protruding from its chest, he began to saw at its arm with a spray of blood. The smile on Matt’s face was beyond disturbing. But as the arm fell to the floor with a thunk, it changed. The arm was no longer the pinkish color of a white guy’s flesh, but a deeply wrong shade of orange. Not only that, but the hands were different. There was something resembling fingers, but there were only three of them, all extremely long and without knuckles.

Matt turned the saw off and looked up at James, gesturing toward the body. When James looked again, he saw that it had changed too, resembling some monstrous alien thing. “You see, brother,” Matt said. “We’re not hunting people. We’re after the scum pretending to be people, the ones sowing hate and discord. Nazis, fascists–” he ticked them off on his fingers as he spoke “--the damn predators running our shit. We’re doing the world a service. Otherwise, we’re looking at a full alien takeover, and it’s not like those hot blue people in Avatar.”

James glanced from his brother to the dead alien on the slab, and back. His sweet, goofy brother had transformed into some gleeful killer. And yet… if what he said was true, what kind of person would he be to interfere? The world suddenly felt so much larger than he thought possible; he suddenly couldn’t fathom all the things he didn’t know. Yet, he’d lived in this shit show called Earth long enough to know what he stood for.

“So, the family business, eh?” Matt reached a gloved hand out to his little brother, who sealed the deal with a handshake.

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