Purgatory's Gate

Chapter 9: Change of heart

"What is your problem with me, man?" I ask, as once again Zev sloshes a boatload of soapy water onto my jeans and shoes, by throwing a bucket of dishes carelessly into the sink. It's after midnight and we're doing the washing up from dinner, finally. It's the last load and all the guests are in bed.
"Better get to work," Zev says, almost cheerfully, going back to scrubbing down the counter.
"No, seriously. You've had a problem with me since the day I got here. What is it?" I ask, shaking water off my hands and turning to face him.
"You really want to know?" Zev asks, looking up at me with obvious scorn.
"Yes. I really want to know what your problem is with me? I haven't done anything to you," I say, "I do my work, I'm polite to the guests. If this is some homophobic bullshit we can settle it right now."
"Oh? And how do you think you're going to settle things?" He asks, taking off his gloves, clearly entertained.
"However you want?" I say, opening my arms.
Love walks in as her brother says: "Out in the yard."
"Sure, let's fucking go," I say. Yes, he's two feet taller than me with biceps the size of my head. That is not the point. The point is if I knew what would good for me I would not be in this situation.
"Oh my god, you two, do not," Love says, with no enthusiasm.
"Stay out of this, Love," Zev says, leading the way out the front doors to the parking lot.
"Gloves?" I ask.
"Raff get us some duct tape—that'll do," Zev says, cracking his knuckles.
"Do not fight each other," Love says, folding her arms.
"Go in the house," Zev snarls.
"Mommy, why aren't you stopping them?" Rubi asks, hugging her mother around the waist.
"Oh, because deep down I want to see who wins," Love says, patting her daughter's head.
"Here," Raff tosses us each a roll of duct tape. He also very clearly wants to see who wins.
"Don't settle disputes with your fists, stay in school, don't do drugs," I say, to him.
"Yeah what he said—come over here we're going to watch," Love says.
"Best two out of three?" I offer, pleasantly, drawing a circle in the snow with one foot.
"First one to fall down loses," Zev says.
"Oh so you want to make it easy on me?" I laugh. He's easily twice my weight and has a good five inches on me. I'll have him down without a punch.
"We'll see how well you talk when your teeth are going down your throat," Zev snarls.
"That's not even a good threat, where did you go to threat school, COD lobby?" I ask.
"What are you even talking about COD lobby has great threats?" Zev asks, confused, and stopping wrapping his hands.
"So your combat experience is comprised of dolls and animated dolls good to know," I say.
He throws a punch and I duck quickly. He's big, but he's slow. I'm guessing he primarily wrestles with his sister. I grew up on the streets of Chicago with a knife in my hands. This isn't even going to be a contest.
I avoid hitting him, just dancing around him neatly, to piss him off, "You know you're supposed to punch me right?" I ask. I'm very good at aggravating people. Like I'm so good at aggravating people.
He growls angrily and throws another punch which I neatly side step. I'm about to nail him in the side of the head when we both hear:
"STOP THAT AT ONCE YOU TWO!!" Mrs. V materializes to basically tug us apart, despite being half of our height. She takes hold of both of our shirts and just jerks us apart.
"No, no," Love was entertained apparently.
"Stop that at once! You should be ashamed of yourselves," Mrs. V says, standing between us.
Apparently both our mothers raised us right, "Sorry, ma'am."
"You two are grown men. You know how to solve your differences better than that," Mrs. V says.
"Actually, that was the best way I thought of," I point out.
"Oh my god, that was true," Zev breaths, losing all color in his face.
I wink.
"Jesus, I need to hit him, please?" Zev sighs.
"No, now both of you. Go to your rooms. Fighting in front of the children. Tomorrow if you're both still feeling energetic you can move more wood up to the house. And I will watch you," Mrs. V says, annoyed, looking between us.
"Sorry, ma'am," I say, ducking my head. I turn to go first, just walking back towards my room. I feel Zev's eyes in the middle of my back.
I almost feel unfulfilled after the fight. I wanted to land a decent punch. I settle for punching my arms, and so many pushups I lose count. I fall asleep, the nightstand braced against the door, as usual.
The next day the sun is shining, it's snowing a little, and most of our guests are checking out. I'm so consumed with cleaning the rooms and hauling dirty laundry I nearly forget our punishment. I'm mostly amused. I haven't been punished to do chores since I was seven. This is probably some deep seated trauma or something that I'm actually looking forward to it.
Zev forgets as well because I hear, "OH YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME." About five minutes before he joins me outside hauling the logs. Mrs. V stands on the porch, watching us, arms folded.
We say nothing, just hiking out through the snow towards the woodpile.
"Is that my jacket?" He asks, looking over at me. My own parka is too warm for this weather so Love gave me her brother's discarded carhart to get dirty.
"No," I say.
He sighs, looking away.
"What?" I ask, going to stack the wood in my arms.
"Why are you constantly lying?" He asks.
"I'm not constantly lying," I lie.
He growls, looking away.
"Fine. You want to know something true?" I ask, "I watched my mother bleed to death in my arms. This is her arrowhead I'm always wearing."
He visibly reacts, his face twitching. He looks away pointedly.
"You know that was true. How?" I ask.
"Doesn't matter," he says, picking up a stack of logs.
"I like mustard and cheese sandwiches. I, honestly, like flying on airplanes, and I hate the way you make coffee," I say.
He almost laughs, shaking his head.
"You don't need to know everything about me," I say, "I don't think anyone does. But you know enough. This is real. Me wanting to work here? That's real."
"I just can't figure you out," he says.
"Well that makes two of us," I say.
We finish with the logs in silence. But it's an easier silence. He says nothing to me for the rest of the day, which is typical. But he's also a bit less frosty. When it comes time to toss the dishes in he still splashes me, but it's not so violent. And when we're closing up he waits to turn off the light and then walks out with me.
It's not significant. But it's something. And I'll take it. We don't have to be friends. I don't even need any friends. I just need him to leave me alone. And it seems he's doing that now. Which is a step.
The snow is getting deeper, which means the path must be shoveled daily. As a rule, Zev or I go and do that. I don't mind shoveling snow, in fact it's a good break from laboring inside in the heat. Get a bit of fresh air. I can put an earbud in and watch the snow come down. In the afternoons Raff will come and join me. He'll be bored from school and want to talk about whatever current book he's reading. Half of them I've read, either in my long weeks in WITSEC or in college, so I'm happy to oblige the boy in idle conversation.
A few big snowstorms hit. The heavier the snow, the harder to shovel. Now, we have a truck with a plow on it that one of them uses to plow the whole drive. But the paths around the lodge have to be done by blower or by hand.
One night I can't sleep. It's early November, meaning Thanksgiving is coming. Not my favorite holiday. Such gatherings meant I had to go and show my face for hours. Usually I'd wind up collecting information so my head would be spinning by the time I got to sneak away and write it all down. I had to see my father, you know, the man who murdered my mother. Not at all happy memories. I realize this year isn't the same but my brain doesn't.
I decide to just get up. I'll get a head start on shoveling. I realize I'm not getting paid to do that but I'm going stir crazy. I want to go shovel, just clear my head, be good and tired for a couple more hours of sleep.
I put a couple of sweatshirts over each other and my jeans and snow boots. Shoveling will warm me up enough that I won't need a coat. I do put on gloves, though, and a hat. No make up, no earrings. I don't expect to see anyone.
I walk out into the soft, freshly fallen snow. We keep a shovel on the porch. I'm the only staff member so I'm the only person on this side of the bunkhouse. The lights glow inside the lodge. Zev had the late shift tonight. But he hasn't been talking to me and in all likelihood he's watching a movie at the desk trying to stay awake. The snow isn't coming down that bad, maybe an inch or so. It won't take me long to clear.
I've barely picked up the shovel when I hear voices. Not up here. Faint. Down the drive a little ways. I can also see lights, like flashlights.
I walk through the snow, carefully, setting the shovel down so as not to make any noise.
Sure enough, there are some people gathered on the drive down to the road. There's a truck parked, snow settling on the black hood. For about a second I think it's a late check in. They got stuck in the snow?
Then I realize they're not walking or looking at the car. They're all gathered around a man kneeling in the snow. In a flash I recognize Zev. He's clearly been beaten. The snow is peppered with blood, and his face is bloody and bruised. They're beating him up.
Nothing for it now. I'm not getting down the drive without being noticed.
I walk down, casually, through the snow.
"Just stay out of this," one of them says, raising a hand to me, lazily, like I'm an interfering dog or something.
"Ah—no," I say, stopping. They don't look like mob. I mean, they're not here for any good reason. But they look more backwoods, they've got non-matching jackets. Doesn't mean they aren't here for me though. Admittedly, I'm most likely the cause of any violence around here. "Can I ah—help you with anything?"
"We have what we need," One of them goes to grab Zev by the back of his shirt.
"Okay," I say, and I deck the first one in the face as hard as I can. Bones crunch under my fist and I feel teeth crack as blood splatters up my arm.
Everything happens in smooth motion. The next four move towards me, but evenly staggered, they aren't professional. The first is still reeling so I take the second on, a swift blow to his throat and he's out cold. Another is upon me and gets two good hits in before my knife is in my hand and he's gutted, a clean stab to the kidney another to the intestines and he's down bleeding out in the snow. A tire iron very nearly collides with my head. Country boys. My knife is up and in the fourth one's throat.
Within moments they're all lying bleeding in the snow. Two are dead. Another is on his way out I kick him twice in the head to confirm it. The last one is trying to rise, blood pouring from his mouth.
I grab hold of his head with one hand, the other on his throat.
Zev is struggling to stand, stepping away from the carnage.
"Alive or dead?" I ask.
"What?" He stutters.
"Alive or dead," I say, flatly.
"Dead—dead, Christ," Zev says.
I snap the neck, dropping the man.
Zev and I both look at each other, then at the five corpses bleeding out in the snow. I am well aware he just saw all of that. And I fight like a man who's taken lives before. Whose fought since before he could shave. I'm a little bloodied but clearly perfectly fine.
"Ohio State, huh?" Zev asks, slowly, looking at them then at me.
"Yeah. Buckeyes," I say, making finger guns.
We both know damn well it's a lie.
"I think we've both got explaining to do?" I ask, wiping blood form my face.
"Yeah, yeah I guess we do," Zev sighs.
"Do you know what they were doing here?" I ask. There's still the cold chance they were looking for me.
"Yeah," Zev nods.
"Is anyone going to be looking for them?" I ask.
"No—ah, no we can throw the bodies in the river."
"Okay, then let's talk," I say, charitably.
He moves the car out to the road. I go and get a couple of sleds for the corpses, as well as tarp to wrap the bodies in. All that is in the barn but thankfully the dogs are sleepy and don't actually care to get up. Also two of them are missing because kids like dogs I guess. The ones that are there are easily bribed with treats.
I walk back down to the scene of the crime, bringing a shovel to try to spread out the bloody snow and just hide it a little. Zev is just returning from putting the car on the road.
"Why is no one going to be looking for them?" I ask.
"You just killed five people, you wanna go first?" He asks.
"My five murder victims. Why aren't the police coming? And it had better be good," I say, dragging a body onto a sled.
Zev sighs, giving in, "I ah—Rudi's dad wasn't from around here. Exactly. Farther in the mountains. He wasn't any good. We found out Love was pregnant and — but—he treated her like shit."
"That's tragic. Five corpses," I say, finishing loading up my sled.
"I'm getting there um. Anyway by treated her bad I mean—he didn't want the baby. I brought Love back here to live with me. But he found out and followed. She was pregnant so—couldn't, she couldn't defend herself the same. Anyway. I had been out leading a ski trip. I found out. I killed him. Naturally. Every now and then brothers or whatever renew their attempts to murder me over it, and ah—this," Zev winces a little, as he drags his sled first, leading the way off into the woods.
"So why is nobody looking?" I ask.
"Because it's backwoods redneck. This isn't the first—or second time it's happened. Just first time they got the better of me. They'd sooner set fire to the Cascades than call cops. Plus they're murderers, so, the cops aren't gonna care. Trust me, this happens unfortunately, didn't mean for it to get out of hand," Zev says, snow settling in his hair.
"Your face looks bad, you sure you don't want to go back and get something for it?" I ask, calmly.
"No—no what the hell? Seriously, you're not even —you freaked out more at that dead body," he shakes his head.
I shrug.
"Who are you?"
I shrug.
"You need to talk to me, now," Zev says.
"Why though? I think you're in my debt, not the other way around," I say.
"Because you just killed five people and didn't even blink or break a sweat. Give me one good reason why I should be comfortable with you back in that lodge with my sister and my niece," Zev says, a little fiercely, "And it needs to be the truth. Because I know when you're lying so don't fucking lie to me."
I look over at him, almost sympathetically. He's in no position to threaten me he's barely walking right now. He does want to protect them.
"You're right, I'm sorry," I say, nodding. "It's not what you think. Or maybe it is what you think I don't really know. But the reason you never get the truth from me is because it's not mine to give to you. Suffice to stay. I haven't had the best life. I grew up in some pretty terrible places. So yes I know to fight."
Zev nods, "Okay."
"There's more but frankly it's none of your business. My mother is dead that was true. I am here for a change of scene. Rest assured police know exactly where I am. You were correct the name I gave to you is not the one I've always used, but it is my name now."
"You're witness protection," he realizes, taking a bit of a breath, "Idiot."
"I can tell you no more. What I have told you already is too much, but," I nod to the bodies.
"No, no you don't have to tell me anything else. Don't. It's fine. You're right, that wasn't for me to know," he sighs.
"I'm not saying I'm not a dangerous man. I'm saying I mean you and your family no harm. One phone call and I'm out of your lives for good. If that's what you want I'll do it," I say.
"No," he surprises me with his speed, "No. Where would you go?"
"I don't know."
"Why though?" He frowns.
"What do you mean?"
"Why did you stay? If you could leave—I've been an idiot. I know," he says.
"I wanted a change as I said. I do like living here. I don't think I've ever really been alive before," I say, tipping my face up to the falling snow.
"I know what you mean," he says, softly, watching me.
"I like it. I like the quiet. I needed a place. By spring I'll likely be gone," I shrug.
"Okay," Zev nods, "Why—sorry. I don't have to know."
"Well I don't know all your secrets, do I, Zev? Who had the power to send five hit men after you, I'm not going to get names. Much less half the secrets of that old house," I say, "I think we're even now."
"No. No you're not going to get any of that," he says, "Isn't there a line somewhere? More things in Heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy?"
"Hm, yes, Hamlet," I say, "Go on ask your question. It's my prerogative to answer, however. Fair enough?"
"Fair," he nods, "Did your parents die in a car accident?"
"Next question. What happened to Raff's father, why isn't he around?" I ask.
"Next question."
"Oh, calling it there?" I frown. I didn't expect that to be a secret.
"Calling it there. Do you know how to shoot a gun?"
"Oh yes. What happened to your and Love's parents?"
"Next question. Have you killed before?"
"Of course I have," I scoff, "Do you really have a problem with me because I'm gay?"
"I was going to ask if you were really gay. No," he shakes his head, "No, I just couldn't figure you out."
"How's that going for you now?"
"Next question," he actually smiles. So do I.
"I don't know whose go it was. Is there something haunting that house?" I ask.
"Next question."
"I'll take that as yes. All right. Do you always run off the staff?"
"You're—okay with that last bit?"
"I did establish I've had a poor life so far," I say, cocking an eyebrow.
"What do you want to be called? I know—whatever that's not your name, do you care?" He asks.
"Orestes is doing fine," I say, dryly.
"Fair," he laughs a little, "Do you have a family somewhere?"
"Next question."
"No like, I mean, wife, kids, whatever."
"No," I shake my head, "We did circle over me being gay."
"Doesn't mean you don't have a wife and kids. People are bi. People are trans. It's an entire thing. Loads of things can happen."
"No. What you see is what you get," I say.
"I highly doubt that," he scoffs.
"I'm not so complicated. Go on, I'm answering, rather nicely, I've given you more information than you've given me," I say.
"Sorry. My life is, complicated."
"I got that," I glance at the bodies.
"Yeah fair. Um—our mother is upset with me. I'm failing in the —being human department. As it happens. That's why I've been such an idiot, I've got a lot going on and—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken that all out on you."
"Apology accepted," I say, "Now since you have an idea of who I am I'm supposed to be leaving. But. I'll take your word for it as you've got about as much to hide as I do it would seem."
"You have my word. Believe me. I have much, much more to hide than you do."
"Well. I wouldn't bet on that, slightly haunted bad hotel or no," I say, raising an eyebrow.
"It's not a bad hotel," Zev scoffs.
"It's a terrible hotel. I should know I work there."
We both laugh.
"Why didn't we do this sooner?" He asks.
"Bury five bodies?" I ask.
"No, get on."
"Oh simple. You're an asshole."
"I wish Mrs. V had let me punch you," he says, wistfully.
"See, there it is," I grin.
"Yeah there it is. No, I'm an idiot, most of the time I'm afraid. Or I wouldn't be in this situation," he says.
"Yeah well, I'm in the situation with you. So not all that smart," I shrug.
"Thank you. For saving me back there. You didn't have to do that."
"Well the other option was you dying," I say.
"Yeah and—I haven't given you much cause not to choose that. Especially since you don't want to be in the spotlight," he frowns, "Why?"
Me, very sarcastically, "Because I'm very gay and very in love with you and your mediocre looks and antagonistic manner and cringe personality have captured my poor twink heart forever."
"Shut up," he laughs.
I am of course, quite in love with him.
It's very annoying.