Twisted All To Hell

by J E Moore

cellar?"

  "You know this place?" challenged the adult.

  "Uh," Katie stammered. "Some kids said it was here."

  "What else did they say?"

  "Oh... er... nothing. I don't know anything else about it," Katie lied to protect herself and Jimmy.

  "You children shouldn't be poking around in restricted areas. You could get hurt. Do you understand?" then unexpectedly giggled to herself. "Now, that is funny considering."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Soon they were at the bottom of the stairs, where Miss Applebee struck a match and lit the lantern which was still hanging between the passageways. Katie peered into the dimness and could discern a faint light at the far end of the left tunnel, this time the right one was dark.

  "What do you want me to do, Miss Applebee?" The woman stared back at the child as if she hadn't understood the question. "You said you have a special chore for me."

  "Oh, yes. I did, didn't I?" She raised the lantern toward the left passageway. "We have to move some... old furniture up to the courtyard for trash pick-up tomorrow morning."

  "Is it big or heavy?" Katie asked. "I'm just a little girl. Is Mister Weolf going to help us?"

  "Herr Weolf? Oh, I'm sure we'll see him shortly and he'll be a big help," informed her mentor. "And believe me, we know exactly who you are," with a twinkle in her eye. "Step this way, please," and as Katie did the woman closed and locked the iron-barred gate behind them. 'CLANK' "We don't want anyone to accidently stray down here and get lost."

  Traveling down this corridor seemed more eerie than the other one because there were no scattered candles to lead the way as before. Katie cocked her head, thinking she heard indistinguishable voices coming from the far end. Peeking around Miss Applebee, she saw light coming from another side room. "This tunnel must be built like the other one," she thought.

  They arrived shortly. Miss Applebee paused at its doorway then turned around and roughly seized Katie's arm. "We're here, Dearie," and shoved the young girl inside.

  The room was identical to the first she'd seen. It contained a table with four chairs and a wooden box on the floor next to a giant cooking pot - this one was upright and had a blazing fire beneath it. Candles in the corners of the room and on the table revealed Mister Huntington, Blackburn, and Weolf in attendance; the fourth chair stood empty.

  "Hello, Annabelle,' hailed Mister Blackburn. "Did you bring us a treat tonight?"

  "Yes indeed, and a good evening to you gentlemen... and did I ever," answered Miss Applebee. "Just look who I brought for dinner... our own little Miss Busybody." She nudged Katie closer to the center of the room. The candlelight danced on the men's glistening faces. Seemingly from out of nowhere, the reserved, polite Miss Annabelle Applebee waved her arms above her head and gave an uncharacteristic, full-throated laugh, "Just call me the Gourmet Catering Lady!"

  The three men howled in glee and stamped their feet in delighted anticipation. The woman then slammed the door closed behind them. Mister Weolf with a thin line of drool in the corner of his mouth flashed a big smile - revealing pearly white, filed-to-a-point teeth. Katie's eyes darted to the other two men's open, grinning mouths. Their teeth were the same! Frightened, she jumped back, bumping into Miss Applebee's legs. Her mouth dropped as she squealed, "Nooo!"

  "Ha. The boys are scary aren't they?" quipped Annabelle. "Sometimes they can act like such animals. Not everyone uses a knife and fork as I do, Sweetie."

  Mister Huntington said, "I personally am extra pleased to have you here for dinner, Katie. I've been waiting for this some time."

  Which prompted her new friend, Mister Weolf, to rise from his seat with a meat cleaver in his hand. He gushed, "I hope she's more tender than Oggie was."

  Bon appétite

  Murder in the Fourth Dimension

  Louisiana, May 1974, 2:45 a.m.

  "This blasted dumpster I picked to park my butt in stinks," Wade Thornton thought to himself. "Why? There ain't supposed to be any garbage in here, just dry packing material." He then spied the pungent odor's source: a busted plastic bag containing old coffee grounds and the remains of a dozen half-eaten lunches. "People should be more careful." Peering over the top, toward the end of the warehouse where the night watchman would be rounding the corner, he considered abandoning this hiding place for one less aromatic. Evaluating the position of his trash bin against the others in the area, he thought, "No, they're too far from the dock and in bad lighting. This is definitely the best vantage point." He lowered his thin, wiry frame back down onto an overturned five-gallon paint can and squinted through a slit of the horizontal, sliding access door.

  Wade ached for a cigar but couldn't take the chance of the lit butt being seen. "Gonna smoke me a mess o' stogies on that pretty little riverboat," he consoled himself. "Yes sir, ten thousand dollars buys a whole lotta wine, women and song... and fine cigars." That's the figure his fence quoted for the goods he intended to steal tonight.

  The anticipated approach path remained clear. Wade was getting antsy. He mumbled aloud, "Where is this guy? Did he stop for a leak, or what?" He double checked the opposite direction and then placed the bulky, thirty-eight caliber pistol with its attached homemade silencer between his feet. He reasoned, if he was rousted by a police patrol, he'd cover it with cardboard, climb out and pretend he's just another home-less person looking for shelter. The worst he'd get would be a night in the slammer for vagrancy.

  Blinking and bobbing his head he thought, "I need a hit to set me right." He fumbled in a pocket, withdrew a small plastic dime-bag and held it up to the light - it appeared empty. No wait; there was a powdery coat inside and a small clump in one corner. Using a wet index finger, he 'saved' the last pinch, took a snort, turned the bag inside out and licked it clean. "Ah, good to the last drop," as the warm glow poured over him.

  He was 'jacked' now, feeling fine and courageous due to the drug's charge. He began psyching himself up, "Easy picking's, if you got the balls for it. And, I gots em." as he rubbed his crotch.

  Thornton, a career criminal at twenty-eight had always operated alone; he couldn't get a partner, due to his quick temper. He had done some 'Chump-time' in the local jails and 'Real-time' once in the 'Big House'; he had no intentions to return to either one. His new operating policy: "no witness, no sweat". Life had become cheap to him now, even his own.

  The security guard's routine was to walk a figure eight- pattern around these four warehouses every hour, which would have him pass within forty feet of Wade's concealment. Thornton reviewed his plan for a last time, "Gonna pop that sucker, grab the keys and then fetch my pickup truck. Hafta load the flatbed and be outta here in fifteen minutes..."

  Wade stopped. A hundred yards away, at Building Three's south corner, the watchman had finally made his appearance. He ambled in Thornton's direction while sweeping the doors and barred windows with his flashlight.

  After what seemed an eternity the guard arrived at Intercon Industries, Wade's target, the loading dock rear entrance. The watchman's feet grated on the concrete and loose sand as he turned to check if the door had been secured within. Rattling the knob and giving a gentle push he seemed satisfied and took a step back to continue to the next outlet.

  Without making a sound, Thornton sprang up from his crouched position. Eyes peeking over the rim, he saw the guard well defined by the dock's single, overhead lamp but angled sideways, presenting a bad target. Resting his wrists on the dumpster's top edge for support and aiming down the gun sight, Wade called out, not too loud, "Hey, buddy, got a light?" which caused the man to turn facing the alleyway, but not in alarm. Thornton's exact whereabouts were difficult to determine due his dark backdrop. Wade saw the guard's eyes dart from side to side as he tried to locate the speaker. Using a two handed police-style grip, Wade trained the weapon a tad to the left of the cheap, shiny gold badge pinned to the man's pale blue shirt. Gonna be a dead bang! Breathing hot and shallow, Thornton tensed to squeeze the trigger.

  "Is someone there?" called
the night watchman.

  A blue flash! An acrid smell, similar to burning electrical wiring, filled Thornton's nostrils and stung his eyes. Hissing reverberated in his ears. Stifled for breath, he felt himself falling down... down, in a free-fall with his arms outspread... into an endless quicksilver pit. Liquid rainbow walls closed in. Wade lost consciousness.

  Thornton's eyes fluttered open. His extraneous discomforts had disappeared, he felt fine, no lingering drug aftereffects. Lying prone on his back in a faint twilight, he rotated his head in slow motion to the left and right to get his bearings but was unable to distinguish any surrounding features. Wade then raised his left hand to his face to test depth of vision and the room immediately became lighted with a soft, luminescent glow. He reasoned, "It's a motion detector. No big deal." Rising to his feet, he noted the floor felt firm but not hard. "Nice texture. I might get me some o' this tile for a hide-out someday, after I make a real big score." The chamber appeared pure white, no marks or seams evident: its domed ceiling and curving walls appeared to form a circle. Hands on his hips, he stood for a moment waiting for something to happen. Patience being not one of his strong points, "Okay, out there. I'm awake, now what?" He began pacing, but without references, distance was difficult to judge. His foot soon struck the wall, causing him