Lustmord 1

by Kirk Alex

  CHAPTER 187

  Lana Sepulveda seemed willing to buy into it. Pearleen shook her head. Could not believe how eager Lana and even the other chick were to accept the lame explanation.

  “What’s the pit for? She was tortured in the pit.” Pearl was talking to Lana and Stella. “Look what was done to her.”

  “I’d rather not have church staff defecating on my floor. And that’s exactly what will start happening if you ladies refuse to vacate the john. Is that so difficult to comprehend?”

  “Like this is the only bathroom in the house.” Pearleen Bell wasn’t buying. Said as much. “Why don’t you answer the question, Biggs? What’s the pit for?”

  Biggs sighed on the other side of the door. “I’d rather not have them use the other johns. They tend to get sloppy—and then I’m the one who has to put up with Marvin’s carping, because he’s the one who usually does the cleaning up.”

  “What about the pit?” Lana was the one inquiring this time. “What’s the purpose of the pit?”

  “I was getting to that. There are times certain members of my staff get somewhat out of control, misbehave, and what we do, Marvin and I, simply on occasion, mind you, have them spend a certain amount of time in the hole. Nothing else. In fact, very often, usually, it seldom happens; we rarely need to put anyone in there, because by the pit merely being there, to where they are aware of it, they tend to behave—for the most part. And no one is hurt; there is no need to penalize.”

  “That still doesn’t explain what was done to Dion.”

  “However, Ms. Bell, Marvin and I cannot be here, cannot watch over them 24/7. It isn’t possible. They were offended by what she does for a living, not to mention her craving for drugs—and they saw fit to ‘discipline’ her for it.”

  “What about the dope, Cecil?” Lana seemed to find it difficult to stay clear of the subject.

  “I’m right here, Dolly.”

  “Let’s see it. Let’s see what you got.”

  To Pearl’s utter and absolute dismay, Lana had the door unlocked. Cracked it about an inch, as that was about all that the fortification made possible, and stuck her right eye up against the opening. She was looking at it. It was no fantasy. Cecil was holding up a plastic baggy with enough rocks for all three of them to stay high on for hours. Let the other two know it. The salivating kicked in. Even so, Pearleen closed and locked the door. Someone had to be strong enough.

  “Plenty here. And then some. All I ask is that you give up the gun—before someone is seriously hurt. Let’s be civilized about this.”

  “Bullshit.” Pearleen found herself whispering to the others. “We can’t be stupid. It’s a con. We know too much.”

  Lana tended to side with their captor and was back at it. Looked at her friends. “You can’t blame him for what the retards did.” Turned away from them. Faced the door. “Isn’t that right, Cecil?”

  “We only have so much control over them. They never should have been released and forced to fend for themselves, but Ronnie Reagan was looking for ways to trim the budget—and this is the result, unfortunately. I took them in. They were homeless, just about all of them were homeless. As far as those who hadn’t been pushed out of the wards, they were about to be. I took them in, rather than have them face the elements, the harsh reality of coping with life on the streets without employment, food, or shelter.” He needed to take a breather. The ’roids itched like a bitch. The only thing he dared was to scratch his rear in the vicinity of the rectum. It would have to do. The situation with the cunts wasn’t helping the stress factor, either. “Now, don’t get me wrong—I support Dutch all the way. Ronnie means well, I know that. But he needed to make himself and his people look good. Only I doubt he was aware of the absolute tragedy of his budget cuts.”

  Lana was readily agreeing. Practically taking the words out of Stella’s mouth.

  “See that? Cecil ain’t the one. Why blame him? Nobody could control these crazy motherfuckers in here. Him and Marvin ain’t nothing but sex addicts—like that’s news to you.” It was directed at Pearleen basically. Biggs continued his spiel on the other side of the door that separated the captives from their captor.

  “Institutions across the nation suffered drastic budget cuts. The end result is what you see here. I did what I could to help out. Instead of being commended, I am being condemned. I don’t get it. Then again, I suppose that’s life.”

  CHAPTER 188

  Pearleen Bell didn’t like it. Spoke in a low tone.

  “Fuck him.”

  “He’s sex-crazed.” Stella was now trying to make her friend Pearl see the light. “Mood elevators make him crazy for sex. Like Lana said: ain’t the first time. If these sex fiends didn’t exist we’d all be out of work.”

  “I still say it’s bullshit.” Pearleen wanted the drugs as much as the others, but not if it meant risking their lives. “He can’t be trusted. Marty Roscoe was right about him. That dumb hick horndog was right.”

  “I’m with Stella. Why don’t you give him the gun?”

  “Why don’t you take it away from me, bitch?”

  “I just might do that.”

  “Try it.” Pearleen pointed the business end at the other woman’s head. “You’re so desperate for dope you don’t even see the most obvious. Trusty is schizo; they all are. This gun may not give us much of a chance, but it’s the only chance we have.”

  Stella was fed up with the bickering and told them both to knock it off.”

  “You two want to go out there? Go right ahead. You’ll die for sure. Only chance we got at the moment is with this piece. We have to hold them off until help gets here.”

  Lana was up against that door again. “All you want is sex. Ain’t that right, Cecil? You want sex, just like before. And we get that dope if we fuck you.”

  “You got it, Lana. You always were the realist. Down-to-earth. The thing I appreciate about you the most. Latin women know how to please a man. Look at Vanessa Del Rio. That’s one amazing woman.”

  Pearleen was shaking her head. “You’ll die. Why would he waste dope on you when he can have you anyway? He can do what he wants. Ain’t nobody can hear us if we scream.”

  Stella reminded them they were done either way. “If we don’t get out of this bathroom. It stinks in here.”

  “The whole place stinks. So what?”

  “Mighty quiet on your side. What’s your answer, ladies? What’s going on, my friend Lana?”

  “Pearleen has yet to make up her mind.”

  What followed was a hushed-toned, heated discussion between Biggs and Marvin that the trapped women could not quite figure out what it was about. All they were able to pick up on was that Biggs was pro, Marvin against. Biggs insisted that Marvin do it, and Marvin countered that he couldn’t.

  “What’s the verdict, mademoiselles? Lana, can you help me out? Anything?”

  “Ain’t decided yet, Cecil.”

  “I see. Maybe this will help you make up your minds.” And before the women knew it, or even had a chance to do something about it, he was shoving at the door again, pushing. Soon enough had it pried by an inch or two; then a little more—and a rat was guided through above the clothes dryer. The creature dove off the appliance, landing on the hard cement floor of the john, and proceeded to scramble from side to side in zigzag fashion.

  The strippers were beside themselves, practically gagging, especially Lana and Stella, who were unable to contain their revulsion and keep from urinating on the spot.

  “That be homie Youngblood.” Marvin had stuck his snout in the crack. “You be nice to homie. He ain’t gonna hurt nobody.”

  Pearleen slammed the door shut in his face.

  “Shoot it!” Lana was the one doing the screaming. “Kill it, Pearleen! Do it!”

  “No.” Pearleen Bell was firm. She was also disgusted enough herself. Someone had to have a degree of control here.

  “We can’t waste bullets.”

  She pushed the dryer back in place,
so that it was against the bathroom door as before. She also adjusted the cabinet door that had been forced up, out of place and rendered ineffective by Cecil. She pressed down on it so that it was flat again, the way they had it originally—and the fortification was back in place.

  “Cap the rat, damn you!” It was Stella now, adding to the yelling. “We’ll get rabies if it bites us!”

  “You’re nuts—both of you. It’s a domestic rat.” Pearleen took aim all the same just to shut them up. The rodent, clearly sensing its very existence was in danger, had sought refuge behind the toilet bowl. The strippers screamed for Pearl to get it over with.

  Pearleen fired a shot. Hit the intended target. The resulting scene made all three women queasy in the belly as they watched the hairy, repulsive-looking thing quiver for several minutes, then expire.

  “You satisfied?” Pearleen Bell found herself posing the question to the two dumb bitches she was stuck with in this nightmare. “You happy?”

  They hadn’t bothered to respond. Lana and Stella were relieved that the creature was no longer alive. That’s what it had been about with them. Nothing more. However, on the other side of that door, to Marvin Muck, the story was entirely different. He could be heard cursing and arguing with Biggs about something else. What now?—the women wondered.

  “Shit, Hoss.”

  CHAPTER 189

  As before, the door was pushed in. Forced open enough to shove another rat through. The women picked up on “MC Psycho” as being the moniker of this one. Biggs was snickering, didn’t know how to laugh, but he could snicker, make noise with his lips and teeth. Something like tsk tsk. That’s what it sounded like.

  Pearleen took aim. Waited. Only this four-legged freak was quicker. Hit the ground running and took a different route. Hurried across the cement floor of the john, up the cabinet door that lay flat, braced against the tub, and leapt into the tub itself and wasted no time scaling its way up the frayed shower curtain.

  “GET HIM!” Lana and Stella screamed in tandem. The rat had made it up to the shower rod, its life at stake, and, like its predecessor, seemed to sense it. Ran back and forth across that shower rod: from one end to the other.

  Lana Sepulveda and Stella Martel shrieked loud enough at Pearleen to kill the goddamned filthy thing before it attacked them and gave them all something. Rats were ugly and nasty. Whether they were pets or not didn’t matter. Only good rat was a dead rat.

  Getting a bead on it was not going to be easy. Pearleen did her best. Aimed high. There was too much movement—and bullets were scarce. She fired. Was way off.

  “Great. You missed.”

  “You think you can do better, Lana?”

  “Give it to me. I’ll show you how to use a gun.”

  “Get your own.”

  “Kill the goddamn rat, will you!”

  And while this back-and-forth shouting match was going on, they failed to notice that a dark, purplish, molasses-like liquid appeared to soak through the hole made by the bullet in the drywall in back of the portable shower head in the wall on the right. The liquid temporarily collected in the hole, and dropped off, landing on the edge of the tub below.

  “CAN’T YOU SEE WHAT THEY’RE DOING? IT’S SO OBVIOUS!”

  “Kill the rat, or give me the piece!”

  “Fuck you!”

  Pearleen spun back to face the rat. Still up there on its perch, moving about, grinding its jaws. Bullets were too precious and too few to be frittered away.

  She reached up at the shower curtain rod end above the tank, the rat was at the other end. Yanked hard on it, tearing it out of the wall, and a good chunk of the brittle drywall at the rat’s end came with it. The rat went down, landing inside the tub. Scrambled to its feet. Attempted to claw its way out. Got nowhere; the tub way too slippery with slimy crud for traction. More of the purplish liquid (not unlike crude oil and/or molasses) appeared in the hole in the wall that the women were too preoccupied to notice at the moment; they had a rat to destroy. There wasn’t a second to waste. Pearleen slid the worn curtain off the rod itself, and whacked away at the creature in the tub until it was dead.

  CHAPTER 190

  Stella was gagging in the corner, Lana damned near close to it, so was Pearleen, as tough as she appeared to make herself. A bleeding rat with its crushed skull and torn open belly was not a pretty sight. The thing was too revolting to look at.

  Shower curtain rod still in her possession, Pearleen thought she would brace it against the door, in order to further fortify what they already had on the floor with the dryer: two hampers and cabinet door. Only the rod was short by a foot. What else could they use it for? Weapon? Not many bullets remained. At least the rod was something, no match against what Biggs had, but at least it was something, something. . . . Desperation had you willing to try any damned, stupid thing—just about.

  It didn’t take long for Lana to comment, just as Pearleen Bell knew she’d have to open her big mouth.

  “That won’t do anything. What are you going to do with it?”

  “Maybe I’ll beat your ass with it.”

  “I want out of here! All they’re after is some lovin’! Got a bad sex jonze. You heard him. Am I right, Cecil? You want to have some fun. You don’t want to hurt nobody?”

  Pearleen could not believe her ears. For a hit of crack this shallow chick was willing to jeopardize their lives.

  “Don’t you be shaking your head at me, bitch! I know the streets; I know what I’m talking about! There was no real reason to run in here and get the man all pissed off at us! No reason at all! All Trusty wants is to get laid!”

  “How can you even think that way after what you told us was done to you upstairs in that john? After everything Dione told us? How can you be so gullible?”

  “A little cooperation.” Bishop was back with his spiel. “Understanding. Is that too much to ask after all the dope you ladies were provided with? After all the laughs we had? Is this reasonable behavior on your part? I hardly think so.”

  “There’s no way to reason with this cunt, Cecil. I never had a real problem with you; it’s this cunt Pearl!”

  “You are being naive!” Pearleen was back in Lana’s face. The animosity was clearly reaching a boiling point. In the time it had taken Stella to turn her head, staring blankly past Pearleen, at the wall behind her, wiped her eyes, her battling friends had each grabbed a handful of the other’s hair and were about to start yanking. Stella’s ensuing gasp and look in her eyes had managed not only to shut them up, but cause them to freeze up mid-action, and for the moment, had them forgetting about all that dope in Cecil Biggs’s baggy on the other side of the bathroom door.

  Stella Martel stared at the hole in the wall above the cracked and aging ceramic tile in back of Pearleen and the dark liquid that seemed to collect and dripped down into the tub.

  She reached out with her index finger at last to touch one of the drops before it fell off. Held the blackish smear on her finger to her face. The shade of crimson it was had her convinced it had to be one thing.

  CHAPTER 191

  While Lana was back doing the balancing act on what was part of the vanity counter and attempting to loosen the planks off, Pearleen had torn the other door off the utility cabinet and was banging away at the wall below the drip, although to the right of the portion that was tiled. She figured plasterboard would be easier to dig into than ceramic tile, not that it didn’t require work. Her instinct was accurate, at least on that count.

  She whacked away, cracking it in chunks and tearing them off by hand and tossing them at the floor. There was insulation: thick, cotton-like; wood slats that she had to shove aside, and more plasterboard.

  Lana succeeded in yanking a couple of the bottom planks off the window that revealed the pane itself and the additional planks on the other side of it.

  She proceeded to pry some of the planks off at the midsection and top, and a solid, battleship gray panel swung down from above the window and slammed shut into plac
e over it that just about caused her to lose her footing.

  She righted herself in time and took a closer look at the panel: one inch thick and unbudgeable. Rapped it with her knuckles. Possibly made of wood—or metal. Possibly both. Wood on the outside, maybe plywood—like a sheet of it on either side—with a thick sheet of metal in the middle.

  “Twisted fuck.”

  Pearleen told her to forget the window. “How would we get the bars off?—even if you could get the other boards off on the outside.”

  “You heard Dione. Window is our best chance.”

  “How would she know?”

  Pearleen decided it wasn’t worth going on about. Lana Sepulveda wiped her brow, checked her forehead for blood where the panel may have nicked her.

  She paused there this way, needing to put her thoughts together. What could be the answer to this situation they were caught up in? What would it take? She climbed down.

  CHAPTER 192

  Pearleen hammered away at the wall with a corner of the cabinet door and watched the opening widen. More thick, cotton-like insulation had to be pulled out, more plasterboard chunks twisted and torn off. There was a gash that she was able to peer through. What she saw was not exactly encouraging; in fact, what all three were now looking at was far from hope-inducing or comforting: it was a view of the cell with the black-and-white tv and the bunk beds, that cell where the defectives spent most of their time in restless repose.

  Lana stepped back. “Move to the left. Try digging to the left.”

  “I need you to tell me that?”