The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore

by Garrett, Wade H.

  Wyatt leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. He wrote a few things in his notebook, then looked at Seth. “Will you tell me about it?”

  Seth reclined back in his recliner and got comfortable. “Sure. I had arrived in New York City five days ago. On the third day when I was walking down Broadway around midnight, I came upon a young woman and an older man having a heated argument in Zuccotti Park. The man looked like a sleaze bag. He had a big beer belly and was as round as he was tall. He was wearing tan slacks, a bronze colored silk shirt, shiny black dress shoes and an off-white fedora hat. He had several gold chains around his neck and the top half of his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a large medallion hanging from one of the chains. He had several rings on each hand, a gold watch around his left wrist and several gold bracelets on his other. The female appeared to be in her early teens and he looked to be in his late fifties. I usually don’t get involved in other people’s personal bullshit, but as I was walking by disguised as a homeless person, I heard the girl tell the man that she wasn’t going to do tricks for him any more. That comment combined with her age is what got my attention.

  The man wasn’t paying any attention to me because I looked like a street bum. I was wearing worn out blue jeans, a raggedy denim jacket and my Reebok High Tops had holes and busted shoe strings. I had a tan toboggan with holes covering my head and my long dingy hair from a wig hung out from under it in an unkempt fashion. My face was dirty and covered by a long, filthy beard. My teeth looked rotted and I had a costume contact in my left eye, causing it to look blind. I had an old army backpack slung over one shoulder, and I was holding a brown paper bag and walking as if I was drunk.

  The man and woman were standing close to a park bench, so I went over and sat down so I could continue to hear their conversation. They continued to ignore me as I sat drinking from the bag. Over the next few minutes, I learned she was fourteen and he had been making her work in a peep show. Their argument escalated, then he backhanded her, knocking her to the ground. I staggered over towards them, then stopped a few feet away from the man as he stood over the girl.

  He looked at me as he was chewing gum. “Get lost, fuckstick, if you know what’s good for ya.”

  I held my bag out towards him, offering a drink.

  He stepped forward and slapped it from my hand. “I said, get the fuck out of here!” He looked down at my bag when he realized something wasn’t right. Confusion overcame him when he noticed a severed human foot had fallen out of it. He looked back towards me. “What the fuck!”

  I stood silently while swaying back and forth.

  He looked back at the foot, then pulled out a pistol. “I don’t know what your fucking prob…”

  Before he could finish his sentence, I grabbed his gun, moving it away from my direction, then swung my custom-made sickle and cut him across his fat stomach, causing his intestines to fall out from his wound. He released the gun and tried to hold his guts in, but they were cut into pieces and slipping out between his fingers. He looked at me in disbelief, then took off running while hunched over. I stuck his gun in my waistband, then reached down to help the girl off the ground. “You’re safe now.”

  She scooted backwards. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  I folded my sickle and holstered it. “I’m not.”

  She looked scared. “You shouldn’t have done that to Charlie. He’s going to kill both of us now.”

  “I don’t think so—he has no guts.”

  “You also have to worry about Joel. He’s going to be coming after us also.”

  I reached out again, then helped her to her feet. “Who is Joel?”

  “Charlie’s boss.”

  “You’re not going to get blamed for this—you didn’t do anything.”

  She wiped her tears. “Doesn’t matter. They’ll take it out on me too.”

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out some money. I handed it to her. “Go somewhere far from here and start over.”

  She looked at the money. “Nothing is for free.”

  “You’re right. I want to know more about Joel and Charlie, then you can disappear.”

  She stuck the money in her bra, then pulled a business card from her pocket and handed it to me. “Joel owns a club a few blocks from here. Charlie manages the acts.”

  I glanced at it and noticed it read: ‘Logan’s House of Adult Entertainment’. “What kind of acts?” I already knew the answer because she was fourteen.

  “Charlie found me living on the streets a few years ago. He introduced me to Joel. They both seemed genuine at first, giving me a place to stay and all, but that quickly changed. Joel has a way of persuading desperate girls to participate in his filthy shows and stuff.”

  “What kind of shows?”

  “The younger ones perform in a peep show. The older ones dance, or get forced into prostitution.”

  “How do they get away with it?”

  “They operate a legal adult entertainment business as a cover, mostly stripping and dancing. The illegal stuff takes place in the basement, and it’s only offered to special clientele.”

  “Who are these perverts?”

  “Mostly rich men that have a thing for the younger type. Joel charges a hefty price for that type of entertainment.”

  “What other stuff does he have you do?”

  She looked down. “Uh…”

  I knew the answer. “Just Joel, or Charlie too?”

  “Just Joel. I thought he liked me, but then he wanted me to do those shows. I tried to get out of it, but he said I owed him.”

  “You don’t owe anyone shit. Remember that now that you can start over.”

  “He will find me eventually.”

  “No, he won’t. I give you my word on that.”

  She looked in the direction where Charlie went. “We better get going. They’ll be coming back for me.”

  “Then you better take off.” She disappeared into the dark as I took off in the direction of the blood trail.

  Intestinal Noose

  Wyatt raised his hand to get Seth’s attention. “Do you mind if I ask a few questions?”

  Seth sat forward and stretched. “Not at all.”

  “So, you help people also? The media never said that.”

  “Of course, they don’t.”

  “I assume every scumbag that you take out has harmed someone in one way or another. Are you doing this to bring justice to them?”

  “Of course, but it’s more than just that; the scumbags won’t be able to harm anyone else.”

  “That’s true.” Wyatt looked at his notes. “How much money did you give her?”

  “Around ten thousand.”

  “Wow! That’s a lot of money. How can you afford to give away that much?”

  “I take it from scumbags and give it to their victims when I can.”

  “You’re kind of like a modern-day Robin Hood?”

  “I usually do wear some type of hood, but I see myself more like the Grim Reaper instead of some English fucker in tights.” Seth laughed.

  Wyatt smiled. “Speaking of disguises, do you always wear one?”

  “Yes, and I have mastered the art. I have used them from day one and they are the main reason why I have never been caught.”

  “Interesting. What type of disguises do you do?”

  “Anything you can imagine.”

  “Can you elaborate?”

  “Fake beards and mustaches, wigs, makeup, wrinkles, scars, birthmarks, tattoos, colored contacts and fat suits. Sometimes I wear elevated footwear to throw off my true height. I use prosthetics to change the appearance of my nose, cheekbones, chin, forehead, ears and neck. I also use dyes to change the color of my skin so I can make myself look black, Indian, Hispanic or even albino. When I’m in a pinch, I use a realistic latex mask that covers my entire head and neck and a pair of shades to hide my eyes. Over the years, I have disguised myself in every way imaginable.”

  Wyatt was intrigued. “Do the cops have any i
dea what you look like?” Wyatt looked at Seth closely. “Are you wearing a disguise now?”

  “The cops have absolutely no idea who or what I am. Every description they get of me is different.” Seth laughed. “I wear so many disguises that even I have forgotten what I look like.”

  Wyatt repeated his question. “Are you wearing one now?”

  Seth smiled. “I can’t remember. Do you have a mirror?”

  Wyatt didn’t respond.

  “Just messing with you. Not now, but I was before you got here.”

  Wyatt looked concerned. He was now worried that since he had seen Seth that he wasn’t going to make it out alive. “Why did you remove it?”

  “I had to get here.”

  Wyatt looked confused.

  “Cameras. Even in the shittier part of the city. And it wouldn’t be very trusting of me to keep it on for our meeting.”

  “That makes sense.” He looked at his notes. “What was the weapon that you used on Charlie?”

  Seth pulled a large wooden item out of a side holster. He pressed a button on a handle and a large blade flipped open. He leaned forward in his chair and laid it on top of a coffee table. He sat back, then crossed his legs to get comfortable. Wyatt looked at the weapon with interest. He noticed it resembled a medieval-looking sickle. The handle was about ten inches long and appeared to be made of bone. A metal end cap shaped like a skull with jagged points was secured to the end of the handle. Wyatt pointed to it. “Do you mind?”

  “Of course, not, but some of Charlie’s blood still might be on it.”

  Wyatt reached down and picked it up. He admired it as he held it. He noticed the shiny steel blade widened out as it curved to the right, and after it curved out to around seven or eight inches it began to narrow before it came to a sharp point, and then it curved in the opposite direction that formed the main blade. The main blade was a long crescent shape, razor sharp on the inside, and serrated on the outside. He looked over at Seth. “How many have you killed with this?”

  “I never counted. But if I had to guess, I would say around fifty or so.”

  Wyatt had a strange feeling as he held a device that had taken so many lives. He laid the weapon back on the table. “You were saying you went after Charlie?”

  “I sure did. I followed the trail of blood, feces and pieces of intestines. I found the fat bastard sitting in an alleyway with his back against a brick wall. He had lost a lot of blood and was very weak. He was holding his wound with his hands and whimpering like a dog. When I walked up, he held one of his blood covered hands out in defeat. “Hey, man. I have money in my safe. I’ll give it to you if you don’t hurt me any more.”

  “So, you’re going to pay me for cutting your ass up?”

  “I swear I will. You can take the money and all will be forgotten.” He looked down at his stomach. “I’m bleeding really bad. Please get me some help.”

  I knelt in front of him. “I will stop your stomach from bleeding if you answer some questions.”

  He reached out to me. “Come on, man, please get me some help.”

  I knocked his hand away. “You need to answer my questions before you bleed out.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  “What kind of shit you operating?”

  He moaned a little. “It’s legit. We have a permit.”

  I slapped him across the face. “Not what I heard.”

  He raised his hands to his face to shield himself. “You can’t believe what that bitch told you!”

  I punched him in the stomach. “Try another lie.”

  He moaned as grotesque fluid gushed from his wound. He moved his hands back to his stomach. “Okay, okay. Joel does some illegal shit.”

  I slapped him across the face again. “Who’s Joel?”

  He started crying. “He’s my boss.”

  “You involved?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  I reached down and shoved my hand inside his wound. He screamed out as I pulled out some of his intestines. I was hoping they were still intact so I could jump rope with them, but I only pulled out shredded pieces and one long piece. I stood up and slung them against the wall behind me. “Lying is only going to cause you more pain.”

  He stared in horror as he watched the pieces of his innards slide down the wall, leaving trails of blood and feces on the bricks. “Oh my God! Please don’t do this! I beg you!”

  I started to reach down towards his wound again.

  “Okay, okay! I’m involved… I get the girls. They’re underage. We set them up in the basement.”

  “Where’s Joel?”

  “He’s usually upstairs at this time of night. He has an office up there.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “Tall, dark complexion.”

  “That’s half of New York. Better description,”

  “Thin, bald on top, mustache, overbite.”

  “Age?”

  “Mid-fifties.”

  “Clothes?”

  “Dresses nice.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Like me.”

  “Oh, like a fuckhead.” I stood back up.

  Charles was in a lot of pain. He was breathing heavily as he looked up at me. “I told you what you wanted to know. Go get me some help before I bleed to death.”

  I flipped out my sickle.

  He stared in horror. “You said you were going to get me help.”

  “No I didn’t. What I said is I would stop your stomach from bleeding. And when I cut your head off, your heart will stop beating, shutting off the blood that is being pumped to your wound in your stomach.”

  He turned to his side, rolled on all fours, then started crawling away as he yelled out for help. As he scurried away, his intestines were falling out onto the asphalt. I let him crawl until his small intestine started coming out. It hadn’t been damaged from the blade like his large one, so I grabbed the end of it and started pulling it back towards me. The small intestine is around twenty-three feet long, so he was able to continue to crawl away as I pulled it in my direction. When his entire intestine was pulled from his stomach cavity he came to an immediate stop. He screamed as I pulled him back towards me. He was clawing at the ground to get away as he was being dragged across the asphalt. His intestine ripped in half after I dragged him a short way, so I ran up and grabbed the section that was still hanging behind him and continued pulling him backwards. Right before he reached me his stomach came popping out from his wound. He rolled onto his back, grasping his throat. Blood was gushing from his mouth and he was having difficulty breathing. Before he choked to death on his own blood, I made a half ass noose out of his intestine, then roped the fucker around his neck with it. He gagged and moaned as I dragged him over to a wall. His intestines wouldn’t be strong enough to hold all his weight, so I hung him from a water pipe that was running along the brick wall to where his feet were barely touching the ground. He was letting out his last breath as I disappeared into the dark.

  Pervert Vending Machine

  Wyatt was looking as if he wanted to throw up. Seth lit another cigarette. “If you need to take a break, the restroom is down the hallway.”

  Wyatt quickly stood up, allowing his papers and notebook to fall from his lap to the floor, then took off out the door. He ran down the hallway to a common set of restrooms. He looked in a cracked mirror, noticing he was white as a ghost. He turned the cold-water valve so he could wash his face, but none came out. He looked around and noticed the restroom was very filthy and outdated. The plumbing fixtures were stained with rust and water deposits, indicating their age. He took a deep breath as he stared back into the mirror, knowing he had to continue with the interview no matter how unpleasant it was going to be. He wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve, then walked back to the room. Seth was almost asleep in his recliner when Wyatt sat in his chair. “Why is the water off?”

  Seth sat up and yawned. “Because this building is a piece of shit.”

/>   Wyatt poured some whiskey into his glass. He took a drink. “That was disturbing.”

  Seth combed his hair back with his fingers. “Just a normal day for me.”

  Wyatt finished his drink, then set the glass back on the table. “Do you realize how sadistic that was?”

  “Of course, I was there.”

  Wyatt looked at a newspaper article. “Are all your acts of vengeance that gruesome? The news article simply said a man was killed in an alleyway.”

  “Most likely the news reporters didn’t know the details. The police probably had to keep that information contained per the FBI. And yes, I do my best in making a mess out of these scumbags so it will set an example to the rest of them.”

  Wyatt picked up his notebook and pen from the floor. “What happened next?”

  “I knew the police would most likely find Charlie at daybreak, so I headed straight for Logan’s house of perverts, which was a few blocks down from where I had left Charlie. It was around one in the morning, so I had plenty of time. I walked right up to the front door as if I was a regular. A tall, well-groomed man held his hand out to stop me. He looked at my worn clothes, then pointed to a sign that stated there was a twenty-dollar cover charge. I pulled out a wad of money, then handed him a twenty. He opened the door and I walked in. The foyer was dimly lit and there was a thug standing next to a set of red double doors that went into another area. To the right of the foyer was a staircase that led to the upper level. I needed to go upstairs to see if I could find Joel, and I needed to find the basement to see what was happening down there. The thug opened the door and motioned for me to go in. I knew if I tried to take him out or go another direction that it would cause a scene, so I walked through the door and into a large room that was partially filled with perverts who were watching a few skanky pole dancers. I looked around and counted two more hired thugs.

  Within seconds a skank walked up to me. “Can I get you anything?” She looked me up and down, frowning.