I was cleaning hair and skin particles from my club with a rag as I stood next to the wetback. “He’ll be out in four years or less.”
He looked at me with sadness. “At least he will pay for what he has done.”
“I don’t think that is payback. At least cut his throat or something.”
His eyes got big. “I can’t do that. I’ll be the one to go to prison. I have kids to raise.”
I looked back at his car, unsure if he was completely alert due to the wreck. “They weren’t with you, were they?”
“No, they’re at home with the babysitter.”
“It’s your choice what happens to this fucker, but once the police get involved it’s out of my hands.” I stuck the club in my back pocket. “I can fuck him up for you if you like.”
He looked distraught. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Pour gas on him and light him on fire. Cut off his limbs and dick. Skin him alive. Take a hammer and break every bone in his body. Stuff like that. And of course, that’s after he regains consciousness and sobers up so he has to endure the pain.”
“I can’t let you…” The man paused for a moment when he apparently sensed something about me. “Who are you?”
“Let’s just say I can be this guy’s worst nightmare.”
He looked me in the eyes. “I have a gut feeling about you.”
I looked up and down the road. “Make your decision. I need to get moving. If you want, I can take him with me and make him suffer immensely before he dies.”
He had a very strange facial expression as he stared at me. “Are you that…”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell.”
He looked at me with a confused look.
“It worked for the fags in the military.” I caught myself being disrespectful considering his loss. “Sorry.” I pulled out one of my untraceable cell phones and started wiping it down so I could leave it with him.
He held his hands out, indicating stop. “You might leave a fingerprint on it.” He looked over towards his car, then back at me. “Take him and make him pay for what he has done.” He turned and walked off. I quickly got in my car and pulled up next to the wetback. I put him in the trunk, and before I drove off, I noticed the man was sitting next to his wife in the grass, combing her hair with his fingers. I could feel myself getting emotional as I watched his pain. At that very moment, after years of doing the most heinous and barbaric things to what I always considered the wicked, I had a feeling of absolution come over me, knowing I would never second guess myself again. About that time another car was coming, so I took off.”
Wyatt was teary eyed. “That was sad. I know how he felt.” He looked at Seth. “Do you think he knew who you were?”
“Seemed like it. That encounter was kind of strange.”
“What do you mean?”
“How he had a suspicion of who I was.” Seth looked concerned. “Would you think I am a killer by looking at me?”
“Of course, not.” Wyatt laughed. “Just when you open your mouth.”
“I have to learn to watch what I say; especially when I think I’m going to get to fuck someone up—I get real excited.”
“I’ve noticed that as well. Did he tell the police about you?”
“I don’t think so. The paper only mentioned the accident and stated the driver of the vehicle that caused the accident had fled on foot and was never apprehended.”
“How can you be sure?”
“The paper said the police were looking for a white man.”
“Do you think Jim covered up what happened?”
“Possibly. But what would you have done? Would you have ratted me out for punishing the person that was responsible for your wife’s death?”
“No. I would have told the police the same thing that he did.”
“Even though I do some very bad things, I only go after scumbags that are deserving.”
“Do you ever feel guilty?”
“When it comes to how I have disappointed God I am.”
Wyatt seemed confused. “I wouldn’t have thought you believed in God?”
“I don’t believe that human life was just some cosmic accident, an arbitrary conglomeration of molecules evolved by chance into an organism with a brain. I believe there is something more than just us. If you take in consideration how big the universe is and how minuscule we really are, we would be arrogant to think that there isn’t a higher being of some sort.”
“Do you believe in aliens?”
“If you’re talking about illegal aliens, I just talked about how they cause problems.”
“Be serious.”
“I’ve never seen one, but it goes back to what I said about how insignificant we are compared to everything else; we would be arrogant to think that we are so special that we are the only beings in the universe.”
“Do you believe in evolution?”
“You might have come from a fucking monkey, but I didn’t.”
“Doesn’t the Bible mention that the earth is only six thousand years old when in reality it’s millions of years old? And doesn’t it say that the earth was created only in six days?”
“Anyone with any kind of intelligence knows the earth is millions of years old.”
“So, the Bible is wrong?”
“The Bible does say six days, but where most people fail to understand is those were in God’s time frame, meaning each day was millions of years each.”
“Okay, but there are other discrepancies in the Bible.”
“It’s all in the way you want to decipher it.” Seth looked at Wyatt. “I believe what I believe, and who knows if I’m right or wrong. It just feels right to me. And I really don’t want to get in a debate, and I don’t want to push my beliefs on anyone else. The important thing to write down...” Seth looked at Wyatt’s notepad. “…is that I don’t use the Bible to justify what I do.”
“I’m not challenging your beliefs; I just want to know more about them. I think your religion is another interesting part of you that would contribute to the story.”
“That’s fine, but I don’t want you to make it look as if I’m being preachy, or telling others how to believe or live.”
“I won’t.”
“And I’m not religious. A religious person has a religion.”
Wyatt laid his pen down on his notebook. He was aggravated. “You just said you believed in God, now you’re telling me you don’t?”
“That’s not what I said. I said I’m not religious because they have a religion. Big difference.”
“I don’t understand.”
“A religion is an established denomination and is the way a person chooses to worship God through a collection of organized behaviors. I choose to believe in the word of the Bible, meaning I’m non-denominational.”
“I didn’t know there were different types of worship. I thought everyone that believed in that sort of stuff did the same thing.”
“When do humans get together and agree on anything?”
“Are you telling me that the people that believe in God disagree with what the Bible says?”
“No, you’re missing the point. I’m saying people choose to worship in different ways. All the different denominations in Christianity use the same Bible for their teachings, but the difference is the way they go about it. Catholics are very symbolic, Baptists are fire and brimstone and Pentecostals are Holy Spirit–filled and upbeat. A non-denominational person is not restricted to any particular or specific denomination. A person that is non-denominational simply considers themselves as a Christian.”
“Do you consider yourself a Christian?”
“A Christian is a person who knows he or she is a sinner and believes Christ died on the cross for their sins. The Bible says, ‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ I definitely have the sinner part down, and I also believe Christ died for my sins.”
>
“Is that a yes?”
“I can’t answer that since I live a very sinful lifestyle.”
“Are you saying people that sin cannot be a Christian?”
“Absolutely not. As humans, we are born sinners. That’s why Christ made his sacrifice in the first place. Non-Christians automatically assume that they have to make abrupt changes in their lifestyle if they accept Christ, and that scares them away. It’s also why Christians shouldn’t judge others—it only makes this perception worse.”
“What kind of changes?”
“They think they have to stop their bad habits like smoking, drinking, and jacking off to porn; things like that. But that’s not what being a Christian is about. It’s about the person’s relationship with God. But don’t get me wrong. A Christian shouldn’t have an attitude that they can do whatever they want. There is a sense of guilt that comes along with sinful behavior. You’re supposed to acknowledge your sins and try to overcome them. Just like with homos. They live a sinful lifestyle based on the Bible, but I believe they can be saved if they accept Christ. Once that happens they might or might not be able to overcome their temptations just like the rest of us with our temptations.”
“It seems God doesn’t like gays.”
“God doesn’t dislike gays. He loves everyone, but hates the sin. Homos are no more sinful than anyone else is. We’re all sinners in one way or another. For example, I jacked off to a dirty magazine that I found in the room before you met me in the hotel. That was no more or less sinful than a dude plowing another dude’s colon, or someone cursing. Sin is sin.”
“First off, that’s fucked up that you did that in the same room I was in. And second, if I say a curse word, you’re saying it’s the same as someone raping a kid?”
Seth looked at Wyatt. “I’ve been talking about bad habits and perversion. Raping, molestation and abusiveness are acts of evil behavior done by the wicked. You can’t compare those—they’re completely two different levels of sins.”
“So, there are different levels of sins?”
“I hope so. I’m not a Bible scholar and I hate to misquote anything I’ve said, but jacking off or smoking a cigarette is in no freakin’ way the same level of sin as someone raping or murdering someone. There are sinful acts and there are evil acts. Anyone who sins is a sinner, and anyone who does evil is, well, just an evil prick. These evil pricks are the wicked of our society, and they are the morally bad who prey on the innocent. They’re the ones that I go after and keep me in business.”
Wyatt looked confused. “If a gay person is saved, can they still be gay?”
Seth looked at Wyatt with a frown. “Where did that question come from? Is there something I need to know about? You seem awful concerned about homos.”
Wyatt got defensive. “I’m not fucking gay. I’m going somewhere with my questioning.”
Seth laughed. “I got you, pal.”
“Stop laughing. It’s not funny.”
“Okay, okay. Now you got me sidetracked. What was your question?”
“If a gay person is saved can they still be gay?”
“All Christians sin, so yes, a butt pirate can still suck dick and be pounded in the ass.”
“That’s crude.”
Seth laughed. “It is what it is. But like I said earlier, there is a sense of guilt that comes along with being a Christian if you’re doing something you know is wrong.”
Wyatt looked confused. “How can a person who considers themselves a Christian continue to do something if they know God doesn’t approve of it?”
“HE knows Christians are sinners and that they are doing their best. HE also knows how hard it is for humans to overcome temptation, but over time a person’s temptations will change without them realizing it due to their relationship with Christ.”
“You said you didn’t know if you could be a Christian because of your sinful lifestyle, but you then stated a person could be a Christian while being sinful. Are you or are you not a Christian?”
Seth looked over at Wyatt. “This isn’t complicated, chief. Obviously, I do some really fucked up and bad things compared to most people. I might only do it to scumbags, but it’s still a lot worse than a bad habit or being a knob jockey, so I can’t answer your question because I don’t know.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Of course. But my soul died many years ago when I had everything taken from me.”
“You’re talking about when your fiancée was murdered?”
“Yes. But then I chose to go down this path of punishing the wicked, and once I started, one thing led to another, and here we are talking about all the shit that I have done.”
The Human Music Box
The sun was setting. Seth looked at his watch. “We can drive through the night or stop at a hotel, then head to Atlanta in the morning.”
“Whatever you want to do. I can sleep in here if need be.”
“Good. Fewer cameras and people we have to worry about. We also need to swap out vehicles before the morning.”
Wyatt flipped a page in his notebook. “So, what happened to the Mexican?”
“After I left the crash site I stopped a few miles down the road and injected him with a sedative so he would remain asleep. The last thing I needed was to get pulled over for something with him banging around in the trunk. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with him and I didn’t want to take him home. The chamber was reserved for the worst type of criminals like sex offenders and abusers that purposely preyed on innocent people. This fucker was more along the lines of the assholes that I deal with now. Later that evening as I was heading down an interstate I got into a road rage situation with a truck driver. I saw the asshole coming in my rear-view mirror, swerving from lane to lane as he passed cars. I was going the speed limit in the right lane and there was a car to my left going the same speed; we were running together. The guy beside me had his head up his ass and was causing cars to stack up behind him. His lane was for faster traffic, but it’s typical in Texas for drivers to be inconsiderate, so I slowed down, allowing the cars behind him to move into my lane so they could pass the asshole. By the time the trucker approached, the guy beside me had slowed down and had closed the gap enough where the big rig didn’t have room to pull in front of me. The trucker looked over at me while making a hand gesture for me to get out of his way. I slowed down a bit, then the fucker almost clipped me with the back of his trailer, causing me to move to the shoulder. I pulled back into my lane when he was clear, but then to my surprise, he hit his brakes, causing me to lock up mine. I don’t know why the fucker took his frustrations out on me—I wasn’t the one in the left lane causing the traffic jam. While I drove behind him, a thousand things were running through my mind that I could do to his ass. Then it dawned on me; I could kill two birds with one stone. I followed him for three hours until he stopped at a truck stop. He parked in a large parking lot where there were a lot of big rigs. It was now around 11 PM and plenty dark enough to move about without being seen. He didn’t mess around as he got out of his rig and headed towards the store with a duffel bag. The truck stop had showers and a restaurant, so I hoped he would be gone a while.
I scanned the area with night vision to ensure it was clear, then ran to his truck, which he had left idling. There was a toolbox mounted behind the cab. I picked the lock to see if there was anything in it that I could use. I wound up taking four trucker straps, a roll of duct tape and some heavy-duty zip-ties. Up to this point I hadn’t decided on what I was going to do, but the zip-ties gave me an idea due to their size; they were around three feet long, half inch wide and almost indestructible. I crawled under his truck and noticed there was plenty of room between the driveshaft and truck frame to do what I was thinking about. I went ahead and ran the straps over the framing members above the drive shaft, and I secured fifteen of the zip-ties to the driveshaft, leaving them loose enough where I could slide them back and forth.
Now that the truck was prep
ped, I moved my car next to his truck. The wetback was still unconscious and I knew the sedative was going to wear off soon, so I needed to move quickly. Before I dragged him out of the trunk, I cut off all his clothes except for his underwear and duct taped his mouth shut. I scanned the area again to make sure no one was around. It was clear, so I dragged the wetback out of my trunk and under the big rig. I laid on my back, then rolled his body on top of mine. I pushed him upwards with my knees and elbows first, then higher with my feet and hands. Once I had him up against the bottom of the cab, right above the driveshaft, I held his torso in place with my feet so I could secure his chest with one of the straps. It was kind of like how I install transmissions in vehicles, but unlike where a transmission is rigid, he was like a fucking greasy, limp noodle. Now that I had his upper body secured, I took the other straps and secured his legs and waist, leaving his head hanging. I stretched his arms perpendicular from his body and secured them to the framing members using some extra zip-ties. He was now secured right above the driveshaft. Next, I slid one of the zip-ties that were around the driveshaft to where it was positioned under his face. I tightened it down, then trimmed the end at an angle where it would only come in contact with him and not any parts of the truck to reduce noise. The angle also created a sharp tip. I did the same with the other fourteen zip-ties; securing one at his upper chest, lower chest, three spaced evenly across his abdomen, two at his private parts, and then spaced out the other seven from his thighs to his feet. I also made sure the zip-ties were staggered around the driveshaft so they wouldn’t strike him all at once; kind of like the raised pieces on the rotating drum of a music box mechanism. I was so impressed with my musical creation that I took a picture of it. I knew the human music box was going to make the pleasant sounds of flesh being whipped accompanied by moans and muffled screams, but unfortunately, I wasn’t going to be able to hear it. Before I crawled out, I injected him with adrenaline and cut off his underwear. I laughed when I noticed the bastard’s dangling dick was directly in the path of a zip-tie. I did a quick look around to make sure I wasn’t leaving anything incriminating behind, then moved my car across the parking lot.
The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore Page 64