When he saw that the cluster fuck was nothing more than his severed hands and feet tied together with rope he started screaming. The punk that got the knife to his knees and elbows noticed what I had done. He became very angry and tried to reach for me. The pain was so horrendous that all he was able to do was lean forward while resting his arms on my back rest. He wanted to grab me, but his fingers wouldn’t move due to the tendons being severed. I grabbed one of his bloody hands and twisted the shit out of it. He jerked it back and screamed out. “You motherfucker!”
The car had swerved when I was fucking around with him. “Hey, fuckheads, I’m driving here. Keep your hands to yourself.” I looked at JZ through the rear-view mirror. “That includes nubs.”
The severed tendon fucker was still sniveling as he held his bloody hand against his chest. JZ was sitting next to him. “It’ll be alright, Tag. Dis mutherfucker is crazy, but we will get his ass.”
I laughed. “How in the fuck do you figure that? Y’all going to bitch and moan me to death?”
Tag started slamming his body against the back seat while screaming out hysterically. He reminded me of a kid that was throwing a temper tantrum.
I shook my head. “Somebody needs to give that fucker a Prozac.”
Tag went from acting crazy to calm as if someone had flipped a switch. It was actually a little disturbing as he spoke in a stern voice. “You’re not going to get away with this. We have friends that will find you.”
I looked at him in the rear-view mirror. “You mean Big D, Terrence, G Dog, Chris, Juice, D Rock and G Money?”
JZ smiled with a chicken shit grin as he looked back at me in the mirror. “That’s right, mutherfucker. Yo’ ass is gonna feel how hard those nigga’s is.”
“Hard? Not yet. It will take a while for rigor mortis to set in. They’ve only been dead for a short time. But I don’t know about G Dog. He might still be alive though.”
He snarled. “Fuck you! You’re all talk, you cracker ass motherfucker.”
“Really?” I looked back at him. “Look around, you fucking idiot. All I see is a bunch of fucked up pussies.”
He became angry and started poking me in the head again with his stubs. I slammed on the brakes, throwing him forward. I grabbed one of his arms, then shoved my fingers into the end of his stub. He screamed when I ripped out a handful of tendons, veins and meat. I tossed the gooey shit on Deuce’s face and head, then wiped my hand on his pants. Deuce slung his head around in an attempt to get the stuff out of his afro. When it didn’t work, he looked at me with pieces of tendons and veins hanging from his face. “You have no right to do this.”
“Yeah I do.”
“How you figure that?”
“Using the same right you used when you killed Dewayne.” I looked at him. “Now stop being a bitch and take your medicine.”
JZ spoke up as he was holding his arms against his chest. “Dewayne? This is what this shit is all about? You want some type of revenge for that bitch? You sorry motherfucker!” He sat forward and spoke in an aggressive tone. “Hey, boy! You know you’re not going to get away with this shit. You hear me? There are more of us.” He leaned back in his seat. “You gonna get all fucked up, boy. Fucked up by tha brothas.”
“Yeah, yeah, heard it before.”
“Fuck you!”
I addressed them all. “Hey, fuckers. What’s the deal with the Ebonics? Is it Motherfucker, mutherfucker or muthafucka? Make up your mind.”
The punk with the bullet lodged in his neck had been quiet up to this point. I think his name was JJ. He tried to speak, but only gibberish came out. I took a deep breath. “Now I have JJ the mute trying to join in with the rest of you clowns.”
JZ gritted his teeth. “Fuck you, white boy!”
Tag was glaring at me. “Fucking cracker ass honkey.”
I shook my head. “You motherfuckers!” I looked at JZ through the mirror. “Or is it muthafuckas?”
He just glared at me.
“You fuckers cry and whine about racism, but I haven’t called any of you a derogatory name. Cracker ass hurts my feelings. And think about this. I fucked y’all up over Dewayne, who is black. So, fuck you, you racist, broke limb, muthafuckas.”
Suddenly, Tag started freaking out. “Oh my God! Is that what I think it is?”
JZ noticed he was looking at the cluster fuck that was lying in his lap. “I know, I know. He’s a sick mutherfucker. But the doctors can put them back on.”
“Is that yo’ dick?”
“What?” JZ looked down and noticed a penis was hanging on the rope between his hands. “Oh shit!” He knocked the cluster fuck off his lap and started frantically feeling his crotch with his stubs. “Oh my God! You cut off my fucking dick.” He glared up at me and shouted. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”
I laughed. “You’re overreacting. No one else is getting bent out of shape.” Deuce was staring at me with a horrified expression. I nodded at him. “It’s not like you could use yours anyway.”
All the punks became upset and were cursing me at the same time, so I turned up the stereo and drowned out their bitching and whining. This went on for several more hours as I drove around listening to dirty rap songs.”
Wyatt looked nauseated. “Hold up. Did you really cut off their penises?”
“No. Just JZ’s.”
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“I had an extra bandana.”
Wyatt shook his head. “You’re crazy.”
“Am I?”
He paused as he looked at Seth. “I… I really don’t know what to think.”
“Maybe I am, maybe I ain’t. Either way I had a good time fucking with them.”
“Did they ever find out that you were messing with them?”
“Their dicks were the least of their worries.”
“How long did you drive around with them?”
“Until four in the morning.”
“What did you do with them?”
“First, I pulled down the same alleyway where my car was hidden to ensure no one had fucked with it. It was all good, so I took my knife and cut their tongues out, then I drove over to the other house that had the windows boarded up and a dirt yard. The street that I was on T’d into another street, and if I went straight I would run right into the house; this gave me an idea. I turned off my lights when I got close, then parked about fifty feet from it. The punks weren’t bitching as much now that the soreness of their wounds had set in. I pulled a long fuse from my backpack, tied one end to the steering wheel, leaving the other end hanging out the window. The punks sat quietly until I got out and poured Everclear all over their heads, bodies and the inside of the car. They were getting loud, yelling out muffled pleas for help as they tried to unlatch their seat belts.”
Wyatt started laughing. “Oh my God! They had no way to unlatch them.”
Seth smiled. “I’m glad you caught that.”
“Did you burn their asses up?”
“Of course. After I lit the fuse, I put the shifter into drive. The car took off slowly at first, but quickly gained speed. The punks were screaming and yelling as loud as they could as the car’s taillights got smaller and smaller. I watched with excitement as the car headed for the house. It veered to the left when it hit a curb, but it still took out the corner of the house. It didn’t take long for lights to come on, and within seconds three punks came storming out of the house with guns. They were fast as kangaroos as they jumped from the porch and over shit that was in the yard. When they noticed the car, they quickly ran over to it. About the same time, they opened the doors the car erupted into flames, knocking the punks to the ground. I knelt in the road, steadying my silenced pistol, and as each one stood up I shot them in the head. The horrifying sounds of muffled screams echoed out as the punks were being burned alive. Porch lights were coming on and it was time to get out of Dodge. My car was about ten blocks away and the bodysuit became heavy as I ran down the sidewalk. Around halfway I was only
able to walk, hiding from cops and emergency vehicles as they came down the street. I was completely exhausted and covered head to toe with sweat by the time I reached my car. With the cops preoccupied with the fire, and knowing it would be a while before they realized what had happened, I made a mad dash to the shack with the couch on the front porch. There was a four-door thugmobile parked in the driveway and there was no one outside. It was around 5:30 AM and most likely they were asleep.
I parked down an alleyway about a block away, then grabbed my 5.56mm SBR AR15 and took off on foot. All the lights were off and I didn’t hear any sounds as I snuck around the house, indicating they were all passed out or asleep. I didn’t know if there were any kids around or how many punks were inside, so I didn’t want to go in guns blazing. I needed some kind of distraction. Something that would get their attention and hold it. It came to me when I noticed a flashing red light coming from the interior of the car. Before I made another move, I snuck to the porch and slid the couch in front of the screen door. This would slow them down a bit when shit hit the fan. This new plan required me to go back to my car to get additional items; a bug sprayer filled with Everclear, four bottles of Everclear, a road flare and a wad of cash.
A funny thought ran through my mind as I walked back to the house; if any of these fuckers survived tonight, they would definitely hate the smell of Everclear after all this. I thought about JZ. If by some minute chance he survived, he would be a dickless gangster. I wondered how that would work out for him; would he still grab his crotch like the rest of the thugs. But then again, he didn’t have any hands. Either way I’m sure Chris would change places with him, or the rest of them for that matter. When I got to the thugmobile I poured all four bottles of Everclear all around the car. The next step was going to have to be quick, so I made sure the sprayer was pumped up and got everything ready. I picked the driver’s side lock and opened the door. The alarm system instantly went off; the lights were flashing and the car horn was beeping. I quickly scattered out several hundred dollars of mixed bills into the car, then sprayed down the interior with the Everclear. For my plan to work, I needed all the doors to be unlocked, so I pressed a driver’s unlock button several times. A light came on in the house about the same time I took off running. Before I made it to the edge of the yard I could hear the screen door being torn apart as cursing came echoing from the house. I wasn’t sure if anyone saw me, so as I hid behind some bushes I readied my SBR just in case they came running towards me. Within seconds the screen door ripped apart and three thugs only wearing boxers came jumping over the couch. They ran straight for the car with their guns drawn. As soon as they saw the money, they crawled into the car and started grabbing the cash like they were in one of those money booths on a game show. They were too preoccupied fighting each other and rolling around in the Everclear to notice a burning flare was tumbling through the air towards the car. When the flare hit the ground, the car and surrounding area instantly burst into flames, then a huge fireball lit up the dark followed by a boom that echoed throughout the neighborhood. Two of the punks managed to get out, but they were on fire. They ran in circles in the yard, hysterically jumping around and screaming as flames engulfed their bodies. About the time, they dropped and rolled, two hood rats came running from the house. One of them turned on a water hose and started spraying them down. The two punks were severely burned as they laid on the ground smoking. The other punk was hanging out of the car as flames bellowed out around him. Around this time another thug came out of the house. He was still wearing his street clothes and had a red bandana around his head; apparently, he had passed out from a night of partying. I didn’t want to leave without killing his ass, and I didn’t want the hood rats to see me. Luckily, I was still wearing the New York Giants jacket and the tow sack was in the pocket. Screaming echoed out in unison—same as when OJ’s verdict was read—when I stepped out from the bushes. Before the thug had a chance to react I pulled the trigger on my SBR and started blasting him in full auto mode. His body was violently jerking around as the lead filled him with holes. His legs gave first and he fell to his knees. The hood rats were horrified as I continued to blast rounds into his ass. When I emptied the thirty-round magazine, I let it fall to the ground, then quickly replaced it with another one. The hood rats took off running, quickly disappearing into the dark. I pointed the gun at the two punks on the ground and blew them full of holes. The air was filled with a thick cloud of smoke from the burning car as I ran to the alleyway. My heart was pounding so hard that it seemed it was going to bust through my chest. I got in my car and took off, and as I was leaving the Brunswick area, cops and emergency vehicles were coming from all directions, heading towards the aftermath.”
Wyatt was shaking his head as he stared at Seth. “You’re fucking nuts.”
“What’s fucking nuts is that I went out the next day and spent three grand on a stereo system for my car—that shit was addicting.”
Dickin’ Around
Wyatt wrote a couple of things in his notebook, then looked at Seth. “Do you think the cops knew you were responsible for their deaths?”
Seth rolled down his window a little, then lit a cigarette. “Sure, they did.”
“That’s strange. The incident isn’t mentioned in any of my news articles or reports.”
“I’m sure it’s not.”
“Then how do you know they blamed you?”
“Because Jim and his team showed up later that day.”
Wyatt looked confused. “How do you know that? Were you still in the area?”
Seth laughed. “No. I had a GPS tracking device on Jim’s car.”
Wyatt’s eyes got big. “Seriously?”
“Of course.”
“Are you tracking him now?”
“No. At the time, he was investigating some shit that I had done in Philadelphia and I did it to keep track of him since I still had some unfinished business in the area. This was also when I learned about Dewayne on the news, and since gas was high, it didn’t make sense to leave and then come back some other time.”
Wyatt shook his head. “You’re worried about saving gas.”
Seth smiled.
“What did you mean there was a TV show about the incident?”
“Since the cops kept the whole thing under wraps, the rumor of Dewayne’s ghost spread like a wildfire throughout the neighborhood, then to the surrounding areas. Finally, the story made it to someone involved in the entertainment business that did shows about ghost sightings. Some investigators from the show came to Trenton and interviewed people. From there the episode, The Ghost of Brunswick Avenue, was created.”
“What people were interviewed? Sounds like they did a story based just on hearsay.”
“I’m sure most of those reality shows are BS. But they did interview the hood rats, a few bystanders that had come out and witnessed Chris on the hood of the car, and Juice.”
“Juice lived?”
“He did, but was severely disfigured from the fire.”
“I still can’t believe people thought there was a ghost.”
“If the cops had said I did it, or even another gang, people would have simply understood that scenario and that would have been the end of it. But since they were left without answers, knowing something had happened because of the aftermath, the story was allowed to spin out of control since there wasn’t an opposing set of facts.”
“That’s interesting.” Wyatt closed his notebook. “I’ll have to watch the show.”
Seth pointed out the window. “We’re here.”
Wyatt noticed a sign. “Wow, we’re already in Atlanta.”
“Time flies when you’re having fun.” Seth exited the highway, then turned down a street. A short way down, he pointed to a multifamily building. “That’s where I left Pat and Steve.”
Wyatt sat forward in his seat as he stared out the window. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
Seth pulled out his gun and stuck it to Wyatt
’s head. “Keep looking out the window like you’re scared.”
Wyatt didn’t ask what Seth was up to; he simply looked out his window as he was told. Seth holstered his gun. “Nothing seems out of place.”
Wyatt leaned back in his seat. “Except for a gun to my head.”
Seth laughed. “That was done in case there were some cameras. If Jim reviews the recordings and one of them happens to film this car, it will look like I am holding you hostage.”
Wyatt shook his head. “You fucking think of everything, don’t you?”
“Maybe. But I wonder if they found the fucker?”
“Where’re we going now?”
“Pat’s house.”
“Why?”
“To see if he’s home.”
“Do you think that is wise? The cops could have it staked out.”
“Then we’ll have to stake them out to make sure.”
********************
Across town Jim and his team were at the hospital. Pat was in intensive care. He had a severe infection, but was going to recover. Ron and Thomas were in the waiting room while Jim was sitting next to Pat’s bed. Jim had already gotten Pat’s statement and was asking him details about Seth’s appearance when Pat’s cell phone rang. Pat motioned for his wife to bring it over to him. He looked at the caller I.D., then looked at Jim with a strange expression. “You said your name was Jim Thompson?”
Jim nodded. “That’s correct.”
Pat handed him his phone. Jim’s face turned white when he saw the name, Jim Thompson, as the caller. He stood up and answered, “Hello.”
“Hey, Jim. How’s ol’ Pat doin’?”
“Skull?”
“You know I don’t like that name. I told you to call me JD.”
Jim walked into the hallway so Pat and his wife couldn’t hear his conversation. “Why are you calling?”
“I told you, to see how my buddy Pat is doin’.”
The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore Page 69