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

by Garrett, Wade H.

  Clayton’s body was straining as he held himself up, listening to Seth and Wyatt bickering as if everything was normal. He started getting desperate, thinking they were crazy. “It’s Marvin. My name is Marvin.”

  “Try again.” Seth pressed the iron to the bottom of his ass, causing him to fall.

  Clayton threw his legs around in a panic. “Get the fuck away from me! You hear me?” Get the fuck back, you crazy motherfucker!” His kicking caused him to start spinning, and each time his back faced Seth, he would burn a B into his flesh. Clayton pulled himself back up, then with all his strength, he pulled his lower body up, throwing his legs around the rope. He was now hanging upside down as he glared at Seth.

  Wyatt couldn’t believe his eyes. “He’s like an acrobat or something.”

  “More like pain induced encouragement.” Seth heated the iron, then pointed it at him. “Name.”

  “Marcus Cunningham.”

  Seth laughed. “Spell your last name. And do it quickly.” He held the iron towards Clayton’s face.

  “Uh…”

  “No uh. Spell it now.” He pushed the iron closer.

  “C U N I G H A M.”

  “Hey, dumbass, you should have picked an easier name to spell, like Fox or Jones.” Seth pressed the iron to his forehead. Clayton screamed as smoke engulfed his face. He released the rope with his legs and fell. The weight of his body caused the rope to stretch, then he bounced into the air like he was bungee jumping. Seth looked at Wyatt. “I told you the rope wouldn’t break.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “That was fucked up.”

  Clayton rubbed his forehead on his arm, then glared at Seth. “You sorry motherfucker! You have no right.”

  “We’ll discuss rights and who did what after you tell me your name.” Seth lit the torch. “If you lie to me again I’ll burn your dick.”

  He kicked Seth in the chest. “Fuck you! Get the fuck away from me, cocksucker!”

  Seth shut off the torch as he looked at Wyatt. “Fucker kicks like a horse.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Treat him like one.”

  Wyatt followed Seth to a workbench. “What are you doing?”

  “Gonna make some horseshoes for his feet.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Exactly what I said.” Seth drew an outline of a pair of horseshoes on a steel plate. “How do those look?”

  “Not like horseshoes.”

  “His feet aren’t shape like a hoof, they’re long and narrow, but they will serve the same purpose.” Seth used the torch to cut out the shapes, then he drilled holes in them. He held one up. “Whatcha think?”

  “Why would you waste your time doing that?”

  “It’s fun coming up with new ideas. I don’t like being repetitious.”

  “How you going to put them on so they don’t fall off?”

  Seth picked up a bag, then pulled out a long nail. “With these.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “I told you not to get carried away while I’m here.”

  “I’m not. I would have heated them with a torch first if you weren’t around.” Seth walked up to Clayton. “Tell me your name.” He held up the shoes. “Or I will nail these to the bottom of your feet.”

  “Fuck you, dude, you’re not going to touch me!”

  Seth forced Clayton’s leg back, straddling it like a horse’s leg that is being shoed, then started nailing the shoe to his foot. Clayton screamed at the top of his lungs as the nails penetrated his flesh and bones. He was kicking Seth with his other foot, but he was too close to cause any damage. Seth took the blows as he drove in nail after nail. Some of the nails were exiting the top of his foot and some were bending when they hit bone. Sweat was pouring off Clayton’s body as he endured the pain.

  Wyatt walked up when Seth was done. “One is enough.”

  Seth picked up his other leg. “They come in pairs.” He started driving in the nails. Wyatt wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. It was kind of like a car wreck, you know you shouldn’t look, but you do. Wyatt noticed Clayton was being still. He looked at his face. “He’s out.”

  Seth hammered in a few more nails, then released his foot. Blood was dripping on the floor as Clayton’s body slightly swung back and forth. Wyatt looked aggravated. “You didn’t have to do that. You already know his name. You’re just playing games with him.”

  Seth tossed the hammer on the floor. “I need him to tell me who he is. I don’t want to punish the wrong asshole.”

  Wyatt’s eyes got big. “You’re not even sure if this is the right guy?”

  “I’m pretty sure he is, but it’s best that we verify it.”

  “Oh my God, what if he’s someone else? Look what you’ve done to him.”

  “He deserved it anyway.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “He’s a thug.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “I just do.”

  “If you want me to understand what you’re doing, then I need something more than, I just do.”

  “Alright.” Seth pointed to a tattoo of a crown with the letters CK on Clayton’s chest. “He’s a gang member.” He pointed to a teardrop tattoo under his left eye. “This indicates he has killed someone, and if he hasn’t, then this is what he gets for being a wannabe killer. He also had five dots on his wrist. That indicates he’s been in prison.” Seth picked up his pants, then pulled out several bags from a pocket. He held them up. “Crack.” He tossed them on the floor, then pulled out a wad of money from another pocket. “Ones and fives. He’s a dealer.”

  “Okay. You made your point.”

  “I haven’t even told you what I found in his house.”

  “I said you made your point. From here on, can you use another tactic to get information from him?”

  “Like what?”

  “Something less barbaric.”

  Seth thought for a moment. “Can I mind rape him?”

  “What the fuck is that?”

  “I’ll just mess with his mind; no real physical torture.”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t have an issue with that.”

  “That’s until I find out if he was the one who raped and killed that couple.”

  “I will go along with that.”

  “Cool. I need to keep him asleep while we get everything prepared.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, you’re going to help.”

  “What are we preparing for?”

  Seth injected Clayton with a sedative. “What you requested; to mind rape him.”

  “Oh. I didn’t think it involved me.”

  “If I can’t do what I want, then you’re going to participate.” Seth looked around. “I have an old skeleton in here somewhere. See if you can find it.”

  “Why would you have that? And I don’t want to touch it if it’s someone you killed?”

  He laughed. “It’s a medical prop. I bought it at a garage sale.” Seth thought for a moment. “I remember where it’s at. It’s in the back of the rat rod.” Seth pointed.

  Wyatt noticed a rusted mid-thirties truck with a chopped top. “In that thing?”

  “Yes. Go get it and bring it to the work bench.” Seth went and rounded up some items, then met Wyatt at the bench. He handed him a hatchet. “Break the ribs from the spine, then cut them in several pieces. While you’re doing that, I’m going to build a table.”

  Thirty minutes later Wyatt came over to see what Seth was building. He looked at the contraption, noticing it looked like a tabletop that was mounted on an angle. The top of the table, or platform, was made of two by six boards and it was around two feet wide by six feet long. The platform had legs; short ones on one end and long ones on the other, causing it to be at a forty-five-degree angle. There was a volleyball-sized hole cut out on the higher end. Wyatt looked confused. “What is this?”

  “It will be easier for me to show you.” Seth slid the contraption next to Clayton. “Lower him down on the table.
”

  Wyatt untied the rope, then lowered him as Seth aligned his body with the table top. Seth untied the rope. “Let’s get him secured before he wakes up.”

  Wyatt noticed Clayton was lying on his stomach and his face was in the hole. “Why is his face in there?”

  Seth handed him a ratchet strap. “After you strap down his head he won’t be able to look back.”

  Wyatt laughed. “It looks like he’s lying on one of those massage tables, but on an angle.”

  “He’s gonna get a massage all right.” Seth secured Clayton with ratchet straps by running them around his body and the table, from his shoulders to his ankles.

  Wyatt shook his head as he counted nine straps. “You sure he’s strapped enough?”

  Seth tossed him a roll of duct tape. “Tape his arms to the table legs.” Clayton’s arms were already hanging down, running parallel with the legs, making them easy to secure.

  “Why are we doing this if you’re not going to harm him?”

  “To make it realistic.” Seth grabbed a cart and rounded up some stuff.

  When he came back, Wyatt noticed the items. “Why do you need that axe and knife if you’re not going to harm him? It doesn’t look like you’re going to mess just with his mind.”

  “Just consider all this stage props.”

  He noticed there were some bags filled with a red substance. “What is that?”

  “Blood.”

  “Why would you have those here?”

  “It’s my blood and I keep several bags in the refrigerator in case I need some.”

  “I’m not going to ask.”

  Seth picked up a syringe and a glass vial. He filled the syringe, then started injecting the fluid in Clayton’s left shoulder. He moved the syringe to his right shoulder, then injected him again.

  Wyatt looked concerned. “Why you doing that?”

  “Numbing him up.” Seth refilled the syringe, then injected some of the fluid in the side of Clayton’s back, then the other side.

  “For what?”

  “I’m going to make him think that he’s paralyzed.” Seth started injecting the fluid down his spine.

  “Why?”

  “Why, why, why. Because you don’t want me to do anything bad to him.”

  “You know why… I mean, the reason I don’t want him harmed.”

  “Yeah, until I find out that he’s the murdering rapist.”

  “Then you can do whatever you want to him.”

  Seth filled the syringe, then injected it into Clayton’s second lumbar vertebra. “That should numb his lower body.”

  “Why… I mean, you should have injected him at the top part of his spine instead of sticking him all over.”

  “I thought you didn’t want anything to happen to him?”

  “I don’t.”

  “That would have shut down his organs.”

  “Oh.”

  Seth laid out the items he would need on Clayton’s back. “We’re ready to go. Now it’s time to wake him up. He injected him with adrenaline.

  A few seconds later Clayton started panicking. “What’s going on? I can’t move.”

  Seth knelt so he could make eye contact. “You accidentally fell from the rope and damaged your spine.”

  His eyes got big. “What?”

  “I need you to answer some questions.”

  “Oh my God! I can’t feel my legs.”

  “Stop worrying—the doctors can probably fix it. But if you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’m going to do something they can’t fix.”

  He became angry. “You did this to me on purpose, motherfucker! I ain’t tellin’ you shit!”

  “You ever heard of a blood eagle?”

  “Fuck you!”

  Seth opened a book and laid it on the floor in front of him. “See the images?”

  “Fuck you!”

  “That’s called the blood eagle. It was a method of execution that the Viking’s performed.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “First, they would cut the skin from the back of their victim, exposing the rib cage, then they would take an axe and cut the ribs from the spine.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Then they would force the ribs outwards, fracturing them of course, so they would stick out. It’s supposed to resemble blood-stained wings.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Then they would pull the lungs out through the wounds, laying them on the back, causing a very slow and painful death.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “The ritual was referred to as a blood eagle. That’s what I’m going to do to you.”

  His facial expression changed from angry to fearful. “What?”

  “Oh, now I got your attention. And lucky for you, your spine is severed so you won’t feel any pain, but you will die when your lungs are pulled out. It might take a few hours though, and during that time you will have difficulty breathing, kind of like a slow drowning, but without the water.” Seth slid a mirror under Clayton and positioned it at an angle so he could see his left side. Seth held up a knife. “I’m going to cut away your flesh. Let me know if it hurts.”

  Clayton was staring at the blade. “Okay, okay. I’ll do anything you ask.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “G Fly.”

  “Not your street name, asshole.” Seth moved the knife to his back.

  Clayton could see Seth in the mirror as he stood next to him, but he couldn’t see what he was doing. “Please don’t cut me!”

  Seth opened a bag of blood, then poured it onto his back. “Too late.”

  Clayton’s eyes were huge as he stared in the mirror, noticing blood was running down his left side before dripping to the floor. “My name is Carlton Williams. Please stop!”

  Wyatt was standing on the other side of Clayton. Seth looked at him. “My buddy Wyatt here is a psychic. He has this special ability to know when someone is lying. If you want me to stop, you’ll have to tell the truth.”

  “I’m telling you the truth. Carlton Williams is my real name.”

  “My buddy says you’re lying.” Seth picked up a large piece of pork skin that was laying on Clayton’s back, covered it with blood, then tossed it on the floor in front of him. “See what that lie got you.” Seth winked at Wyatt.

  Wyatt played along. “Oh shit, I can see his rib cage.”

  “Oh my God! Is that my skin? Please stop! I’m not lying!”

  Seth pointed a hand axe at him, ensuring he saw it. “Yes, you are.” He placed a wooden block on Clayton’s back, then started hitting it with the axe. “Uh-oh! These break off easier than I would have thought.” Seth rolled a rib from the skeleton in the blood, then tossed it on the floor. “I accidentally broke that one off.”

  Clayton’s eyes looked as if they were going to pop out. “Please stop! I beg you. You’re going to kill me.”

  “What is your real name?”

  “It’s Clayton Warner. You can call the police. I’ll go to jail. Just please don’t hurt me any more.”

  “Hurt you? Can you feel this?”

  “Uh, no. But I don’t want to die.”

  “Why would you go to jail? What did you do?”

  “Uh… Selling drugs.”

  “My buddy is shaking his head no.” Seth slammed the axe against the wood about ten times, jarring Clayton’s body with each blow. “All the ribs on the right side have been broken from your spine.”

  Clayton had a grimace of terror. “Oh fuck! You did what?”

  “Now I need to bend them back.” Seth made pulling motions as if he was bending ribs back, but he was actually tightening up the straps that were going around Clayton’s upper body.”

  Clayton looked as if he was in pain. “Oh my God, I can feel my rib cage bending!” He didn’t know the pressure was from the straps.

  “I’m done with one side, now I’m going to do the other.”

  “I robbed a house.”

  “And?”

  “That was
all.”

  Seth wacked the board a few times. He tossed two more broken ribs on the floor. “Sorry, your eagle is going to be fucked up.”

  “My buddies killed the homeowners.”

  “Did you participate?”

  “No. They did it all.”

  Seth jerked his back around, then stumbled backwards holding a rib. “Damn! It broke off when I was trying to bend it out of the way.” He tossed it on the floor.

  Clayton was panicking. “They raped the woman also, but I wasn’t involved.”

  Seth hit the board a few more times, then dumped out two bags of blood, causing it to pour off his sides. “Oh shit! I think I cut an artery!”

  Clayton looked nauseous as he looked at the ribs lying on the blood-covered floor. “I was there just to rob the place. I didn’t want that to happen.”

  Wyatt made a gagging sound. “I can see his lungs.”

  “You wanna pull one out, or do I get to do both?”

  Clayton vomited, then started crying. “I’ll take my punishment. Just call the police.”

  “Why? You didn’t do anything.”

  “I did. I raped her too.”

  “I think you’re lying so we will stop.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I know Andre is in jail, but where’s Darren?”

  “I will tell you if you call the police.”

  Seth knelt in front of him. “I really want to finish the blood eagle, so if you don’t want to rat on Darren, that’s fine.”

  “Will you stop if I tell you?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s with some friends in Fort Stockton.”

  “You know the address?”

  “He’s stayin’ in an apartment building on the corner of Eighth and Trevor. Apartment 218.”

  “How sure are you that he’s there?”

  “I just left Fort Stockton to stay with Tig here in Dallas.”

  “We’re not in Kansas any more, bud.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  Seth looked at Wyatt. “Wanna take a trip to Fort Stockton?”

  “By myself?”

  “No, with me. We’ll cruise down in the black Dodge Magnum.”

  Wyatt noticed it was parked with the other vehicles. “That one is okay, but can we take the black hot rod with the white racing strips?”

  “That’s a blown 69 Camaro. It drinks the gas and will cause too much attention.”