“Does it look like you bled a lot?”
Tim shrugged his shoulders. “Not really.”
Charles sarcastically popped off, “Then why in the fuck do we each need ten large bags of blood?”
Tim looked scared. “Uh… I don’t know.”
“I do. Some crazy motherfucker is planning on cutting our asses up with that saw. And that blood is going to keep us alive longer so we have to endure more pain.”
“You watch too many movies.”
Charles shook his head. “And you’re just another clueless white boy that grew up in a sheltered neighborhood.”
“You’re an ignorant hood rat.”
“Hood rat? Fuck you, cracker!”
“No, fuck you, you… you fucking….”
“Come on, say it, if you got the fuckin’ balls!”
“You… You fucking black piece of shit.”
“That’s what I thought; just another punk ass white bitch.”
Henry interrupted. “Hold up! Arguing and calling each other names isn’t going to help any of us. None of us know for sure what’s going on, but I also think this is something bad. Something real bad, and we need to get out of here as soon as possible.”
Tim didn’t want to accept that as a possibility. He frantically looked around for some kind of answer. Relief overcame him when he noticed that the plastic hoses coming from the bags disappeared under the tables. “I don’t think the bags are connected to us. The hoses run under our tables.”
Charles leaned over as far as he could to see where they were going. “Maybe your white ass is right. They do disappear under the tables.”
Tim looked over his shoulder, then looked at Henry to see if he had a hose connected to him. “I don’t see any hoses. I don’t think they connect to us. Maybe the bags are filled with something else, like hydraulic fluid or something. You know, maybe for the tables. They could be hydraulic.”
An older Spanish man on table five spoke up. He looked like Edward James Olmos. “Those aren’t hydraulic lines. And unfortunately, they are connected to us.”
Tim looked at him. “How do you know?”
“Because I know the difference between hydraulic hoses and plastic tubing. And besides, I know how the hoses are connected to us.”
“And?”
“The tubing comes out of the tables where our chains are connected. Then it’s intertwined with our chains up to our collars.” He felt inside his collar. It was loose enough where he could slip in two fingers. “I can feel the hose. I think it’s connected to a catheter in my neck. I can also see part of the hose hanging out from under Jason’s collar.”
Jason was on table six. He was a lot younger, bald with a long goatee and covered in tattoos. He had been sitting forward with his head down while crying quietly to himself. He looked at the Spanish man. “What did you say?” He quickly found the hose, then he tried to reach between his collar and neck, but it was too tight. “Oh shit! Is there a needle in my neck?” He began to panic. “Can someone get it out? Oh my God! I can’t stand needles.”
The Spanish man shook his head. “You fucking serious? You’re worried about a needle when you’re covered in tats.”
Jason glared at him. “Fuck you, Joe. This shit ain’t funny.”
“No shit, Sherlock, so stop acting like a bitch.”
“You’re an asshole.”
Tim became upset. He glared at Joe. “Why in the fuck are you just now telling us this? How much more are you holding back?”
“I’m not holding back anything. I just figured it out when y’all started talking about it.”
“You’ve been awful quiet over there, like you’re guilty of something.”
“I’ve been meditating, dickhead.” He pointed to his legs. “And how in the fuck could I be guilty of something when I’m bound just like you?”
“I think you’re a fucking liar.”
“You need to watch your mouth, boy”
The woman started crying hysterically and making a lot of noise. She was on the last table. Table seven. She was very normal looking; mid-thirties, average build, long blond hair and fair skin. Henry yelled at Jason. “Calm her down.”
Jason turned to her. “Ma’am, please stay calm.”
She raised her hand, palm out, as she covered her breast with her other arm. “Leave me alone.”
“It’ll be okay, ma’am.”
“Stop calling me ma’am, asshole. My name is Beth.”
The person on table three was just waking up. He looked like a heroin addict; skinny, unkempt, sores on his face and needle marks down his arms. He immediately started screaming at the top of his lungs when he noticed his legs. Joe and Charles were yelling at him to calm down. It was becoming chaotic.
Tim became frightened and started cutting at the wires with the knife that was attached to the cable in an attempt to free himself. The violent jerking was causing the hooks to tear his skin. Henry yelled out. “It’s no use! The wires are made of stainless steel.”
Tim looked at him. “What?”
“They’re stainless steel. You’re not going to cut them with that knife, or the shears. All you’re doing is causing yourself pain.”
He stared at his legs as he was panicking. “Then I will cut out the hooks.”
“It’s no use. Even if you could overcome the pain, your chains will prevent you from reaching all of them. Your knees are about the farthest you’ll be able to reach.”
His eyes opened wide. “Oh my God! That’s why we’re chained. Someone doesn’t want us cutting ourselves loose. We are being held captive.”
Charles started laughing sarcastically. “You finally caught on, you dumb ass peckerwood.” He started clapping. “Congratulations.”
Tim became angry. “Screw you, spook.”
Charles laughed again. “There we have it folks. The racist finally showed his true colors.”
“I ain’t a fucking racist! You called me a peckerwood and a cracker first, so you’re the racist.”
Henry got everyone’s attention. “Listen up! If we’re going to get out of this, we need to work together.”
Joe agreed. He seemed to be very calm and rational. “He’s right. We need to ask each other questions to see if there’s a connection. I’m Joe by the way.” He nodded towards Jason. “Jason and I were the first to awaken, then Charles. We had already discussed the possibility of what’s going on before the rest of y’all woke up.”
Tim looked over at him. “And?”
“Possibly a ransom thing.”
“That’s stupid—I don’t have any money. And if that was the case, why would anyone do this to my legs?”
Joe shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. It was just a thought.” He looked at Henry. “Do you have any ideas?”
“It can’t be a ransom thing—I’m on a fixed income. Outside of that, I don’t know. I haven’t done anything to deserve this.”
Joe looked at the drug addict. “What’s your name?”
He could barely speak. “Ryan. And I don’t know shit.”
Tim was getting upset. “This is bullshit! Someone must know something.”
Beth looked distraught. “I know why I am in here.”
Tim looked at her. “Don’t just fucking sit there. Speak up.”
She had a solemn expression as she looked at everyone. “You must have all done something. Every one of you. This is karma. It’s payback for our sins.”
Jason was shaking his head. “That’s bullshit lady. You don’t know me.”
Charles got defensive. “I haven’t done a fuckin’ thing to anyone, especially to deserve this shit.”
Ryan’s hands were trembling. “I haven’t done anything either.”
Tim glared at Ryan. “Then why you acting so nervous, shaking and all? You must have done something. Maybe we’re all in here because of you.”
“It’s withdrawals, asshole. Don’t blame me for this shit. Maybe you’ve done something. You just look guilty.”
/>
Tim thought about what he had been doing, knowing there was no way anyone knew. “You’re wrong. You don’t know shit.”
“I know that you look like a fucking rapist. You must have raped someone.”
“Screw you!” Tim had a pit in his stomach. He looked at the others. “I’m a good person. I’ve never hurt anyone.”
Beth laughed sarcastically. “You’re so full of shit, dude. You know why you’re in here. You’ve done something bad to someone. Real bad.” She looked at the group with a solemn expression. “We’re all damned.”
Everyone became disorderly, blaming each other for their own predicament.
The Vigilante’s Bitch
A man came walking up from out of the dark as everyone was arguing. “Hey, y’all fuckers need to calm down and be quiet.”
It became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone was staring at him with confusion. He was a normal looking man, around forty years old, around five seven in height, medium sized belly and a round face with chubby cheeks. He was wearing a blue hospital gown, gray sweatpants and white high-top shoes. A red beer hat was on top of his head, but instead of it holding cans of beer, it held IV bags filled with a greenish liquid. Hoses ran from the bags to each side of his neck where they connected to catheters.
“What the fuck is this shit!” shouted Tim.
The man pointed at him. “I said shut the fuck up! I’m here to….”
“You need to let me fucking go!”
Everyone became unruly, shouting and screaming at him. The man could barely walk as he went over to Tim. He held up a pair of pruning shears. “Interrupt me again and I will start snipping off your toes, you fucking loudmouth prick.”
Tim noticed the pruner was the same as the one hanging on the side of his table. At that moment, he knew the man was responsible for everything. He remained quiet, not wanting to upset him further.
Ryan shook his fist. “What the fuck, dude!”
The man walked over to him. “I said be quiet, jerkwad.”
Ryan looked at the beer hat. “Is this some kind of fucking joke?”
“I’m not in the mood to listen to your shit.” He quickly moved the pruner to Ryan’s left foot and snipped off two toes. He had done it in such a half-ass way, it appeared that he didn’t care how many he cut off. The amputations were even done on an angle.
Ryan was shocked when he noticed his pinky and forth toe were missing. “What the fuck!”
“I said shut up!” Again, being sloppy with the tool, he carelessly snipped off two more toes and severed half of his big toe.
Ryan started screaming at the top of his lungs. “Oh my God! Stop cutting off my fucking toes!”
The man grabbed Ryan’s big toe and bent it in the opposite direction of the cut. As soon as the bone made a loud snapping sound, he started twisting it. Within seconds the remaining skin tore, then he pulled back, stretching ligaments until they popped like rubber bands.
Ryan had foam running out of his mouth as he screamed out, “You sorry motherfucker! Get the fuck away from me!”
The man threw the severed toe, striking Ryan in the face. “Stop yelling!”
“Fuck you, asshole! You cut off all my toes!”
“No I didn’t.” He pointed to his other foot with the pruner. “You still have those.”
“Get the fuck away from me, you sick son of a bitch!”
He moved the pruner to his other foot. “Not another peep, or bye-bye big toe.”
Ryan was desperately trying to reach him, but the chains held him back. “You sorry fucker! You’re going to pay for this!”
The man cut off his big toe and index toe in one motion. “I said shut the fuck up!”
Ryan couldn’t believe his eyes. His anger changed to panic. “Please don’t cut off anymore! I beg you!”
When two more toes fell into the pile of toes on the floor, the man moved the pruner to his last toe. “One little pinky left. Open your mouth again and it’s gone.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll be quiet.”
After his pinky toe fell to the floor, he moved the pruner next to his crotch. “Your dick is next. I dare you to say something again, you hardheaded prick. Please, please say something. I really want to cut it off.”
Ryan remained silent outside of his muffled whimpering. Everyone had quieted down. In fact, they weren’t making a sound. The man tossed the pruner on the table by Ryan’s feet, then asked, “If it was, would it be funny?”
Ryan just sat staring at him while tears ran down his cheeks.
“Now you can speak, fuckhead.”
He looked confused. “I… I don’t understand what you’re asking?”
“You asked if this was some kind of joke. So, if it was, would it be funny?”
“I… Uh… Not sure what you mean.”
“Never mind.”
Joe raised his hand. “Sir. We’ll cooperate with you. You don’t have to do that kind of stuff.” He nodded towards Ryan’s feet.
“Listen, fuckers, I just want to get this shit over with so I can go home. I was….”
Tim blurted out, “Get what over with?”
He shook his head. “I was in the process of telling you, dipshit. Do you need a pedicure too?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just upset. Please continue.”
“Upset about what?”
Tim motioned to his legs.
“Oh, that. I’d be pissed too.”
“Why did you do this to me?”
“I didn’t.”
“Then who did?”
Everyone else was staying quiet as they stared at the psychopath. The man flipped over a five-gallon bucket that was sitting next to the tables, then eased down on top of it. He seemed to be in a lot of pain. Joe was the most level-headed out of the group. He knew he needed to establish a positive relationship with him. “Sir. You look to be hurt. Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah. Don’t be a suck-ass. Your cop bullshit isn’t going to work in here.”
Everyone looked at Joe. Jason glared at him. “You’re a fucking cop? Why didn’t you say that earlier?”
Joe snapped back. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”
“It makes a big….”
Charles interrupted. “Y’all fuckin’ chill out!” He looked at the man. “Dude, why the fuck am I in here?”
“First off, don’t call me dude.”
“Sorry, dog.”
“Dog?” You better talk to me like you got some sense.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don’t call me sir—I’m not your fucking daddy.”
“Then what do you want me to call you?”
The man gritted his teeth as he softly said, “Elmer Fudd.”
Tim leaned forward until his chain stopped him. “What was that? I wasn’t able to hear you.”
The man seemed angry as he shouted. “Elmer Fudd, asshole!”
“Okay, okay. You don’t have to get upset.”
Joe knew they were at the mercy of a crazy man. He needed to gain his trust. “Sorry if we upset you. And yes, I am a cop, but you’re the one in charge. We will do whatever you ask.”
“Listen. This isn’t of my doing. I’m just here to explain what’s going on. And stop fucking patronizing me—I’m not an idiot!”
Beth laughed. “Then stop acting like one, Elmerrrrr.”
He glared at her. “What did you say to me, you crazy bitch?”
“Screw you, asshole! You’re the one wearing a silly ass beer hat and going by the name Elmer Fudd.”
He stood up. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
Joe couldn’t believe what Beth had said. He glared at her. “Shut the fuck up, bitch. You’re going to get us killed.” He looked at Elmer. “Don’t pay any attention to her. She’s not rational.”
“Oh, I’m plenty rational.” She looked at the men. “Y’all need to grow some fucking balls and stop sniveling like a bunch of little bitches. Look what this piece of shit di
d to us.”
Everyone started freaking out in one way or another; Jason, Joe and Charles were arguing with Beth, Ryan was crying hysterically, Henry looked as if he was going to have a heart attack and Tim was cutting at his wires.
Elmer walked over to a control cabinet and pressed a button. Everyone became quiet when the large blade on the saw started turning. At first, the electric motor made a deep humming sound as it slowly spun the blade, and as it picked up speed, the room began to fill with an ear-piercing whirling sound as the saw blade cut through the air.
A few seconds later Elmer shut off the saw. When the blade stopped, he looked at the group and laughed. “That definitely got y’all’s attention.” He pointed at Beth. “And if you say another word, I will cut out your fucking tongue.” He looked at Tim. “Look what you’ve done, dumbass. The fat man already told you it’s stainless steel wire.”
Tim had ripped out several hooks from his legs, causing large gashes in his flesh. He had a troubled look as he stared at the open wounds—there was very little blood, and it was thicker than normal, almost like molasses. “Why aren’t my legs bleeding?” He looked up at Elmer. “What have you done to me?”
“You’ve been given a clotting agent. All of you have.”
Tim was scared. It seemed his legs were dead, but he had feeling in them. “That can’t be it. Clotting agents don’t work like that. They help clot once there’s bleeding. I’m only oozing thick blood, like it’s old or something. You must have done something to my legs.”
“It’s not just you.” Elmer pointed at Ryan’s stubs. “He didn’t bleed much either. Didn’t you notice that when I cut off his toes?”
Charles looked scared as he stared at Ryan’s feet. “What the hell? How is that possible?” He didn’t understand why there wasn’t blood everywhere. It should have gushed out of his stubs, but there were just a few thin trails of dried blood. His open wounds had somehow quickly clotted. He could even see the dark red clots that had formed over the open ends of the stubs.
Ryan was horrified. “Oh my God! I noticed that too, but thought it was due to the wires stretching my skin. You know, like slowing down the blood flow or something.”
Joe shook his head. “That’s impossible.” He looked at Ryan’s legs. “You must have tourniquets around them.”
The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore Page 111