Whispers - Volume 2: A Second Collection

by Stuart Keane

  His shirtfront, previously a white polo neck, shone red with slick blood and bodily fluids, probably from the vicious jaw removal. The shirt was now a dark shade of red and brown. Someone had removed his trousers and severed his penis. It sat on the ground inches from the foot of his crucifix. Sagging and limp, it was obvious the body was dead and had been for some time. The dead eyes stared off into the distance, at nothing in particular.

  Nicolas vomited. The vomit splattered his shirtfront, the brown trousers below and rasped onto the grass below him. The sound echoed across the cornfields, startling a few crows nestling in a nearby hedge. It also piqued Paul's attention. "Nicolas, talk to me, what’s going on?"

  "It's … James."

  "Is he going to get us down? James, you prick, this isn’t funny …"

  "He's dead." Nicolas uttered, dejected and shocked.

  Silence. The familiar wind came back to Nicolas and it registered. The sound was corn blowing in the wind. Strangely familiar before, the new situation made the sound all the more eerie. Nicolas struggled to look up. When he managed to, he expected to see evil eyes peering out from the corn.

  None did.

  This isn’t a Stephen King novel.

  Why the fuck are we here?

  "He … he can't be dead. We literally only saw him … minutes, no, hours … ago."

  Nicolas nodded, exhausted. He couldn’t muster any words.

  Paul and Nicolas heard footsteps approaching from behind them. Small dainty footsteps, breaking dried grass and scuffing dry dirt. A new, muffled voice broke the silence.

  "Seven hours ago, Paul. It was seven hours ago when you last saw James."

  Nicolas strained to turn his head but couldn’t. The sun was higher now, stark and bright in the morning sky. Nicolas squinted his eyes against the glare. The cornfields glowed a wonderful yellow and green. The wind rustled the entire field in unison. The sound reverberated in Nicolas's ears.

  Paul spoke first. "Who are you, what did you do to our friend?"

  The footsteps came closer and suddenly the person walked into view. Nicolas saw movement in his peripheral vision as the stranger made their presence known.

  "Hello, Nicolas. My, you look a little … peaky."

  Nicolas recognised the voice. A jolt of fear shot through his scrotum, stabbed at his stomach and prickled the hairs on his arms. A cold hand of betrayal and horror snaked up his spine. His eyes focused on the new arrival, recognition apparent on his face. "No fucking way."

  "That’s no way to speak to the bride of your best friend, is it?"

  Megan, James's fiancée, stood inches from his restrained body. She wore a beautiful white wedding dress. The dress, strapless and snug, made Megan look like a princess. She wore a diamond tiara on her head, her hair bunched up in a tight, neat bun. Her bronze shoulders stood proud above her dress. She flicked a strand of black hair from her face and smiled, her perfect, arrogant smile infuriating Nicolas, who sneered, contempt present.

  Her left hand rested on her hip, her legs positioned in such a way she looked like she was idling, waiting patiently for someone to walk up to her. Her eyes were on Nicolas, occasionally Paul, with a short flit to the right, as she sized up her captives.

  In her right hand was a black stun gun.

  "We need to stop meeting like this, Nicolas. My fiancé might think we’re fucking behind his back." She looked over at James, his dead form unmoving. "Well, actually I don’t think he’ll be thinking anything anymore."

  "What are you talking about?" Nicolas spat, dry vomit tingling his lips.

  "Megan, thank fuck. James is dead, I think. Get the police! Nicolas …"

  "Shut the fuck up, Paul. I'll get to you in a minute. Stop bashing your fucking bible too, God isn’t going to help you today." Megan looked at Paul for a long, hard second before turning her attention back to Nicolas. "Now … where was I?"

  "How did you get us up here?"

  "I have my ways … and a tractor. Hell, I have a whole set of farm tools. My family owned this place once upon a time. I know my way around the machinery. Hoisting you up was child's play." She flexed her arm, mockingly. "Now, answer my question."

  "What question?" Nicolas licked his parched lips.

  "Where was I? Or do you like disobeying an armed woman?"

  "You were chatting shit …"

  "Ah yes, me and you, fucking. It would have been so nice, so amazing. I would have given you the best night of your life … and you turned me down. Shame on you." Megan slid a hand down her body, a body that curved and radiated in the tight white dress. "To think, you could have had this … been inside this … oh well, it's your loss."

  Without warning, Megan stepped forward and pushed the stun gun into Nicolas's crotch. The aim was good, despite the buoyancy of the clothing around him. The weapon attached to his pubic region, an inch above his penis. The shock shot through him, scorching his veins, burning his skin while dribble and spit erupted from his mouth. A vibrating noise sounded, filling the cornfields with the sound of pain and electricity.

  "Nicolas … what's going on?" Paul sounded confused.

  Megan pulled the weapon away. Nicolas coughed and Megan folded her arms. "How did you enjoy that?"

  Nicolas coughed and sputtered. "Wha … why … are you …?"

  Megan sneered. A hand shot up and patted her hair back into place. "C'mon. Like a good little whore, spit it out."

  Nicolas looked up, his face red and sweating. His eyes were watering and his hair was fluffier. He fixed his gaze on Megan. "Why are you doing this?"

  Megan smiled. "Why? Why? Why do you think? My fiancé was a fucking piece of whore-banging scum, that’s why. He fucked whores on the side and it's all your fault. You and that religious cunt over there." Megan pointed the stun gun at both men in turn. "My husband-to-be was pure before you cunts got your claws into him. Pure and clean, undamaged."

  "You're wrong," Paul said, flatly.

  Megan swivelled, her evil gaze resting on Paul. "Oh … and why is that?"

  "We didn’t do anything. James is James … we don’t persuade him or control him. He's a man who acts how he wants when he wants. We didn’t do a thing to him. If anything, he changed for the better because of you," Paul finished.

  "Paul … she killed James. This is all down to her. The scarecrow bullshit, the pillowcases, the fucking Children of the Corn setting." Nicolas drooped his head again, still in pain.

  Silence filled the air. Megan smiled and placed the stun gun on the ground. She stepped back into Nicolas's view. "This one … this one … he's a bit special at times, isn’t he?"

  Nicolas glanced up, his teeth bared. "Leave him the fuck alone."

  Megan skipped a little. Nicolas couldn’t help notice her breasts jiggling as she moved. Megan, he had always thought, was a beautiful woman. Angelic in appearance, an image he found hard to envision right now, she'd come onto him one night when James was out of town. Insecure in the knowledge, or lack thereof, that her fiancé was playing away – he wasn’t, he was on a business trip and was one hundred percent faithful to the love of his life – she'd gotten drunk and flirted with him. In another situation, on another day, and if she'd been single, Nicolas would have reciprocated. But he didn’t. James was his best friend and he wasn’t about to ruin that for a quick lay, no matter how beautiful, and especially considering it was James's fiancée.

  "What did I ever do to you?" Nicolas uttered.

  "Nothing. Which is my point. You should have done something to me. You should have fucked me hard, made me beg, and made me scream. My fiancé was doing it to some filthy rotten whore so why didn’t you do it to me?"

  "James never cheated on you," Nicolas said, sincere in his conviction.

  "Don’t fucking lie to me. I know what he did."

  "You're wrong." Nicolas considered the danger of arguing with this clearly unstable woman. His friend's honour seemed relevant in the wake of his death. "He loved you."

  "He did, he loved you, Megan,"
Paul said. "You were his life."

  Megan looked at the ground, a stoic look on her face. Contemplating?

  Nicolas twisted his head to see Paul. He was still hidden under the scarecrow outfit. He turned his attention to Megan. A tear rolled down her cheek, smearing it with mascara. Nicolas felt a lump in his throat. "You realise he loved you, right? He'd never hurt you. The old James, sure, he might have. But he was a changed man when you came along. Completely changed. For the better, not the worse. You do know that, right?"

  Megan didn’t look up. She sniffed, wiping the tear from her face. One glance at Nicolas and she smiled, a sorry, forgiving smile. "Thank you, Nicolas. I needed that."

  Megan walked past Nicolas and disappeared. Nicolas breathed a sigh of relief and slumped on the cross. "What's going on, Nic? Damn this fucking pillowcase."

  "I don’t know … I think she had a moment of clarity or something." He heard the wood creaking beneath Paul's weight.

  "Wrong, muthafuckers."

  A sloshing sound filled the empty, soundless void in the cornfield. Fear coiled through Nicolas's veins again and a quiet, splashing sound filled his ears.

  Suddenly the strong smell of gas filled his nostrils, pungent, sickly.

  Oh God, no!

  "Nic … Nic, what's that noise?" Paul sniffed the air. "Is that gas I smell?"

  Nicolas couldn’t see Megan but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was doing. "Megan, Megan … don’t do that. Come over here … we can …" The sound of liquid hitting dry grass and clothing was stark in the silence of the cornfield.

  "Nic, what's going on? Why can I smell gas?" Paul's voice had risen one octave.

  Megan snorted. "Talk? I doubt it. I don’t speak to liars. You think you can lie to me and I will walk away? No fucking chance."

  "You were crying … doesn’t James mean anything to you?"

  "Nic … Megan … stop ignoring me. What's going on?" Paul was fidgeting now, waving his head around, panicking.

  Megan ignored both men. The sloshing stopped and a loud, metallic clang rang off the horizon as she threw the gas can against an unseen surface. Three crows flew up from a tree ahead, scratching the sky with their wings. Nicolas tried again. "Megan? What about James?"

  Megan stepped into view. A small trail of mascara smeared each cheek. The tears had been genuine. She wiped the wetness from her face. "What about him?"

  "You loved him. He loved you, ever so much. Why did you kill him?"

  "I didn’t kill him. I set him free." Megan said, matter-of-factly. "He kissed other women so I ripped his jaw off. He fucked other women so I removed his cock. He even loved a bit of strap-on action, not with me mind you, but his whores. So I drilled a hole in his anus and stuck a dead chicken up there. He got everything he deserved."

  "You did what?" Paul exclaimed.

  Megan lifted the stun gun into the air. "You know I caught chlamydia from my prick fiancée? Chlamydia. It's ruined me, infected me with a whore disease and as a result, I can never have a kid. It's destroyed me. Therefore, not only can I not have kids with James – I mean, I'm kinky but I wouldn’t fuck a corpse – but he's also ruined me for all men, more deserving, faithful men. Forever."

  Nicolas coughed. "I don’t get it … you're having a kid with James, right now …"

  "Not anymore." The statement was flat, drenched in regret and scorn. Megan looked down and sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Her head raised and her eyes bore into Nicolas. "I lost our baby because of your best friend. My little bundle of joy … gone. Miscarried, dead, an afterthought for the father. While he was off fucking his fancy, I was incubating a baby for him. When he came home, he gave me this … this fucking disease and it killed our baby. Killed it!"

  Nicolas felt a wave of surprise and warm guilt fill his heart. He'd thought James had changed, he really had. If Megan was telling the truth, then his friend had been lying to him all this time, jeopardized his future for the sake of quick temptation. "I'm sorry, Megan. I didn’t know … seriously I … we didn’t know. Tell her, Paul."

  "He's right, Megan, we didn’t have a clue."

  Megan breathed out, deep and loud. "That’s okay. He killed our baby and I killed him. Tit for tat. We’re nearly even."

  Nicolas felt a twinge of terror in his gut. He didn’t say anything.

  Megan sniffed and looked up. "And you're next." An evil smile crossed her lips.

  She threw the stun gun into the air and it arced in a large circle, flying beyond Nicolas, and landed at the feet of Paul. Nicolas watched it go, terror in his eyes. "No, no!"

  The stun gun sparked and ignited the gas-soaked base of the crucifix. Yellow flames licked and tugged at the wood, the clothes, scorching the brown, crumpled trousers. They crept higher, burning the material, becoming more vehement and orange before the first fire lapped at Paul's feet.

  "Nic … help me, Nic, it’s getting warm in here." Realisation dawned on Paul. "Argh, fuck. fuck!! I'm on fire! Help me!"

  The flames engulfed the scarecrow, taking Paul with it. They wrapped around the arms, torso and head, melting the pillowcase onto Paul's face and burning through his skin. The crackling of wood and flesh erupted, making Nicolas retch and gag. Paul screamed in raw, unfathomable pain, as the flames engulfed his body, burning him alive. After a minute, he was dead. The flames licked and scorched at the torso, crackling and popping. Black smoke plumed into the air.

  "Paul, Pauuuuuuuuuul. No! No … no."

  Megan watched in glee, a smile on her face.

  Nicolas turned his head to her. The stench of burnt flesh and bone was strong and acrid in the air. He could hear and smell Paul burning beside him. "You bitch."

  Megan looked at Nicolas and licked her lips. "Oh my, that was a lot of fun. Really gives me the urge to fuck … but I have other plans for you. You had your chance to have this." Megan held her hands out in front of her and pointed the fingers back. "You blew it."

  "What did Paul ever do to you?"

  "Well, aside from corrupt my fiancé? I just didn’t like him much. You know he told me to hold the wedding in a church or we'd go to hell. I mean, who says that to a bride-to-be?"

  "You know what he's like."

  "I don’t give a shit. The guy needs to learn to keep his mouth fucking shut. I don’t think he'll have a problem doing that anymore." Megan laughed and skipped a half-circle before looking back at him.

  "You’re sick. Fucking sick."

  "Maybe I am. But no man has the right to cheat on me. No man has the right to violate my body with any sexual disease. This is your fault. You only have yourself to blame." Megan stepped past Nicolas. "And it's time for me to finish this"

  "Hold on …"

  Megan stepped past Nicolas and out of sight. He felt fear spiking his soul. The smell of Paul still lingered in the air and he felt nausea overtake him once again. He was about to vomit when a new noise changed everything.

  The revving of a chainsaw broke his concentration.

  "Megan … Megan!"

  She didn’t answer. Nicolas hardly had time to react when the chainsaw sliced into his side like a hot knife through butter. Blood caught the chain and spun into the air, spattering Megan and her white dress. His ribs shattered behind the pressure, sending bone fragments into his organs, shredding them. The pain took a second to ignite and by that point, his intestine slipped out of the gouge in his abdomen. It unravelled like a hose and slapped the dry ground several seconds later.

  The life ebbed away from Nicolas as he witnessed the blade tear through his left ribs, spraying blood and viscera all over the ground before him. Blood dribbled from his mouth as his body became limp and sagged on the makeshift cross. His legs gave way, he fell, losing balance, and toppled. He stopped fast, his arms snapping at the wrists, still bound as the weight dragged him down. The cracks were sickening. After a moment, his dead body hung limp in the listless breeze.

  Megan wiped the blood from her face. She spat on the ground in front of Ni
colas. Stepping forward, she gripped the broken corpse by the chin and moved her face in close. "Hodmedod, or the scarecrow, is supposed to scare birds, warn them away. You did no such thing for my James. You only brought them to him, the birds or women or whatever you fuckers call them nowadays. You see why I had to kill you, end you all, yes? Your primary function and you couldn’t even do that. You have failed me." She licked his puke covered, deceased mouth – her tongue relishing the taste, savouring it - then released Nicolas's dead, bloody chin.

  "Yummy."

  Megan smiled. She placed the blood-soaked chainsaw on the grass beside her and laughed. The laugh almost drowned out the sound of the cornfields rustling, at peace and tranquility with one another.

  Almost…

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