by Jon Athan
Austin hopped and gasped as the wall violently trembled from another thud. He lurched towards Anna, never taking his eyes off the wall. The bang was followed by a woman's shrill shriek. The cry of agony seeped into the room, tormenting the helpless couple. Once again, the disturbing ruckus stopped in an instant.
As her bottom lip quivered, Anna asked, “Are they... Are they killing someone else? Austin, are they killing someone in the other room?”
Perplexed, Austin stared at the wall and answered, “I don't know.”
“They're killing someone, aren't they? They're torturing us by killing someone else. They're... They're trying to lure us out of the room. It's Dante and his brother, isn't it? Isn't it?”
Austin could not conjure a better response. He repeated, “I don't know.”
Anna placed her palm on her moist forehead as she sniffled and shuddered. Her nose was pink from the constant weeping. She couldn't help herself. She was a horror movie lover with a wild imagination. For the simple trip, her twisted imagination blended with reality. The nightmares she adored had transcended fiction.
Anna glanced at Austin and asked, “Should we go over to the other room to try to help?” Austin did not respond. Anna sniffled, then she said, “They're hurting her. I know she's not acting, she's not with them. They're hurting her. I know if it were me over there, I'd want someone to help. I'd be praying for anyone to burst through that door and help. But... I don't know. I can't... I can't even think straight anymore!”
Austin agreed with Anna. He would want help in the victim's position and he wanted to provide some assistance. Fear was debilitating, fear crippled him. He searched the room for a viable weapon, but to no avail. Dante was stabbed in the stomach and it did not stop him. A lamp wouldn't do much harm.
Austin wrapped his arms around Anna. He said, “I wish we could help, but we can't. We're no use to anyone right now. If we leave this room, we'd just be walking into trouble, especially if we try to help. When they get tired, we can go to the clerk and ask for help or... or we can run to the car. We can't try to fight them, though. I can't do that. I'm sorry, Anna. I'm sorry for being weak, for being–”
Anna held her index finger to Austin's lips and rapidly shook her head. She said, “No, no, no. I understand. I shouldn't have brought it up. It's not your fault. We... We can't save everyone.”
Austin nervously chuckled and wiped a tear from his eye. He said, “We haven't saved anyone, Anna. Not the couple in the station wagon, the gas station cashier, the cop, this woman next door... We're bringing death everywhere we go.”
Harbingers of death, Anna thought. She didn't dare utter the idea. The melancholy was strong enough already, she didn't want to add fuel to the flames. The couple were guilt-ridden. Their decision was not made without great regret. Anna buried her face in Austin's chest; Austin nuzzled Anna's hair. The waiting game was set in motion.
***
Austin and Anna slinked towards the grimy bed. The bed squealed with the slightest movement, a shrill howl. Yet, the couple sought comfort. The pair wanted to block the ruckus emerging from the neighboring room by moving along in a regular fashion. Guilt loomed around the corner, teasing the cowardly duo, but they understood the risk would be fruitless.
As the pair cuddled in bed, the couple were interrupted by the sound of a door opening. The hinges grated, echoing through the parking lot and through every vacant room – the dilapidated motel was in dire need of maintenance. Thudding footsteps followed, more than one pair. Austin and Anna gazed at the blank ceiling, enfeebled by fear.
Anna whispered, “Are... Are they leaving?”
Austin did not respond. Without taking his eyes off the ceiling, he squinted and tilted his head, like if he were looking at an interesting artifact in a museum. He was mulling a decision to run, regardless of the consequential ruckus. The neighboring door was opened and people surely walked out, but the noise came to an abrupt end before he could decide.
Anna tapped Austin's sturdy chest and whispered, “What do we do? Huh? What are they doing?” She sobbed and wheezed – an outburst of uncontrollable emotions. She stuttered, “Wh–Why are they doing this to us? Why?”
Snapping out of his contemplation, Austin sat up and said, “Let's go. Let's get the hell out of here. We'll make a run for the car or at least the manager's office. Let's get the hell out of here. Come on.”
“Let me grab my phone...”
As Austin stood from the bed, the entire window shattered. The window exploded into dozens of sharp shards as a body was thrown through the glass. The body's momentum was reduced by the rustling blinds and dusty curtains, but the window treatments could not withstand the force. Veiled by the detached curtains, the body rolled towards the center of the room.
Austin and Anna stumbled back towards the bathroom, awed by the shocking intrusion. The couple stared at the nude body – a woman. The petite, raven-haired woman twitched on the ground, tangled in the curtains and snapped blinds. She twitched like a drug addict searching for another hit. She was covered in grisly lacerations, each cut dripping blood like leaking faucets.
Austin staggered towards the battered woman. He said, “Miss... Are you...” He stopped and shook his head before asking the redundant question – of course she wasn't okay. Austin glanced at Anna and said, “Get in the bathroom. Hide or run.”
Anna shook her head and said, “No. Let's go together, let's–”
A maniacal chuckle reverberated through the room, fiendish and derisive. Dante stepped towards the broken window with his arms extended from his body, like if he were welcoming a hug. He had a smug smile plastered on his face. His checkered shirt and jeans were still doused in blood. He didn't bother to change during his killing spree. He wore the blood with pride.
Dante protruded his head into the room and glanced at the door. He smirked upon spotting the reinforced lock and the chair – noble but futile attempts. He couldn't help but laugh as he glanced back at the frightened couple. He was gratified to finally reunite with his road trip friends. The gasoline station incident seemed like so long ago.
Dante said, “I told you they'd try to lock the door. They're not too kind to people like us, but I told you that woman would make a great battering ram. I told you so, Clyde, I told you so.”
On cue, Clyde stepped towards the broken window. Clyde, a 'thing' of urban legend, stood beside his brother – a few inches taller and a hundred pounds heavier. The brawny man wore a filthy Henley shirt. The white shirt became beige from the grime and age. The garment was covered by a bloodied white apron. He wore loose, tattered black trousers. He had the appearance of a butcher – a killer of men and women.
Yet, the couple were more frightened of the man's physical appearance than his clothing. Clyde had a head of long black hair protruding every which way. The wild hair covered some of his inconsistent bald patches. He had several large lumps on his forehead and beneath his unkempt hair. The protruding lump on the right side of his head caused his eye to droop. His skin was yellow and coarse, discolored and rugged.
Austin and Anna were aghast by his appearance. Although certainly disrespectful under any other circumstance, they couldn't help themselves. They were shamelessly terrified by his disfigurements. Austin clenched his jaw and glanced at the bathroom – he could see the window.
He shoved Anna into the small room and shouted, “Run and get help!”
Surprised by the butchers' violent entrance and Austin's push, Anna tumbled into the bathroom. She fell on her buttocks beside the bathtub. Before she could utter a word, Austin closed the door. He pulled all of his weight away from the door, ensuring his persistent girlfriend could not escape the bathroom. His actions were valiant and foolish – a sacrifice for the woman he loved.
Anna tugged on the door knob and shouted, “Don't do this! Don't leave me!”
Austin yelled, “Lock the door! Lock the damn door and run, Anna!”
Anna banged on the door and shouted, “No! No, damn it!”<
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“The longer you wait, the faster they'll kill me! Run! Run, so... so I can fight back.”
Anna stopped pummeling the door and staggered back. She wept into her hands, knowing her tantrum was limiting Austin's opportunities to survive. Kicking and screaming or punching and wailing, her actions could not stop her boyfriend. He would die trying to keep the door closed. As the trembling door settled and the lock's click emerged, Austin glanced back at the brothers. He rushed towards the bed, slipping and sliding with each step.
From the broken window, Dante mockingly said, “Run, run. Get help.” He childishly giggled and shook his head. He asked, “You think we'd just be standing here if she could escape? It's impossible. Don't be so foolish, boy.”
Dante and Clyde climbed through the broken window. Dante lunged over the barrier, keeping his hands away from the glass. Clyde, on the other hand, did not mind the glass piercing into his coarse palms as he climbed over. He didn't feel the same pain as his brother. Clyde hobbled as he pulled a meat tenderizer mallet from the back of his waistband. Dante simpered as he ran towards the back of the room.
Austin yanked the lamp off the nightstand. He glanced at Dante, then towards Clyde. Although Dante was rushing towards the bathroom, Clyde seemed to be the greater threat. Austin gritted his teeth and swung the metal lamp at Clyde. The metal vibrated as it collided with Clyde's thick dome, but the butcher was not affected.
Austin staggered in reverse and whispered, “What the hell?”
The sound of a door knob rattling echoed through the room – a worrisome sound. Austin's eyes widened as he spotted Dante trying to break into the bathroom, pushing and kicking at the door. The conniving hitchhiker used his gargantuan brother as a distraction. He was certain Austin couldn't stop Clyde.
Austin shouted, “Anna, run! He's coming!” The photographer scrambled across the mattress and yelled, “Run!”
Clyde rushed forward, each step causing the floor to tremble. He grabbed the back of Austin's shirt and pulled him back. Austin lost his footing from the butcher's sheer force. Clyde lifted the mallet over his head, then he struck down at the back of Austin's dome. Austin plummeted to the floor from the vicious strike. His leg violently trembled and his body shuddered uncontrollably.
As Clyde lifted the mallet over his head for one final blow, Dante said, “Wait a second, boy. We don't want him dead. Daddy wants him to join us for dinner. Come over here and help me open this damn door. She's got us locked out.”
Anna whimpered in the bathroom as she tugged on the window to no avail. She could hear the conversation in the other room, she could hear Austin's unfortunate defeat. The voices were muffled, but the grappling and shouting were distinct. Despite her strongest efforts, exerting all of the energy she could muster, the window wouldn't budge. It was sealed prior to their visit.
Tears gushed from her eyes as she muttered, “Damn it... Damn it...”
Anna hopped and gasped as the door trembled and groaned from a brutish attack – Clyde. She sobbed as she stared at her reflection on the begrimed window. Her options were exhausted. She clenched her jaw and stepped back, then she thrust her bare elbow through the window. The glass shattered into a dozen shards, slicing through her tender arm. The sound of wood cracking followed the shattering glass as the door was kicked open. Anna hit the glass again, breaking the remaining shards with her elbow.
Before she could climb out, Clyde grabbed her waist and yanked her out of the bathroom. The giant man tossed the petite woman on the bed like a doll. Dante jumped on Anna, pouncing like a predator on his prey. Zany-eyed, he laughed as he jabbed at Anna's face, striking down at her with all of his might. Each punch dazed the woman until she was knocked unconscious. Blood erupted from her mouth as she coughed and grunted.
Mounted on top of the young woman, Dante smiled and said, “I think that will do it. Let's start packing.”
***
Clyde tossed Austin's unconscious body on the bed beside Anna and the black-haired woman. The other victim barely clung to consciousness, dazed and bemused. Her diminutive awareness did not bother the brothers. The trio of victims were bruised and covered in blood, some more than others.
As he stared at the group, Dante licked his lips, then he said, “We have a great selection tonight. A great selection, indeed.” He furrowed his brow and turned towards his brother. He asked, “What time is it anyway? It must be early morning by now. I'm starved. I missed dinner because of these two.”
Clyde hunched over and held his hands to his chin, shrugging and curling his fingers. He indistinctly muttered, uttering the sound of a few letters. He couldn't complete a word, let alone a sentence. Dante knew his brother was incapable of speaking, but he spoke to him like any other person. The man was demented, but he wanted his brother to feel like part of the group – he wanted him to feel normal.
Dante said, “Yeah, we can call it a late dinner or an early breakfast. Whatever you like...”
“What the hell happened here?! You goddamn bastards destroyed the place! How the hell am I going to fix all of this crap, goddammit?!” Charles shouted from the broken window. “Who the hell do you think you are?!”
Clyde shook his head and retreated to a corner – an oafish man afraid of a delicate elder. He indistinctly muttered and pointed at the trio of guests on the bed – them, them, them. Dante nodded as he pointed at the beaten group, following his brother's lead. Pointing the blame at someone else was always easier than taking responsibility.
Dante said, “It was them, daddy. We've been chasing them around for hours. They've been causing nothing but trouble.”
Enraged, Charles stomped and yelled, “I don't give a damn, you stupid fuck! You idiots ruined this damn room! And they paid cash, motherfucker, they deserved to be treated better than this!” He frowned and lifted his arms, angry and disappointed. He said, “Look, you got blood on the damn bed sheets and curtains. I just cleaned those last month, boy. You know I hate laundry... I hate doing the damn laundry!”
“I'm sorry, daddy. We were just getting ready to go.”
“Then, go on! Get out of here! Take the meat to the house and don't you dare start dinner until I get back. I'll stay here and start cleaning up. I'll fake some accident or something. Maybe an earthquake or a small tornado... I don't know, I'll tell those pigs something if they show up.”
Dante nodded, agreeing with his eccentric father. He gently tapped Clyde's shoulder, then he pointed at the bodies. Clyde grunted and moaned as he grabbed the two women – he tossed Anna over his shoulder and held the other woman in his arm like a shopping bag. Dante clenched his jaw as he dragged Austin out of the room.
Watching his children abscond from the obliterated room, Charles shook his head and said, “You damn kids... You goddamn kids...”
Chapter Twelve
The Madhouse
Austin gasped, grasping for air with a raspy inhale. Sweat poured out of his glands like roaring rivers, drenching his body. A strand of his hair dangled towards his nose, dripping from the moisture. The room's searing heat and the anxiety were responsible for his sweat – he was practically melting. He blinked erratically as he glanced around the room.
Austin's wrists and ankles were restrained to the wall by thick metal shackles. He stood on his knees, but he could not stagger to his feet or reach for his pockets. The clanking chains were installed on the dingy brick wall behind him. The walls were spattered with blood, like if they had served as canvases for splatter paintings.
Slits of light pierced through the dusty floorboards above, illuminating the dungeon and penetrating the lingering musk. S-shaped meat hooks dangled from the ceiling and support beams, swaying with the most negligible draft. The concrete floor was mopped with blood. The pungent scent of bleach arose from the cracked ground.
Austin rapidly blinked, trying to clear his blurred vision. Across the room, he could see a woman chained to the parallel wall. Her head was slumped downward and her face was covered by her black hair.
The woman was nude and covered in grisly lacerations, like if she had crawled through a field of shattered glass – or like if she were thrown through a window. Despite the lack of formal introductions, he recognized the woman from the motel.
Austin coughed, clearing his throat, then he whispered, “Hey... Hey, are you awake? Are you okay?” The woman did not respond. Austin leaned forward, but he was yanked back by the chains. He whispered, “Miss... Hey, are you awake? Do you know where we are? Please, wake up. Talk to me... Tell me you're alive, tell me you're okay... Tell me I'm not alone.”
The young woman was breathing, but she did not awaken. In her involuntary slumber, she did not hear the photographer's soft whisper. The gentle words did not rejuvenate her tormented soul. Words could not heal her physical pain. She was clinging to life, but she was already dead. She had lost all hope.
Austin turned to his right. The sound of munching emerged – an animal feasting on a meal, slurping and burping. The irritating noise, like a swarm of flies buzzing by busy ears, was consistent. A large silhouette was hunched over an unknown object in the corner. Austin was not dim, he knew who was in the corner – Clyde.
Austin leaned forward and squinted for a better view. Miraculously, the squint worked – or perhaps his eyes simply adjusted to the darkness. He could see the large man sitting in the corner. His motions were eerie, feral and peculiar, but the environment was much more terrifying. There was a sea of mutilated bodies beside Clyde.
Severed limbs, decapitated heads, and gooey organs were sprawled across the floor like chew toys for an undomesticated dog. There were two decapitated females pinned onto the wall like nudie posters in a teenager's room. The woman on the right was skinned, leaving her tender flesh vulnerable to the world. Although he was certain Anna was not pinned to the wall – she was far more petite than the two victims – the sight made him bawl.
Clyde turned towards Austin's weeping, then he screamed at the top of his lungs. The blurt was indistinct, but his rage and confusion were evident. The hulking man was disoriented by Austin's crying. He staggered to his feet, then he wagged a dismembered human arm at the photographer. He could only mimic his father's scolding actions.