by Lee, Edward
“Well done,” he said, facing the other way.
I could only look at his beady little head with confusion until I heard a groan. The large arms of the giant shifted, pushing itself up from the ground. Staring into the hollowed face, I watched as the pupils refocused. Shaking his head, the giant swallowed. Seeing me, his lip curled in disgust. On all fours, he was still taller than me. With the strength of a dinosaur, he did a death roar splitting apart my grimy beard, forcing my mouth to close so I didn’t swallow any of the bile he emitted. A heavy gulp was all I could muster as he rose to his feet. Every single muscle in his chest tightened in preparation to pound my body into chum. Forming an enormous fist, his arm touched the ceiling. The pain train was pulling into the station and I was holding a first class ticket.
“Enough. Back to work,” the thin man ordered.
The giant’s anger fled as he turned his attention towards the awaiting crowd.
“What the fuck?” I mumbled.
“He’s immortal; no death for him,” he explained, folding back the black robe of a reaper to check for the mark.
I offered no words in response. I just stood there covered in the giant’s brains with a blank stare similar to how I looked at the chalkboard during math class.
“Come here, law dog.”
Wiping the blood from my face, I mindlessly stood above him. Grabbing my left wrist, he pulled up the sleeve. As if searching for a pulse, he indented two fingers.
“Very interesting,” he stated. “You have potential.”
Letting loose of the wrist, he stepped aside.
“Welcome to Painfreak,” he announced as the door opened.
I stumbled forward into a thickened grey haze. The smog danced around, toying with all emotions. Everything felt comfortably numb; a surreal purgatory between good and evil, right and wrong. When the haze faded, a wide area appeared. When I say wide, I mean kicked out further than the legs of pit rat whore at a truck stop. Like a disturbed ant pile, everyone was constantly moving. I had to train my vision to focus on one area, just to make out what the hell was going on. Within the vast room, I sought refuge at the only section I could somewhat relate to—the bar.
The stool felt real nice as I shook off the ass beating I received from the giant. As fucked up as things already were, it was about to get downright nasty. A goblin bartender came scurrying on the bar top wearing a filthy white apron. With a rag in one hand, he spit-shined a glass and placed it in front of me. The yellow mucus clung to the rim.
“What’ll it be?” he said, picking a scab on one of his long ears. A thick strain of pus collected around his tongue as he ate it.
“Something capable of erasing these memories,” I replied, gazing around.
Fetishes from the deepest trenches of hell ignited the place. I think the only thing that would’ve shocked me was if there was a nun in the place. The sin was too dense to swallow and too tangled in gore to rationalize. A mutilated corpse was staked to a wooden table as a group took turns slicing small flesh morsels, collecting them on plates. A set of couches was the scene of a crazy fucking orgy. Some twisted creature looking thing had what appeared to be a cow udder for a belly, but instead of nipples it was dicks. Four fine looking female demons were pounding the shit out of him in unison. Just by looking into those two small areas of the place, the meaning of the word fetish was butchered and left to die.
The sloshing of a dark brown liquid within the germ infested glass caught my attention. From underneath the bar the goblin retrieved a bowl full of plump maggots swimming within their own brine. With snot dripping from his noise, he fetched one and plopped it into the glass.
“Tip it on back,” he said with a grin.
“Cheers to the unknown realm of chaos,” I said, holding up the glass.
I was about to gulp it down when fate altered the path with a hand touching my shoulder.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” a slurred voice blurted out.
Back in the real world, if I was preparing to drink and someone interrupted me, I would’ve been wearing their neck for a hat within seconds, but I gladly put the glass full of liquid shit back down on the bar.
“I get the shoulders, boss. They’re nice and broad,” a little fucker stated, leaping to the bar top.
With characteristics of a dissected person who was put back together wrong, the small dude dwelled within a whole new zip code of putrid. Another one about the same size climbed up on the other side.
“Only if I get the legs,” the other one replied. He was real close to me when I turned, so much so that I jolted back when I caught a glimpse. The face was comprised of different decayed sections of skin all sewn together with barbed wire. He was a melting pot of races, but if that wasn’t enough, the flesh pieces were decayed and rotting. Both of their ribcages were used to hold a series of daggers like a pin cushion.
The hand on my shoulder spun me around on the stool. Those other little bastards didn’t hold a drop of piss compared to what greeted me. A large, barely clothed man beast was standing in front of me. Just like the others, he was all stitched together from torn pieces of human meat. It was a jigsaw of pain and smelled god awful. A small breeze of gout rattled every single one of my nose hairs. His cold hand stretched up my neck as his wandering eyes looked me up and down.
“Pardon my rudeness,” he said, releasing me. “My name is Tank and these are my associates; Grunt and Loco. We’re collectors,” he explained, tilting his head upright to combat the loosening stitches.
Grunt was massaging my shoulder while Loco’s hand was rubbing my leg like a teenager on a movie date. The aroma was burning my eyes and made me rethink the drink I should’ve consumed.
“I’m not for sale,” I stated, turning around to fetch the glass.
“Sale? You got it wrong. We don’t buy, we take,” Tank chuckled, spinning me back around.
I was growing tired of being touched and quickly devoured the drink in hopes to subdue the bubbling anxiety. The thickened liquid caught against my tongue, forcing me to chew in order to swallow. My throat wanted no part of it and fought back through a series of sporadic coughs. The brown substance flew from my mouth and splattered across Tank’s butchered chest.
“Gut him, boss! Gut him real good,” Grunt announced, trying to secure my arm.
Tank unleashed a massive machete customized with sharpened bone fragments aligning the edge as Grunt and Loco each extracted daggers from their torsos.
“Don’t cut the legs. I’m growing today,” Loco said with a smile, still rubbing my thigh.
The tip of Tank’s blade lifted my chin.
“Make no mistake, I am God here. Everything you own is mine, everything you are is mine,” he explained, rubbing the blade across my face.
“Everything,” Grunt eagerly repeated.
“The time has come for you and me to become one,” Tank said, scratching one of the several opened wounds on his chest.
“You and us…you meant you and us, right boss?” Loco said.
“Shut the fuck up stupid or we get nothing, just like last time,” Grunt replied, pointing the dagger at Loco.
“Silence you two! We will divide him evenly. I don’t care about the legs or shoulders. I only want the neck and head. I’m due for an upgrade; this one is killing me,” Tank explained out of frustration, propping up his drooping head again.
My beard rested on the metal as the blade indented the skin. The blood drenched edge stuck as it pulled away. The wire stitching of his shoulder stretched as he raised the weapon. Grunt and Loco were trembling with excitement. Their uneven arms were eager to retrieve my severed limbs like kids awaiting a piñata to split.
“Clean slice, right at the neck base. Shoulders should be good, huh boss?” Grunt explained, pulling my hair in order to open up the side of my neck.
“I’ll support the waist. Don’t want these nice, tall legs to break when the body falls,” Loco added.
I reached the apex of my ability to ca
lm nerves. The scale of my frustration was tipping to the side of going bat shit crazy. Between the different hands clawing me and the nasty ass aftertaste of whatever it was I drank, something was about to give and it was the cork of my insanity bottle. Time slowed as the bone machete was returning down to my neck. The fragments were whistling as the blade sliced through the air. Leading with the glass, I lunged forward sinking the brim deep into Tank’s throat. Ducking, I felt the momentum of the blade pass by.
“Oh, fu—,” Grunt said before the metal severed his head completely off.
Holding Loco, I ripped apart his midsection at the crease of two flesh pieces. Tank reached for the glass, but it was lodged pretty good, filling up with darkened, crimson blood. My hand sank deep into his massive belly where I clenched a large section of barbed wire. Pulling it unstitched his entire midsection. The rotting entrails poured out like I had won the jackpot. I didn’t possibly think the smell could get any worse, but as the intestines and stomach bounced off my boots, I could only shake my head in dismay. The room cared less as Tank slumped to the ground, but the strangest thing happened next. The sound of cracking bones emitted from floor. Prying apart the ribcage, a soul flew upwards and was quickly joined by two others.
“Well, that sucked,” Grunt stated.
“We need to sneak up on them better,” Loco added.
“It ain’t over,” Tank explained, giving me the stink eye. “We’ll see you soon.”
Sitting there with three mangled corpses at my feet, I signaled for the goblin bartender because there are certain times in life when it’s better to experience them while piss poor drunk. After a few rounds, I didn’t mind the rim job aftertaste and got used to opening my throat up for the thickened gulp. My goal was to be two sheets to the wind as quickly as humanly possible.
“Gus,” a voice whispered.
I turned but no one was there.
“Help me,” the voice whispered again.
The creepiness factor was approaching level ten. It shook my spine, but I was alone.
“Over here,” the voice said.
There she was or at least some kind of vision of her. Down the bar, Sam was there in a flowing white gown. The fabric danced within the smoke. Taken from me during a botched hit on my life, Sam was everything to me; my stability within the sludge of society. She balanced all the wrong in life.
“Help me,” she screamed, disappearing down a hallway.
I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. I was working late when the fucker hit the apartment. The vision of her lying naked in a pool of blood scars my eyes even today. I gave in to the insanity and ran down the hallway, chasing after her. Weaving through a mob, I kept the sight of her long, brown hair until she entered a closed door. With a hand on the handle, I kept telling myself to keep it together, but damn if temptation didn’t sink the buzzer beating winning shot. A deep breath conjured up from my lungs after I noticed 8A was scratched within the door; the same as my apartment. Over the years, I tried to block out the vision, but nightmares are fucked up like that.
Nothing good came from hesitation so I opened the door. Instead of a bloody mess, I saw a man ripping Sam’s dress; she was still alive. A small table sat by the door where various weapons were piled up. Adrenaline kicked into full gear as I clutched a spiked baseball bat. The man didn’t even see me coming; he was too busy trying to cut her. I swung for the fences against the back of his head. I heard the skull crack as the spikes dug in deep. His neck trembled as I dragged him from atop Sam with his limp body following the bat. With a boot against the back of the neck, I pulled the bat for release, but ended up ripping the head off. Holding the bat with the severed head of the man who killed my girl was beyond satisfying. It was the best trophy a suffering man could ask for.
“Thank god you’re here,” Sam said, crying hysterically.
I’m not an emotional person by any means, but damn if my heart didn’t receive an extra kick from the whole thing. Her embrace watered my eyes to the point where I was short of breath. She kissed my neck and sank her hand down my pants, stroking me like only she could. I pulled both her knees up, wrapping the legs around my waist. She shoved her tongue down my throat as I pressed her against the wall. My belt couldn’t get unbuckled fast enough. My erection tested the boundaries of the zipper. The feeling of being inside her was forgotten over the years, but it all came back to me. The deeper I went, the more she moaned. There was not a chance in hell I was going to last long. Her legs slid down my thighs as she kissed me one more time. With that, she vanished. I went out the door and returned to the darkened hallway. I took one step before stopping.
“Help me, Gus,” Sam’s voice whispered again.
Without thought, I barreled through the door, coming upon the same scene. The table of weapons was there as I reached for a double-barrel shotgun. Grabbing him by the shirt, I pulled him from atop Sam. Shoving his head through the drywall, I held him by the throat.
“Open your mouth,” I said, pressing the barrel against his lips.
He didn’t open wide enough as I shoved the barrel deep inside, breaking his front teeth. His muffled screams vibrated down into the barrel, but I wasted no time in pulling the trigger. The head collapsed. The eyes melted away as the forehead split apart. Chunks of bone and hair collided against the wall and ceiling. The headless corpse slid down into a lifeless pile. Covered in blood, I felt Sam hug me from behind before twisting around in front. Standing over the dead man, she managed to pull my pants down in no time. Her crotch grinded against the man as she took me inside her mouth. I was not known for being an all-nighter; I was usually good after one shot, but it felt like I hadn’t had sex in a long time. To my pleasure, everything was working and willing to go. Afterwards, she vanished again, leaving me behind with the post orgasm shimmies.
I exited the door and waited.
“Help me, Gus,” Sam whispered like clockwork.
Inside, I reached for two pairs of brass knuckles and pummeled the living fuck out of the man. I didn’t stop until his skull was caved in and his facial features were turned to mush. Straddling him, Sam hiked up her dress, pleading with me to fuck her from behind. I lost the battle with temptation as I grabbed her waist. Her spine straightened with every deep thrust. While pulling her hair, she matched my intensity by shifting backwards. Afterwards, she vanished again. A bad taste lingered in my mouth as I stared at the beaten man. The faint essence of reality revealed itself as the room reset. The blood and any remnants of the scene disappeared. The hesitation I experienced upon entering the room was the same leaving. I knew her whispers would be waiting. I was fucked up in the head. The pattern was tormenting the shit out of my thoughts.
“Help me, Gus,” she said as I stood in the hallway.
She wasn’t real; she wasn’t alive.
“Please, I need you.”
With strained eyes, I walked away from the door.
“Don’t leave me.”
I collided with every patron I passed, stumbling like a drunk in a parking lot after last call. The goblin bartender had a glass of the putrid shit waiting for me. Fuck it all; fuck everything I held on to. The excess brown liquor sloshed down my beard as I summoned for another. The room became smaller. Everyone’s fetishes squeezed into my personal space as the walls spun and warped.
“Save me, Gus.”
“Get out of my head!” I screamed, slamming my forehead against the bar.
“Easy, partner,” a voice sounded.
Sitting next to me was a sharply dressed man pushing over a red liquid filled shot glass.
“Nothing can be that bad. You’re alive and your soul is well, is it not? Troubled dreams are only troubled if they are allowed to be.”
“This place is…”
“This place is whatever you want it to be; what you need it to be.”
“Who are you?”
“Oh, I’m known by many names; some good, some not so.”
“What’s up there?” I replied with a
slur, distracted by the upper labyrinth of levels.
“You must control chaos first—a rite of passage away from being a tourist.”
His fingers were hot to the touch as he stopped my hand from taking the shot glass.
“Some other time, Gus. Your soul is not ready,” he said, gulping down the crimson liquid.
As he turned, I saw the craziest of tattoos; a black pitchfork extending up his neck. One of the prongs entered into the mouth. Another merged into an eye and the last one twisted into the ear. His cane struck the ground causing him to vaporize into a red fog. Seeping upwards, he merged with the smoke. Not hearing Sam’s voice anymore, I fist bumped the goblin bartender and made my way to the front. Exiting through the door, I stood at the outer perimeter of the entry room. Hundreds of people were waiting to get in.
“Hippy law dog,” the Asian man said.
Lighting up a cigar, I didn’t want to turn around, but the giant’s grip on my skull forced me.
“Leaving so soon?”
“Yeah, well…”
“Tired of fucking and killing already?”
“You got the name right; it’s certainly filled with pain and freaks.”
“We are in the pleasure business,” he said with a grin. “Before you go, I have something for you.”
He reached for my forearm and I was hesitant to give it up, but once again the giant made the decision for me. He damn near broke my elbow as he twisted the arm over. The thin man pressed his palm against my outer hand.
“This may sting a little.”
It didn’t sting; it fucking hurt like I was being disemboweled with a dull, wooden spoon. My eyes bled; my vision turned red with torment.
“Fuck off already!” I yelled, feeling my skin melting.
“See you soon, yes?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Nonsense, nobody gets bored of fucking and killing.”
The giant palmed my face as he led me down the tunnel. Tossing my ass like a bag of garbage, he threw me within one of the blue hazed doorways. I collided with a dumpster and landed in a puddle of city sewer water. Thankful my cherry was still lit; I propped my ass up and enjoyed a few tokes. A slight sting on my left hand revealed the glowing entry mark tattooed within the skin. Exhaling, I was at ease; a serene haven of contentment.