by Jeff Strand
Silence.
I could think of so many things I'd rather do than open this coffin. Root canals, alligator wrestling, parent-teacher conferences...bring `emon!
But I got the shovel in place, and then pried it open.
There was not a corpse inside.
There wasn't a live body inside, either.
The only thing inside the coffin was a video camera.
Great.I'd spontaneously generated six ulcers over a stupid video camera. I picked it up, and then shut the lid. It was an older model, heavy and clunky. Probably not something that would be missed if it were taken out of the Ghoulish Delights office.
I sat down against the wall of the mausoleum and examined the camcorder more thoroughly. I ejected the tape inside and saw that it was labeled "You'll like this." I stuck the tape back in, and then unplugged the headphones from the Walkman and inserted them into the headphone jack of the video recorder. I peered through the viewfinder and pressed "play."
A black-and-white image appeared. It was Jennifer, her hair much longer than when I'd met her. She wore a black leather outfit and high heels. As she walked onto the empty stage, the camera zoomed in on her face, and she gave a spank-me-you-bad-boy smile.
"WelcometoGhoulishDelights , " she said, sounding like she was on a commercial for a 1-900-DO-ME-NOW line. "I'm sure you'lllooooove what we've got in store for you. But before we get to the good stuff, let's hear a word from our sponsor, Profit Jewelers. You know, nose rings, lip rings, navel rings, and a wide variety of otherpiercings are the fashion right now, but Profit Jewelers, always the innovator, has taken things one step further."
The camera panned over to where a woman I didn't recognize sat on a chair, smiling broadly and waving at the camera like a professional model. She was very attractive except for the ring protruding from her left eyeball.
"Yes, eye rings," said Jennifer. "They're what all the top stars are wearing, and as an extra-special bonus, theyhuuuuuurt when they go in." She purred these last words, but for some reason I still wasn't convinced to go get my eye pierced.
She began to scratch her back. "Don't you hate that one little spot on your back that you can never seem to reach? Usually somebody is here to scratch it for me." She made this sound like one of the most erotic acts imaginable. "But tonight I'm on my own, so I'll have to improvise."
Jennifer ripped off her left arm in a spray of blood, and then used it to scratch her back. Even with a one-inch, grainy black-and-white picture it wasn't a very convincing special effect.
"That'ssoooo much better," she told the camera. She tossed the arm off-screen. After a series of loud chewing sounds, a skeletal arm was tossed back to her. "Now, before we get to our main attraction, it's time once again for CookingWith Chef Pierre."
The camera followed her as she walked over to an oven, upon which rested a large metal pot. A man who had obviously been dead for quite some time was standing by the oven, tied to a pole so he wouldn't topple over. "This is Chef Pierre," Jennifer explained."Master of culinary treats. So, what have you got for us today?"
Steam poured up into her face as she removed the lid. She inhaled deeply, and sighed with pleasure."Ooooh, my favorite. Now, this creation is for those who love spaghetti, but don't find it quite hearty enough." She dipped out a spoonful of the contents.Intestines.
"I wonder if it'sdone? " Jennifer grabbed a foot-long segment of the intestine and flung it against the wall. It stuck. "Ah! Perfect!"
I shifted my position, wondering what I was supposed to be getting out of this. Maybe they wanted me to promote a new restaurant.
"And now, it's time for our feature presentation," said Jennifer. "His name is...well, you don't really need to know his name to enjoy it, so here we go!"
The scene switched to a bedroom. There was a young man on the bed, maybe in his mid-twenties, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. He'd been tied there, spread eagle, a gag over his mouth. The camera zoomed in close on his face, revealing eyes wide with terror. If this guy was an actor, he was good. But I didn't think he was an actor.
The camera pulled back from his face, and then began to circle him as the person taping this walked to the other side of the bed. The man watched it the entire time. There was no sound, but you could tell he was whimpering.
Then the camera operator's gloved hand came into the frame, holding a pocket knife. It was opened to aspork .
I pressed the fast-forward button just as the camera operator went to work on the man's upper leg. For nearly five minutes I watched what was happening, and even in speeded-up motion on the tiny screen it made me violently queasy. Thespork was not the only tool used. The corkscrew was especially grisly.
I wanted to believe that it was all just special effects, but I knew that it wasn't. It was all one continuous shot, with no opportunities to replace the live actor with aKaro syrup-filled dummy. And when the pocketknife was upgraded to a hatchet, the man flailed around too much for his missing right arm to have been simply tucked out of sight.
No actor could maintain that level of terror and agony for so long.
This was real.
I took it off fast-forward as the man was finally allowed to die. The gloved hand, now drenched with blood, gave a thumbs-up sign to the camera. The screen faded to black.
Jennifer reappeared, smiling mischievously. "Ooooh,thathad to hurt, don't you think? That's all for this episode, but let's see some coming attractions."
The picture cut to a young woman tied to a chair. The scene shifted four more times, showing two other women and two men, all tied up and ripe for the torturing. Then the scene returned to Jennifer.
"I hope you've enjoyed Ghoulish Delights, and I hope you'll come see us again some time."
She blew a kiss at the camera,then ran her tongue over her upper lip as the picture faded out.
I fast-forwarded to the end, but there was nothing else on the tape.
Now what?
That was an easy one to answer. I was going straight to the police.
Chapter 11
I DIDN'T bother to rebury the coffin. Screw it. The cops were going to get the full story. The whole situation had been out of control before, but now it was too much for me to handle. Let the police deal with the lunatic making snuff films. This stretched well beyond the death of Michael Ashcraft, and I was done with it.
I walked along the side of the road at a brisk pace, the video camera tucked under my arm. No cars passed as I made my way to the church where Roger had parked. I half-expected The Apparition to show up and offer me another lift. It had been that kind of bizarre evening.
The flashlight battery died about halfway there, forcing me to walk in total darkness. I found it hard to be surprised.
I got in the car and took a couple of minutes to compose myself before I started the engine. I didn't want to get in a wreck and leave my kids with two parents in the hospital, or one in the morgue.
I pulled onto the road and searched the AM radio stations until I found the easiest listening music on the dial. I needed a station that would advertise itself as "Music for the aging, comatose kind of guy." My nerves were in desperate need of soothing. I thanked God I'd never tried drugs, or this would have sent me into an acid flashback for sure.
I let the music calm me down for about two minutes. Then a phone rang.
Roger didn't own a cellular phone. Unless he'd bought one within the past couple of days and forgot to mention it, I had a pretty strong suspicion that this was not going to be a call I wanted to hear.
The phone rang again. It wasn't difficult to locate, wedged between the front seats. I picked itup, noting that it looked just like the one Jennifer had given me, extended the antenna, and answered. "Hello?"
"Having fun?"
It was a very low, computer-generated voice, spoken in a monotone. Apparently the killer had one of those voice disguiser gizmos after all.
"Who is this?" I demanded.
For a few seconds I could only hear a faint clic
king, as if somebody was typing on a keyboard. Then the voice again: "I'm the villain in your life story."
"Listen to me, you deviant freak, I'm not playing your game anymore. As soon as I hang up on your sorry ass I'm calling the police."
"Oh, don't do that. That's no fun."
"No, fun is taking my kids to an amusement park. Fun is not spending all night at a graveyard so I can dig up a coffin with a tapeofAmerica's Most Fucked-Up Home Videos! "
"You just don't know how to party."
"I'm hanging up now."
"I wouldn't."
"Why not?"
"People will die."
"Who?"
"You'll find out."
"I'm not playing around any more," I said. "Tell me who this is. Is this Jennifer?"
"Maybe."
"Okay, fine, I don't expect you to reveal your secret identity. Tell me why you're doing this."
"I have nothing to loss."
"What the hell does `nothing to loss' mean? What was that, a typo?"
Silence.
"Jeez, Mr. or Mrs. PsychopathicDipshit , you'd think if you were going to go to all the trouble of letting your computer do the talking you'd be more careful with your typing so you wouldn't sound like a complete moron."
Still no response.
"What's the matter, did you loss your voice?"
"It won't seem so funny when you're the one tied to that bed." It was the computer speaking. I'd hoped to make the killer mad enough to break in on the conversation, but no such luck.
"No, you're right, it probably won't," I conceded. "That's why I'm not giving it a chance to happen."
"People will die."
"You already said that. Are you using macros now?"
The typing grew louder and faster. "You listen to me, Andrew Mayhem. I have five people locked away who are going to die the same excruciating death you saw tonight if you don't follow my instructions."
"Yeah, right.How do I know you're not bluffing, like you did when you said you were going to keep Roger?"
"You'll get the tapes."
"Uh-huh. Sure."
"Don't push it, Mayhem. If I have to, I'll bring one of them down right now and you can listen to me rip her apart. Did you watch the tape all the way through?"
"Yeah."
"Then you know which five people I'm talking about."
It still could have been a bluff, but after seeing the tape, and after possibly hearing Jennifer stabbed to death last night, I decided it wasn't worth taking a chance."Fine. You've got my attention. What's up?"
"I wanted to tell you that you're doing well."
"Really?Wow, you just don't know how much your approval means to me. My parents never thought I'd amount to anything, and hearing your words of encouragement has really brightened my night. Thank you so very the hell much."
A loud honk made me realize that I had drifted into the opposite lane and was heading toward a Volkswagen. I quickly jerked the steering wheel and got back where I belonged.
"You should be more careful," the killer's computer informed me.
"Chew me."
"Here are the rules, Andrew. Do not talk about what has happened. If you tell anyone, those five innocent people will die horribly. If you keep quiet and play along, they will be released. Do you understand?"
"When will they be released?" I asked.
"Soon."
"That doesn't cut it. Tell me exactly when they'll be released and maybe we've got a deal."
"Very soon.That's all I can say."
"All right.I won't talk to anyone."
"Good. But I want you to keep investigating. Learn all you can. Try to find out who I am. Play the game. Have fun with it."
"I don't see any potential for fun here, but I'll do my best. So why are you doing this? If you're somefreakazoid who gets off on torturing people, that's your business, but why am I involved?"
"Soon it's going to be all over for me. As I said, I have nothing to lose. I'm going to die, and I want to be remembered for something big. I'm giving you the adventure of a lifetime so you'll make sure everyone else remembers me."
"Hell, if you quit right now, I'll hire a skywriter."
"No, I don't want to quit before the real fun begins. Would you like a clue about who I am?"
"By all means."
"I'm not Jennifer."
"Well, I'll be sure to scratch her off my list of suspects."
"I want you to see her again. Not on video, in the flesh. Maybe you can save her."
"So she isn't dead?"
"Not necessarily. Pull over and stop the car. Make it someplace abandoned. Then tell me where you are, and I'll help you find her."
I pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall, and then drove behind the buildings. I stopped next to a garbage dumpster and shut off the engine. "Okay, I'm parked."
"Where are you?"
"Don't you know? I assumed you had helicopter surveillance or something."
"Do you want to find her or not?"
"I'm behind theParnola mall."
"Much better.You picked a good place. She's very close. Now here's the game. There are five quarters hidden in Roger's car. Each one has a different date. In ten minutes, I'm going to call you back, and you're going to tell me all five of the dates."
"And what's the penalty in this little game?"
"Death.For each quarter you miss, one of the prisoners dies."
Like I needed any more pressure."You said they'd be released if I kept quiet!"
"No, I said you had to play along. So play along. Jennifer will help you."
The killer hung up. I cursed loudly in multiple quantities, and then checked my watch. 1:47 A.M. Okay, fine, I'd play along. How hard could it be to find some quarters?
I turned on the overhead light, then did a quick visual search of the front and back seat and saw nothing. I pulled down each of the sun visors in case quarters were taped to them, but no luck. I opened the glove compartment and two half-empty bottles of aspirin fell out, along with a woman's severed hand.
"Oh, shit!" I screamed, recoiling against the driver's side door to get away from it. The hand rested on the floor, palm down. Some specks of blood had dried on the wedding ring.
I sat there for a moment, unable to move. Okay, get over it, I finally told myself. If you sit here trembling some people will die. Find those quarters.
I thought I'd caught a glimpse of silver as the hand fell, so I reached over with my foot and used the toe of my shoe to flip it over. In the palm rested a quarter. I tried to slide it off, but it was clearly glued on. I leaned down to get a closer look.Tails. To see the date, I was going to have to pull it off.
There was absolutely no time for squeamishness, so I ripped the quarter off and placed it on the seat. A tiny piece of flesh came off with the quarter, but I put that way the hell out of my mind and rummaged through the glove compartment until I'd searched it completely. No other quarters.
Under the seat was a good possibility.
Not that I'd be able to see where I was reaching.
Oh, I could thinkofso many things I'd rather be doing.
Still using my foot, I pushed the hand as far out of the way as possible, then leaned down and tried to look underneath the passenger seat. I couldn't see a thing.
I reached underneath, moving my hand slowly, praying I wouldn't find any more of Jennifer. The thought that the killer might have placed something like a mousetrap under the seat also occurred to me, in case the first thought hadn't been bad enough.
My hand slid against something wet.
I nearly tore the skin off my fingers in my haste to yank my hand out of there, and I nearly bit my tongue off in my effort not to shriek.
Doing my best to ignore the scarlet streak on the side of my hand, I checked my watch. Two minutes had already passed. I had to get over my reluctance and find those quarters right away. I could always find a nice comfy padded cell later.
I reached back underneath the seat,
wishing that I were a boring, unimaginative person who was unable to visualize all the possibilities for what my hand was exploring.
Then I let out a small yelp as something bit me.
After yanking my hand free once again, I realized my mistake. It hadn't been a bite. I'd just poked myself on something—a protruding bone, most likely.
If there wasn't a quarter underneath the seat after all this, I was going to be seriously irked.