by Miller, Tim
“If you’re going to kill us, just kill us already,” Darren said.
“Where’s the fun in that? You see, it’s not the act of killing that brings me enjoyment. I mean, it is fun. Don’t get me wrong there. But what truly excites me is the whole experience. The capture, the pain, the screaming, the begging and then finally those sweet final moments as their life slips away. There truly is nothing more intimate. I mean what better way is there to know someone other than to be there with them during their last few moments of existence?”
Darren shook his head. He couldn’t believe how casual the freak talked about it. As if he were discussing a high school science project.
“I will tell you,” Duncan continued. “Every single one of my victims has made a significant contribution to my personal growth as well as provided me with nourishment. For that, I will forever be grateful.”
“Jesus Christ,” Darren said.
“Darren,” Jenny said. She had been hanging there, crying quietly. “I love you Darren.”
“I love you too baby. It’s ok. We are going to be ok,” Darren assured her, though he knew it was a lie. Even if they somehow walked out of there right at that moment, they would never be ok again. The whole bank robbery idea was starting to feel like the worst idea he’d ever considered. Banks get robbed all the time. How often do the robbers abduct a sadistic cannibal? Had to be his luck.
“Ok, it’s time to play a game,” Duncan said. “Darren, I’m going to give you or your wife a chance at freedom.”
“You will huh? What kind of chance is that? Another sick game?” Darren said.
“It’s very simple. I can kill you, and let her walk out of here totally unharmed. Option two, is I can kill her, and let you walk out of here totally unharmed. Option three is that I let you both leave, but I would have to cut the arms off of both of you,” Duncan explained calmly.
“Or you could just let us go now. You can even keep that fucking money,” Darren said.
“No, I’m afraid that isn’t an option. If one of you chooses death, I promise it won’t hurt. It will be a clean death.”
“Aren’t you just Mr. Fucking Nice guy?” Darren mocked.
“Darren?” Jenny said.
“It’s ok Jenny. Kill me. Let her go.”
“No!” Jenny screamed. “Please no. I can’t live without you.”
“Jenny! Look at me,” Darren said as he turned his head to face her. “Look at me.” She finally looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this all went this way. This was a horrible idea.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “I was the one who talked you into it. I should have listened to you. I can’t lose you. Please.”
“You’ll be just fine. He’s going to let you go, you won’t be hurt. You can start a new life. You won’t have me dragging you down. Everything will be ok,” Darren said, but she wouldn’t stop crying. He looked over to Duncan. “I’m ready.”
Duncan walked over to the wall and pushed a button. Darren’s hook began to lower to the ground until his feet were touching. His arms and shoulders relaxed with the much needed relief. He lifted his arms off the hook, but his hands remained handcuffed in front of him.
“Now, if you try anything funny, any resistance at all, I will skin her alive and make you watch,” Duncan warned.
Darren said nothing as Duncan pointed to the metal table. Darren walked over and began to climb onto the table. Duncan undid his handcuffs, and quickly latched his left hand onto one of the manacles on the table. Darren didn’t resist as Duncan secured the other hand, so Darren was lying face down on the table, with his head hanging just off the end.
Darren turned to look at Jenny. She mouthed the words “I love you” to him.
“I love you baby. Don’t look, ok? I don’t want you to see this.”
“I have to,” Jenny said.
“Ok my friend,” Duncan said. “Any final words or proclamations?”
“You can go fuck yourself,” Darren said. “I hope someone skins you alive.”
“Fair enough. Ok, I feel like I should have something profound to say. You know like on ‘Game of Thrones’ when Ned Stark would say that little prayer before lopping someone’s head off?”
He walked over to his work table and picked up the large meat cleaver.
“I don’t even have a cool sword like he does. Maybe I should add that, just for some ceremonial effect,” Duncan said.
“God are you the most annoying murderer in history or what?” Darren said. “Just fucking kill me already.”
“Wow. Didn’t think you’d be that anxious to die, but ok. Hold still.”
Darren had never thought much about death. His parents took him to church some when he was a kid, but he’d never been overly religious. He always just figured when you die, that is it. Though he never expected to die at the age of forty, and so suddenly. No one ever thinks that. He’d always figured he’d live to be a ripe old age and die with his grandchildren by his bedside. Instead, there he was lying face down and naked on a cold metal table in some lunatic’s house of horrors.
One thing that surprised him, he wasn’t as nervous about death as he thought he’d be. He expected as the moment got closer, he would become more frightened, more nervous. He saw some old footage of a man being executed in the electric chair. The guards had to practically drag the guy into the execution chamber. The condemned man was visibly horrified. Maybe it was the exhaustion and the chaos of the last twenty-four hours hadn’t sunk in yet.
Darren kept his head turned slightly so he could see Jenny and took a deep breath. She continued to look at him, their eyes locked. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Duncan swinging the cleaver. Just before the cleaver struck his neck, he heard banging and yelling coming from another part of the house. He wanted to look back and see what it was, but the cleaver struck his neck removing his head cleanly. As Darren’s head fell to the floor, for a few seconds he was able to hear Jenny scream as his head tumbled to the floor. It struck the floor and he got a final look at his bloody stump of a neck before everything went dark.
Chapter 17
Jenny screamed as she watched her husband’s head fall to the floor. Duncan turned around and placed the cleaver back on the table and turned around.
“You asshole!” she screamed. “I’m gonna kill you!” She was almost dizzy from having seen her brother mutilated and then her husband beheaded. Her vision was foggy for a few seconds, as tears filled her eyes. Once it cleared, she wished he would just kill her. The reason they robbed the bank to begin with was to get money so they could live together as a family. Her family was gone now. There was no point in her own survival.
“No you’re not. Besides, I’m a man of my word.” He said as he walked to the wall, and pushed a button lowing her to the ground. She lifted her hands from the hook and without hesitation ran toward his work table and grabbed the meat cleaver. As she held it up, the steel door to the room slid open and two Mexican guys with guns came running into the room. The two lowered their guns and looked around.
“What in the fuck?” the tall bald one said. “What is this shit?”
“Can I help you gentlemen?” Duncan asked.
The short Mexican with the messy hair looked at Darren’s head on the floor and bent over throwing up.
“Is that someone’s fucking head?” the bald one said as he walked around the table, looking over Darren’s headless body. “Holy shit.”
Jenny stood in the corner behind Veronica. She pushed the button on the wall, lowering Veronica to the ground. As soon as she got her hands off the hook, Veronica collapsed to the floor. Jenny helped her up as they backed into the corner. The bald man with the gun looked at the other Mexican who finally finished throwing up.
Duncan looked back and forth between the men.
“I believe you two are trespassing,” Duncan said.
“Shut the fuck up,” the bald one finally said. “I believe you have our money.”
; “Money? I don’t have anyone’s money,” Duncan said. “There must be some mistake.”
“Nobody is mistaken shit,” the bald one yelled.
He had his back to Jenny, so she decided to take a chance. She charged at him with the cleaver but swung wildly. The man moved at the last second and she grazed his shoulder.
“Goddamn! You fucking bitch!” the bald one said as he punched her in the face. She dropped the cleaver and stumbled back. He grabbed her arm by the handcuffs and shoved her over the table, bending her over the table. “You wanna play rough you cunt? You wanna play rough?” he yelled as he undid his pants. Jenny screamed and struggled, but he stuck the gun to the back of her head and grabbed her by the hair.
“Don’t move you fucking bitch,” he said. Still holding her hair, he inserted the gun in between her labia. The cold steel made her shudder as she felt the gun sight scraping the inside of her vagina. He slid it in and out of her, as the metal barrel scraped the inside of her with each movement.
As if she hadn’t been humiliated enough already, she had to be raped by this asshole using his gun. It hurt like hell. She tried not to scream, but the pain was too much. She felt tearing in her vagina as he jammed the gun in and out.
He pulled the gun out and inserted his cock into her as he grabbed a handful of her hair and pressed the gun to the back of her head with the other hand. His dick was small, so she barely noticed it, other than the slamming. The man grunted as he drilled in and out of her repeatedly. Jenny could feel the gun in the back of her head.
For the first time as she looked down, she realized she was leaning over Darren’s dead body. There weren’t even words for what she was feeling. Being raped on top of your dead husband wasn’t something many people experienced. She wanted to fight back, kick, bite or scream but she was afraid the gun would go off, but it never did. He finished inside of her, and then threw her to the floor by the hair.
Once she landed, she placed her face in her hands. She hated herself for getting into this mess. Hated herself for letting Darren die, and hated herself for defiling his body in such away. Even though there was no way she could have stopped it, she knew it all traced back to her talking Darren into robbing the bank with her. Had she not forced the issue, they’d be in their shitty little apartment in the sweltering heat eating Cheetos.
The shorter guy had Duncan at gunpoint the whole time. Bald guy pulled his pants up and pointed at Duncan.
“You, over here in the corner with the girls. On the floor, all of you,” he said.
Jenny crawled to the corner and sat next to Veronica. Duncan sat in front of them as the short man stood a few feet away holding the gun at them.
“Where is the money?” the bald one asked.
“I told you, I don’t have any money,” Duncan said.
“Yeah, and you got your own fucked up torture chamber here too.” He looked at the short one. “You keep an eye on them. I’m gonna look for the money,” the bald one said as he stepped out of the room.
Jenny tried to be still as she looked around. She could hear him rifling through the house, tearing it apart looking for the cash. It was almost funny to her, the money had been such a big deal. She felt like their lives couldn’t possibly get any worse, so they had nothing to lose by robbing the bank. She had couldn’t have been more wrong.
The bald one came back into the room, sweating and looking angrier than he had earlier.
“Where is the fucking money?” he screamed at Duncan, placing the gun to the middle of his forehead. Jenny was amazed at how calm Duncan remained, but that was probably typical for a sociopath.
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, there is no money,” Duncan insisted.
The man started going through the room. He looked along the walls and walked over to a set of cupboards in the corner. He knelt down and opened the bigger doors. Inside was the duffel back of cash.
“Hell yeah. This is what I’m talking about,” the bald one said. “Hey Miguel. Kill all of them assholes. Let’s get out of here.”
Before Miguel could respond, the sound of a chainsaw revving up came from the other room.
Chapter 18
The Padre looked out the window toward Duncan Kincaide’s house. He was in the home across the street from Duncan’s. He had tried to sit in his car and keep an eye out, but the nosy neighbor guy kept coming out and asking what he was doing. The Padre tried to act casual and tell him he was just waiting for someone. The guy wouldn’t let it go and threatened to call the police.
Unfortunately for the neighbor, The Padre had to cut his throat and stuff him in his trunk. He went into the guy’s house, but he had a wife and a couple of kids there as well. They were all still asleep, which made it easier for him to slit each of their throats. The kids looked like they were in their early teens. Not that it mattered to him. He’d killed babies before. There were only two instances when he would kill. If he was being paid to, or necessary to complete a job. Once he was on a job, there were no people, only obstacles. These folks had become obstacles.
He left the bodies in their beds as he looked at the home. By the time anyone found them, he would be long gone. It wasn’t always about just going in and killing everyone. He wanted to watch the movement of the house and make sure they didn’t get any surprise visitors. That happened to him a few times and one of those times it almost cost him his life.
When he saw the two men with guns circling the house, he thought they were cops at first. It was dark, but there were streetlights. As he looked closer, he knew they weren’t cops. They looked like gangbangers. Supposedly no one else knew who these guys were or where the money was other than his client. So either these guys were trying to rob this house by coincidence, or his client decided to come and get the money himself. If it was the client, then he would die.
He grabbed his large case and walked out of the house, and carried it with him across the street. He was wearing a black sweatshirt, black fatigues and gloves. Once he reached Duncan’s house, he saw the front door had been kicked in. Looking around inside, the place had been ransacked and there was screaming coming from the back of the house. He followed the noise and stopped just around the corner. There was a foul smell coming from the back room, the smell of death. He’d recognize it anywhere.
He peeked around the corner and behind the study was some kind of hidden room. There was a panel peeled away from the wall and a doorway there with some kind of butcher’s room. He could see meat hooks and heard the gangbangers yelling and some women crying. One of them was screaming about his money. That had to be his client. He had warned them not to interfere. Why did they always have to stick their nose in?
So many would get impatient and try to stop him, or butt into the job themselves. They always died horribly each time, despite all the warnings. Setting the case down, he opened it up and took out his chainsaw. It was a large, industrial sized one. He kept the heavier chain on it, so it could cut through some metal, wood and pretty much anything else.
With one pull, the saw started up and roared through the house. The saw’s motor drowned out any screaming as he stepped into the butcher room. He figured it was appropriate they were all waiting for him there. He revved the engine for effect. As he stepped inside, the two gangbangers were screaming something, but he couldn’t hear them. The short one pointed a gun at him, but The Padre was quick with the large saw and cut his arm off in one swipe. He brought the saw back around and cut him in half, from his left shoulder through his waist.
He spun around as the bald gangbanger came up behind him, but the saw cut right through his abdomen with no difficulty. As his upper body hit the floor, muscle spasms caused his finger to pull the trigger on his gun, firing a shot into the wall. He turned back around to see another man and the girls running out of the room. There was a moment’s hesitation when he saw the headless body lying on the table. It made him wonder what had been going on, but he let the thought pass. The Padre ran after them, got into t
he study and then living room, but there was no sign.
Until he heard a car start in the garage. He ran to the garage to see the white Cadillac pulling out into the street. His own car was parked across the street, so he ran to it, and tossed the chainsaw into the back seat and took off after the Cadillac.
Chapter 19
Jenny sat in the backseat of the Cadillac with Veronica as Duncan drove through the neighborhood and onto the highway. She had tried to run away from him as they got out of the butcher room, but Duncan had grabbed a machete and cut her arm with it. He grabbed both the girls by their handcuffs and dragged them into the car.
Once on the highway, they raced north. It was still dark and early in the morning, so traffic was at a minimum. Jenny was horrified of being trapped in a speeding car with Duncan, but she was relieved to be away from the chainsaw wielding maniac. The only thing she could figure, was that those men were the thugs Michael had owed his money to. They were headed north toward Austin. Both Jenny and Veronica were still naked.
“Where are we going?” Jenny asked.
“Away from here. Don’t you worry,” Duncan said.
“I thought you were going to let me go!”
“Did you want me to leave you with that lunatic back there?”
She sat quiet and looked out the back window. A pair of headlights was racing toward them, getting closer. At first, she felt excited, thinking it was a police car who had seen them speeding. As it got closer, she realized it wasn’t a police car at all. It was an old Ford Taurus. She had no doubt that the chainsaw guy was driving.
The Taurus pulled up behind them and rammed the Cadillac’s bumper. The girls jolted forward, bouncing off the seat. They both screamed as the Taurus rammed them again. The Cadillac fishtailed as the Taurus pulled up alongside of them. It rammed into the side of them sending the Cadillac to the shoulder, until Duncan could regain control. This time, Duncan went on the offensive, and rammed the side of the Taurus. The other car swerved away before coming back and slamming into them again, this time they almost went into the retaining wall.