by Kirk Alex
Whew, thought Biggs. “That’s something even I couldn’t bring myself to do. Not raw like that; not a penis. That’s a healthy appetite that old woman’s got, determination. Wouldn’t you say?”
Mr. Fimple’s response to that was to saunter over from behind to where the flesh-eating old broads were by the butcher’s block and snatch what remained of Rudy Perez’s testes out of Miss Betty’s blue-veined, wrinkled hands and take off running out of the Fun Room. Miss Betty pursued the thief in her wheelchair, shrieking obscenities after him.
“Please do it, Mr. Biggs. Take me out. . . . Please. . . .”
“Is that the best you can do, Rudy? How do I know that you want to expire? Make me believe it. Young Turk like you? Got too much going to want to egress. Besides, euthanasia is one of the more complicated issues for me. I was a practical nurse, after all. They didn’t like for us to kill patients. That was definitely frowned upon.”
Biggs paused here to take in Olivia’s latest meltdown. It was amusing to witness: the violent shaking of the head, frantic and wild back and forth shifting of the eyeballs. Behavior boners were made of.
“ROO–DEEEEE! DEAREST ROO–DEEEEEEE! NNNOOO!”
Miss Betty was back and she had her straight razor out again. Got close enough to Perez and plunged the blade in his lower belly twice. Carved a large A above that.
Greta Otto surged forth, backhanded Miss Betty across the top of her head and watched the old woman with skin that resembled a dehydrated fig go reeling back against the wall and topple to the side in her wheelchair. Took her a moment to regain her sense of space and place and to fully comprehend what had just happened. Once quite a bit of it registered, the enraged nonagenarian couldn’t wait to respond, and respond she did—in her typical, high decibel manner.
“SHE’S GOT THE DEVIL IN HER! SHE’S EVIL, BISHOP BIGGS! SHE’S GOT MORE EVIL IN HER THAN THE BOY!”
CHAPTER 481
The daughter rushed over and helped her mother back up in the wheelchair. Greta’s action was at first puzzling to the self-styled bishop, then soon enough he understood: she was determined to participate in the final phase of Rudy Perez’s demise.
Greta had the chainsaw going, and pressed that whirring saw blade against Rudy’s left shin. Cut right through it, and his left foot dropped to the puddle of blood on the cement floor. The tall blond did the same to his other shin: drove the chainsaw blade clean through—and his legs dangled there like that as he kicked and made horrific sounds.
“RRRU–DDEEEEEE!” Olivia was beside herself. Crying out. Gasping. “GODDDDDNNNNO!”
It did her no good, nor did it do her boyfriend Rudy any good, as Greta Otto proceeded to cut through his left wrist, freeing his arm from the door, and then she cut his right hand off, and Rudy Perez dropped to the cement, flailing, convulsing, his body jerking around like a trout on dry land. Greta stepped back to take it all in. She was proud of herself. Male bastard deserves everything he gets. Does it hurt, pig?
“HOW DOES IT FEEL, PIG! HOW DOES THAT FEEL?”
Biggs was sipping his Cherry Coke and shaking his head: It was incredible the way Greta knew how to put on a show. She had even been able to top Miss Betty. Olivia was unable to stop screaming, even though she was, in fact, too weak to so much as stand up. Every inch of her was in pain from the tears and noise she’d been making in order to get them to stop what they were doing; every part of her was in pain from watching them mutilate her boy this way.
Rudy kept jerking about on the floor and then somehow, exactly why no one really knew, ended up by the open door. All Rudy Perez really wanted at this point was to die, and if Biggs wouldn’t tell them to kill him, he could help speed up the process by making it look like he was attempting to “escape.” But how could he ever hope to get this across—without hands? Without feet? This truly was a moot point—because there was only one thing on Rudy’s mind right now—one thing only: To die! Kill me, kill me, kill me, kill me, kill me! Dear God, Have Them Kill Me!
“PLEASE HAVE MERCY AND END IT!”
“NNNNOOOOOOONNNNOOOO! RRU–DDEEEEE!”
Rudy flailed about on the floor, unable to get through the door. He was stuck. Couldn’t see. The pain had blinded him. Dirt and tears in his eyes and blood; he was swathed in it: blood that poured from his belly and chest, blood that poured from handless arms, blood that poured from legs without feet, blood that flowed from his pelvic area.
“GET HIM, GRETA! GET HIM, YOU HOG BITCH YOU!”
Trusty may have felt a touch of remorse here. It was possible. Far fetched? Yes. Possible? Remotely. Then again, who knew? The only thing certain was the order he gave her to deliver the coup de grâce and wrap it up.
“I know you’re enjoying this more than anything in the world. Finally got yourself a chance to cut up a male of the species. Go all the way. A chance to get even. FINISH HIM OFF, THEN! What are you waiting for?”
CHAPTER 482
Greta moved up from behind. Rudy was on his belly, his legs and arms moving frantically and going nowhere in all that blood.
Like a fly, Biggs thought. With its wings gone.
“CUT HIM, BITCH!”
“Can I break arm, Cecil?” The Eastern European dipstick was acting like one. At a time like this, too. Ionesco. “Please? I only wish to break one arm maybe, and then she can do rest?”
“FINISH HIM OFF, GRETA!”
Greta lowered the chainsaw blade down against Rudy’s spine, put some muscle behind it, and started cutting through bone. More crimson spattered up into her mask, black sweater, and negligee. She had to brace her right boot against his buttocks to hold him still as she continued to work the chainsaw.
She moved the blade up toward the back of Rudy’s head and let the sharp teeth of the saw blade cut through at an angle and the head came right off. Rolled to the side.
Olivia’s own rage and hysteria doubled: panic and fury and madness—all rolled into one. She was a madwoman herself now, making more noise than the buzzing chainsaw.
Greta Otto kicked at the head and watched it roll against the wall and Betty’s daughter go after it. Norbert Fimple came rushing into the room and he and Mildred fought over the head.
Betty Lou Rutterschmidt wheeled herself over and began to stab Mr. Fimple in the right leg with the straight razor and forced him to drop the head. The daughter scooped it up and scurried out of the Fun Room with it.
Mr. Fimple staggered into one of the corners there to do something about the pain in his leg.
CHAPTER 483
Greta Otto finished cutting up what remained of Rudy’s body. She completed the spine cut by separating the torso into two halves. She cut the legs up into smaller pieces. Cut the arms completely off.
She severed the rest of the legs from what was left of the trunk, and she was through.
She turned the chainsaw off. Walked back toward Olivia, who had quieted down a great deal. She was too exhausted and emotionally drained to do much more than fade out with a barely audible whimper.
Greta put her arm around her. Whispered gently in her ear.
“You don’t need him. He’s just another male off the assembly line. You’re better off without him.”
CHAPTER 484
Biggs looked around. Mess was too much, even by his own standards, or lack of, when it came to tidiness. “It’s just about time to start cleaning up, ladies and gentlemen.” He also picked up on what Greta was up to: the touchy-feely bull-crap with the Duarte gash. “Finish her off, Greta. Do it now.”
The Leaper did not move or say anything, merely held on to Olivia Duarte this way.
“Look, I understand, you’ve got a thing for pussy—only we have to be practical now. She has to be killed so we can get rid of the bodies. We’ve got holes dug up in the garage and Big Tex can’t wait to start mixing cement. We might even dump Rudy’s little girlfriend down in that pit we kept Dione Aragon in, and just fill it in with dirt and cement. What are you waiting for? Finish her.”
Olivia
had crawled away into a corner, not wishing to be touched by Greta any further, and to get closer to the hammer dropped by Miss Betty’s daughter a moment ago.
Biggs had his fingers wrapped around the .357 Magnum. Aimed it at Greta “The Leaper” Otto.
“Finish her off, henpecker, or I put a bullet in your rectum.”
He did not like using up his bullets when he didn’t have to, but he was thinking about it now. “I know you’re sane enough to know what this can do to you.”
CHAPTER 485
Olivia snapped up the hammer and hit Greta in the belly with it a couple of times. She hammered away at Greta’s thighs, knee caps, and then made an all-out effort to deliver a good shot to the face, tried to, only The Leaper’s hands went up in time, her forearms absorbing quite a bit of it. Greta staggered back in serious pain.
Olivia Duarte was on her feet. Running out the door.
“Get up, Greta. GET UP!”
Greta was not moving very much. Biggs reached for the hose and blasted her with water. Aimed it at the big woman’s face, and Greta’s Cupid mask flew off, exposing her disfigured features.
Biggs released the nozzle trigger. Stopped spraying. Waited for Greta to glare and grunt at him. It took great effort, but she recovered. Picked up her chainsaw and mask.
Flinty-eyed Big T. had been observing the action, so had the Red Menace.
“Yessir, I’d say Greta’s a mite peeved.”
“I like Greta. Got big legs, big backyard—like Rumanian farm girl.”
“Still like to ride that plump heifer myself, if I could separate her from that Black & Decker long enough, not to mention that dang tater peeler she ain’t never without.”
Groggy Greta made it to the door, and beyond, in search of Liv Duarte. Julian Ionesco drew his left index finger across his right forearm. “Greta cut your pee-pee, Big Texas. You be careful.”
“I’ve rode some big nasty bulls in my time; heifers, too. Leaper don’t scare me none. Take the chainsaw away, and the shank, and she ain’t nothin’ but another plump-ass, juicy heifer. Only thing is, I’m gonna havta show her how to make headcheese.”
“She make me homesick for Rumania.”
Big T. spit on the floor. “Piss on that, cum-raide. The Yellow Rose is for me. Billy Bob’s. Cowgirls in skin-tight jeans and long hair like cornsilk; moonshine whiskey, George Jones, Johnny Paycheck, Tammy Wynette. I just love Tammy Wynette. Played her record over and over after I shot my little darlin’. Tammy Wynette. . . . She was just about the best . . . an’ Greta got her all that haunch and it’s firm—but all woman, except you got to be sure to keep that face covered. Somebody sho’ done double-duty with the ugliest ugly stick there ever was on her face. For sure got all that haunch what makes my longhorn come sproutin’ right outta my rhinestone jockstrap. I’m dyin’ if I’m lyin’.”
CHAPTER 486
Greta moved through the darkness, searching out the other sections of the basement. She lifted the door that covered the pit. Looked down. Dragged the toe of her right jackboot through the murky surface to make certain. Saw nothing in the water but rats diving for food.
She took swats at them with the bar nose and watched the scavengers scramble out of there and run for cover. She stood up, looking around slowly; her eyes were accustomed to the dark.
“You shouldn’t have done that, little sister. I tried to be supportive; did my best to sympathize. And you pay me back by attacking me with a hammer. That’s exactly what’s wrong with women today. We don’t know how to band together, team up and attack. United we stand—divided we fall. Somehow, we always seem to betray each other—be it over some male drip or just plain jealousy. We always seem to envy the other bitch because she’s prettier or has nicer hair—when instead we should be sticking together. This is exactly why we failed. We don’t have the intelligence or the self-confidence and assurance to stick together, to work together and deal with the foe in a united way. You don’t get it. That’s all. Young stupid bitch like you. You haven’t got the sense to see the big picture. And it’s a sad time. . . . You attacked the one person in this hellhole who could have helped you. . . .” The words were spoken in guarded tones, since what she had to say was meant for Olivia’s ears only.
CHAPTER 487
Greta opened the cooler door. Looked inside. Made certain Olivia was not crouched behind any of the metal chests and freezer, and then walked back out. Checked the Furnace Room, Bunk Room, the john. She checked behind the stairwell, and entered the Mattress Room. She was back out and climbing the stairs to the first floor.
Olivia was not on the landing and the door was locked. Greta made her way gradually back down the stairs and could easily hear hammering coming from the john in the corner.
She’d checked the bathroom a moment prior and hadn’t found the trouble-causing bitch in there. Now she was. Greta shook her head. How dumb can this young cunt be? How stupid?
There was no chance of going through the wall. After the black stripper and her idiot friends had attempted to break out that way, Biggs had made certain the wall in there was impregnable by sealing it with brick and mortar.
Greta approached the bathroom door.
“What did I say, young lady? Together we stand—divided we fall.” She pulled on the lever. The saw whirred to life. “You’ve heard it before: If you’re not with us—you must be a-gin us. If you’re not friend—you must be foe.”
Olivia was in the bathroom screaming, hammering away frantically at the same wall Pearleen had told her about. She had both hands tightly wound around the hammer handle and gave it all she had with each blow. Some of the drywall came apart, crumbled. For the most part the damage she managed was minimal. The wall had been fortified by Biggs and his people. It was no use. Olivia continued to scream at the top of her lungs. She could hear the chainsaw on the other side of the bathroom door increase in volume, then saw the blade slice through the door. And down it, vertically.
“NNNNOOOOOOOO! NNNNOOOOOO-OOOO!”
She hammered away at the wall. Glanced back at the door and saw the chainsaw blade start at the top of the door (opposite side from the other cut) and proceeded downward at an angle (crisscrossing with the other cut) to form a definite X. Marked for death. Lunatic was out to kill her.
CHAPTER 488
Olivia stepped away from the wall. She whirled with the hammer and gave the chainsaw blade a furious shot with everything that she had in her. The chainsaw appeared to be, for the moment, stuck in the door, although the blade continued to spin. Looked like Olivia’s blow had bent the guide bar. Greta grunted on the other side. Pulled on the chainsaw. Got nowhere.
Olivia Duarte continued to hammer away at the chainsaw with all her might. Rage fueled the frenzy. On the other side of the door was someone else with rage to spare. Greta yanked repeatedly on the chainsaw handle until she was able to free the blade, lost her balance, and fell back with it and the chainsaw blade sliced through her mask on the right cheek side.
Olivia crashed through the door with the help of her hammer and leapt out at the other woman. Continued to beat at the chainsaw, as well as Greta, who remained on her back and was attempting to wipe blood from her right eye.
The chainsaw flew out of Greta’s hands, bounced against the wall, and was silent. Olivia gave Greta two solid shots to the head and chest. Greta would not be going anywhere in the immediate future. It looked that way.
Olivia was back in the bathroom, pounding away at the wall in there. Saw how solid it truly was. She dropped the hammer, ran out to pick up the chainsaw and tripped on Greta’s raised right leg. Olivia elbowed the woman in the stomach, sat up, only to be pulled back down as Greta gripped fistfuls of her hair and jerked her against the cement. Olivia fought to sit up, and Greta would allow her that much, only to slam her back down again by pulling on her hair each time.
The way Olivia was positioned, her back was against the other woman’s chest. She saw and went with the opportunity, by first shoving her left elbow into th
e woman’s face, and followed up with the other elbow. That freed her up long enough to be able to crawl over to the chainsaw. She’d never held one of these in her life, but had seen enough of those horror videos her brother had brought home from the video rental place over the years to have some idea how to go about getting the thing started. She hoped so, anyway. Prayed it would work. She pulled on the lever—and got nowhere. Did it again and again. Finally, the fourth try got the chainsaw going. The saw shrieked. Slowly, doing her best to regain some control, compose herself, Olivia Duarte walked toward Greta, paused there, and kept going past her, into the bathroom. Was back working away at the wall, not that the chainsaw did any better for her than the hammer did.
“You’re wasting your time. Can’t you see the wall is made of brick? It’s a brick wall.”
Olivia ran out of the bathroom; was forced to do a pirouette, as some of the geeks had come out of the Fun Room to take in the match. They moved in around her, demented and leering. Olivia whirled with the chainsaw, stood in one spot and whirled with it and watched them scatter.
She hurried up the staircase to the locked door on the first floor. The blade kept getting stuck somehow, operated sluggishly from all the hammer blows and general abuse. She dreaded the following would happen—and it did: chainsaw stopped altogether. Jammed.
CHAPTER 489
Biggs emerged from the Workshop-cum-Fun Room. Paused there, looking up. He was brandishing the .357 Magnum this time.
“You don’t want to ruin that door, too, Olivia.”