by mike Evans
Matt sat back dropping his mask next to him. “Guess I'm not going to be getting any options for a padded cell anytime soon. That’s fine. I don’t plan on going alive.”
He lay on the side that had not been shot staring into Pon’s lifeless eyes staring back at him and wondered if there would ever be anyone who could truly understand him. He had only married for show and had never loved her. He could not count the number of times that he had wished to run a knife instead of his dick into his wife. She had done the best that she could for having to deal with a distant husband who she thought worked all of the time. He was sure that she was going to have some therapy bills in her future.
Chapter 10
3 Weeks later in Lincoln, Nebraska
Earl checked through his out tickets for the motel unsure who was up for eviction today. He balanced a cigarette between his fingers ignoring the ashes falling on the receipts. He wasn’t too worried as half of the rooms were going to go in the trash anyways. The best way to avoid high taxes was by saying that the people who checked in never really did. He knew any freeloaders would be gone that didn’t have the cash to extend their rental time. When he saw Stacey’s name he smiled thinking there was a good chance that there’d be a blow job in it for him if she still needed the room and money was tight.
He shoved the rest of the receipts back into the drawer. His dick was the king and he was only following orders. He had his fingers crossed hoping that she needed the place. He’d not seen her one time since she’d rented the place and the lights had been out each night when he’d made the rounds. He ran his fingers across the wall of dangling keys and grabbed the key to the room and headed up.
Matt was putting his items back into a bag getting ready to leave. He had a road trip in mind, and a promise that he meant to keep. When the door rattled the first thing that he looked at was Pon and Stacey, their skin had a tint of red and blue. He went to it opening it a crack and a draft of cold air shot out from the doorway hitting Earl in the face.
Earl stood back when the smell of pine trees and cold air invaded his senses. “Christ, do you have to have that air blasting so damn cold?”
“Kind of defeats the purpose of cold air, if you don’t have it on. Are you the owner?”
“No, I’m not the owner, thank God for that. But anytime he sees something weird in the bills he comes to me to ask what in the hell is going on. You think that it’s odd a hooker is somewhere for three weeks. I’ve never had one stay longer than a few hours. Now, I don’t believe in calling the cops. It isn’t really my style.”
“You are going to call the police to tell them what, that there was a tenant using the house air that he paid for?”
“Well no, I guess I can’t tell them that but I could tell them how a man who isn’t on the registration has been staying here. Do you have any reason to be here?”
Matt shrugged, “I’m in love with a hooker, what can I tell you.”
“No one falls in love with a hooker. Now, are you going to stay or are you going to leave? I'm not kidding about calling the police.”
“How about I get you another hundred dollars and then I’ll be on my way. I’m packing up now, and the place probably smells better than it has in as long as you’ve been here. Hang on while I grab you some money.”
Matt pushed the door almost shut and grabbed his wallet. He had no reason to worry about anyone stealing from him since both threats had been sitting in the same spot for weeks. He agreed it was frigid but it was better than the alternative of letting the woman ripen. He had picked up an obscene amount of air fresheners when he dumped the truck. He figured stripping the plates and scratching off the main VIN number in the window had worked as planned since he’d seen no cops other than the ones checking up on the ladies of the night.
Earl saw a heel sticking out behind the bed and slowly pushed the door back open. When he did, the bloody smiley face on the wall staring back at him mixed with seeing Pon and Stacey’s dead bodies put him into a state of shock. Matt was digging in his bag for the cash and when he saw the light expanding on the wall put it down and grabbed for a mask instead. When he stood and spun around The Stranger was staring back at a confused Earl. Earl looked down at his feet not daring to look at the masked man. He realized that in his state of shock he had stepped into the room for a better look. He was used to finding the occasional junkie in a bed and dead, but this was on an entirely new level of fucked up.
The Stranger walked quickly and grabbed the clothes iron he’d been going over his garments with before packing them neatly into his bag. Earl’s mouth just sat agape unsure what he could say or do. Nothing intelligent came to mind and the best thing that he could come up with was, “I won’t tell, I won’t tell anybody nothing!”
The Stranger launched the iron at his face, missed and took a chunk out of the wall. Earl took a deep breath spinning to run out of the room. A hand wrapped around the back of his neck pulling him back in. The Stranger saw a three-year-old who shouldn’t have a pacifier or a diaper sitting on the railing unattended smashing a few toys together. Matt put a finger to his lips shaking his head no to the child who nodded. He was sure the kid was only loved one time a month, and that would be when the state paid out to single parents.
Earl tried to scream but Matt gripped his arm lifting him well off the ground. The three weeks that he’d had to heal had done him good and he only had a small limp from the truck flipping. Earl’s eyes turned into saucers and he skimmed the ceilings edge as Matt tossed him violently into the two hookers. Earl hit hard, looked up and saw their dead eyes staring back at him and rolled off scrambling back until he hit the wall. He watched the bright light from the doorway become a slim strip and then disappear like his hopes and chance of his survival.
Earl held up his hands and then ran for the door. The Stranger took a step and grabbed his arms. He spun in a circle and launched him back and towards the kitchen area. Earl slammed into the fridge and pushed back to try and run again. Matt was already there and grabbed him by the neck again lifting him and bringing him down onto the cheap oven top. Earl was still trying to plead but The Stranger was already flipping on the stove. Earl began to squirm trying to get off of the burners but The Stranger held his head pushing him back down. The thin facial hairs that Earl was capable of producing sizzled until they’d completely fried.
The coils turned bright red and he pushed his face in harder until he began to really fry. The skin immediately began to blister and then burst and burn. Earl’s eye was inches from the coil and tears were running down his cheek and sizzling as they evaporated instantly. The Stranger knelt down and watched. Earl’s eyes started to roll into the back of his head and he looked like he was on the verge of passing out.
Matt lifted him back up and the skin stuck and peeled from his cheekbones as he was ripped up from the stove top. Half of his cheek stayed atop of the coils, the fat and hair sizzling and melting to his face. Earl came back to life when he did this and grabbed at Matt, pleading in what sounded like a foreign language.
The Stranger brushed his hand against the good cheek looked at him sitting up straight, but only because he was being held up. He stared at him looking at one cheek and then the other. “Let’s go for a matching set. Probably looking at a closed casket though.”
He managed to whisper, “But…but I’m not dead.”
The Stranger lifted his chin up to look him in the eyes shaking his head no as if he disagreed with him. “You aren’t very bright are you, Earl?”
Earl tried to say something in reply but Matt flipped him before he could respond. He slammed his untouched cheek into the coils. The skin began to burn again but even quicker this time as the stove top was already running at top capacity and that was when he passed out. Matt pulled him off of the stove turning the burners back off. Matt removed his mask keeping it close for safety and reassurance that he could slide it on at any time. He took everything and packed it in the trunk of Earl’s car. He looked around the r
oom leaving the door open and walked out, ready for his short trip to fulfill promises.
**
One hour later
Hannah walked past the open doorway stopping when the smell hit her. She walked back slowly not knowing what the smell was but sure that it was wrong and it was not something she should smell. Hannah saw that the room looked like there had been a small war going on inside of it. The broken shower door, the stove looked like whoever cooked on it had literally been cooking their meat on the burners, and the blood that seemed to be on everything was almost more than she could take. She walked in slowly hoping that there was some money that she could snag. When she turned around Hannah saw the carnage. The fact that there were two dead hookers on the floor escaped her immediate notice.
Earl was standing next to the wall or perhaps propped there and hanging.
She got close and saw that his face was charred on both sides. His cheekbones were puffed until his eyes almost disappeared, the slits were near impossible to see. He jumped when she touched his chest and she screamed filling the courtyard with the echo. Earl tried to say, “Help me, please,” but it came off as incoherent. She looked at his hands, each had been stabbed through his palms as well as his forearms and pinned to the wall. Hannah whispered, “Who did this, Earl?”
Earl mumbled, “Get me help!”
She patted his pockets lightly seeing if there was any money in it but found none. She saw under his shirt he had a long row of duct tape that ran around his insides lined with six one hundred dollar bills sticking out of it. She ripped the tape without thinking knowing it was more than she’d make in a week. Earl’s intestines poured from his stomach, landing and quickly entangling Hannah’s feet. She screamed, grabbed the blood covered tape and kicked his intestines and guts off herself falling as she did so. When she looked up from her web of gore she noticed Pon and Stacey staring at her each with smiley faces drawn on their faces.
Hannah pushed back in horror, crab walking until she hit the wall and fumbled with her phone to dial 911. When the dispatcher operator answered she said, “I need to report a crime or crimes…I don’t know what the fuck happened here!”
“Do you need the police?”
“I need a coroner or an ambulance. I don’t know, this is pretty fucked up.”
She saw the note inside of a bag pinned to his chest. Fresh droplets of blood from his mouth were dripping onto it. I’m better now, agent. We have unfinished business to take care of.
Chapter 11
Rosa sat at the kitchen table with dirty dishes surrounding her. She had to put her hand over her heart every so often to remind herself that it was still beating. She was quite sure that it had been broken not once but twice. Her hand hovered over the newspaper because she was scared to read it again. Her husband and daughter’s obituaries sat side by side on the table. Each of them had pictures that were her favorites of them.
She looked at the phone thinking of calling Tricia but knew that she and the boys were both going through enough already. They had worried about Nick for years but at no time had they ever thought something like this would happen. She thought about her future looking into the living room and could not see a place where Chuck had been sitting, or eating in the kitchen. They’d made this a home together and he’d paid for it with his sweat and had arthritis from building the American dream. She smiled thinking of the day that they’d moved in and even at six months pregnant he’d swooped her up in his arms and carried her across the threshold of the home.
She looked at the mess and snapped realizing that no one but her was going to clean up the pigsty that she had let the house become. She started placing dirty dishes in the sink and letting the water turn warm over her hand. She let it burn it for a moment just to show herself that she could still feel something. She could feel tears streaming down her face and had she looked up would have seen The Stranger staring at her through the kitchen window.
The Stranger walked around the side of the house to the front. He’d picked up a cane finding it easier to get around over the last few weeks. Over time Matt had hoped that he would get better and knew that he was still healing but that the power he wanted to have back under his control was there and he was grateful for it. He pushed the bell once standing back a foot, machete already in hand. Not that she could tell beneath the mask but Matt was smiling ear to ear. He hadn’t wanted to wait this long to fulfill his promise to Chuck but healing was the most important thing.
Rosa opened the door and pure shock spread across her face. She smiled a little though, to his surprise, and then she began pulling a pistol from her house dress. She was not quick enough and unfortunately for Rosa, he was able to reach a massive arm out and grab her hand. He stepped in and she tried backing up but he yanked her forward throwing her off balance. He lifted her two feet off the ground and slammed her into the dry wall. She tried to kick at him but her short legs were not as long as his reach.
Rosa let out a gasp as she came to a rest a few inches in the cracked drywall. Matt pulled her hand back slamming it into the wall until she dropped it. “Who told you to have this? Who is here?”
Rosa looked up with fresh tears falling. “Are you an idiot? You took my husband’s ID. Who else would have taken it? You could have found it in the phonebook too, you moron.”
The Stranger did not like not being feared, and leaned in close to her. “You don’t have anyone else here to save you? You aren’t scared of dying?”
“It’d be a welcome change to what I'm dealing with. Now do it, you coward. Go ahead and do it, you already took everything else from me.”
A man’s voice screamed from across the street. Matt turned his head and saw an elderly man yelling and waving a cell phone. Matt said, “He’s definitely going to ruin what I had planned for you.”
“You weren’t going to kill me?”
He turned, staring at her, wishing she could see his face. “No, not until I get every inch of skin peeled from your body, front and back.”
“But, why?”
Because I made a deal with your husband and he didn’t behave, I plan to keep my promises.”
Rosa wanted to say something but the neighbor cut her off. When no one paid attention to him the neighbor yelled again, “You better get out of here, freak. I‘m going to call the cops!”
“Are you kidding me? I’ll be back. I need to go deal with your neighbor.”
“You leave Mr. Spielman alone. He’s just looking out for a widow.”
The Stranger got in close to her ear and whispered, “You don’t know when to shut up, do you?”
She tried to say something else but the machete came from nowhere stabbing her through the shoulder leaving her balanced on her tiptoes as the pain in her shoulder spread like fire. He had the machete’s blade sticking up in the air so that if she let go or tried to let herself down she would be cutting her own shoulder off. Rosa screamed in anger and he wasn’t sure it was the pain or because she truly wanted to die. He brushed her face with the back of his hand, whispering, “It’ll be soon so please try not to pass out while I peel you or I’ll have to wait until you wake up.”
“The police are going to be here soon. You aren’t going to have time to do anything.”
The Stranger knelt down to grab her pistol and started walking across the street yelling over his shoulder, “You forgot, there’s a lot of missing people who used to work there that don’t anymore. Good luck though. I’ll be right back. I promise you that, Rosa.”
Rosa wanted to speak but the blade began cutting through her shoulder and her body began to shake with shock. Spielman saw him marching across the street with his limp and slammed the door shut locking it. His wife yelled, “What are you doing, Jon Spielman? Come sit down and watch the show. You’re going to get all worked up and not be able to sleep. You know what CSI does to you, we shouldn’t even be watching it this late.”
“Shut up, woman, and run! That man from the news, the one that took out Chuck, is coming
.”
“Coming to our town?”
“The fucking house! Now get your ass up and in the bedroom. I'm going to try and—“
Matt got close to the door raising a foot up only a quarter of the way which was where the handle was and snap kicked the handle with his heel. The door, like most doors in his career as a police detective and serial killer, was the best lock but was not worth shit with the factory screws that were part of the lock’s installation kit.
The door practically exploded from the frame. Jon held up his hands in defense of the giant of a man. Matt pulled out a baseball bat from his ever growing kill bag, weighed it in his hands and liked the way it felt. Jon, who could barely say anything coherently, couldn’t help himself but to ask, “What...what is that around the ba-ba-ba-bat?”
The Stranger ran his hand around it holding it out for Jon to get a better look. Jon said, “Is that barbed wire?”
He nodded his head yes coming forward swinging it around and connecting with his hands breaking them at the wrist. Jon screamed and while he was so busy looking at the bones sticking out of his wrists he forgot all about the bat that wasn’t done for the night. Jon’s wife stuck her head out, screaming, “Honey, are you okay, baby?”
Even in his frustration he still rolled his eyes thinking that she almost deserved to die. He could only do so much to keep her safe and she had just literally wasted all of his opportunity to do so. Jon yelled, “My God, are you an idiot!”