Short Shocks 2

by Andy Love

  Jason understood why the youths terrorised him. He of all people should know, if a person were different in some way, they would be ridiculed. The tormentor’s idiotic friends usually follow. These same people have the audacity to bleat about the ugly human scum, which are allowed to walk the streets. He also remembered the fun of torment, but not at his expense. His mind dragged back to reality as the flames licked his feet.

  “Look what I found you guys!” One youth rolled a large diesel barrel from the darkness and into the edge of the throng. The flames burnt up to Jason’s waist. Four hooligans threw the drum onto the fire and they all ran out the building, their laughter echoed in the empty factory.

  The screams from the burning man echoed round the empty factory. He stared at the barrel, unable to withdraw it, to escape or change his inevitable fate of complete incineration. The barrel expanded in the heat and became dangerously bloated.

  The barrel suddenly exploded in a huge ball of flames and sprayed diesel in all directions. It immediately ignited Jason’s clothes then burned ferociously as the boiled fluid ate into his skin, to dissolve his flesh and muscle.

  He screamed inside, wriggled and his head shook violently as much as he could within the white-hot chains. The inside of his mouth was burnt and dry; no taste, no feeling and no voice. Blinded by flames, his brain cooked in a cranial soup. The fluid boiled internally, until steam whistled out the end of the pipe. The length of copper suddenly shot from his forehead with a pop, before it bounced and clanked on the floor.

  His fat bubbled, flesh melted and his clothes disintegrated to ash. He writhed so much; the link at the top of the chain became weak in the heat, expanded and released him from the pyre. Jason landed on the intense heat then rolled off to the side, and extinguished his burnt body.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Jason lay there for hours until he heard sirens. He crawled to a nearby office, off from the foundry shop floor. The beast hid under a metal table, terrified, naked and in extreme pain. Commands yelled out between the firemen, the rush of water, and the venomous hiss of retreat from the fire all terrified him. He would be more vexed if discovered in this charred, rotted state, and still alive. There would be no way to explain his survival; he’d need to play dead. The bliss of death now seemed sweet to Jason. He crouched with an ache to be released—anger infested—a fiery sensation built inside, which spread and trembled his body.

  The fire brigade neared his lair of filth, as they searched for flames.

  The heat intensified as his body began to smoulder. It ignited, flames danced from his fingers and head. Jason set the table and all the nearby materials on fire. He spotted a door at the back of the office, crawled on hands and knees, and turned the handle on the door. “FIRE!” he heard. Suddenly a rush of icy water forced against his arse, and forced the door open then slid him out into the darkness of the foundry’s compound. Wet, burnt and hungry, but in one piece, he limped through the site and blended into the shadows.

  He waited for the fire and policemen with their bright lights to leave then kicked open the door and re-entered the building. His lair was found to be quiet. It’s a dark and damp corner to suit his existence. A place for him to curled up, and watched the moon bleed through broken windows. He pulled a sheet of metal over his body, to escape the light and constant irritation of flies. They have become constant companions, which buzz and gorge on his rotten flesh.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Jason awoke to the sirens of a city night. A swarm of flies crawled over him, and into every orifice. He pushed off the metal sheet and stood up. Green slime left a putrid pool on the floor and his clothes soiled with various fluids.

  Tired and weak with a stale dry mouth, he flicked his sticky black tongue in and out, as he ate flesh flies from around his mouth. Jason craved warm blood; a food source to wriggle in his mouth.

  He heard the meow of a cat echo in the warehouse area of the building. His attention pricked, he crept out of the room to judge the proximity of his meal. He considered a move from cover, when a dog passed in front of him, intent on the cat. They fought tooth and claw, the dog bit into the cat’s neck and shook until it snapped. Jason snuck up on the dog, grabbed it round the neck and pulled its head back. The dog yelped then became limp. Jason sat in the rubble, snorted and grunted as he devoured both meals.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Invigorated by the cat and dog delight, Jason stood in the middle of a back garden and looked at the red skirt and pink blouse on the washing line. “Oh, come on.” He whispered in disgust. His cold, naked, and damaged carcass urged him to steal the clothes. Pegs flew in all directions, when he yanked the clothes off the line. He stepped into the red mini skirt, fastened on the pink blouse and looked down at his attire with one hand on his hip. “Shite!”

  He jumped over the fence, which divided the properties and smashed the back door window of Rick Mills’ home. Once inside, he sat down in the soft armchair in the lounge, a hand splayed on each arm of the chair. His legs in a position not becoming of a lady, as he waited for Rick to investigate the noise. Jason heard footsteps on the staircase and became apprehensive. He self ignited and little flames set the chair on fire.

  Rick saw the flames in the lounge. He rushed to the kitchen, and snatched the fire extinguisher. He ran into the lounge, sprayed Jason and the chair with the white coldness. The fire died. Jason examined his charred hands. “Fuck sake. I can’t believe I set fires by accident. I cause more mayhem than I try to put right.” Rick’s jaw dropped open when he saw the body smoulder as it spoke.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Jason lunged at Rick, who threw the fire extinguisher at the beast. It bounced off his chest, but still he advanced. Rick staggered to the kitchen, snatched a large knife from the block and ran back to the ghoulish thing. It grabbed Rick by the shoulders, they lost balance and landed on the floor. The monster fell on top of the knife, which sliced into his stomach. Jason’s eyes widened and mouth opened, as their faces became a knife handle apart. Maggots fell from Jason’s mouth and nose. The lack of healthy tissue, ensured the loss of a firm and youthful appearance. Skin slid down his face when he spoke to Rick, in a weird slur.

  “Fuck, man. Why’d you stab me? That fuckin’ hurts.”

  Rick recognised the voice before he pushed the monster to the side. He got up and ran to the fire extinguisher, lifted it and stood in a defensive posture. Jason raised from the floor, and looked down at the knife protrude from his gut. He screamed when he pulled it out and dropped it. He looked at Rick.

  “What the fuck’s wrong with you? I only want to help.”

  Rick shook his head and raised the fire extinguisher higher. “You’re that Jason Wicks. I thought you were dead. You’re taking the piss. You only ever helped yourself.”

  Jason shuffled toward Rick with arms extended and spoke with laughter in his voice. “No. Really, Rick. I need to help.”

  Small flames erupted over his face and hands. Rick moved forward, aimed the extinguisher at Jason’s head and pulled the trigger. The white powder blinded the fiend as Rick manoeuvred to the knife.

  He picked it up before the beast regained partial sight, and lunged at him again. He swiped the blade in horizontal arcs, but Jason approached, oblivious to the danger. Rick slashed the monster’s stomach open with the knife. Jason’s intestines emerged and unravelled past his knees and on to the floor. Jason gathered them up and swung the organic rope at Rick and covered his head in sticky bits from his guts. Rick caught the end of the intestines, yanked the beast off balance and tied it around its neck.

  Little fires appeared as Jason stood up. His hands and face were engulfed. Rick aimed the fire extinguisher at its head again and pulled the trigger. The beast tried to avert the coldness, but Rick continued and kicked the monster out the open kitchen door. With a final solid kick to the chest, the fiend catapulted into the garden, and Rick slammed the back door to a close. Jason stood in the middle of the back lawn with his hands raised, intestines wrapped around his n
eck and a smile on his face.

  “Awe, come on Rick. Look, no more flames.”

  He stretched his arms out in front of him and begged. “Oh, come on Rick. I’m not a threat!”, he shouted.

  Flames popped up on the back of his hands again. “Shit, no!” whispered Jason. He flapped his hands around, and slapped the back of each with the other. The flames continued to grow, and his body suddenly blazed again. “I fuckin’ hate fire!” He yelled.

  He rolled around the grass, to put out the flames, and struggled to release his intestines from his neck. Once he untangled the guts, and stuffed them back into the long gash, he scrambled desperately for something to contain the mess. He picked up a child’s inflatable swimming ring from the paddle pool. As he blew it up, a small hole appeared with a pop on the side of his neck, and air wheezed through the gap. He stepped into the centre of the bright blue inflatable ring with both feet and wriggled it over the pink skirt. He squeezed it up past his hips, until tight around his waist.

  Jason stood in the garden and shook his head. He despaired at the inability to achieve his goal, tired of attempts to appease his old life. He thought of how to set the past right with the three men. A thought occurred to Jason. ‘I could go to the car showroom and email these idiots, to say sorry. I could divide all my money and send it by electronic bank transfer to each of their accounts.’ His final act of repentance would be to send his lawyer a letter, and instruct the remainder of his estate be divided between the three unfortunates.

  The decision made, he headed for his showroom. Intermittent flames appeared on his body and he cursed the stubborn little fires as he patted the flames. He trundled into the night in a short red skirt, pink blouse and an inflatable vinyl ring, which squeeked like an old wheelbarrow.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Jason intended to unlock the side door of his showroom, but found it forced open. Once inside, he wondered why his dog didn’t barked, or try to attack him as he walked to his office.

  “Hey, Mutt. Where are you, you useless bastard? I'll skin you alive, if you’ve got into the store cupboard again. I don’t buy food in bulk for you to eat it all in one night. Where are you, you greedy fat bastard?”

  He shuffled toward the computer and switched it on then wandered around the showroom, as he shouted for his dog’s attention. He hobbled to the store cupboard, opened the door and found the food untouched. Jason’s curiosity ascended to concern as he continued his search. He eventually found the dog; on its side in the back room, with a swollen tongue, which drooped from the side of its head. Jason couldn’t understand the heavy sensation in his chest, his forehead furrowed in confusion and his fists clenched. He shook his head in disbelief at the slaughter of his dog and the emotions he never knew were in him. He knelt down next to the large black dog and gently stroked its head. He noticed pieces of raw meat under its muzzle, and sighed heavily.

  “You poor greedy bastard. Why would someone want to kill a stupid mutt?”

  He lifted an old seat cover, placed it over the dog then patted the top of the cover. Jason returned to his computer, but the unusual ache continued to grow in his chest as a tear trickled down his cheek.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  The ghoul’s long fingernails clicked against the keys as he typed. His boney hands developed a green tinge. When he squeezed one lightly, it exploded a sticky substance over the keyboard and screen. Jason shook his head and clucked his tongue.

  An incredible itch irritated his face. He looked at his reflection in the glass partition to the showroom, and saw his emaciated face. It hosted hundreds of bloated maggots which peppered his skin. They wriggled to become pupate and live an accelerated life. He pinched one of the maggots between his fingers and tugged. It released its hold on his skin with a little sound of suction, and Jason watched the small carcass-munching beast squirm. He dropped it on the floor and stepped on it with disgust. A few hundred more to kill, those included the ones, which rippled his skin as they fed.

  The mass of Jason’s carcass shrunk as the decay continued. The voracious maggots fed and the decomposed fluids purged on the office chair, to the floor. His newly created pond of decomposed cadaver gave off a foul stench. He found it difficult to suppress the urge to throw up. It reminded him of his overweight dog, when it farted in front of customers. Jason missed his mad dog. He understood why someone would kill it, he would; but this is his property. He is the one they should have targeted.

  He opened his online bank accounts and transferred all his money into the three men’s accounts. It’s a small recompense, but the only one Jason could think. A gesture which wouldn’t cause further distress to anyone. He opened a new email and entered the recipients names: Saunders, Robert; Johnstone, Derek; Mills, Rick. He clicked on the body of the email and typed.

  My dear victims.

  You will never hear from me again, so please read this message.

  I know you all hate me, and blame is not with you, entirely. It was the greed and devilment in my soul that fed the behaviour. I needed to repent. I tried, but it’s not for me.

  All the money I have, has been split into your three bank accounts. My lawyer will be in contact soon, to distribute the remainder of my estate between you all. This, I hope is the best way to sort my evilness and cause the least distress for you and your families.

  I forgive you shits for causing my death. I must repent, and I feel any goodness I had, is thankfully spent. I hope you all have misarable lifes, you bunch of stupid fucker’s.

  Yours deadish.

  Jason Wicks.

  He clicked on the send button, laughed and switched off the computer. Jacob wrote a letter to his lawyer and stuffed it down his pink blouse. He lifted the dog and carried it to the public park, where he dug the earth for hours with bare hands.Once he nestled the dog into the hole, he sighed heavily and covered the animal with dirt. With the hole filled, he dropped to his knees and pressed his hand on top. When Jason stood up, he swallowed hard as tears welled in his eyes and he strolled into the darkness of the park.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Jason posted the letter to his lawyer. A wave of goodness for once in his existence flushed through his mind: not concerned, without care, and relieved with the acceptance of what must be. He stepped out of a dark alley, and snarled as he ran toward a woman on the road. He grabbed hold and pushed her off her feet and onto the other side of the road. The woman lay on the ground and screamed.

  He stared at the woman and immediately turned to the sound of a loud horn. A blaze of white blinded him. A sudden wet thud as a 16 tonne refuse truck ploughed into him. Time appeared to slow down, as he heard his bones break in slow motion. His skin split and the flesh ripped as parts of his carcass were strewn across the tar. Intestines snaked across the road, and ruptures excreted pieces of half digested animals.

  The light faded and his field of sight grew wider as one eyeball burst from its socket and bounced across the road. The light turned back to normal, at least in the one eye under the streetlight. The woman stood high above the remains of his torso and screamed uncontrollably, before she fainted. The scream continued. His eye swivelled in a puddle to view the other direction.

  The lorry driver climbed from the cab to investigate, and gasped with disgust. He screamed like an excited Chimpanzee, when he seen the torso and flesh stuck to the grill of his lorry. Jason’s head smiled, two arm lengths away from his eye. ‘At last I’ll get to rest, to die in peace. No more pain or evilness, hopefully, nothing.’

  The tired and decayed man closed his eyes, and awaited freedom. The faint sounds of city nightlife continued to flood his ears. He apprehensively opened an eye. The segments of his cadaver sidled and slithered, to join the rest of the rotted flesh on his torso.

  The lorry driver turned his back on the carnage, and puked a craven surrender at the side of his truck. He returned to a clean street, no blood, rotted flesh or body parts. A silhouette shuffled down the dark alley. It rambled obscenities and moaned, as it cowered with
other nugatory folk in the city’s guts.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Over the other side of the city, three men stood in a narrow close and looked around furtively as they spoke to the strange man who stood off from the group of three. Nick Burns spoke in a soft voice as he accepted the white envelope. He ripped the end off it and fanned through the cash inside.

  “Thank you Gentlemen. You all played your parts superbly: He indicated with the envelope to Derek Johnstone. “Your hack into Jason’s computer and creating the dummy website worked perfectly. He really thought he was on the Internet.”

  He used his other hand to gesture toward another. “Bob, Bob. Bobbitty, Bob. You’re not the nice bloke everyone thinks you are, eh? You should tell your wife about the dirty women. It’s only fair, you know.”

  Nick inclined his head. “Ah, Rick. You should come work for me; soon.”

  He walked toward the main street, raised his arm, pointed and wagged his finger at the sky.

  “Remember Gentlemen, your time will come, so prepare your souls for repentance.” Nick added in his favourite movie action hero’s Austrian accent, “I’ll be back.” as he turned on to the main street.

  Nick held out his hand, and the envelope rested in centre. It ignited into blue flames, and quickly turned to ash, which crumbled to dust. He blew the powder into the air and swaggered into the darkness. A guttural laugh faded with his image.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Whispers

  Pete Bonner sat inside the warm car, and the engine ticked over slightly out of time. He skewed his close-shaved face to the right, and gazed at the house from his childhood. Even yet, it still looks a lonely house, in need of care. All the gut-filled hatred and voices began in that old wooden prison.