A Haunting of Horrors, Volume 2: A Twenty-Book eBook Bundle of Horror and the Occult

by Brian Hodge

  He did get up. Throwing his nearly full beer can on the hardwood floor, he took his belt off. My own husband, the man who’d promised to love, honor, and care for me, beat me like an animal with that leather belt. Beat me while I was seven months pregnant with what would have been our first and only child.

  I was screaming, screaming for him to stop. I tried to run; he held my arm tight with his belt-free hand. When I fell to the floor, covering my belly, he kicked me. I remember thinking he must not understand that he was kicking his own child. Through the fear, anguish and pain, I felt that my mission was to understand why he did it. As if knowing the reason would somehow make it better. People do get violent when they drink, but could alcohol really cause a sane man to beat his pregnant wife until he murdered his own child? Was he crazy? Had he been planning it? Was he that resistive to being a father? I needed to understand.

  He wrote me letters from prison. Sondra told me to throw them away, but it was impossible to keep myself from reading them. I kept waiting for him to say how sorry he was, to give me some kind of believable explanation. It never came. Just letter after letter blaming me for his plight, asking me for cigarette money or to write letters to the parole board on his behalf. I couldn’t do it. The least I could do was to spare other women from being subjected to him.

  Anyway, he died during a riot after serving only six years. I daresay I suffered from this much longer than he did. He never even said he was sorry. How can a man not apologize for beating his own child to death? Looking back on it, I’d never shown good judgment with men.

  Shivering and terrified in this goddamn shack. Sondra was right. I was no better at choosing men than I had been ten years ago. This time I had an advantage. I’d found out that Michael was not right before the baby was born. I’d have time to get the baby away from him before he had a chance to hurt either one of us. I just had to figure a way out of this room.

  “Hello?” I called out to no one. It was unlikely, but still possible, that someone might hear me out here. There’d been houses on that dirt road, farms. Maybe someone would come around to trap rabbits, or go fishing, or cut down trees or something. I pounded on the door. It was shut tight and double bolted. That door wasn’t going anywhere.

  Come on. This was a bunch of two-by-fours nailed together to make a room. How hard could it really be to get out of here? I pushed on every plank of wood. Pounded it, kicked it, groaned in frustration. I jumped up and down as hard as I could on the floor, trying to bust it out. Maybe the wood was weak somewhere, rotting? Unlikely; it smelled new. Lying on my back, I kicked at the walls, trying desperately to loosen even a single board. Maybe someone would hear me? Someone would notice? At least all this pounding and kicking was keeping me warm. I couldn’t even cross my arms. Damn handcuffs.

  I had another drink of water, wondering how much time had gone by. There was only the smallest sliver of sky visible, and it was dark and overcast. No stars to be seen. I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep for hours and wake up at home, in a reality where none of this had happened. I wanted to be safe with my baby in a time before I’d ever met Michael. But that was impossible. Michael was a kidnapper and a pedophile. Having his child would make Michael a part of my life forever. Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing in the world, but nothing could be done about it now.

  Chapter Fifty

  (Mikey)

  Lies Women Tell

  Sometimes for a change I liked to get a big bag of those tiny hamburgers they have at White Castle. My buddy went out west and they didn’t have any White Castles, or any place that made the tiny hamburger they call “sliders.” They have them frozen at the grocery store, but nothing in the world tastes quite like a White Castle. Elise once told me she liked sliders, but when we were eating them, she was trying to pick off the onions. Can you imagine getting a big bag of White Castle burgers and trying to pick off the onions? It made no sense at all.

  That’s just one of the many things women like to tell lies about. Like when they tell you they love you just to keep you from doing things, or getting you to do something else. I probably say this a lot, but women are treacherous. That’s why I don’t believe anything they say.

  Anyway, me and my sliders were sitting outside my Angel’s apartment. It was way up high in an expensive-looking building. It may even have been a penthouse, though I don’t know that for sure. I imagined it being really big inside, smelling like flowers, or maybe burning leaves. I pushed that thought right out of my mind and thought about how wonderful it would be after my plan worked. Angel would be in love with me, pregnant with my child, and then I could move her into my house. By then all the smoke and filth would be washed away.

  I could see a shadow of what might be her through the curtains of an upstairs window. She was so slender and beautiful, brushing her long, blonde hair to keep it shiny and pretty. I made a mental note to get her a nice brush with a silver handle, so she could spend hours brushing her hair while I watched. That would be very romantic.

  Suddenly, she was there. Wearing nothing but a flannel nightgown with her usual jacket over it. My Angel had one of those yippy dogs with her, not even on a leash. It sounded like she was scolding it, probably for making her go outside when she was obviously ready for bed.

  A police car drove by and I watched it carefully. My cheeseburgers were gone, though their aroma lingered in the car. I wondered if the smell would be strong enough to cover up the pot I wanted to smoke. How awesome would it be to be able to look at my Angel and be stoned? Those were two of the things I loved most in the world, being stoned and looking at a pretty girl who loved me. She would come to love me. I was sure of it.

  I had just started smoking when she and the yippy dog went back inside. All the lights went out at my Angel’s house and I decided it was time to finish up things with Elise. I drove there just as soon as I felt high enough to drive. I feel kinda jumpy when I don’t have any pot.

  My feet crunched through the leaves and debris all over the ground. I didn’t see a single person as I walked the distance from the car to the cell. Once I got about thirty feet away, I could hear the treacherous Elise inside pounding and shouting. I wondered if she’d been doing that all night.

  I try to be quiet, but Elise must have heard me outside. I slip my key into the first deadbolt as softly as I can. When I pull the door open, Elise rushes me, almost knocking me down. The full force of her hits me in the chest. I stumble backward but don’t fall. It would take more than this crazy bitch to knock me on my ass, like some kind of weeping ice skater.

  I steel myself, bracing both arms against the sides of the doorway. Elise runs the few steps toward me as if she were playing a demented game of Red Rover.

  She must have really thought she’d get past me if she fought. It was laughable. I’d really just wanted to see if this room would hold her all night, without falling apart or letting her escape in some way. From the evidence, Elise had pounded on every wall, the door, every plank of wood that made up this little cell, and hadn’t been able to get out. I’d done a better job than I thought.

  “Michael, I don’t know why you decided to bring me here … but can’t you see how important it is for you to let me go?”

  I shake my head at her, knowing that if I really argue, it’ll only make her talk more.

  “I’m sorry if our breakup hurt you. Keeping me here is not the answer. Besides, there’s something you need to know.” She looks at me very seriously then. I know whatever she says, it’ll only be so I’ll let her go. I reach into my inside coat pocket and feel for the gun. It’s right there, ready to do its thing.

  “What?” I say.

  She looks from me to the floor, obviously thinking up a lie that will make me let her go. When she opens her mouth again, I’m reminded that thinking up lies is what women do best.

  “I’m … I’m pregnant,” she tells me simply, then watches me carefully for a reply. Bitch. Goddamn lying bitch! She really thinks she can fool me, by using the on
e thing I’ve always wanted against me. I never should have told her how much I wanted a son. In fact, now that I think about it, I don’t really remember telling Elise how much I want a son. I must have. Why else would she be using it against me now?

  I pull out the gun and watch her eyes go wide. She backs all the way up to the other side of the shack, and turns around to claw and pound on the far wall. It’s silly, she’s already tried that and it didn’t work. I’m glad she’s not facing me, though.

  I level the gun at her, checking it first to make sure the safety is off. If suspense thrillers have taught me anything, it’s that. I fire twice, and red flowers of blood bloom on her pink blouse and tan skirt. Those colors don’t even go together.

  She stopped moving a few minutes later and I knew she was gone. This left me with several problems. One: She was very heavy, much heavier than the girls I usually dated. Two: People knew I was dating her. If she were found, everyone would be looking at me as the guy who’d disappeared her. I had a plan, a genius plan. After a cheeseburger and another smoke, I’d put it right into effect.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  (Our Narrator)

  Beginning of the End

  I’d met that Elise woman once when she was going out with Mikey. I have to say, I thought she was a good catch for him. She was smart and funny, with a stable job and her own house. In fact, I couldn’t imagine what a successful woman like her even saw in Mikey, but she must have liked him okay. She was older, and still single, so maybe that was it.

  According to him, they were having sex all the damn time. I sort of thought he might be trying to knock her up, but he said not. He always made it a point to tell me he wasn’t very into Elise, even after they got engaged. He thought for a while that Dami was going to come “crawling back” as he put it. She didn’t, though. When she died and the girls disappeared, I hoped Mikey might get over all that. He couldn’t get it through his head that they weren’t really his daughters, or that they didn’t want anything to do with him.

  I had to wonder what his role was in the fire that killed his wife. The papers said she’d been on some kind of drug. She wasn’t the sort of woman who took drugs. She wouldn’t even drink or smoke pot with him, even though he tried to get her to do it on many occasions. I think that made Mikey both mad and sad. Sometimes it was hard to tell with him what he was feeling at a given moment. He’d get so mad he’d cry, and so sad he’d pound his fists into walls. There was just no telling with him. Mikey also said Dami might have been trying to kill herself. That made no sense. What kind of mother would suicide herself when she had children to take care of? No, that didn’t make any sense at all.

  He was driving out to the vacation house a lot. And he wasn’t inviting me to go with him like he used to. I was married with kids by then, and couldn’t go traipsing off on weekend getaways with Mikey anyway. Besides, two men vacationing together in the woods seemed sort of gay. I mean, it wasn’t like we were hunting deer or bears or even fishing. All there was to do up there was sleep, eat, smoke, and enjoy the weather. Back in the day, we used to sit on the porch for hours just waiting to see what kind of animals would walk by. There were lots of them, deer and turkeys, huge feral tomcats, even a grey wolf or a black bear on occasion. Sometimes people on the other side of the lake would do fireworks, and we could watch them without even getting off the porch. It was nice, that vacation house … until Mikey ruined everything.

  Like I said, Mikey and I hadn’t been hanging out much at all around that time. I was happily married and he was still considered newly divorced. Not so unusual that two childhood friends would grow apart when their lives became so radically different. It was sad in a way, but not too sad.

  My wife and I wanted to leave the city for a few days, so we went up with the kids to the vacation house, on the spur of the moment. My wife liked to have a glass of red wine on occasion, so we brought a few bottles up with us. It was shaping up to be a weekend of relaxing, drinks, and vacation sex. It was going to be excellent.

  The first morning, I decided to go for a walk in the woods. My wife would be asleep for several more hours. I only needed a light jacket since it was a crisp, sunny day. Shuffling my feet across the leafy ground made me feel like a giddy child. I skipped a bit and reveled in the happy, contented feeling I had that morning. A few yards ahead, I noticed what looked like a garden shed in the middle of a group of trees. When did that get here?

  Tire tracks told me that someone had driven almost all the way to the shed. The trees were few and far between here, but why drive a car into the woods?

  It was a box, basically. It was made of wood with a flat, metal roof. It was a wonder the roof hadn’t caved in, with all the rain we’d been having. It appeared to be sturdy, no windows or anything, and only one door locked with what looked like two deadbolts. I had to wonder why my father hadn’t told me he was putting in a shed. Not a big deal, just odd that he didn’t mention it. Why he would build it out here, such a long walk from the house? And what’s with all the security? Two deadbolts? I decided to call and ask him.

  When he finally arrived at the house, my father looked uncharacteristically tense and nervous. I’d told him the mysterious shed was locked up tight, so he’d brought a number of tools one might use for burgling. He hit the lock with a hammer a few times, then tried to pry the door open with a crowbar. Apparently those deadbolt locks were worth what they cost, because we couldn’t get into this crappy-looking shed with any of our fine Craftsman tools.

  “Hang on a minute.” My dad went toward the house and came back with the chainsaw we used for cutting trees apart for firewood.

  “What are you gonna do with that?” I must have looked as shocked as I felt. Dad held up a hand in a calming way.

  “This is my property,” he said, like he was trying to convince himself of something. “I can do what I like on it. I didn’t give anyone permission to build here, and I goddamn well have a right to know what’s inside.” I certainly couldn’t argue with that logic.

  Dad started up the chainsaw and used it to carve off a large hunk of the door. It was dark inside.

  “C’mon Dad, open it up!” It had been a while since Dad and I did anything outdoorsy together. We rarely even came up to the house together, anymore. For a second, I was glad this had happened just for the time spent with Dad. Then we were greeted by horrible splotches on the walls and floor.

  “Is that—? Geez …” Dad backed slowly out of the room, if you could even call it a room. If this were a practical joke of some kind, we were not finding it funny in the slightest. The early morning light shone from the top of the room and through the door. It was grotesquely clear that the splotches were blood, the remnants of some unspeakable act.

  Admittedly, my mind immediately went to Mikey. He was the only person who wasn’t family to ever go on this property—so far as I knew. I suppose anyone could have come here, but honestly, why would anyone come here to build a shack and … and … I guess I had no idea what had happened here. Maybe a cockfight? Maybe someone had simply gone fishing and cleaned their catch here. Not a very plausible explanation, but what the hell did I know?

  Chapter Fifty –Two

  (Mikey)

  Back to the Zoo

  This was the first time I was absolutely disgusted and frightened by a body. Maybe it was because she wasn’t all that beautiful in life. Probably, though, it was because this was the first dead person I’d actually known in real life. This could totally come back on me. Lots of people knew we were involved and even that she broke up with me. This could be bad, very bad. Luckily, I had a genius plan.

  I hadn’t actually brought anything to cut up the body with. That was kinda poor planning on my part. There was a garage by the house; they must have an axe or something to chop wood with. Happily, I found a chainsaw, full of gas and everything. My luck was so good. I knew God himself was finally helping me out.

  Chainsaws are pretty loud, but nobody else was out there. I remembered t
o take my clothes off before I started the cutting. I couldn’t be walking around with girl-splatter all over my duds, even if they were all dark clothes. That would certainly call attention to me.

  I’d bought a pair of large, dark duffel bags to put the pieces in. Gross as it sounds, everything but the head could come with me. The head was not part of my genius plan, and I decided just to throw it in the lake. No one would ever drag that lake, too full of plants. By the time anyone did find it, if they ever did, it’d be nothing but a skull.

  I pulled the body out onto the grass and commenced with the severing. First the arms, then the legs in two parts. The worst part was cutting up the middle; it got guts and stuff all over. Plus, I was kind of afraid there might really be a baby in there. I didn’t see one, thank God. I knew she was lying all along. Some of her didn’t actually make it into the duffel bags, but I figured animals would clear it away soon enough. The grass looked shiny and rust-covered. Unless you were looking for signs of … um … misdeeds, you probably wouldn’t notice.

  I don’t know how long it took me to get everything ready to go. It had been evening when I got here, and it was pretty dark now. It would still take me almost three hours to get to the zoo, and maybe another half hour to sneak in, and another one to do my thing. First, though, I wanted to stop for some cheeseburgers. A flame-broiled one would be perfect just about now.

  The drive was pretty boring. I kept reminding myself to get a radio or something for this car. My old one broke; I forgot how. Three hours with no music or anything was a fucking drag. I thought I might go crazy from the boredom, and then my cell phone rang.