“Eddy? What’s going on?” I heard Shannon yell from somewhere upstairs. She was taking care of Brenton, our son, but she oftentimes acted like she had to take care of me too.
“Nothing!” my voice cracked. I couldn’t help it. The freezer had a mind of its own, thumping and rocking and lurching toward me, sending a wave of ravenous strength through my veins. I heard dozens of voices, all directed at me, all sending me the most insistent demands, orders to kill and cut and slice and slash and dismember and load it all into the freezer…and do it NOW!
I would have succumbed to the overwhelming pressure, would have marched right into that house and destroyed my beautiful fiancé and child with no hesitation or remorse, but, somehow I resisted and, as the sound of Shannon’s voice got louder and as the house began to creak with movement inside, I relocated the freezer, crate and all, into the garage. It was a hell of a thing, too. That box was twice my size, yet I carried it in with no problem. That’s when I heard the front door open. Shannon was looking for me, and that damn freezer was making more noise than ever, so I stuffed it in a far corner of the garage, shoving aside a bunch of folding patio chairs and an air hockey table. I closed up the crate and threw some sleeping bags over it to camouflage it a little, but who was I fooling?
“Hey, neighbor,” I stood up straight at the surprise and turned to find, in the entrance to my garage, the guy who lived directly across the street. Philip. Middle-aged. Lived alone with three terriers. And he insisted on walking them around the neighborhood in his bathrobe and slippers, even in the rain. That always creeped me out. But not this time. This time when I saw Phillip, a rising tide of the most intoxicating sensation overcame me, and all I thought of was the kill.
Philip didn’t seem to notice my lurid stare, and pointed at the crate.
“I noticed you moving that thing there…looks pretty heavy, but you handled it like goddam Lou friggin’ Ferigno, how’d you do that?”
I couldn’t fight it anymore. The sight of him, even the smell of him drove me wild with murderous intent. I shook with anticipation, wild images of Philip’s death flipping through my mind. My mouth began to water. My fingers bent into iron hard hooks. My eyes felt like they were on fire.
But Philip saw none of this. His eyes drifted to the crate behind me. The crate that contained my master, the portal to the great kingdom below, where an army of hungry stomachs awaited. I knew that now, and succumbed to the cacophony of grisly groans and wicked wails, the insistent calls for food. On the inside, I heard the voices. On the outside, it manifested in loud popping and cracking noises from deep within the freezer. And, due to the voracious nature of the beasts that lurked in the abyss below, the freezer jerked and rocked on its corners, hitting the sides of the crate, catching Philip’s attention.
“What you got in there?” he half grinned. “Some kinda wild animal? Did you catch that damn raccoon that’s been tearing up everybody’s garbage?”
“Wanna see him?” I kind of nudged him forward so he leaned, and then, when I flipped open the lid, he pushed against me with all his might at what he saw. A long, narrow shaft, lined with bloody body parts, straight down into the blackest black. It yawned like a whale and out slashed an arm, latching onto his face. Narrow bands of sinew and tendons kept the severed appendage attached to the inside of the freezer as it yanked and yanked. Philip fought harder than his skinny little alcoholic frame seemed capable of. But I was fighting too. I was fighting against an army of demons, and they were going to be fed, though every fiber of my being told me it was wrong. Murder made my stomach turn, especially since I’d seen so much of it in my youth. I swore I’d never see another life taken, so what I did next came difficult. But I’d gone past the point of no return. Philip had to die.
I strode to the wall where I had an assortment of garden tools, selecting, without hesitation, the ax I used for chopping cordwood. Two more determined steps and I was square with Philip like a batter at home plate. He gurgled and gasped, kicking at the cement floor, swinging his arms at the malicious hand clamped to his cheeks. Some supernatural power seemed to move my limbs with swiftness and strength, and I swung the ax, burrowing it into his back with a sickening Thump! Philip bent backward, reaching behind with no real coordination. I must have severed his spine, because his legs went limp and he sort of fell. The freezer was quick, and took advantage of Phil’s paralysis by reeling him in like a fish. Actually, it looked like a kid eating spaghetti, sucking Phil’s twitching remains in with one sloppy slurp. Normally, the freezer preferred it’s meals cut into smaller pieces, but, since it hadn’t eaten in eight years, it couldn’t wait for me to process the meat. And it devoured Phil Carlson. Every bit of him. Enjoyed him too, and showed it by shaking like a paint mixing machine, so hard it rattled the garage.
“Eddy?” Shannon was somewhere close. “Are you okay?”
More Food! was all that went through my mind. I was surging with the rush of raw, untamed energy from my first kill, and the thought of a second shot me into the stratosphere of exhilaration. It’s so hard to describe how it felt. I’d done a few drugs in my time, and I can tell you, hands down, the most amazing high I’d ever had was from heroin. I’ve only done it once. Okay twice. And it’s easy to see why it’s so addictive. The high I got from that freezer—it blew heroin away. All I wanted was to keep the feeling going, and the need was so great, it felt like it had a stranglehold on every cell in my being. So powerful. So alluring. It was a wonder I had any sort of willpower against it. But I did. Somehow, my true personality rose to the surface, and I endeavored to clean up the mess before Shannon made it to the garage.
“Eddy!” the doorknob rattled. “This seems to be locked…are you in there?”
Not answering, I tore off my bloody shirt and wiped my face clean, all while shutting up the crate again. Only now I didn’t have time for the sleeping bags. And, to cover up the fact that the freezer kept making noises and shifting and sliding all on its own, I turned on the clothes dryer. That worked well.
“Eddy!” Shannon came running into the garage from the big door, panting with relief when she saw me. She nearly bowled me over wrapping herself onto me. “Eddy…I was worried!”
I want to take a second and try to describe the feelings ripping through me. This was my partner, my lover, the mother of my only child. I adored her like trees adore the sun. She was my sun, and she shined only for me. However, and this is a big however, the immense pull of that evil freezer and what it represented was nothing to trifle with, even in the face of so much love and devotion. It was a tsunami of nastiness. An avalanche of negative supernatural forces. No living being, no human soul has a chance against such overwhelming evil. The owner of that freezer must take lives, and it doesn’t matter who it is. Friend or foe. Family member or stranger. And Shannon, my beautiful Shannon. All I could think was to rip that ax through her like a hot knife through melted butter and give that freezer a proper meal.
“Eddy,” she said, and I inhaled at the sound of her voice. “You’re trembling. And you’re sweating…what’s going on?”
At that moment, when she looked at me with those sparkling jewels, my own self, my true self resurfaced again, pushing away the demons. Don’t ask me how. Maybe, after seeing the freezer possess my gramma and mom both, I was somehow prepared for this. And all that therapy might have had something to do with it. I’d spent the last eight years beefing up my defenses, so to speak, building mental fortifications against this satanic psychic attack that I somehow knew was coming. Whatever the cause, I had just enough personal strength inside to fend off the beasts, calm my nerves, and answer like a human being.
“N-nothin’” I pointed at my free weights. A bench and some dumbbells. “I was just workin’ out.”
She cocked her head at me. I hadn’t touched those things in months. “Really? Good for you, sexy,” she sighed again, this time shaking her head like she was embarrassed. “I was just thinking something crazy.”
“What?” my
inner battle raged as Shannon held me tighter. I could refrain from acting like a bloodthirsty maniac for only so long.
“I just thought that,” she shook her head again. “I thought you were so distraught over your mother that you might’ve done something…something stupid…something to hurt yourself.”
My whole body scorched with fever, murderous and insatiable, but my love for Shannon held it all back. Not for much longer, I could tell. When I didn’t say anything in response, she melted into my chest, and that’s when I felt the strongest surge yet. A million voices, demanding food.
“You’re not going to hurt yourself, are you, Eddy?” she sobbed. “Tell me you’re not going to hurt yourself.”
With a push of my own inner fortitude, I rammed my true personality front and center enough to tell her she needn’t worry. I wouldn’t hurt myself. Only problem was, she forgot to ask me not to hurt others.
2.
I can’t tell you how hard it was to stop myself from murdering my family that night. I spent most of the time pacing from the second floor master bedroom down to the kitchen, through the living room, and back upstairs. Over and over I did this, just to work away the furious and relentless energy, the nuclear fission in my gut. I was a man on a mission. A taker of lives. Cold. Uncaring. Just like my gramma. Just like my mom. But I was also a good person. A someday-to-be husband. A father. I didn’t want to kill anyone, let alone my loved ones.
The evil presence, though, was not to be denied.
I fought it. God, did I fight it. Patrolling my house like an over-drugged lab rat, I tightened every muscle in my body. Tightened my mind too, trying to push away the voices, the demands for blood and meat. It was all I could do, as Shannon and Brenton sat in front of the big screen, watching The Incredibles. Brenton loved that flick. So did I, really, but I didn’t have the willpower to sit and watch, even though they both kept begging me. I was so jittery, just full of so much energy, and that longing, that terrible, terrible longing to kill them both. I said before, when I was murdering the next-door neighbor, it felt like the best high ever. Now, the sensation was the exact opposite. I’ve never been addicted to anything, so I could only compare it to what I imagined withdrawals would be like, but let me tell you, this had to be just as bad as any hard drug. Or alcohol. That’s what it reminded me of. The shaking of delirium tremens. The nausea washing over me in waves. The high fever and cold sweats. I was a wreck. But still I fought, until I could fight no longer.
It happened so fast, I couldn’t even tell when it started and when it ended. Somewhere, in my irrational state, the evil presence took over, just snatched control like a puppeteer and forced my marionette body into involuntary action. As I made the circuit from the kitchen to the living room, I snatched up the biggest knife from the block and snuck it behind my back. All of a sudden I was in the living room, kneeling behind Shannon and Brenton. Big smiles on their faces. Then, before I could even blink, they were smiling no more. Breathing no more. No longer was he my loving, beautiful son. No longer was she my selfless and caring partner. Just two lifeless, hemorrhaging lumps of flesh. Food for the freezer.
My heart leapt through my throat when I finally realized what I’d done. I stood up so fast my head spun, and all I could do was shout to myself, tell myself this hadn’t happened. No way could I have done this. But I had, and I wanted no part in looking, so I covered my eyes with my palms and fought for what to do next. That’s when a voice, a familiar and welcomed voice snapped me out of my horror.
“Eddy? Honey, what’s going on?”
It was Shannon. She held me close and whispered in my ear that everything was going to be all right. At first I swore she was a ghost, but her sweet scent brought me back to reality, serenaded my senses and soothed my fear. I peeked at the cushions on the floor and there was Brenton, staring at me with the most concerned look. Too concerned for a kid his age. Why shouldn’t he have been worried? His daddy was flipping out. My relief at their being still alive was tempered by the thought that I’d been given a vision of what would happen. It was inevitable, and I knew it. So I decided to do the only thing that would save my family’s lives.
“Where are you going?” Shannon saw me grab my keys.
“I’m taking the Burger Buggy out for a while,” I hurried to the door without looking at her.
“At this hour?” she followed me. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“There’s someone hungry somewhere,” I kept going. If I allowed her to get close, maybe my vision would come true.
The Burger Buggy was a little food van I’d bought from an old friend of the family. I did okay with it, selling hot dogs and hamburgers and fries, the occasional slice of pizza, and, in the summer, I made a killing on Sno Cones. It was hard work, and the profit margin was razor thin, but it was all I could do to make ends meet. Who was going to hire the son of a multiple murderer? Background checks are a bitch. It just wasn’t going to happen. At least with the Burger Buggy, I was anonymous. Nobody knew my story. They just knew I sold tasty food at good prices. But tonight, something else was on the menu. Tonight, the Burger Buggy was on the prowl.
3.
I slid the old freezer in back, in a space right next to the deep fryer. A perfect fit. Almost like it was meant to go there. Then I cruised the streets of Beaverton, searching for my next kill. My plan was simple. Find a spot where I could set up and look like I was open for business. Then, when I’d lured in an unsuspecting citizen, I’d pounce, snatch him up, and process him with the professional kitchen implements I had at my disposal. Again, it was a perfect setup, like it was fate or something.
It didn’t take long until I found my spot, my fishing hole, so to speak. In a semi-lit lot, I parked the Wagon sideways and faced my service counter toward the Cineplex across the street. It was the rear of the theater, and there were just a few cars back there. Just right. Not too many, not too few. I knew the show would be letting out soon, and I got busy setting up. It came as a complete surprise when I heard tapping at my order window.
“You open?” it was a young man, early twenties like me, with a little longer hair than was in style at the time. “I’m really hungry, dude.”
Really hungry. That was funny, and I laughed at him, but only to hide my exhilaration. I heard the freezer start to knock and hum. It knew.
“Sure,” I flipped on the grill and then powered up the backlit menu. “Go ahead and order whenever you’re ready.”
Good thing the kid was stoned, because he took a hell of a long time deciding on what he wanted. That gave me enough time to set up a small table and two chairs. But I really didn’t give a shit about the little patio arrangement. It was all a ruse to get behind him. A quick look around to make sure the coast was clear, and I sprung like a cougar, cupping my hand over his mouth and nose while wrapping the other arm anaconda-style around his neck. He was still kicking when I dragged him into the Burger Buggy, and had a pulse when I hacked off his leg and slid it into the meat grinder. The freezer liked its food that way, in small slabs, the thinner sliced the better. I chopped the steaks, cut the ribs, sliced the liver, kidneys, even removed the brain and sautéed a little for a special touch of elegance. And the whole time I was cooking and preparing and feeding my creations into the hungry appliance, I coursed with such impotence. A God. That’s how I felt. Like I could walk on hot coals in my bare feet and only feel the chilly wind on my back. A feeling I never wanted to end, and as the last remnants of the unfortunate midnight snack seeker disappeared into the gluttonous freezer, my only thoughts were how and when the next ones would be taken.
It was at that moment, when I had the last of the poor kid in my hands—a small tray of minced, shredded flesh—that my exhilaration returned with renewed vigor. Across the street, one of the movies had ended, and now at least a dozen people were filtering out of the rear exit. Some were headed for their cars, but a few of them, five to be exact, were coming my way, rubbing their bellies and pointing at my sign. My veins becam
e canals of hot magma. My brain bubbled with the possibilities. I could kill these five people in a heartbeat, no problem, and have them processed and fed before anyone knew a thing. But more people came out the back door. And then even more, most of them with eyes for the Burger Buggy. Laughing. Fist bumping. Some even started running, a giddy competition to see who would be first in line.
My evil joy turned to gloomy frustration. Five I could handle. Not over a dozen. I mean, I had this incredible strength, and speed at my disposal, and I could have done it, but killing that many people all at once, that would have drawn attention.
So I went into cook mode, and took the orders as they came, flying into a furious blur of hands and spatulas and knives and mixing spoons. Some kids wanted my usual fare—dogs and burgers with cheese. Some got into my breakfast menu, so I mixed up more than a few orders of waffles and bacon and eggs. It was a full-on rush, and I was busier than I could ever remember being, raking in the dough, really. And with every cracked egg, with each flipped patty, the real Eddy Mitchell started to come back. Little by little, my own self, the person who vowed to never turn out like Gramma and Mom.
Freezer: The Complete Horror Series Page 10