Family Night

by Miller, Tim

  Family Night

  Tim Miller

  Tim Miller

  Family Night

  © 2013, Tim Miller

  San Antonio, TX

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  Cover Photo by Mars Leon 2013

  Cover Model Tim Miller

  Edited by Lori King

  Acknowledgements

  As always, I have many folks to thank for their help and support on this book. So many have been there for me from the start. Special thank you to my good friend, Lori King who is a great sounding board and editor and for just listening to me whine. Also to Teresa Mummert for helping me figure out the basics of cover design and picmonkey, and fixing my lettering. Teresa rules! Additional thanks to the greatest cover designer in the history of cover design, Kristy Charbonneau at Covermecreative.com. While she didn’t do this cover, she has done several. Her skill and patience is unsurpassed.

  Also big thank you to the ladies at Nerd Girl who are amazing about promoting lowly little indie authors like me. I don’t know how they put up with us, but I’m eternally grateful that they do. Cherri at Goregasm who also loves to help promote my work. Cherri is also my gauge to see how twisted something is. If she says it’s twisted or deranged, then I know I’ve done my job.

  Finally I want to thank all of my beta readers. There are too many to name, but you all know who you are, as well as all my friends on my Facebook fan page. You guys kick serious ass and make doing what I do a blast.

  Introduction

  In 2010, one of the most grisly discoveries in Texas history was made. Numerous body parts and human remains were found on an abandoned farm near San Antonio. Very little information was made public, until now.

  Prologue

  Carla finished wiping down her tables and saw her manager to cash out. Unfortunately, Sid could never just cash her out without some kind of drama. She figured it’s the price you pay for working at a strip club.

  “Hey, babe!” He said. “You come to give me that blow job?” He looked like your typical sleaze. He was tall, middle-aged, and overweight, with greasy, curly hair. He wore Affliction shirts that were too tight. He seemed to think they made him look muscular.

  “Fuck you Sid. Can I cash out now?”

  “Aw come on. You’re never any fun.”

  “I’m plenty of fun, just not with you.”

  “When are you gonna start dancing for me? You got the body.” He said. She worked there as a shot girl, but he’d pressured her since day one to strip. She had been training in kickboxing for a few years, which kept her in amazing shape; customers where always checking out her body and hitting on her, which she didn’t mind. The more shots she sold, the more tips she made. She made almost as much as some of the dancers, which drove them nuts.

  She knew she’d make a lot more as a dancer, but wasn’t at the point in her life where she felt the need to take off her clothes for money. Her kickboxing did come in handy once, when Sid decided to get too grabby. She threw a knee to his midsection, hard enough to knock the wind out of him. To her surprise, he didn’t fire her, but at least he hadn’t tried to touch her again.

  “Just give me my fuckin’ money already,” she said. She’d just finished a ten hour shift and wanted to go home and crash. Without another word, he gave her the nights pay from the register and her tips. It was around $300.00. Not bad for a night’s work. She grabbed her bag and headed outside.

  The night air was warm and muggy. It was only April, and the San Antonio weather was already getting hot. The parking lot was fairly well lit. Usually security guys walked her out, but they were dealing with some drunks who didn’t want to leave, and she didn’t feel like waiting around. She walked to her car as she dug for her keys in her bag. As she looked up, she saw the reflection in the window. It startled her at first, as a cold chill ran down her spine.

  In the reflection, there was someone behind her. He was wearing a Guy Fawkes mask. Those masks had become popular since the movie V for Vendetta. She’d also seen on the news a group of activists wearing the masks as a form of protest. Yet this guy was standing behind her in a dark parking lot at 3 a.m. He likely wasn’t there collecting for the Red Cross. She slowly turned, and was even more shocked when she saw him straight on.

  It wasn’t a man at all, but a boy. A little boy. He couldn’t have been more than five or six years old. He was wearing the mask, a black hoodie and black gloves. It was 80 degrees out and he had to be sweating his ass off in there.

  “Hello?” She said, bending down. “What are you doing kid?”

  The boy just turned his head to the side, but remained silent.

  “Kid? Why are you here?” She stood and looked around. Being out late wearing all black and a creepy mask was usually a sign of being up to no good. Carla didn’t know what to think of it. She looked around behind her and over the car to see if there was anyone else. There was no one she could see.

  “Kid? Say something. You’re creeping me out.”

  The boy remained silent and still. He would look her up and down. The mask with the same fixed smile expression frozen in place made her shiver. Those masks always did, but this night, more than ever. Something wasn’t right. There was no reason this little boy should be in a parking lot of a strip club.

  “Ok, that’s it. You’re freaking me out kid.” She walked toward him, reaching for the mask. He took a few steps back just out of her reach. She was so fixated on him, she never saw it coming.

  What she didn’t see was the grown man coming up behind her. The man was also wearing a Guy Fawkes mask, black hoodie and gloves; except he also had a club in his hand. With one swift swing of the club to the side of her head, she fell to the ground. The little boy looked up at the man. From behind a black van parked nearby, a teenage girl walked out, wearing the same outfit as the other two.

  The man and the girl dragged Carla to the van and put her in back. The girl began duct taping Carla’s feet, hands and mouth. The man climbed into the driver’s seat and started the van. The boy hopped into his booster seat and fastened his seatbelt. Once everyone was in place, the van pulled out of the parking lot, driving into the night.

  Chapter 1

  Detective Julie Castillo walked around the parking lot of the strip club. She tried not to look at the sign, as the mere sight of it just pissed her off. Who would name a strip club, “Chesty Cholas?” There was tacky, then there was just plain disgusting, and this place had far surpassed both. She had gotten the call around 9 a.m. that a waitress from the club never made it home. That alone would not normally draw any attention, other than her car was still there with her purse on the ground next to it.

  She knelt next to the purse, looking around.

  “Hey there,” a man said behind her. It was Ben Sylar. He was another detective who liked to interject himself into other investigations.

  “So missing stripper, huh?” He asked.

  “She’s not a stripper. She’s a waitress.”

  “Eh, same diff. She probably just found a trick to make some extra cash.”

  Julie stood and looked at him.

  “What the fuck, man? Don’t you have your own cases to work?” She asked.

  “Well yeah, but this being your first case as a detective, I figured I’d help out.”

  “Your help is neither needed, nor desired. Now please leave.” She said as she knelt back down. She looked ne
ar the purse and a few feet away there was a small stain. Looking closely, it was about the size of a quarter, and reddish brown. It was a blood stain.

  “Fuck me,” she whispered to herself. Before she stood, she glanced under the car where she saw something else. Lying flat on her stomach, she got a closer look. It was a little plastic, green army guy. She stood and saw Ben was still there playing on his phone.

  “All done? Did you find her under there?” He asked without looking up. “How about you let me buy you breakfast?”

  “Go fuck yourself,” she said as she pulled out her phone and called for a crime scene unit. It took about thirty minutes for them to arrive. Once they took over the scene, Julie went to find the manager. He had just arrived a little while before. As she walked into the club, loud music was blaring, but the place was totally empty. It smelled like cheap perfume, liquor and feet.

  The manager was in an office at the back of the club.

  “You Sid?” she asked.

  “That’s me honey. You here for a job?” He asked looking her up and down. “No doubt you got the body for it.”

  “I’m a cop. You’d called about your missing waitress?”

  “Oh, Carla? Yeah. Her car was still here when I left last night and this morning. It’s not like her and her phone is off. She’s a nice girl, you know? So I figured I’d call just in case something happened.”

  “Did she leave by herself last night? Like did you see anyone follow her out or anything?”

  “No, a few of us were still here, she cashed out and left. We usually have security walk the girls out, but there was a problem with some guys last night and she didn’t wanna wait.”

  “Any chance she left with someone else? A guy from the club or anything?”

  “Nah, nothing like that. She hates it here. I keep her around because she’s hot and the customers love her. But she thinks we’re all disgusting.”

  Julie didn’t comment, but she could easily see where Carla was coming from.

  “Did you find any like clues or anything? I saw that big police van pull up outside.”

  “There’s a small bloodstain next to her car, but I don’t know if it’s hers or not.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “I saw some cameras on the light posts in the parking lot,” she said. “Where do those feed to?”

  “Oh, nowhere…those haven’t worked in years,”

  Figures.

  “Did you or anyone else see anything at all out of place last night? Any strange cars? Anyone with kids?”

  “Kids? What do you mean kids?” He asked.

  “Kids, as in children, little people who grow into big people.”

  “Yeah, yeah but no, I didn’t see anyone with any kids around here. Carla left, a few other girls left after her. When I left her car was still there. I didn’t think much of it at the time. But when I got here and saw it was still here, I thought something might be wrong. You really found blood out there?”

  “Ok, thank you.” Julie said, ignoring his last question. She headed back outside to check on the crime scene techs. They had most of the parking lot roped off. Ben had left thankfully. The crime scene guys would be awhile yet. She figured before anything else, she needed to go take a shower to wash the Chesty Chola off herself.

  Chapter 2

  Carla woke up in a daze. Her hands and shoulders cried out in pain as she gathered her senses. Looking around, she was in some kind of warehouse, but it was totally empty, except for her. Her hands were tied above her to a pipe and there was duct tape over her mouth. It was starting to come back to her now…the little boy wearing the mask in the parking lot.

  Someone had struck her on the head, but she’d never seen him. She had no idea where she was or exactly how she had gotten here, though as the fog cleared it began to dawn on her. She had been kidnapped. She looked back up to her hands bound to the pipe. Trying to move her legs, her feet were duct taped together as well. Looking down at her feet, she could see the tape around them, except it was unusual; the duct tape around her feet was pink with butterflies all over it.

  Why abduct someone and tape them up with kids designer duct tape? Her question was soon answered when the door swung open. A man stepped inside wearing the same Guy Fawkes mask as the boy had been wearing. He wasn’t a large man, maybe a little taller than her, with a medium build. He was also wearing a black hoodie and gloves. As he approached her, two others came in behind her.

  One was another person in the same outfit, only a little shorter. This one was a girl, she didn’t have her hoodie up, and so her dark ponytail was exposed. The three of them stood around her in a semi-circle looking her up and down. The man walked over to her and ripped the tape off her mouth. It hurt as the tape pulled her skin and tore off her face. She began crying once she could open her mouth.

  “Why are you doing this? Please? Let me go? What do you want with me?” She sobbed.

  However, they responded only with silence. The man walked over to a small cart and pulled it over toward the others. On the cart she saw a blowtorch, pliers, several types of saws, a hatchet and knives. Panic instantly took hold as she realized exactly what their intentions were.

  “No!” she screamed. “No! Please! Let me go! Somebody help me!” They ignored her as she screamed. She still felt dazed from the blow on the head. This couldn’t actually be happening. Who were these people? And what kind of monster has his kids do something like this. The one was just a little boy. The girl was a few years older. He was turning them into monsters. She knew in a few moments, she would be in extreme pain. She closed her eyes and tried to push the thought out of her head.

  When she opened them back up, the man was taking a knife from the table. She didn’t know what kind other than it was long and sharp. The man knelt down next to the boy and pointed the knife at her, making a cutting gesture up and down, and then handed him the knife. The boy approached her with the knife. As he stood at her feet, he looked up at her.

  Through the mask, she couldn’t even see the boy’s eyes, just blackness. The boy paused while the man walked up to her with a large scissors. He grabbed her shirt and cut it off her, then her bra. He then cut off her shorts and panties, leaving her naked before the little boy.

  “Please! Stop it!” She cried as he cut. She tried lifting her legs to struggle away, but it only put a greater strain on her wrists, sending pain shooting up her arms and shoulders. Once her clothes were off, the man tore them away and tossed them into a pile in the corner. She noticed there was a whole pile of clothing in the corner.

  “No! Please! No” She cried immediately realizing the clothes were that of past victims. The little boy was looking at her body, up and down.

  “Kid, please! You don’t have to do this. You’re just a little boy. You should be playing! Please.” Even with the mask and getup she thought he’d almost look cute if he showed up trick or treating on Halloween. But today there was nothing cute about him.

  Ignoring her, the boy took the knife and walked behind her. He ran the knife gently up and down her legs, and against her buttocks, but not hard enough to draw blood.

  “Please! No! No! No-no!” she tried to squirm away as the boy bent down and slashed through her Achilles tendon on her left foot. She howled in pain as blood sprayed onto the boy and along the floor. The boy ran around to the front looking up at her, watching her scream in pain.

  “Why? Why are you doing this? Please?” Still no answer. He ran behind her again, and cut the other Achilles, as she let out more screams. Pain shot up her legs, through her whole body. She lurched forward and vomited. As the boy watched, he jumped up and down, looking at the other two and clapping.

  The man then came over and cut her hands free. Unable to use her feet, she toppled face first onto the concrete floor. Looking up, she saw the three of them standing over her. The girl was holding the blowtorch, and the man holding the hatchet. Carla closed her eyes trying to forget the pain, as she knew they were just getting s
tarted.

  Chapter 3

  The Mask watched her slither across the floor as blood oozed from the back of her legs. He called himself The Mask when in his uniform. His other self was weak, and pathetic. The Mask on the other hand was strong and powerful. People feared The Mask. They screamed and ran when they saw him. The Mask was his true self. Now he was teaching his children the craft.

  Some would say what he did was cruel or murder. But it was not. It was art. Not so much the final product, but the process itself was a dance; a unique dance between killer and victim. One that must be done with careful precision for it to be right. The important thing was the silence. There could never be words spoken. You don’t communicate with your victim. The victim was meat.

  This one lay on the ground sobbing, trying to crawl away. His son had done him proud, cutting exactly where he’d taught the boy. Now it was his turn. As the girl crawled and sobbed, he walked behind her with the hatchet and knelt down, grabbing her calf with one hand, and hacking her leg off at the knee with the other. Her screams drowned out the squishy, crunching sound as he hacked away. After several whacks, the leg was off completely.

  He held it up and showed it to the kids as the woman continued to scream and cry. His daughter walked over with the blowtorch and sealed the wound before she bled too much. The woman thrashed and kicked about, but the man held her in place. Once it was sealed, he took the severed leg over to the boy and poked it at him, teasing him with it. The boy giggled, which was the first sound he’d made all night.

  The woman had stopped screaming. The Mask walked over and examined her and saw she was still alive, only passed out. He sat the bloody leg down, walked to the other leg and did the same thing to that leg, hacking it off at the knee. The woman had shot awake as he hacked into her leg, screaming again. His girl also sealed that wound with the blow torch.