Necro Files: Two Decades of Extreme Horror

by Cheryl Mullenax (Ed)

  “After that, all I have to ask of you are three things,” Harvey said. “The first: make sure you stay employed. We have our reasons for insisting on this policy, the main reason being that when you begin to acquire a taste for the type of material we’re into, it can get rather expensive. We’d rather have you indulge with money you are making honestly. We have no desire to have the police come poking around should you resort to a life of crime in order for you to pay for your habit. Agreed?”

  Dennis nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good. Number two, your being employed is actually a benefit. It automatically separates you from a lot of the other hardcore freaks out there. We have no desire to associate with drug addicts, ex-porn stars, the homeless, or other degenerates. What we do is in the privacy of our own homes. We don’t hurt anybody. We are simply working professionals with similar interests. Agreed?”

  Dennis nodded. “And the third?”

  “That when you are finally admitted to our group you bring us some materials. An offering, if you will.” Harvey smiled. “It doesn’t matter what it is … a loop of some junkie getting fucked by a Doberman … a torture flick … some chicken hawk stuff for the pedophiles in our group. But you’ll score big points if you can procure some necro flicks or some snuff. And not the fake crap, either. We’re seasoned veterans and we can spot fake a mile away.”

  Dennis nodded. “Yeah, I think I can do that.” What the hell are you thinking? Where the hell are you going to find more of this kind of stuff?

  Harvey clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you will. Now why don’t I leave you alone for awhile?”

  And he did just that. Harvey left Dennis alone in the office, pointing out a box of Kleenex and a bottle of lotion on the desk. He closed the door behind him, leaving Dennis alone.

  Dennis sighed, opened the magazine to the spread of the decayed old woman, and felt his dick grow hard at the sight of the anonymous penis penetrating the rotting flesh of her stomach, and then he began to jack off.

  * * *

  When Bob Lansing called Dennis into his office the following day he was exiting another meeting regarding the CPM project. Dennis thought Bob wanted to pick his brain some more about the project, but as he closed the door to Bob’s office he saw his superior’s features were grave. “Sit down, Dennis,” Bob said.

  Dennis sat down, his stomach growing leaden. He’d been feeling uneasy since exiting Harvey Panozzo’s house yesterday. He’d driven home wondering if anybody saw him leave the house. Ever since bringing himself to orgasm yesterday courtesy of the necrophilia publication, he felt like he was under scrutiny now, as if everybody around him suddenly knew he was different from them. It was a feeling that had chased him throughout the day.

  “What’s up?” Dennis asked Bob as he settled into his seat.

  Bob pushed a set of papers across the desk at Dennis wordlessly. He refused to meet Dennis’ eyes. Dennis picked up the paper and scanned the document. At first he thought it was computer code, but then he recognized it as website URLs. His eyes widened in surprise as he recognized the URLs as websites he visited at work. “I don’t understand,” he said, trying to sound casual but doing a terrible job of it.

  “Those are the websites you’ve been visiting during your work day,” Bob Lansing said, jabbing a finger at the document. He looked at Dennis unsympathetically. “I got an IT tech to download some software on your PC yesterday when you were out and run a check. Human Resources gave me a call the day before that to inform me an anonymous call was placed to their Sexual Harassment hotline informing them you were viewing sexually explicit material at work, so we had to investigate. And this is what we came up with.”

  The news was hitting Dennis like a sledgehammer. Despite the fact the evidence was staring him right in the face, he still tried to talk his way out of it. “There must be some kind of mistake,” he stammered. “I don’t—”

  Bob Lansing leaned forward. “Can the bullshit, Dennis! Between you and me, it would be one thing if you were visiting the Playboy Website and looking at a little T & A. Human Resources would still want me to fire you, but I’d fight for you because I like you, and I like your work. But the crap you’ve been looking at on our computers, on our time?” He emphasized this by jabbing his finger down on the paper, his tone of voice becoming hoarse with anger. “Frankly I don’t have much respect for guys like you that get off on watching women being degraded like that.” His left hand dipped down to his desk drawer and emerged with a document and a green envelope. He slid them across the desk to Dennis. “Consider yourself fired. You’re getting off easy; if the material you’d been viewing in your cubical involved children, so help me God I would have waited until after work and then I would have kicked the living shit out of you and damn the consequences.”

  Dennis was shocked; he didn’t know how to respond. Bob Lansing glared back at him with anger and disgust. “Now get the fuck out of my office. You disgust me.”

  Dennis rose to his feet slowly, feeling the burning of Bob’s gaze on his back as he exited his office. A tall African-American man from building security was already at his cube, waiting to escort him out of the building. The security guard stood at sentry duty as Dennis gathered the few personal items he had in his cubical and then he left the department, not even aware of the furtive whispers of his co-workers as the gossip mill started.

  * * *

  Dennis was at home when Harvey Panozzo called. He picked it up in the extension in his study upstairs. “Hello?”

  “Dennis! Harvey here. Are you ready?”

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to join just yet,” Dennis said, lowering his voice. He was still reeling from the events at work today and was pouring through his business rolodex, coming up with a list of contacts. He had enough money to float on for a while, but he would have to get another position fairly soon. “Some things have come up and—”

  “Oh, but you don’t have to worry about joining, Dennis.” Harvey’s voice was soothing. “Consider yourself a charter member.”

  “Well … thanks, but—”

  “The reason I’m calling, actually, is to see if you’ve held up your end of the bargain.”

  Dennis’ mind drew a blank.

  “Don’t you remember? You were supposed to contribute something to the circle? A film? Photos perhaps?”

  Dennis couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I just met you yesterday. You expect me to come up with something in twenty-four hours?”

  “Why not? Surely you have something in your own collection that would suffice.”

  Dennis felt his nerves tremble. “Well, yeah … I guess I do.”

  “Great! How about you swing by on your way home from the office tomorrow and drop it off?”

  Dennis told him that was fine and hung up. He spent the next thirty minutes staring out the window. He was so involved in his thoughts that he barely noticed when Carrie arrived home with the kids.

  * * *

  Dennis left early the next morning dressed in his normal work attire just like any other day. He didn’t go to the office, however. Instead, he headed straight for the nearest coffee shop.

  He bought a copy of the Los Angeles Times and sat in a corner booth, sipping coffee and circling the job listings. He also had a good breakfast: pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausage, hash browns, orange juice. He left the coffee shop at ten-thirty, taking the paper with him, and leaving the waitress a satisfying tip.

  His house was silent and empty when he got home. Just as he thought it would be.

  He headed straight to his study where the safe was. He got the safe opened and took out the rape video. This should satisfy them, he thought as he closed the safe. They probably want something really hardcore and this is the hardest I have.

  He spent the rest of the day at the library making phone calls from his cellular phone, making connections, trying to set up some meetings. He was able to get a few interviews set up, and by the time he set out for Harvey Panozzo’s pl
ace that afternoon he was already starting to feel better.

  When he pulled up to Harvey Panozzo’s home he saw the garage door was open. The silver Mercedes he’d seen in the driveway yesterday was absent. A group of kids were messing around on skateboards on the driveway. Dennis walked up the driveway, briefcase in hand. One of the kids, a twelve-year-old boy with curly black hair, looked up as Dennis approached. “If you’re looking for my dad, he isn’t home yet.”

  “Oh.” Dennis frowned. “When will your dad be home?”

  The boy shrugged. “Probably after six. He said he had a meeting.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Dennis walked back to the car, his feeling of apprehension growing again.

  It turned to dread when he pulled into his neighborhood and saw

  the police car parked in front of his house.

  * * *

  The officers were at his front door talking to Carrie when Dennis approached his home. Carrie saw him and he could tell by the look on her face that she was worried and confused. “They’re here to see you, Dennis.”

  Dennis tried to act casual. “What can I do for you, officers?”

  The officers stepped off the porch and approached Dennis. They were around his age, both of them slim, nice-looking men, a blonde guy and an African-American cop. “We got a call that you’re dealing in illegal pornography,” the African-American cop said.

  Dennis almost exploded. He looked at his wife briefly and motioned for the cops to huddle close to him so he wouldn’t have to talk so loud. “Look, I don’t know who called you about that, but it’s bullshit, okay? If this has to do with work, and I’m sure it does, some asshole planted some shit on my computer and got me fired for it!”

  The African-American cop cleared his throat. “Um, excuse me, sir, but we realize the allegations against you probably are trumped up, but still …”

  Dennis looked at the officers with numbing horror. “You mean …”

  “Do you mind if we look around a little bit?”

  Dennis was just about to say no when an alarm went off in his head. To say no now would only spell trouble down the road. They’d get a search warrant and he might not be able to get the tapes out of his safe. If he let them poke around they might not even see the safe, much less ask to see what was inside. Ditto on his briefcase. He sighed. “Go ahead.”

  As the two officers poked around his living room, he herded Carrie into the kitchen. Carrie’s eyes were wide and scared-looking. “Dennis, what’s going on?”

  He told her. Not about his recent Internet activities, nor his deviant pornography addiction, but about his being fired from his job. He told her Bob Lansing had been out to get him for a long time now, and that he was fairly sure Bob had gotten that information planted on his computer. Carrie swallowed the story, hook, line, and sinker. “And now he’s trying to get you arrested? Why, that’s outrageous!”

  “I know,” Dennis said, his voice low and trembling. It just occurred to him that whoever had complained about him at work was now anonymously calling the police. Whoever it was, they wanted to get him bad. “And that’s why we’re going to fight this thing tooth and nail.”

  The police didn’t search for very long. After poking around the living room, the den, and his study and bedroom for a few minutes, they emerged looking sheepish. “Sorry to have troubled you, Mr. and Mrs. Hillman.”

  “No problem,” Dennis said, seeing them out the door.

  By the time he stowed his briefcase away and began to undress, Carrie was getting steamed about the whole incident. “I can’t believe somebody would stoop so low just to have you fired. That’s outrageous! I bet it was that Bob Lansing; he’s been envious of you ever since you got that position. I wouldn’t put it past him to come up with something like this. In fact—”

  Dennis grinned as he changed into casual clothes. As long as he had Carrie believing him, he was home free.

  * * *

  The following day he left the house dressed in usual business attire. With Carrie knowing he was now unemployed, it would be easier to keep odd hours. Giving her the illusion he was job hunting was his chief source of cover. She left at her usual time this morning, carting the kids to school on her way to her job as an executive secretary, while Dennis dressed and made phone calls to prospective employers. When they were gone, he went to his study and extracted the rape tape and placed it in his briefcase. Then he left the house.

  Harvey Ponozzo had left a message on his cell phone last night and instructed him on where they were to meet today to make the drop-off for the tape. Dennis returned the call late last night, telling Harvey he would be there, and now as he made the drive to Colorado Boulevard, looking for Phan Liquor store, he hoped to have all this swept under the rug as soon as possible. Get Harvey the tape, then he could resume his life. He was positive he could get a new job soon and when he did, he wasn’t going to look at a porn magazine or website ever again. In fact, he was going to expand his job search and consider positions out of state. The further away he could get away from Los Angeles, the better.

  He made the drop-off quickly. Harvey was waiting for him in his silver Mercedes and Dennis handed him a brown paper bag containing the tape. “I’ll call you later this afternoon,” Harvey said, starting his car. He pulled out of the parking slot and Dennis went back to his car, feeling as if a heavy burden had been suddenly lifted from him.

  The rest of the day would have gone smoothly except for one thing.

  Harvey Panozzo never called him.

  Dennis began to worry about it that evening as he feigned normalcy in the den. Carrie was watching the evening news. The kids were … well, who knew where the kids were this time of the evening. Dennis made a half-hearted attempt at getting his resume updated and actually visited a pornography addicts support group on the Internet. He’d been thinking about his actions all afternoon, and how they’d affected his job and his life. He was finally coming to terms that he had a problem and he had to face it, deal with it, correct it. He still didn’t want Carrie or the kids to know about it, and he hoped that keeping it away from them while secretly trying to conquer his problem would do the trick. He still had to stay away from the stuff. He hoped Harvey Panozzo didn’t call him back.

  “How’d the job search go today?” Carrie asked from her spot on the sofa.

  “Good,” Dennis lied, rustling the paper. “I updated my resume, made a few phone calls. I’m hoping to get at least one interview by next week.”

  “Think you’ll have something by then?” Carrie looked concerned. “Our house taxes are going to be due pretty soon. With Wendy’s college tuition coming up in Fall, it’s going to be kinda tough.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Dennis said. Shit, he thought. He’d completely forgotten about the goddamn taxes. Without a job to cover him, Wendy’s college tuition was in jeopardy. The money he had in the bank was already earmarked for it. The house taxes would eat all that up.

  “Are you sure?” Carrie was looking at him with concern.

  Dennis smiled. “We’ll be fine, honey. I promise.”

  He told himself that over and over all night until he was convinced things would be fine. And they would be. He was sure of it.

  * * *

  Harvey called him the following morning.

  “How’d you like to make some money?” Harvey asked.

  Dennis was sitting at his desk in front of his computer. He had just updated his resume and printed ten copies on nice bond paper. The Los Angeles Times Employment section was spread out in front of him and he’d circled five job descriptions that appeared to match his skills and educational background. “Doing what?” he asked. He was immediately suspicious.

  “Don’t worry, it’s legit.”

  “I think I can find a new job on my own,” Dennis said. “Thanks for the offer of help, though.”

  “I want to help,” Harvey continued. “Like I told you a few days ago, we prefer our members be professionally employed. That includes being able
to network with us, allow us to help each other.”

  “I don’t think I’m interested,” Dennis said. “In fact, I’ve changed my mind about the group. I no longer want to be a member.”

  “You have three more tapes in your house,” Harvey said. “The police didn’t find them yesterday, but they will if they make another visit. While possession of bestiality films are only punishable by a small fine, possession of a necrophilia film will probably carry a murder charge.”

  “What are you talking about?” Dennis felt his stomach drop. My God, did Harvey call the police and have them search my house? Did he get me fired from my job? If so, how?

  “The film,” Harvey continued. “The one showing that guy screwing corpses. They’re murder victims, Dennis. Unsolved murders, I might add. The man in the videos is a hardcore junkie like you who’s a necrophile. Surely you don’t want your wife—your children—to know that you’re a—”

  “I don’t have any such film in my safe,” Dennis stammered.

  “You do now, and it’s not in your safe. It is in your study, though. When you were gone yesterday, one of our operatives broke into your home and planted it.”

  Dennis felt all the spit dry up in his mouth.

  “Go ahead and call the police and tell them about us if you want to,” Harvey purred. “They won’t be able to prove the group exists. The tape will have your fingerprints on it. We can arrange it so that the evidence of murder points to you. And with your … unique tastes in pornography, you could be in jail for a long time, Mr. Hillman.”

  “What do you want?” Dennis felt his entire body go slack with shock. He felt totally helpless.

  “All we want is your cooperation,” Harvey continued. “Your membership in the group. You’re one of us now. We’re here to help you. Stray from us, we have to risk exposure. We can’t afford that. Surely you understand our concerns for security, don’t you Mr. Hillman?”

  “Y … yes,” Dennis stammered.

  “I’m calling you from my cell phone. I’m parked right outside your house. I expect to see you walk out your front door in fifteen seconds. If I don’t see you, I call the police and alert them to the location of the tape.”