by Alan Spencer
Dominic had the pepper spray in one hand and the butterfly knife in the other. He didn't know what to do with either item. He put the weapons on the kitchen table between Heavy Metal Blood Barbeque and I'm Taking Your Head to Hell With Me.
"Thanks, Frank. I can guarantee you I won't need them."
He wasn't expecting the big hug from his brother, but he got one.
"I know you're my adopted brother. You're my real brother as far as I'm concerned. With mom and dad gone, you're the only family I got. I love you, okay? I'm being overprotective. It's only because I don't want this Sheckler asshole pulling any funny shit on you. You won't need the mace and the knife. I get it. But promise me you'll take them with you. For safety's sake. Promise me."
He groaned. "Okay. I promise. I'll take them with me to the party."
Frank gave his brother a playful punch to the shoulder. "Promise me another thing. You have a good time. Maybe you'll meet one of your horror hotties, and one thing will lead to another."
"Yeah right. You said so yourself. I'm a wimp."
"You never know. The way you sling the English, you won't need to be a stud. Your words will melt their panties. When you come back into town, call me. I'll take you out to eat. I'll even help you sort out the fun stuff that Sheckler guy gives you."
"You got yourself a deal. I'll throw in for beers."
"I'll have to drink to handle all of your dumb movies."
Frank left the apartment. Dominic stared at the mace and the knife on the kitchen table with distaste.
A promise was a promise.
He would "arm" himself.
He wouldn't need protection.
It was only a party.
The killer had been driving for fourteen hours straight. The trip was taking much longer than originally intended. The killer couldn't use many of the bigger interstates and freeways. The risk of being pulled over was too great. The U-Haul rig would bring attention. Attention, as in police attention. If the rig was pulled over, the killer risked ruining the plan. Nobody could see what was in the back rig.
Sheckler was only having one party. The killer had one single shot to do this right. Revenge was a tall order, but the killer would indeed fill it. The night would be one to remember. The news would hit the wires, and a story never told before would finally be revealed.
Determination was one thing.
Driving for fourteen hours straight was another.
This driver needed a break.
The killer turned on a random dirt road covered in the deep shadows of many overhanging trees. Nobody would see the truck from the road. He was well hidden. The killer could sleep for a few hours and be back on the road in no time as good as new.
The killer closed his eyes and sleep came instantly. A light knock on the driver's side window stirred the killer awake.
A soft woman's voice asked, "Hello? You okay in there?"
The killer rolled down the window, still half asleep. The woman wore a backpack with a sleeping bag attached. She had a low cut shirt, tight blue jeans, and long blonde hair. She was in her mid-twenties. She was physically attractive, though her wear was obvious. Coked out eyes. Thin, near skeletal physique due to skipping meals and staying high on wild cocktails of drugs. Thirty percent of her body was probably covered in bruises.
"Whatcha' doing in there?" The girl was trying to be bubbly. She wanted something. The night stranger was playing her grift. Start nice. Then feel the driver out. Then ask for a favor. Then strike when the moment was right.
"Yeah. I was just sleeping. I've been driving too long. I needed a rest."
"I could drive you to where you're going. I'm trying to get home. You see, I've been taking it on foot all the way from California. I guess I'm like a lot of stupid girls. My acting career didn't work out. Big surprise. I couldn't memorize lines worth a damn. I don't have a dollar to my name. I was hoping you could help me out. I'm a good conversationalist."
The killer knew it would sound suspicious.
The killer didn't care.
"Where I'm going, you can't go."
She wasn't deterred. "I can drive you wherever. You can keep on sleeping. I'm just a young thing. I won't hurt you."
The blonde bent over. Because of the low cut top, the killer could see the generous milky rounds of her breasts. Her nipples were cherry. The evening breeze was hardening them right up.
"Won't you let me tag along? I'll be nice to you. I know a hotel a couple of miles up the road. Real cozy place, and cheap too."
"Maybe. One question for you first. You answer the right way, I'll take you to where you're going."
The blonde smiled and cast her sexiest eyes. The woman could bat those lashes and pout her lips to practiced perfection. That's how a broke ass bitch traveled without a penny across the country. Her story about the acting career and getting home was bullshit. She was into drugs, and she wanted to put her victims in a place where she could rob them penniless in order to buy more drugs.
"Like a quiz? Sounds like fun. What's your question? All you have to do is ask."
"Do you like horror movies?"
The blonde's face went to seductive to stunned. "I don't understand. How...how do you figure?"
"Do like your horror movies? The ones with blood, guts, and fun."
"No. They give me nightmares."
"Surely you've seen a horror movie you've liked before. Name one. Go ahead. I'll take you to a hotel. Just name one horror movie you like."
"Look, I better get going. You're tired, and I should leave you alone."
"No! Tell me a horror movie! Name one now, you bitch!"
"You're crazy!"
The blonde tried to run away. The killer already had her by the neck. "You're all the same!"
"I don't know what you're talking about! You're a psycho!"
The blonde screamed, thrashed in his grip, and did everything to free herself of the killer's firm chokehold.
"You're going to get it now. I'll show you."
The killer pressed the woman's neck down against the driver's side window. By hand, the killer rolled up the window inch by inch. Using every ounce of strength, the killer managed to wedge her neck between the window glass and the top of the window frame. Harder and harder, turning the knob, the window inched upwards. The blonde's neck issued sharp popping noises. Bones were breaking. Flesh was giving to force. Turning, and turning, and turning, cranking, and cranking, and cranking, the blonde's head finally popped off the neck with a generous gout of blood. The head landed between his legs. Her fast flowing blood warmed his lap. The woman's face stared up at him, locked in total terror. He threw the crudely decapitated head with a wet slap onto the dashboard and laughed.
Suddenly the killer wasn't so tired anymore.
The U-Haul truck drove back onto the lone highway, leaving the headless hitchhiker behind.
"One night only. RSVP. Party at Sheckler's. Booze, catered food, and high end entertainment for those who dare enter the mansion of terror. You'll be horrified and delighted by an evening of tricks and treats. This special engagement is one night only. Come for the party, stay for the Sheckler. Oh my God. I'm so jealous!"
Trudy Runner was reading from the party invitation Dominic received two months ago in the mail. They were sitting in Dominic's kitchen talking about the event he was attending tomorrow. His long time business assistant had gone on and on about how she would love to go to the party, and how it wasn't fair she had to stay home.
Her job with Cult Crushers was to help keep up his internet store, update the webpage, fulfill online orders, and help him sell and promote at conventions. Trudy was dubbed "Gory Girl" at conventions. At the vending tables, she would dress up in skimpy sexy outfits. BSMD getups. Dead corpse zombie girl attire. Mutilated prom date ensemble. Massive head wound gory bitch. Sometimes, she would wear a mini skirt, netted stockings, and an X of tape over each nipple to get customers' attention.
She was also a model on the Cult Crushers website. She pose
d with fake dead dummy bodies. Other pictures featured her wielding chainsaws, axes, hatchets, and even a 12 gauge while scantily clad, showing her breasts, buttocks, but never bush or nipples. The trick was deploying the art of tease, and Dominic had used it successfully to keep up his business.
Trudy Runner, aka Gory Girl, was vital to his business in many facets.
Why Sheckler wouldn't let her attend the party tomorrow was a mystery.
He apologized again after she had read the invitation out loud.
"I know it sucks you can't go. I talked to Stan. He said he can't allow guests to bring guests. I really wanted you to go. You deserve it. I wouldn't be half as successful at selling my movies if it weren't for you helping me with everything. You're everything to the company. I'm not just saying that either. I mean it."
"I know you tried." Trudy's face was somber. "You're a nice guy. I wish more guys were like you. I'm more upset about something else. Chad broke up with me last night. We could've been serious. I know we only dated about four months. It got to that point I had to tell him about my job. I'm all about full disclosure. I showed him the Cult Crushers website."
"Oh no." He knew where this was going. He already felt guilty. "Tell me he didn't go off on you."
"He did. Chad lost his shit. So I showed him the website, and he freaks out. He calls me slut this, bitch that, cum bag this, whore face that. He got real mean. Then he goes on about how horror movies are just porn for psychos, and I'm no better than a common street whore. He got churchy on me. I knew he was religious, but jeez.
"Maybe it's for the best. If they can't like me for me, and see my Gory Girl persona for what it is, then what will it be like when real life problems happen like paying rent and having a family? It's for the best. I keep telling myself that."
He knew she didn't mean it. She had strong feelings for Chad. This was the fourth relationship that ended over her Gory Girl personae.
I have to make it up to her. It's my fault. Saying sorry won't cheer her up. She's done so much for you.
Cult Crushers had been up and running for ten years. He started it at twenty-one when he saved enough money to release one film and pay for packaging and distribution. That film was Jack the Ripper Has Breasts. Before that, he worked at a used record store called Vintage Box Records. He managed that place, worked his ass off, and was tired of breaking his back for such little pay.
And as much as he loved vinyl, vinyl was not horror movies. He had volunteers help him with early versions of the Cult Crushers website. A graphic designer for the layout. Friends who would assist in setting up tables at conventions and lugging boxes of product. These people came and went every other week. Others weren't happy with being paid little or nothing for the job. For the love of it only took them so far, but not for Trudy Runner.
She had emailed him out of nowhere and asked if she could volunteer. She was a graphic designer sick of her day job. She also loved horror movies. Trudy went from volunteer, to being paid with free Cult Crushers movies, to full-time paid status. Trudy wasn't an employee. She was a friend. This Sheckler party situation was a travesty, and he would amend that travesty.
"You know what, Trudy? You've been here through everything. This company wouldn't be as successful without you. I might be out of business. Better. I would be out of business. So you know what? You're going with me to the party. If we get there, and Sheckler says no, you can't come in, I'll walk away. Bye bye, see you later. No party for me."
Her eyes went wide in shock. "I couldn't let you risk that. His collection, I mean, can you imagine what he's going to give you? It's like being handed a treasure chest."
"I don't care. I'll find more horror movies. I'm always on the prowl. There are flea markets out there, and estate sales, and the Internet. My brother was here earlier, and what he said to me got my thinking. There are plenty of companies doing what we're doing with bigger and better resources. He chose Cult Crushers for a specific reason. We're quality. We don't care about turning a profit. We care about the horror, and Sheckler knows that. He won't turn us away. So you're coming with me. It's all or nothing. You're my friend, and you're wonderful, and you deserve this as much as I do."
He was touched by the change in her features. She was five foot tall. One hundred pounds. Large hazel eyes. Skinny long arms. Ink black hair with two long blue bangs in front. Head shaved on the sides. She wore a short blue skirt with a blue tube top underneath a sheer black shirt. He didn't see her clothes, or her sexy body. What he saw was her smile. It radiated with that special giddy energy he enjoyed about her. She always dug deep to be positive. People thought because she dressed artsy with a gothic edge that she was all scars and darkness, when she was the exact opposite. She was a happy chirping bird.
"You're the best, Dominic!" She hugged him close. There were tears in her eyes, and she was sobbing.
"Don't cry. I should've fought harder for you sooner."
When they ended the hug, she was already frowning again.
"Hey, what's wrong? You're going to Sheckler's. You should be pooping your pants."
"I am," she gave a short laugh. "I really screwed this thing up with Chad. A month ago, I moved out of my apartment to live with him. He kicked me out. His name's on the lease, not mine. Not that I want to be around him after the way he talked to me. The words he said to me were so vile."
Dominic was slow to put it together. He peered out the fifth story window of the apartment. He spotted her tiny VW bug parked in the lot.
"Oh. Yeah. I get it. You need a place to stay. I need to scoot some things around first. You're welcome to stay with me as long as you need. In fact, I have a very special announcement. I was going to wait until after the visit to tell you."
Again, those beautiful, hopeful eyes were locked onto him. Trudy had been through a lot with Chad, but that girl had the positive energy to attack life no matter how hard life tried to beat her down.
"Yeah? What's the announcement?"
"I've acquired over a hundred film reels of various horror movies. I got in touch with a person who is the director of the MPAA. They're retiring as of next month. He's sending me screeners, prints, and movies they've put in storage after reviewing them for the ratings system. The person, a Mr. Westlake, said don't ask him why he has boxes and boxes of cut scenes from horror movies, but he does. This could mean being able to sell the only uncut versions of many versions of these movies. This is huge, Trudy. Big time.
"What I'm trying to say is with that, and Sheckler's deal, I'm moving out of this apartment at the end of the month. I need a much bigger work space. It's a loft downtown. The area is huge. I'd love it if you moved in with me."
Dominic put his fingers up to indicate he was in Boy Scouts. "I won't try any moves on you. I'm your friend. You'll have your own living space. It'll be part of your pay. You won't even have to see me during your time off."
"What? You're being silly. I like seeing you. It sounds like major fun. It'll be nice to live with a guy who doesn't want to bang you. There's an honesty there. Are you sure you want me to move in with you? That's a big deal."
He knew the hours it would require to cobble together pieces of reels taken from horror movies. His work load would increase, but so would his stock of rare movies that would be exclusive to Cult Crushers. He needed serious help. Trudy would be that person to help him make things happen.
"I'm going to be living, breathing, eating, and shitting horror movies twenty-four seven. You're the only one I know with the energy and motivation to help me. This is a giant commitment."
"I'm in."
"You don't have to think about it?"
"This is horror history in the making. Yeah, I'm totally in. Everything you need from me you got it. And thank you for the opportunity."
He couldn't be happier. "I have one more thing to ask of you."
"I don't know if I can take anymore surprises." She acted like she was going to faint. "This keeps getting better and better. I might need a glass o
f water."
"Hold onto your seat. I've thought long and hard about this. You are vital to this business. You're the backbone that's holding all the other bones together. I want you to stick with Cult Crushers. I'm offering a big stake in the company. It means more money, you own stock in this business, and it also means more work."
"Yes, yes, yes! Oh my God! Dominic! Really?"
She was so giddy, she jumped out of her chair and did her shuffling chicken dance. She knocked over a stack of copies of Rip-O-Lantern and Clown Cannibals. She quickly shuffled to pick them up.
"Sorry. I'm so excited! Wow. This is fantastic. Forget Chad. Chad found God. I found horror movies."
He exploded with laughter. "Now I know I've made the right choice. I say we celebrate before the party. Lots of beer and a movie fest."
"Now you're talking!"
He offered to help bring her items up to his apartment.
After that, the celebration would begin.
"Yeah, I cut you off. You were driving too slow, asshole. I tried to get around you, but I can't see around your boxy ass U-haul truck. It's not my fault you can't drive the speed limit. Get with it, pal. Quit staring at me, or I'll knock your eyes into the back of your head. It's not my fault you got your head up your ass. Go fuck yourself. Learn how to drive. Dickhead."
Carl Brundage wasn't in the mood to deal with anybody's crap. This trip was supposed to save his marriage. Their kids had graduated college and had moved out of the house. Empty nest syndrome kicked in, and his wife, Daisy, had become a total bitch. According to her, he had an anger problem, a drinking problem, a smoking problem, and keeping a job problem.
What did Daisy know? She had been a housewife her entire life. She did have the sweetest, biggest breasts. That counted for something.
Maybe if he had a drink, calmed down, and put the U-haul incident on the highway behind him, this saving his marriage thing might work. Daisy wasn't so bad when she wasn't laying into him.