by Alan Spencer
"You can't leave. We have to take care of this problem. Me and you. I couldn't do it on my own. But together. Yeah, together. You're a smart guy, Chris. Tell me what to do about this problem. I'm begging you. You're a very smart guy."
The gun to his head dictated everything.
"Anything you want, Harvey. I'll do everything I can to help you."
"I didn't want to shoot him. Snake gave me no choice. He was going to run and tell everybody. He didn't want to hear me out. You'll hear me out, won't you, Chris?"
"Yes. Of course I will. I'm listening to everything you're saying to me."
"Good. Because you're the last person I can turn to with my problem."
Before Harvey could get another word in, there was an insistent knocking on the door.
"Hello? Anybody in there? I know you're open. I called you the other day. You said you were open today. I see you. Hey, open up. I got cash money. You can't say no to money. I know you're selling everything in the place. Hey you, look at me!"
Harvey swallowed hard.
He was thinking.
The bathroom door slammed closed. Whatever had dragged Snake inside earlier had done it. The mess on the rental floor was strangely gone. Had the thing that killed Snake and Raggedy Anne cleaned up after itself?
Why would it do that?
"I have to let them in," Harvey said. "If I don't, we're next. I need more time to stop it. This is something I should've taken care of a long time ago. The problem has gotten worse. I had a handle on it. I really did.
"The thing is, I can't lie to it anymore. It knows we're closing down. I can't reason with it anymore. It loves this building. I doesn't want to leave.
"Now that I have to leave, I know what I have to do. I cannot let that thing leave the property. So many more will die if I don't do something. I'm going to let them in. It'll buy us time. You can't leave me, Chris. There's more going on here than you realize. I'm sorry about Snake. I don't want that happening to you, or anyone else. I've never told anyone about my problem."
As long as the gun was pointed at him, Chris would agree to anything.
"Are you letting me in, or what?" The gentleman outside spread out eight hundred dollars bills against the door. "I got mo-ney. Cold hard cash. Mullah, baby, mullah. Currency, man. Greenbacks. What's in my wallet wants to be in your hands, pal. Open up."
"Act normal," Harvey whispered to Chris. "Don't say anything to them or let on anything is wrong. Let them look around. They'll eventually leave, and then you can help me, and maybe this can finally all be over."
"Just don't shoot me," was all Chris could say.
"I won't if you do as I say. That's a promise."
There was nothing else to say.
Harvey unlocked the door and let the three people into the store.
The man outside wore a flowered Hawaiian t-shirt and jeans. He was in his early fifties with long dyed black hair. He had a rotund physique. His skin was tanning salon orange. The man spoke in a surfer dude voice.
"Thanks for letting me in, man."
Harvey nodded at him and didn't say a word. Chris stood in front of the counter and awkwardly leaned against it.
The two women accompanying the patron were much younger. Under twenty. One wore a skimpy tube top with skinny jeans that showed off the bottom third of her butt. She had long red hair with crimson red lips and body glitter on her chest and neck. The other woman wore a short skirt, tight t-shirt with no bra, and wild bleach blonde hair. Her breasts were giant Pamela Anderson globes. Both women had their arms locked with the man's arms.
The man glanced at each woman proudly. "My name's Bruce Ryder. You recognize my name?"
Harvey did a good job of hiding his nerves. "Yeah. I actually do. You're the porn director."
"These are my lovely associates. Blondie here is Candy Sweet. My other lovely is Sherry Squirts. I'm sorry to hear you guys are calling it quits. This place is so...vintage."
"Me too," Harvey said, mustering the ability to talk. "This had been a very hard day for me."
"Ryder Industries is still in business, I'm proud to say. I've been cranking out the smut since the '80's. I love these places. They're like time capsules. Style and the times, man. The mom and pops really kept the industry going. Now I have to keep up with the times. I do more selling streaming videos than anything else. People don't want to leave their homes anymore. If you ask me, I say fuck computers. This is way better. I love everything about these places."
Harvey and Chris hadn't said a word.
Bruce was bobbing his head as if listening to a song in his head. The women seemed disinterested. They were here for show. Set pieces.
"Now that we've introduced ourselves, I have to ask. Where's your porn? The old stuff, man. I love vintage VHS smut. I want to buy what you got and add it to my collection. People throw the shit away, and they think it's trash. It's not trash to me."
"Upstairs," Harvey said. "Third floor. Help yourself. I'll sell to you real cheap."
"Good deal. Third floor, huh? See you in a little while, pal. I got my assistants to help me. They're the Banger Twins. We pass them off as family, because the audience likes that, but guess what? They're not related. Not even cousins removed. If you want an autograph, I've got screen shots in my car. I can spend all night here. I wish I could, man. Hell, I could live here."
"Enjoy," Harvey said, mirthlessly. "Like I said, I'll sell to you real cheap. I'm closed for good after tonight. Take as much as you want."
"Awesome, man. Thanks again."
The three went upstairs.
That left them alone again.
Harvey was ready to say a million things to him.
The story he told Chris was harrowing.
Harvey's eyes didn't leave the bathroom door during the telling of the story.
"Raw meat used to be enough to keep that thing behind the bathroom wall satisfied. When I didn't have meat, that thing would eat the heads off of rats. Every so often, I'd find a stray cat's body hollowed out. For some reason, it wouldn't eat the fur. The monster would punch a hole in the cat's side and simply suck out its insides. I could feed him trash sometimes. Keeping it fed was the best way of making sure I stayed safe.
"When money was tight, and I couldn't afford any meat from the butcher's, that thing would creep out at night and eat a bum, or a wino, or a passed out drunk. That was one thing about the monster. It never left any scraps behind. This sounds awful. Sometimes I'd be happy, because I would think someone might spot the monster, tell the police, and they would kill it. Then I would remember who that was monster once was, and I'd feel horrible.
"That monster was once a man. His name was James Carlyle. Like Snake, we were war buddies. Vietnam was a theatre of horrors. James saved my life. He saved many people. He was the only solider who could make me laugh during the war. You had to laugh at some point, or you'd lose your mind. James was more than a man. He was a hero. He kept morale up. He stayed a human being when everybody else was unraveling.
"That son-of-a-bitch could make a man who just lost his legs due to a grenade laugh his ass off. James was a magical guy. The thing is, I don't know if he still recognizes me anymore. I just don't know. I look into its eyes, and I don't know how it perceives me. Food. Friend. Enemy. There's no way to know.
"After the war, my dad practically handed me this business. I had a job and a steady paycheck. Everything I needed was taken care of, because my father considered me a hero. He might've been one of the few at the time who thought soldiers deserved to be treated special. You know how it went, Chris. People didn't agree with Vietnam. We weren't heroes when we returned home. People were disgusted with us. Those fucking hippies. I still hold contempt for the news and commentators who downplayed our sacrifices. They never gave up their life for any cause.
"Up against all that bullshit, I had it good, because I had a job, a life, a way of getting by, you know what I mean? Not my war buddy James. The man I considered a God came home to realize his l
ife was gone. His wife was cheating on him. They divorced. He was suffering PTSD. He couldn't hold down a job. Drinking was the only thing that made him feel better. He was homeless and hooked on all kinds of drugs. The man was in a bad way. I would've helped him sooner if I would've known his situation. By the time he looked me up, it was much too late. James was beyond help. What they did to him is unforgiveable.
"He was so broke, he was donating blood and bone marrow. I guess a doctor, or somebody at the place he was donating to, let him in on a way to make quick cash. James couldn't tell me what this place really was, because he didn't understand it himself. Call it a laboratory for unusual experiments. It was based in Texas. James said they injected him with a blue chemical. It was supposed to be an experimental cure for cancer. It didn't cure anything. It created malady. It transformed him into a monster. Gradually, James got worse and worse.
"The mutation was gradual. His right hand turned into a claw. New muscles were growing over his original ones. His digestive system was expanding. He was growing hungrier. Instead of eating three times a day, he wanted to eat six.
"They kept paying James, and James kept going, because the doctors and scientists promised they would reverse the process. That was the real reason James kept going. He knew he was turning into something he didn't want to become. He was relying on them to hold up their end of the bargain and reverse the process.
"One day, James had enough of their lies. The doctors kept injecting new things into him. They weren't curing anything. They were making him worse. He decided not come back. He soon realized people are following him. He was on the run for weeks before he looks me up, gives me a call, and I hide him.
"That was before he was completely hideous. He could wear a trench coat and hat and disguised himself, because his face was normal, but the rest of him...my God, he was all boils, and sores, and throbbing things. The bathroom wall can spin like a lazy Susan. I hid James behind there in a secret room.
"Nobody came looking for him. He was still too scared to come out even when I told him this. I put a television and a VCR behind that wall, and I let him watch all the movies he wanted to keep himself sane. Pretty soon, he wasn't James anymore.
"He craved meat and blood. That was his life. Devouring things. I did my best to keep him satisfied. I couldn't turn him in to the police. They would keep doing experiments on him. This was my friend. This was James. The man I owed my life to, and here he was, a fucking monster.
"I made a mistake by letting this go on for as long as it has. James has to die. I have to kill him. I mean, we have to kill him.
"Think about it, Chris. They're going to level this building. James doesn't want to leave. If they knock down this place, the monster will go on a complete rampage. That's more blood on my hands. I've had plenty of it on my hands already. You don't want to know the feeling. Save yourself the mental anguish. These would be the stains you can never wash clean.
"Will you help me kill this monster? It's simple. You help me, I do everything to protect you, or you turn your back on me, and I kill you to use your body as bait."
Chris didn't hold back his thoughts.
"When you put it like that, it sounds like I have no choice but to help you."
"Trust me, old friend. I never wanted this for myself, never mind somebody else. You can't forget, we may not make it out of this alive. That monster is very strong...and so very hungry."
There was long moment of silence between them. Chris stood by the front door, thinking things over. People walked by without noticing the place. Gold Video was practically invisible to the outside world. He had stepped into an alternate universe where monsters existed, and there was nobody that could help them.
He would have to help himself.
"You have a plan to kill this thing?"
Harvey eyed his pistol, then he looked away from it as if thinking, 'Nope, that won't be enough'.
"A friend of mine is a veterinarian. I paid him a ridiculous sum of money for a batch of drugs."
He picked up a backpack from behind the counter. Harvey spread out a dozen syringes. They were pre-loaded with a neon blue substance. "They use it to put down animals. It stops the heart pretty quick. In seconds."
"What if it doesn't kill him?"
"There's one other way the plan will work. I hope the drugs would at least incapacitate or knock him out long enough for us to restrain him. I got ropes and chains in the backroom. We tie him up real good, hide him behind the bathroom wall. You see, they're going to blow this building up. Completely demolish the son-of-a-bitch. When they find James's body, they won't be able to make heads or tails out of it. I can finally put this thing behind me. I don't care about this place anymore. I love it. But everything that's happened in these walls since James showed up, I have to somehow put it behind me."
Chris had to ask. "One problem. How do we get close enough to the monster to inject him with all of the sedatives?"
The man shrugged. "That's the angle of the plan I haven't worked out yet."
A sharp scream came from upstairs.
They had forgotten about their guests on the third floor.
Chris couldn't feel his feet touch the floor as he bounded up the stairs, shot up the next set, and reached the third floor. He halted at the doorway. He didn't expect to see this. He was so aghast, he couldn't do anything but stand there and absorb the shock.
Candy Sweet, the buxom blonde, was oiled up and naked. She was standing in one of the peep show booths caressing Sherry Squirts. Each of them didn't wear a scrap of clothing. Glistening lips, slick breasts, oily bodies, they woman were locked in the thralls of passion. Bruce Ryder was on his haunches capturing it all with a handheld video camera.
He was directing them. "How do you guys like the viewing booths? Imagine all the men who've watched your movies. They've sprayed the walls of this place in your honor. Jizz city, baby. Cash machine bustin' action."
"Hey, he can't be here," Candy complained, pointing a neon orange press-on nail in Chris's direction. "He's leering at us. What's he doing here?"
Sherry Squirts was unfazed by the intrusion. She gave Chris a sexual smile. "This scene would work better if a guy came into the room, and he was watching one of our videos, and suddenly we both show up and bang his brains out. How does that sound? You said I could be creative. I have ideas too. I'm not just a box."
Bruce turned to Chris with gonzo glowing in his eyes. "Yeah. That would be ultra erotic. You always have the ideas, Sherry. You know I like it when you chime in, babe."
"I have good ideas too," Candy pouted. "That's what you tell me. You wouldn't be lying to me, would you?"
"You both are porno powerhouses. Never doubt your skills, ladies. The both of you are fantastic. I love you both. Bodies, brains, boobies, you two are the whole package."
Bruce stopped recording and appealed to Chris. "How about it, Chris? You ever fuck on film? It pays good. Imagine these babes taking care of you. They'll lick every inch of you until you pop. And pop you will."
He remained speechless.
That didn't keep Bruce from talking.
"What about the owner guy? He's kind of got that creepy older guy look about him. Viewers like it when the nasty guys bang the shit out of hot babes. It makes them feel like they have a shot at getting a piece of that classy tail. You get me? It's psychology. A man's brain is connected to everything, including his dick. Especially his dick."
He wasn't sure what to say to the excited man.
Bruce confided in Chris. "Look, these girls are clean. We test them on a regular basis. These are industry regulations. I run a clean ship. I promise you. Scout's honor. Full disclosure pal, I had every intention of buying a bunch of VHS porn here. Cross my heart and hope to die. The bigger reason I come to these businesses that are closing down is to shoot a sex scene. I have a porno series about sneaking into places like this without anybody knowing and having people screw. The audience loves it. I'm working on my fifteenth entry in the series
."
Bruce patted him on the shoulder real hard. "Hey, you gotta loosen up. You got two naked bunnies tonguing each other, and you're acting like you got a bowling pin lodged up your rectum. We're all friends here. How about letting Candy and Sherry rid your rod, huh? They'll take turns. You can pick who rides you first. Good luck picking, buddy. They're both smokin'."
Bruce was about to reposition the two women so they were around Chris. The director didn't get the chance. Something smashed through the viewing room on the very end of the row. The arm jutting out of the broken panel was hideous. Chris imagined if someone had reversed someone's skin so the muscle tissue was on the outside. Giant cable-thick blue veins throbbed with hard pumping blood. The muscles bulged with unbelievable power. The end of the meat arm were claws made of human bone. They seized hold of Sherry Squirt's red hair. The monster was so strong, it yanked back on Sherry's head, and dragged her through the hole it had created only moments ago.
Seconds later after the hideous sounds of crunching, creaking, and screaming, the door came open by the force of a red tide. Sherry's feet were kicking out the monster's mouth. The monster was chewing so hard and fast, splitting through bone and shredding muscle, it was like a super garbage disposal. The woman's body simply went down its throat with ease.
Inside out man, he kept thinking. The head was a giant wad of red tissue with one gaping eye and another that was buried under a layer of constantly flowing clear slime. The rest of its body was dangling organs, balls of fat, ropey intestines as thick as pipes, and the monster's sexual organ was simply hideous.
Candy tried to run, but she tripped over three mannequins. He tried to help her up, but it was already too late. The beast had her by her blonde hair. It used one claw to swipe off the crown of her skull. The blonde hair and quarter inch layer of skull struck the wall across the room with a splat. The beast lifted up Candy, tipped her over like a drink, and shook out her brains into its mouth. The tongue, that thick taffy pink cobra creature, lapped up every juicy gray bit that slopped forth.