Cheap Thrills (6 Thrilling reads)

by Luis Samways

  Andy feels as if the sheriff is just letting him stew. “Fucking answer me!” screams Andy.

  The sheriff finally looks up at him and twitches his strawberry blond mustache. “I will not tolerate such language in my interrogation room! You got that, you no-good son of a bitch?” the sheriff roars as he thumps his fist down on the metal table.

  Twenty

  “They took Andy in?” asks Patsy as she consoles her daughter.

  Melisa cries into her mother’s shoulder. “He didn’t do anything!” she screams hysterically. Both she and her mother are standing in the lavish doorway of the estate-like home.

  Her father, Peter, comes rushing to the door. “Melisa, darling, what happened?” He embraces both Melisa and his wife Patsy.

  “Daddy, they took Andy in.”

  “Who took Andy in?” Peter asks, still squeezing both his wife and daughter in an embrace.

  “The police took Andy in! They arrested him,” she says, crying some more.

  “Has he been hitting you?” screams Peter furiously as he lets his wife and daughter out of his grip. Patsy turns to Peter and gives him a look. It’s too late, though. Melisa has already grown red faced.

  “No, he didn’t! Why on earth would you think Andy would even touch me?”

  Her father looks miffed and a little embarrassed. “I just…”

  Melisa shuts him down. “No, you ‘just’ nothing! Andy is a good man, and he has only ever been nice to you and Mom. I don’t understand why you have it in for him!”

  “I’m sorry dear. I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Peter says, stepping back a few steps, looking flushed with embarrassment. His daughter has never called him out like this before. He never knew how she truly felt about Andy. He just thought their relationship was a one-off. “I just want you to be happy,” he says.

  Melisa nods. “I know,” she says, understanding where her father is coming from. It wasn’t too long ago that her father saved her from her previous boyfriend before Andy. Back then he was right. “Andy isn’t the same as Michael. Andy doesn’t hit me. You don’t need to worry about that.”

  Peter nods. “Good. Truth is, I do like Andy. He seems like a good guy,” says Peter.

  His wife Patsy gives him a warm smile. “He is a good man,” she says, holding her stubborn husband’s hand.

  “I’ve been silly. I’m sorry, Melisa. I know how much he means to you.”

  Twenty-One

  Dayton is lying on the hospital bed with his eyes wide open. He is feeling a tad nauseous and could do with a sick bucket. The ceiling above him is doing backflips as it spins from left to right. He feels like he drank a bottle of whiskey and partied till the early hours. He knows where he is. It isn’t the first time he’s ended up in a hospital, and he knows that it won’t likely be the last time, either. To date, since he started his renovation business he has been in and out of hospital with all sorts of injuries. Nails in limbs, falls off ladders, fights in the yard, bar fights after the fights in the yard. Arrests for abusive language toward aggravated customers, resulting in more fights. It’s safe to assume that Dayton knows the deal when it comes to opening his eyes and staring at a hospital ceiling. The only thing that is alarming Dayton at this moment is that he’s never awoken in the hospital to find himself tied up in all sorts of tubes, as if he was on life support. It freaks him out as he comes to.

  He tries to rip some of the tubing off his chest. The EKG monitor flatlines. Within seconds, a rush of doctors and interns spills into his room. The sound of the door swinging open frightens him even more. The look of relief on their faces is palpable.

  “Mr. Rogers, please refrain from moving too much. You’ve been through quite an ordeal. You need to rest up and get better,” says one of the doctors as he approaches the reeling man.

  “What happened?” asks Dayton as he tries to relax.

  “You were assaulted,’” says the doctor.

  “Oh…yeah,” says Dayton, getting flashes of some distant, but relevant memory.

  The doctor’s eyes light up. “You remember what happened?”

  Dayton nods.

  “Okay, I’ll get the deputy in so he can take a statement.”

  Dayton squints. “A statement?” “Yeah, you were assaulted pretty badly. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  Dayton goes white. “Why? Did I die?”

  The doctor goes in closer to Dayton and rests his hand on his shoulder. “Let’s just say you are lucky to be alive.”

  Twenty-Two

  “You handcuffed the victim and left him to die,” says the sheriff as he thumps his fist down on the table once again.

  Andy swallows hard. He doesn’t know what to say. He has never even dreamed of anything like this ever happening to him. This is the sort of thing you read about. It’s the sort of thing you saw on the TV crime shows. It certainly isn’t something Andy would ever dream of doing. “I didn’t. Honestly. Why would I do such a thing?”

  The sheriff thumps the table once again. “Because you’re a scumbag, that’s why. You knew you had a spiders’ nest right there. You tied Dayton up and handcuffed him. You then poured a boatload of black widows on your friend and watched him fight for his life. He was bitten a hundred times. His heart stopped, and he died. You then un-cuffed him and ran for it, waiting for somebody to find him.”

  Andy shakes his head. “That’s absurd. Why on earth would I do that?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t do it. I’m telling the truth. We found Dayton in the middle of our yard. He was lying face down in the dirt.”

  “You moved him, didn’t you?”

  “No, I didn’t move him.”

  “So he was alive when you un-cuffed him. Maybe you had second thoughts. Maybe you wanted people to find him. Maybe you chickened out.”

  Andy starts to panic. “But why would I do such a thing? If I wanted to kill my friend, wouldn’t it be easier to shoot him?” Andy is pulling at brass rings now; he doesn’t even know why he is defending himself by saying that he would have killed Dayton in a different manner. It’s absurd to even try to comprehend what’s happening.

  “So you would have done it differently?”

  Andy knows the comment was going to backfire on him. “Damn right. Why the fuck would I kill my friend with spiders? Who does something like that?”

  The sheriff remains quiet for effect. “People who think they are going to get away with it,” he says, cracking his knuckles, watching the sweat pour off Andy’s head.

  Twenty-Three

  “I was handcuffed and tied up around a pole in the garage. He then got out a plastic container full of black widows. He had gagged me, so I couldn’t scream. I tried to, but the towel he had put in my mouth restricted my breathing. He then poured the plastic container full of spiders on my head. I could feel the spiders scatter all over my body. I was squirming relentlessly. I think it made the spiders angry. They started biting me. Before I knew it, I was feeling faint. The pain was excruciating. I nearly vomited. My entire body was hot. I could feel their fangs pierce my skin. After a few minutes of more biting, he patted the spiders off me. He was wearing gloves, and seemed like he knew how to handle them. He then punched me in the face, and then I woke up here,” Dayton says as he grips the steel bar on the side of his hospital bed. The deputy looks confused.

  “So you didn’t scream for help?”

  “No, I was knocked out by the punch.”

  The deputy nods. “So he dragged you out of the garage and into the yard and dumped you there?”

  “I guess. I certainly didn’t walk there.”

  The deputy nods again, taking down more notes as he scribbles in his black notebook. “And you say you know this guy?”

  Dayton nods. “Damn right I do. That’s why he got away so easily. He was pretty much expected to be there.”

  Twenty-Four

  “I didn’t do it! I told you. I want my lawyer,” says Andy as he starts to get agitated.
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br />   “Fine, you want your lawyer. That’s what you’re going to get!’ says the sheriff. He storms up to his feet and makes his way to the door. He turns around and looks at Andy. “You know you’re going down for life for this, right?”

  Andy shakes his head. “I didn’t do shit, so I ain’t going down for anything,” he says.

  The sheriff laughs. “Maybe… Maybe not… Either way, your time will come, Andy.” With that, the sheriff walks out of the interrogation room and leaves Andy by himself.

  Shutting the door behind him, the sheriff breaths in deep and then exhales. “What a day,” he says to himself. “Spiders. Fucking spiders!” he chuckles. He makes his way down the hallway and into the main office. The sound of commotion and busy people hits his eardrums immediately. It’s a stark contrast to the sound of the interrogation room. He looks alarmed as he realizes something is going on. “James, what’s happening?” he asks, looking at his right-hand man as he comes off the phone.

  “They caught the spider guy,” the man says with a smile on his face.

  “I know — I’m interrogating him,” says the sheriff.

  The man shakes his head and puts a steady hand on the shoulder of the wide sheriff. “Wrong perp. The guy in the interrogation room is innocent. Dayton came through at the hospital and gave his account of what happened.”

  The sheriff’s face goes red, half anger, and half embarrassment. “Who did it?”

  The man smiles at the reeling sheriff. “It’s a good one, sheriff. You ain’t going to believe it when you hear it.’

  Twenty-Five

  Forty-Five Minutes Later

  “Pull over. This is the sheriff’s department. Pull your vehicle over now!” screams the officer’s voice over the megaphone. The police cruiser revs its engine as it hurtles around the corner. The dirt and dust kicks off its wheels as the driver puts the car in fourth. The pickup truck he is chasing in front turns violently into a left, followed by a right. It jumps off the road and onto the pavement. It hits an interstate sign. The officer in the car radios in. “Stick, stick, stick!” he says as he tries to keep control of the hurtling police cruiser. “Quickly, he’s making for the highway. He gets on there, we may lose him.”

  After a few minutes of cat and mouse, the chase continues into an intersection, leading to the interstate. He can see the officer in the distance. The officer from afar takes aim at the pickup truck with a shotgun. A few seconds later, the shotgun goes off. The sun bounces off the back of the pickup truck, nearly blinding the officer. Seconds later, the truck has flipped on its side. The wheels pop and burst as the gravel under the truck sprays in all directions. The windshield of the police cruiser gets peppered with dust and dirt. The officer in the car pushes hard on the brakes. The cruiser spins and finally comes to a stop, boxing the toppled-over pickup truck. He grabs for his shotgun and cocks it. He shoulder barges his own door and quickly gets out of his car. He whistles for the other officer in the distance. The man okays him with a thumbs-up. Both men approach the steaming pickup truck. The sound of the engine clicking and simmering is unnerving as both men take aim at the glass panel overlooking the driver’s seat.

  “Put your hands up and exit the vehicle!” the officer shouts. “We will shoot if we see any movement that we deem hostile.” There is no response from the passenger in the toppled-over pickup.

  “Shoot the windows. Drag his ass out,” says the officer as he takes aim and blasts the windows. Seconds later they are pulling a man out from the wreck and slipping cuffs onto him.

  “Officer, what have I done wrong?” The man smirks.

  “Evading capture on a warrant,” says the officer.

  “Sue me,” says the brash man.

  “And attempted murder.”

  The man’s smirk quickly changes into a worried look.

  Twenty-Six

  “You are free to go,” says the sheriff, slightly red-faced as he un-cuffs Andy.

  “Really? You found out I was innocent?” says Andy as he tries to suppress his urge to give the sheriff of the county a piece of his mind.

  “We made a mistake. We are sorry. You have our deepest apologies.”

  Andy’s lawyer smiles. “You’ll be hearing from my office regarding the false imprisonment of my client.”

  The sheriff gives the dirty-looking lawyer a smile. “Feel free to take a card from the desk with all my details on it,” the sheriff says in a stern manor.

  Andy laughs a little at the to and fro between the lawyer and the sheriff. “So what happened? You caught someone?” asks Andy, feeling curious as to why all the charges had been dropped.

  “Dayton came through. He recovered well enough to answer some questions and pinned the assault on someone else.”

  “Someone else? Who?”

  “A man named Graham Richards.”

  Andy goes white with terror. “Graham Richards? Richards Realty?”

  “That’s the guy. He’s a real-estate agent. We got an instant confession from him.”

  Andy still looks bemused. “But why? Why did he do it?”

  “He was trying to drive the price down of your house. He wanted to buy it for himself and sell it for a stupid profit in a few years’ time after it all died down.”

  “What died down?”

  “The spider infestation he planted in the house. The deaths that would have resulted from them.”

  “Deaths? You mean he wanted us to die?”

  “Correct. He managed to pay off the fumigators to spray some hormones on your clothes. Literally all the spiders in the house would be attracted to you, and in turn, you would most likely be bit.”

  Andy just stands there, completely stunned. “Is Dayton okay?”

  The sheriff smiles. “As good as ever. Makes a change — usually he’s in one of my cells! Innocent this time, I guess. Take care, Andy.”

  “What about the spiders. Are they gone?”

  “We’re having to put you up in a hotel for a couple of days. We have crime lab people working the scene, and after that, some fumigators will come in and get rid of your problem. A week’s time, you’ll be back home.”

  Andy shakes his head. “A whole week. For fuck’s sake.”

  “Five-star hotel in the city. My treat.”

  Andy immediately feels better. “Well, I suppose a week isn’t that bad!”

  Twenty-Seven

  Two Weeks Later

  “I guess it’s goodbye,” Andy says as he looks out of his car window. He can see the moving guys putting the last of his furniture into the back of the van. His cell phone goes off. “Hello? Hey, babes, yeah, I’ll be down your mom’s and dad’s in a few hours. Just about to leave. Okay, Melisa…I love you, too. Bye.” He hangs up the phone. “Living in a mansion won’t be too bad…even if it is in close proximity to the in-laws,” he says to himself. He keys the ignition. He reverses out of his drive, noticing the “FOR SALE” sign in the foreground. He shifts back into first and drives down the steep embankment of the hilly road.

  Ten minutes pass. He turns the radio on. He starts singing along to the song. He has an itch on his neck. He scratches it. It’s a hot summer’s day, and the brown and yellow leaves of the forest glisten in the sun. He can see the road wind up and down the crevices of the mountainside. He feels the itch on his neck once more. He casually swats at it and scratches. He decides to look in the mirror. He pops his head a little and feels a sharp sting. He catches a glimpse of his sweaty face. He then sees his neck. On it, a black widow rests on his right side. His face goes white. He tries to keep control of the car. The spider raises itself on its hind legs and strikes. The car veers to the right and goes off the cliff. It rolls a few dozen times and comes to a stop. A branch made its way into the windshield, penetrating Andy’s skull. His brain matter hangs off the wood sticking out of his head.

  The spider survives. It climbs up his face and onto the branch, scattering off it and into the summery forest where his car lies undiscovered, forever.

  Lu
is Samways

  Death Roulette

  A Killer Short

  One

  Seth and the “Gang”

  So the night began. Well, I say “began,” but it was more of a happening than a “began.” Hell, I’d even go as far as saying that the night didn’t begin as much as it just happened. As usual, we had a plan.

  “Tonight, gentlemen, we get wasted. We snort coke. We fuck women. We do what we always do,” Seth would tell us during his usual pep talk. The pep talk hadn’t quite happened yet because I was running late. I was at home as usual, playing video games. I like gaming, and I won’t hear anyone tell me any different. Plus, from what I have just told you, you would probably envision me and my pals as some Jack the lads. We are more “Jack the don’ts,” as in, “Don’t you feel bad you’re still a virgin?” Yes, I do. Damn right I do. But hey, what are you going to do? Bitch and moan about the fact that no girl wants to sleep with you? No, that’s not how I roll. I don’t socialise very well. I hate big crowds and dislike confrontation. It’s just nonsensical that someone would pick a fight with anyone…but I’m getting ahead of myself here.

  Now, let’s talk more about Seth’s pep talks. You see, I may be a “Jack the don’t” and so are most of my friends in our tight group, but Seth isn’t. This guy can party for the world, not just any given country but a flat-out jig to the planet’s rotation. He’s a heavy hitter. He likes women, and women like him. That’s all there is to it. He goes into a club, and we watch him accumulate a wad of girls’ phone numbers. It’s quite impressive, if you ask me. But that’s beside the point. Seth may be a good-looking all-out ladies’ man, but we — the “gang,” as he likes to put it — are not good-looking guys who are brilliant with the females. I wouldn’t say we are bad-looking gentlemen, but women don’t flock to us in clubs. We haven’t got the Seth whitened teeth. We don’t have the Seth charm, nor do we have the Seth charisma. Now, you’re probably thinking that I’m being too hard on myself. I probably am, but the truth is that Seth always reminds me and our “gang” of how much we need him to score with chicks.