Most left the gathering at that time, jeering at his comments. Prior environmental conditioning with years of church attendance behind them, the man’s words didn’t make sense. Angry at their lack of understanding, he continued until only Meg and the lady he’d arrived with remained listening.
Being fresh to this time period, I was not aware of all that had been taking place. To me, his words made some sense, especially if one was ignorant of what Hell was really like. It was true, people protesting the killing of other humans had been attacked with a malicious intent to injure, or even kill. And, the ones attacking had been police officers, representing the law. In my past two lives, killing had been wrong, either by humans or beasts. So, why were those protesting killing being attacked? Had the world gone crazy in the time I'd been waiting to be reincarnated?
I learned the man’s name to be Jacob, and the woman’s Celeste. Focusing their arguments on Meg, they covered the same points repeatedly, as if brainwashing her. Although Meg listened intently, I found them hypocritical. They preached peace with Satan, but also wanted to kill all pigs. They were the same as those that attacked us—destroy all that don’t agree with your opinion types. I soon grew bored and closed my ears to their orations. Weary from all that had happened, I took a nap.
When I stirred from my slumber, the daylight was almost gone. I was shocked to find Meg had accepted an invite to crash at Jacob and Celeste’s place for the night. I doubted the wisdom of this decision and worried she might be in danger. Still, it was her choice. And, it had been a long time since those two mouthfuls of cereal that morning.
Keeping in the shadows, we stuck to the backstreets and alleys leading to Jacob's pad. Meeting all my expectations, his home was worse than the mountain shack of my previous owner. In fact, I wondered about the possibility of lost relatives and kidnapped babies.
Once inside, I fought to restrain a gag reflex. Hell smelled bad, but this place would make the Devil retch. Half-eaten sandwiches, rotting fruit peels, and the decomposing of rodents still in their traps all added to the sickly aroma. Not surprising in the least, the first thing Jacob did was reach for a couple of sticks of vanilla incense.
Sitting on Meg’s lap, I checked out his wall adornments. Far from traditional, they looked to be a combination of flower children blacklight posters and various symbols reflecting his devotions to Satanism. Jacob needed much help in the interior decorating department, as well as in home repair and cleanliness.
For hours, Meg sat listening to him go on about the benefits of Satanism and the beauty of Hell, as if he were a constant visitor. What he was saying couldn’t have been more wrong. I smiled thinking about him being a permanent occupant there in the future, being tortured again and again. I might even wave at him during one of my visits.
Engrossed in his words, Meg’s interest scared me. She was so young and easily influenced by those around her. I entered her mind. She was confused, but anxious to hear more. Celeste wasn’t helping matters. Sitting on the edge of a stained couch cushion, rocking back and forth, mesmerized by Jacob, her vibes helped to fortify Meg’s involvement.
I’m not sure if Jacob ran out of bullshit to say, or if he got tired of talking, but he finally took a break. He walked to the stereo selected an album to play. “How about some music?”
Thanks for asking. What if I said, “No thanks. I want to watch television. You would be screwed, wouldn’t you?”
Luck would have it the music was by a super guitar player I’d seen in Hell. Great guy, but had a habit of playing the national anthem extremely loud and distorted. Anyway, he opened a drawer and pulled out a bag of marijuana, my old nemesis. It had been one of my minor tortures in Hell. Oh, I enjoyed the high, but munchies always followed smoking. My torture consisted of dealing with them. One could either grab some food and satisfy the cravings or keep your place in line. I cost myself at least two years of waiting before learning to bring a box lunch with me.
As a small kitten, it didn’t take much to give me a contact high. Starving, I slipped away from the group while they continued to indulge. Roaming around the house, I searched for a nice fat mouse to calm my growling stomach. I figured there had to be a few living in the filth. Unfortunately, Meg noticed my absence and began to call out my newly given name. Oddly, Jacob panicked, and rushed to find me.
I had just entered a room where a horrid smell brought back early memories. It was the same smell that I’d dealt with after Amy’s body had begun to decompose in my first life. The other odors had masked it initially, but now, in the same room, there was no question. But, before I could investigate further, Jacob snatched me up.
“You’ve no business in here, bitch,” he spat out, holding the scruff of my neck none too gently. “Stay with Meg or you’ll be very sorry.”
So, my feelings proved correct. There was more to this ass than protesting and preaching. The bastard was a murderer.
Meg was sitting by herself when I was dropped in her lap. Once again, she did the forehead trick that drove me crazy, but it was better than being carried around by Jacob who had headed toward the kitchen. I could hear a butter knife clattering against the side of a mayonnaise jar in the kitchen, meaning Celeste was fixing sandwiches. I jumped off Meg’s warm lap and headed to see what the menu would offer, doing my best to stay out of Jacob’s sight.
“Here, take this to Meg,” Celeste whispered. “I didn’t put as much in her drink as you did last time. Maybe we’ll be able to keep this one alive until we need her.”
I ran back and lay against Meg’s ankles as her food and drink arrived and was set upon the coffee table in front of her. As he returned to the kitchen, I climbed up her feet and did my best to leap up to the tabletop but fell short. I tried a couple of more times, desperate to be in a position to knock over her drink.
“Oh, you poor thing, you’re hungry.” Well, I was, but that wasn’t why I kept jumping at the table, dummy. “Here’s some meat for you, baby. I don’t eat much meat, anyway.”
Of the two options, saving her or eating, my stomach chose. My chances of knocking over her drink were much less than filling my tummy, even if it did mean eating the meat off the filthy floor. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
“I know she has to be thirsty. Jacob, could you get my baby a little water?”
Somewhat begrudgingly, he agreed. I followed him, watching as he took a dirty dish from the sink and put some water in it. “Now, don't piss in the house,” he said, setting it down.
Why? Are you afraid the smell of urine might make your place smell better?
Avoiding the rotten pieces of cole slaw floating on the water’s surface, I drank what I could and returned to Meg. She was having a hard time keeping her eyes open, thanks to whatever Celeste had put in her drink, I was sure. Recognizing their success, Jacob and Celeste exchanged smiles as Meg's eyelids fluttered and closed one last time. It was then they went into action.
Jacob backed an old van up to the rear steps of the house. Together, they loaded Meg inside. Not wasting any time, the two added the corpse from the other room next to her. Not wanting to be left behind, I jumped inside from atop the rear steps and hid myself between the two. Meg wasn’t the smartest of humans, but she had been kind to me. I had to find a way to help her.
The van was in as good a shape as Jacob’s house. The engine died at stop lights, the brakes squealed whenever called upon, and the shocks no longer cushioned the ride. Bump after bump, the lights of the city were left behind. We exited the main road after an hour or so, leaving the hum of the pavement for the quiet of a dirt one. Our speed slowed substantially as ruts bounced us from side to side. Leaves and branches began scraping along the side of the van as the road became no more than a narrow path. Yep, we were well into the boondocks.
My wishes for the journey to end were soon answered. Stopping the van, Jacob left us all for a few minutes. Meg had yet to stir from her slumber—breathing shallow but regular. Whatever drug they’d used had do
ne its job well. Celeste, staring into the darkness ahead, hummed some rock tune and mumbled the words, “This is the end” repeatedly. She stopped only after a blazing fire appeared in front of the van and Jacob flung open the van's rear doors.
“Help me get her out. Time's a wastin!”
I knew my time of discovery was soon, so I ran out the rear and leaped between Jacob’s legs to the ground. Scurrying off, I hid under a thorn bush. I was almost disappointed when he gave no chase to find me. Sitting there listening to the bullfrogs talk to each other in the swamp about the crickets’ noisy chirping, I pushed to come up with some sort of a plan.
The two laid Meg in front of the crackling fire and returned to the van—stirring up dust from ashes of previous fires along the way. Obviously, this wasn’t a first time happening for them.
I watched as they struggled to carry the corpse over to the water’s edge. Jacob, growling at Celeste and her lack of strength, grew angrier with every step. “Damn it, pick up your end. She’s not that heavy. Maybe I should toss you in, too, for all you’re worth.”
A loud splash and the deed was done. No more evidence of the murder. There was no doubt Meg would the next to join her there.
Returning to where Meg lay, Jacob and Celeste wasted no time in first stripping off their clothes and then removing Meg’s. Jacob used a long knife to make a six-inch slice at the top of Meg’s thigh—smearing the blood that flowed from her wound all over his body, and then Celeste’s. Satisfied at his work, Jacob stood by the fire and began chanting. Celeste placed herself next to Meg and rhythmically swayed back and forth, channeling the young girl’s energy into Jacob. Soon, she joined in the chants, too.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out these two had no idea as to how to perform proper Satanic Worship procedures or chants. Aside from the “Hail Satan's” and the “Our God of Darkness” phrases they filtered in, most of what they were saying was only mumbo jumbo. And, the act of human sacrifices went out of style centuries ago. Hell’s big man had so much more fun tricking people into signing their souls away, that he put an end to the those taken involuntarily. Shaking my head at their stupidity, an idea hit me. I ran my little legs off to where they had tossed the corpse into the swamp water.
Hoping the two had drawn a gathering with their disposal of the body, it didn’t take long for me to find what I was after. Hearing a hiss, I jumped off to my left, barely avoiding the jaws of a huge, twelve-feet-long alligator wanting another a midnight snack. Staying just outside of the range of his snapping jaws, I teased him by darting close and then pulling back. Stirring up the night with his attacks, his actions soon attracted another, even larger. Now, I had two monsters pursuing me. It was just what I wanted.
The light of the fire broke through the brush and I ran to Meg's side. Jacob and Celeste were deep in chant, eyes closed, and arms raised to the heavens above.
Celeste’s eyes bulged open as two rows of jagged teeth clamped around her torso. She barely had time to scream before her ribcage was crushed. Jacob opened his eyes to see Celeste being thrashed about and torn in half.
Confident he had Satan’s protection, he reached for the dagger to complete the sacrifice. Holding it high, he yelled out, “In the name of Satan, I send thee!” But, before he could bring it down, the other gator launched its attack, hitting him from behind. My elation turned to shock as he fell forward from the blow, arm flailing, and managed to sink the blade deep into Meg’s chest.
I sat and watched the reptile tear off one of his legs, thrilled at the agony Jacob was enduring. Suffer you bastard, suffer! No amount of pain would compensate for his killing of Meg. Two smaller gators, attracted by the commotion, joined in and ripped smaller bites of bloodstained flesh from his arms and torso. I relished in his screams for as long as they lasted.
Watching the gators feast, I was overcome with sorrow. Meg’s body had been untouched by the reptiles and lay silent. The handle of the knife stood still between her breasts, undisturbed by any hint of life existing. The poor girl never had a chance. She would be another forgotten teenager listed as “missing” until her parents either gave up hope or passed away. If the gators didn’t eat her tonight, they would return to do the job. Maybe it was better than ending up like the decomposing corpse they’d tossed away without remorse.
I’d succeeded in drawing the gators to rid us of Jacob and Celeste, but my plan had been flawed. My owner was dead. We had shared only one day together, but I shed a tear in respect for kindness she had showed.
It was all I had time for. Another gator that I’d failed to notice, sent me back to Hell, waiting in line for my next life. The attack had been without warning, of course, and there had been only a second of intense pain as the jaws ripped my head from my body. Another flaw in my plan, obviously.
I hope the bastard choked on my fur. Maybe, I even gave him a hairball.
* * * * *
“So, you’ve dealt with a husband killer, Bigfoot creatures, and Satanic worshipers … anything else that might interest me besides the normal stuff?”
“What do you want, fake Hollywood monsters or real ones? There are all types of creatures roaming the Earth,” she responded. “Some have mutated over the years and learned to fit into society. Others only use the human form to find prey.”
“Got any good stories about them? You know, something that might make my readers happy instead of sleepy.”
“You are hard to please, aren’t you? Okay, here’s one that I heard in Hell from one of the inmates. Strange guy—used to talk like one of those 1940’s movie detectives. Listen up!
Damn Whiskers
Ever notice how a mustache always finds a way to allow one or two whiskers to get inside your mouth with every bite of food? I realize I'm talking to a select few as none of the members of the female gender with which I'm acquainted have mustaches and neither do many of my male friends. But, if you're one of us that grow facial hair, you can obviously relate. It's a pain in the ass. Every bite is followed by fingers searching to ensure it is a mustache and not one of those gnarly black monstrosities from the waiter's forearms.
I first noticed the girl as I left my Biology 221 class. Leaning back against the wall, she made herself small to allow the herd to exit. Her lean figure—with exaggerations in all the right places and silhouetted by the blinding glare of the sun exploding through the far window—emptied my mind of what I'd learned in class and filled it with ideas of how I'd love to spend my evening. A thigh-length black sweater—tight where it needed to be but loose enough to keep one guessing—presented the perfect backdrop to accent golden strands of blonde hair riding upon her shoulders. And, her face, oh, her face, was one to cause beauty queens to spit at their make-up artists for failing to make them as beautiful. High cheekbones, narrow chin, and a cute little nose set the scene for her full lips that made me yearn to say, “Come here, I can't live without you.”
Yeah, I'm a male pig, I know it. But, there are times in a person's life they simply can't help themselves. Some women look at men in the same way but won’t admit it. Makes them less ladylike, I’ve heard. I prefer one who speaks her mind. It saves a lot of time getting to the point … and the action.
What really hit me were her eyes. Strange, because I'm not normally an “eye” person. Like I said, I'm a male pig. My eyes are usually drawn to boobs and butt, and, if there are great legs attached, so much the better. Yet, this time it was different. (So, I lie a little. You already caught me drooling over her body.) Seriously, her eyes were unlike any I’d ever seen. In a good way, not like they were cross-eyed or anything. Black as a closet in a kid's bedroom at night, they gave no indication as to what secrets or stories they contained. When they met mine, the world stopped spinning and I was thrown into the depths of space en route to foreign planets and digging it. (Yeah, like there's romance in outer space.) The back of my head burned as her gaze searched deep within me, investigating my thoughts and dreams, seeking a reason to look further. I hoped she found on
e.
My total observation took all of three seconds. I walked fast and passed by her without a word. This girl was out of my league, big time. I'm not the worst thing to look at, but there are many who would win the World's Sexiest Man title ahead of me. Besides, I'm kind of an introvert. Girls like this expect to be saved by a superhero and carried off on a white horse to some exotic fortress of luxury and ecstasy. My efficiency apartment was anything but that.
The next day, I'm sitting in the grass in the campus wooded area called, “The Commons.” Like everyone else daydreaming there, I've got an open textbook in my lap that's being totally ignored. From around the corner of the last building, Miss Heavenly Body strolls out. As before, she's impeccably dressed and draws plenty of stares from guys, like myself. We all knew we had no chance with the babe but wanted to remember everything about her for our imaginary lover sessions later.
I tilt my head down, like I'm reading, but my eyes keep rising to sneak a quick glance, without getting caught. Hoping to steal another peek, I look up and see her coming my direction. Just what I need, a woman that wants directions, hopefully to my place, but probably the library.
“I saw you coming out of class yesterday,” she said in a heavy Eastern European accent. “Is there a reason you don't want to talk to me?”
Don't want to talk? Hell, I'd love to talk to you and a whole lot more. But, after being turned on by your deep, throaty voice, I'm going to sound like a stuttering child at their first circus. The pressure's on. I've got to sound smooth and witty, charming even. Yeah, like that’s going to happen.
“No,” I replied, drawing a blank check for any other words in the English language. This girl had me at “is.”
“Well, my name is Mihaela,” she offered. “Do you have a name, or shall I call you “Quiet Man?”
“I'm Adam. Good to meet you Mihaela. Ah, I love your accent. Where is it from?”
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