Blue Sludge Blues & Other Abominations

by Shannon Lawrence

  This was the reason for her late night walks. It was just past 11 p.m. and most of the neighborhood was asleep or at least bundled into their beds, reading or watching television. Their windows were shut tight, the whir of air conditioners fighting the remnants of the day’s heat, so no one could overhear her footsteps or the panting breaths that began springing out after a few rounds through the neighborhood.

  “You know that means they can’t hear you scream, right?” her husband, Clark, had asked her once. He hated her going out for these walks, but knew she needed them. “You don’t know all our neighbors. There could be some psycho living in one of those houses you pass.”

  “I’ll just outrun them then!”

  “Oh, Becky, you scare me.”

  “I’ll be careful. I always am.”

  That hadn’t made him happy, but he couldn’t force her not to go out, so he kept the phone by his bedside when she went out. He always gave her a parting kiss. “I’ll see you when you get back, Becky.” He was the only one who called her that, and it made her feel warm and safe every time.

  She had just lost herself in the hushed sounds of her breathing, the pit pat of her sneakers on the asphalt and the talkative trees when her foot struck something, and she took a tumble. A momentary confusion took her as her palms hit the pavement and she slammed down onto one knee, pain shooting up her leg and both arms, shocking its way through her nerve endings, sending a million different messages from each little scrape and bruise. Slowly, she pushed herself back up to a standing position and looked down at her knee. Blood ran from a nasty abrasion, creating dark streams down her shin. Her palms were torn up, and she took a moment to pick gravel out of her palms before brushing herself off and taking a tentative step on the damaged leg. She sucked air through her teeth in a hiss at the jolt that told her it might be more than a skinned knee, and she bent over to examine it again.

  “You all right?”

  The voice startled her and she jumped violently, spinning around to look behind her. A heavyset man studied her from the partial shadows of the porch she’d tripped in front of. Light highlighted wisps of hair that floated in the breeze, and he absently swiped them back across his balding head. Light winked off a pair of glasses, which slid down his nose and were pushed up with a mindlessness that said it happened all the time.

  “I asked if you’re all right there, hon? It sounded like a nasty spill.”

  “I’m okay. Just a few cuts and bruises; no big deal.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, as he took one step forward, the light shining more fully on him.

  “Oh, Mr. Samuels, it’s you.” Relief swept through her when she recognized the kindly man from the Homeowner’s meetings. “Truly, I think I’m okay. I’m not sure what I tripped over.”

  “I’m afraid it’s my fault. My front walk has been doing a little settling. I had it roped off, but someone must have taken some of it and just left that line you tripped on. Looks like they tied it there to trip someone on purpose.” He leaned forward and squinted. “Oh dear, is that blood running down your leg? That doesn’t look so minor to me.”

  Rebecca looked down at her leg and saw that the stream had widened a bit. All that blood made her a touch dizzy all of a sudden, and she stumbled a bit before catching herself and straightening back up. Really, it wasn’t that much blood. It had been a long time since the sight of blood had made her squeamish, considering how many bodily fluids she dealt with on any given day from her children. Then again, it usually wasn’t her own.

  “You’d better come in, Becky. I’ll get you cleaned up, maybe a drink of water, and then you can head home. No sense bleeding all the way home when I’m right here.”

  Rebecca looked around, unsure if it was a good idea. She did know him from the Homeowner’s Association, and a sign in his window proclaimed that he was a member of the neighborhood watch. Surely it was safe to go into his house to clean up her leg, at least. She didn’t want to draw the various predators that frequented the neighborhood. Marshall Heights backed up to a protected park with plenty of wildlife, including bears, cougars, coyotes, bobcats and foxes. Not that a fox could take her down, but the others could give her a fight. Just the other day, a woman had been attacked in her backyard by a coyote as she worked in her garden.

  “Okay, Mr. Samuels, I’d appreciate it. Don’t want to leave a blood trail all the way home.”

  “Come on in.” He stood back and held out an arm in welcome. She limped up the driveway and took the two steps up to join him. He placed the extended arm along her back and gently guided her inside.

  It was warm and cozy in his front room, and the gentle yellow of his kitchen drew her in and made her feel more comfortable. He led her to a stool at the breakfast bar and indicated she should sit. Grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator, he handed it to her.

  “You just stay right here and I’ll go get the first aid kit.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Samuels.”

  “Oh, do call me Ralph.”

  “Okay, thank you, Ralph. I appreciate this.”

  He returned her smile and turned, heading up a short flight of stairs to the upper level. When he moved out of sight down the shadowy hallway, she unscrewed the lid and took a sip of the water. It was cool and she immediately drank more, this time draining a quarter of the bottle. She held the now foggy bottle in her hand and enjoyed the chilly sensation of the drops of condensation running over her fingers.

  As she finished the bottle, she turned to take in her surroundings. Knick knacks lined shelves over the fridge. They appeared to be sets of salt and pepper shakers in various shapes. A salt shaker in the form of a young girl kissed a frog pepper shaker, while neighboring cow shakers appeared to dance, their tails intertwined. On the far wall, above the dining room table, she saw what appeared to be family portraits. There was Ralph, hugging a young brunette woman to his side on a blue leather sofa. Another photo showed two blond women, heads leaning on his shoulders, on the very same couch. Something seemed off about the pictures, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. She looked around, but didn’t see the couch in either the front room or the living room, both visible to her because of the open floor plan.

  “Like the pictures?”

  She jumped guiltily and leaned back onto the stool, shooting him a nervous smile. “Yes, I was just looking for that sofa in the pictures. Are they family?”

  “No, they’re just clients from the shelter where I volunteer. ‘Client’ sounds so nice and professional, don’t you think?”

  Rebecca nodded and watched as he set out some gauze, a washcloth, Neosporin, and tape. He opened a cabinet under the sink and removed a bowl. It was one of those kidney-shaped bowls people stole from the hospital. He filled this with soapy water as she unscrewed the lid on her water bottle and took a sip.

  Ralph brought the bowl over to her and dunked the cloth in it, squeezing it out and bending down to work gently at her leg. As he cleaned the blood off her, she started to feel a little woozy again. What was up with this odd wimpy streak? Given, she’d had off moments before at the sight of her own blood, despite the fact that she could easily face a piece of bone sticking out of an arm on one of her children or a bloody tongue after a severe bite. Just last month, Benjamin had taken a hit from a toy rake in the eye, and it had partially severed his eyelid. She’d been fine then, though the adrenaline had really hit after it was nicely stitched up.

  “Would you like some more water? All that running must have made you thirsty.”

  He turned his kindly face up to hers and waited for her response as he rinsed the blood off the cloth and squeezed it out for another pass at her leg. She was feeling even dizzier now and tired, so tired. She felt as if, at any moment, her head would float up off her body, yet it was heavy at the same time.

  “Doe, I fink I’n okay,” she managed to slur, gripping the counter with both hands as the room began to swim around her. Her head felt like it was filled with lead and she leaned i
t on her arms, just for a moment, to rest it.

  “Oh, good, I see it’s working nicely,” she heard, as everything faded to grey. It sounded like his voice was echoing all around her and then grey went to black.

  ***

  Rebecca awoke to a strange scraping sound, and she wondered what her husband was doing.

  “Honey, what is that obnoxious sound? I’m trying to sleep, here.”

  She threw an arm over her eyes as light flooded through her lids. Her head throbbed.

  “Turn off that light, would ya’? What are you doing?”

  “Ah, my dear Becky, you’ve decided to join me again. I hope you don’t mind me calling you Becky. I feel as if I know you so well.”

  Rebecca froze as she realized that wasn’t Clark’s voice. Confusion filled her mind, and she felt like she had to struggle to stay awake. She was so tired, and she felt nauseous and dizzy, feverish.

  Fear flooded her, washing through her whole body, as she realized she was lying on a cold, metal table of some sort. She removed her arm and opened her eyes, squinting at the bright light pointed down at her from one side.

  At first, the light was all she could see, but then her eyes began to adjust and she made out shadowy walls, and what appeared to be a blue leather sofa along one wall. A spider web elaborately stretched between two beams in the unfinished ceiling, the fat black orb barely visible to her from down here. She turned her head sideways and found Ralph’s back in front of a table with a small desk lamp on it. The scraping sound came from over there, but all she could see was one arm moving back and forth before him.

  “Mr. Samuels, did I pass out?”

  “Yes, dear,” he replied, without turning to face her.

  “Where am I? We were in the kitchen.”

  “Right you are, but I thought this would be a better place for us to complete a little business.”

  “Business?”

  The scraping sound stopped, and she watched as he turned to face her, revealing a wicked looking blade in his right hand. Light glinted off its surface, making her squint momentarily.

  Panic spurted through her, the breath pumping out of her in tune to her pulse.

  “What is that? What do you mean about business?”

  She tried to sit up, but found that a strap across her chest held her down. She realized that something covered her ankles, holding them against the chilly metal table. She tried to just lift her head in order to look down the length of her body, but pain throbbed through it and she eased it back down onto the table.

  “Please, what’s going on, Mr. Samuels?”

  “I told you to call me Ralph.”

  His words jerked out of him in a rough staccato, his voice gruff.

  “I—I’m sorry. Ralph, please tell me what’s happening.”

  “I’m afraid you went for a walk at the wrong time, Becky dear. I’ve been in need of some new business for a few days now, you understand, and though I prefer to keep my business with people a little farther from home, the Fates shone down upon me tonight. We were obviously meant to be.”

  The throbbing in her head wouldn’t clear long enough for her to think straight. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then opened them and focused back on him. He walked toward her, stopping right next to her and reaching above her head for something. She shied away from him, unable to move far, but he didn’t touch her. Instead, she heard a faint click and he pulled his arm back, the knife missing now from his grip. She rolled her head back to try and look behind her and caught a quick glimpse of a tray laden with metal instruments. Vomit leapt into her throat, and she struggled to hold it back.

  “Don’t worry about being sick in here, Becky dear. Clients often do at some point.”

  His words made no sense, nor did the gentle, almost tender, look on his face as he looked down at her. Clients? What the hell was he talking about?

  “Let me up from here! My husband will be looking for me by now. He knows my route, and he’ll be worried that I’m not home yet.”

  “Your husband? What you don’t know about him would fill a book. Already has, actually.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t you worry, now, you’re in expert hands.”

  He reached a warm, dry hand up to pat her cheek then smoothed back her hair as she attempted to pull her head away from him. He merely laughed and patted her cheek again, this time lingering with his hand touching her face.

  “You are quite beautiful, little Becky. I’ve coveted you for some time, but always resisted the urge. Why keep fighting it, though, when you’re thrown at my very doorstep? Sure, I helped it along with that rope, but if it wasn’t meant to be, you would have seen the rope and gone around it. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Listen up, you psycho. Fate didn’t send me here, this isn’t meant to be, and you need to undo these straps immediately. The police will find me.”

  “There’s no need for name calling. And you should know that the lights are off in the house, and the windows are blocked down here. No one can find you. As I’ve said, I’m quite the expert; I’ve done this many times before.”

  “But you’re on the neighborhood watch. You volunteer at the shelter!”

  “That is true, but those girls weren’t from the shelter. They were past clients.”

  “There you go with that client bullshit again. What is wrong with you? Let me out of here, you fucking lunatic!”

  The kindly look on his face instantly turned to a frown and his left eye twitched as his face moved nearer hers, very slowly and deliberately. When he was a mere inch from her face he spoke in a low voice.

  “If you continue to behave in such a rude fashion, I will gag you. Do you understand me? Well, do you?”

  Spittle sprayed her face, and she jerked her head away from him as far as it would go. The menace in his tone was palpable, rage pulsing beneath it. It occurred to her that upsetting this madman could make things worse for her.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  He pulled back and smiled at her again, running his hand across the wisps of hair that had once again strayed. He continued to smile as he grabbed her right arm and stretched it up above her head. She struggled, trying to loosen his grip, but it was as if his hands were made of leather-covered steel while hers were made of rubber bands.

  “No!” she screamed, fighting all the harder. “Please, why are you doing this? Let me go! I have children. They need me. You can’t do this!”

  He ignored her pleas, reaching over her body to grab the left arm. She gripped the edge of the steel table with it, but he grabbed the pinkie side of her hand and wrenched it sideways, sending shockwaves of pain up her arm as her grip tore free.

  She quickly slammed her arm toward him, startling him enough to loosen his grip. She was able to land a solid blow to his face before he gained control of her arm again. She strained against him, pushing toward him, fingers bent, nails bared. Tied down as she was, she couldn’t get the strength she needed behind it, and her second arm was soon strapped down, as well.

  He pulled off his spectacles and rubbed his cheek where she’d struck him. If only she’d hit his nose or an eye, something that would have thrown him off longer.

  He slid the spectacles back up his nose and backhanded her. Her head snapped to the side, but was quickly jerked back to face him, his fingers digging into her chin.

  “You do anything that stupid again, and I will make sure our business is completed in the most painful ways possible. Don’t test me. You will regret it.”

  He leaned back again, fingers relaxing. Instead of removing them, he slowly ran them down her chin and along her neck, trailing them down the center of her chest before following the curve of her breast. He moved to cup it with one hand, lazily running a finger along her nipple, which pressed against the bra top she’d thrown on. She recoiled, pulling on her arms and trying to shift sideways away from him. His smile became a gruesome leer as he firmly pinched and twisted
. Tears sprang to her eyes as he did it again, and she couldn’t hold back the gasp that jerked from her throat.

  She could tell he enjoyed her pain, and she grew determined to not show him anymore. She would bear this quietly, staring directly into his eyes. Perhaps it would take away some of the joy of it. And the longer she could draw it out, the better the chance that Clark would find her or she could find a way out.

  She pressed her lips together and stared at him, her face set in stubborn lines. He narrowed his eyes and leaned over her, the sound of metal scraping metal reaching her ears. Remembering what she’d seen on the tray above her head, her pulse pounded madly in her ears and she nearly lost her composure before firming up again. No. This was going to happen, no matter what. She needed to make sure he didn’t get to enjoy it the way he wanted to.

  He held a scalpel up in front of her so she could see it clearly then drew it to his mouth where he slowly and teasingly ran it along his protruding tongue. A line of red built up behind it and blood seeped from the cut, running along his tongue. He ran it over his teeth, covering them in crimson, before pulling his tongue back into his mouth and smacking his lips. A touch of blood sat on his top lip, drawing her eyes to it.

  He laughed, the loud sound startling her yet again, and her eyes shot back to his. She felt the blood drain from her face as he reached toward her with the scalpel, pressing it against her temple, next to her left eye. He kept it flat on her face, so the sharp edge wasn’t pressed into her skin, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from shifting in that direction to try and track its progress down her face. The blade nicked her chin as he ran it down to her throat then along her chest.

  She strained her eyes downward to watch the blade, repulsed yet intent at the same time. He ran it over the leather strap then turned the blade so it sliced into her chest, creating a line of fiery pain, and began to cut her top open, pulling back until it was only the fabric being torn, and not her flesh. He cut partway down her bra, placing the scalpel back on the tray long enough to grab the edges of the fabric with his hands and rip it open. She struggled yet again, but ceased immediately when his grin widened.