“Some crazy lady attacked us,” Ann shouted as she slammed the door behind her and fumbled with the lock until it clicked.
“Call the cops,” Mike screamed. Chuck ran from around the counter, ripping his cell phone out of his pocket as if he was in a quick-draw competition.
“What happened to the attacker?” Mike said as he examined Beverly’s wounded forearm.
“I…I…d…I don’t know—she was behind us, and then she was gone. She…She might be dead. I stabbed her,” Ann said.
“OK, both of you get away from the doors.” Mike put his hands on the girls' backs and ushered them away from the Plexiglass door. “Watch them, Chuck. I’m going to go grab some antiseptic and get the gun out of Mr. Anderson’s safe,” Mike said as he started for the back room.
“Hey, my wife can’t know I’m here,” a balding man whined as he tried to push his apple-like frame in front of Mike. The look of worry on the fat face was compounded when he realized that he was being shoved into the department’s rather large assortment of anal beads. With one swift motion, Mike had slung the man to the ground where he floundered like a horse that had fallen into a river.
“Shut the fuck up. No one leaves until the cops show,” Mike said, barely hesitating to look down at the man. For once, Beverly looked glad that her brother acted overly aggressive when he was wearing his favorite Pantera shirt.
“Where are you going?” Beverly asked.
“The owner keeps a gun in his safe,” Mike blurted.
“We can’t open the doors. Not with that crazy woman out there,” Chuck said to someone on the phone. Something caught his attention on the line as Mike rushed into the back room.
It felt like several minutes passed as Ann scanned the inside of the store, and it sent a chill down her spine. Only about half of the florescent lights sent out their rays, and it looked as if she could get herpes if she sat on the floor. Leather-clad mannequins looked down on her, mocking her naiveté with half-cocked smirks. She drew her arms in close to her chest, trying to get as little of the store on her as possible.
“Oh, dear,” she muttered. It was too much for a girl who had had only her first kiss last summer and nothing else.
“What the hell d…does that m…mean?” Chuck stammered as he spoke into the phone. Chuck’s hand began to shake like one of the toys from the store, and perspiration spewed from his forehead. It came quickly and dripped down his face, giving the appearance that he was melting. His eyes shot into the back of his head, and the phone rolled out of his hand, crashing to the floor. The harsh florescent lights began to flicker and hum. Hegel’s voice could be heard muttering on the other end.
“Lust” was the only word that Ann was able to catch.
“Hey, are you OK?” Beverly asked. Chuck’s hand shot from his side, grabbing Ann by her waist, and with a smooth but forceful pressure, he sucked her into his chest. Without hesitation, he planted a kiss on her lips. Ann flailed her lanky arms, not knowing what to do and trying her best to look for Beverly. He began giving her tiny pecks as Beverly grabbed his shoulder and said, “What the hell are you doing?”
Chuck didn’t respond. Ann’s eye’s widened as the shock of the situation was wearing off, and concern verging on panic set in. Her hands shot up to Chuck’s face as she tried to gain any kind of separation. Chuck smashed his lips into hers until they were being pinned against her teeth. Muffled screams of pain shot through the air, and in an instant Beverly grabbed hold of Chuck’s greasy black hair and ripped his head backward while simultaneously smacking him as hard as she could.
“Get off her!” she screamed. One of the patrons of the porn shop rushed toward the two girls, but before he could reach them, Chuck pushed Beverly into a rack of assorted leather whips and handcuffs. She hit hard, sprawling onto the floor among the still crashing S&M merchandise. Ann, now in full panic mode, stuck her thumbs into her attacker’s eyes and pushed as hard as she could. Chuck slung a sloppy right overhand that careened into Ann’s face. She flopped to the floor with a thud as Chuck ripped the shirt off his back.
The concerned customer rounded the aisles, and he seized Chuck with his gorilla-like hands. From the size and athleticism of the bearded man, it was clear that the twenty-year-old boy didn’t stand a chance in a fair fight. But lust never fights fair. Chuck yanked a box cutter out of his back pocket and with one swoop, sent a stream of crimson from the man’s neck sloshing to the floor at the same rhythm as his elevated heart rate. The nameless man’s face twisted in shock, and his hands instantly gripped his own throat. He stammered, and then his feet gave way. His body crashed to the floor, still pulsing blood.
Chuck turned his attention back to Ann. The right side of her face was swelling where he had landed his blow. He stomped the tile floor with heavy thuds from his boots as he moved toward her. Ann looked over to see the fat man that Mike had pushed cowering behind one of the racks of dirty movies.
Chuck pushed closer and soon he would be right on top of her, able to do as his bewitched heart desired. He stepped past Beverly, who was still sprawled on the floor, but she was by no means finished. Ann could see her eyes were still alert, and she could see the rush of ideas that screamed through Beverly’s head. As Chuck’s foot hit next to her, Beverly snatched his ankle, and then a strange clicking sound occurred. Ann couldn’t tell what it was until Beverly slapped the display rack she had been smashed into and darted as far away from Chuck as she could get.
Chuck was now attached to the display case by means of a pink, fur-trimmed pair of handcuffs that had fallen from the rack. Ann, seeing Beverly, jumped up and galloped to the next aisle over so that she would have some kind of barrier between her and the crazed man. Even if the aisles were only four feet high, at least it was something. Without hesitation, Ann snagged any bit of merchandise she could and launched it at Chuck’s head. Chuck dragged the display, making an evil screech as he inched closer to rounding the aisle. Beverly followed Ann’s lead and catapulted all she could at Chuck. Pocket pussies, boxes of edible underwear, and various implements made for anal insertion were all flung at Chuck. He never defended himself from the blows as he gave chase. Instead, he marched forward with the single-minded determination of a bear attacking a beehive. Blood trickled down his cheek, and his eyes gleamed like a rabid dog as the rage twisted his narrow face.
Mike burst out of the back room. “What the fuck is going on?” he screamed as he gripped a small 9mm in his palm.
“Shoot him—he’s crazy,” Beverly screeched. Mike darted in front of Chuck to see that his leg had been cuffed.
Ann squealed, “Chuck killed him,” as she pointed to the body of the hapless Good Samaritan who lay crumpled on the floor. As soon as Mike looked down at the bleeding man, Ann slung a particularly heavy copy of the Kama Sutra. It smacked Chuck in the nose and bounced to the ground.
“For fuck sake, stop!” Mike screamed as he looked over at Chuck. All of his mannerisms had become animalistic and disjointed from reality. He heaved and twitched, almost as if he had brain damage.
“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Mike yelled. Chuck didn’t react. He had only one goal, and that was to reach Ann. He kept trying to move forward, but the display case had gotten stuck when he tried to make the turn into the next aisle.
“Shoot him,” Ann pleaded.
Mike hoisted the gun and took careful aim. “Chuck, what are you doing?”
Chuck seemed to hear his friend’s question. He looked up and made a deep and unnerving eye contact with Mike. Out of his mouth tumbled a malevolent voice as the lights flickered, eventually winding down to darkness.
“I do invocate and conjure thee, O Spirit, and being with power armed from the supreme majesty, I do strongly command thee, by the power of the light bearer, by the most powerful Princes of Darkness, and by the Chief Prince of the Ninth Legion.”
“Chuck, shut the fuck up and put the knife down, or I’m going to shoot.” A rushing sound of wind came into the store, but nothing mov
ed from its presence. A vortex became tangible and swirled around Chuck’s feet. Slowly, he was lifted from the ground. The handcuffs still fixed to his leg pulled the display case into the air. The chains and whips rattled like an oversexed wind chime as they went up. His feet rose above the aisles, and it was evident nothing good was left in his shell of a body. It had been replaced by a twisted, revolting soul that sought only to destroy beautiful things. Ann shrieked at the sight, and all who witnessed it shivered. The air felt thick and smelled of rot, rust, and mold. It was so strong that it could be tasted. Chuck screeched with a voice that sounded like a thousand birds of prey singing in an unholy harmony.
“Also, I, being made after the image of the most beautiful angel, endowed with power from him and created according to his will, do exorcise thee by that most mighty and powerful name of Satan, strong and wonderful.”
Mike fired the pistol, sending out a blast of sparks. The round smacked into Chuck’s gut, but he didn’t move or react in any way. He simply continued his incantation.
“Appear unto me here before me without a seal and in no fair human shape, with deformity, and tortuosity, and by these ineffable names of the accuser of men!”
Mike screamed as he unloaded his gun into Chuck’s gut. Lifeless, Chuck dropped with a wet smack to the floor. The flash burn from pistol shots had nearly blinded everyone in the room, and the hollow ring of the gunshots was all that could be heard. The smell of smokeless powder hung on top of the ungodly smell of carrion as the lights flashed back on. Twenty seconds passed in which no one said a word. Mike took the time to reload his magazine and slapped it back into his gun. It was pointless to talk, anyway, as no one could hear.
When most of the ringing had slowly subsided, Ann said, “What’s that?” She looked to the ceiling as she spoke. All eyes darted up. A light but tangible clicking could be heard at a regular pace.
“Footsteps,” Mike said. The sound went silent, and then the crackling of plastic could be faintly heard. Exactly where it was coming from couldn’t be placed. It slowly grew louder and was joined by a faint popping.
“Behind you!” Ann shouted at the fat porno patron who was still huddling at the back of the store. The sweating fat man swung around to see a wall full of cardboard boxes behind him. Clearly not knowing where the threat was coming from, he opted to scurry from his position like a mouse that had caught wind of a cat.
“What is it?” he spat out from his plump lips.
“The box,” she said, pointing to the back wall. The image on the cover was a thirty-year-old woman, who looked like she’d had a hard life, pretending to be a young blond schoolgirl with pigtails. The picture was being pushed and distorted from within. The box began to bulge, then split open at the seams. The sound of hissing air welled within it until it hit a fevered pitch.
“What is it?” Beverly shouted.
“It’s Fuck Buddy Fay,” Mike said with no hint of jest.
Chapter 4: Fuck Buddy Fay
“Fuck,” Mike muttered as he raised his gun, but before he could take aim, the box popped open, spilling its contents behind the short aisles. The sound intensified as Mike moved hard to his left into the center of the store, trying to get a clear line of sight. A bobbling head peeked up from behind a rack of flavored condoms. Its plastic form slowly inflated itself into a recognizable human shape. Mike lifted the gun, but the plastic doll ducked back down.
“You motherfucker,” he said as he ran to the end of the aisle behind which the form was hidden. He jumped around, striking his best action pose, pointing the gun with both hands. His body contracted as he locked eyes with the hideous thing. It was indeed a Fuck Buddy Fay, but never before had the sight of three holes for your pleasure struck a man with such terror. The face was a direct print of the one on the box, but it was haphazardly rendered to fit the doll. Its hair was molded into pigtails, and its mouth was a gaping hole designed for the loneliest of cocks. However, within that hole was an unnatural set of gums that housed thin, glass-like teeth that gnashed at the prospect of human flesh.
Mike didn’t know much about it, but he was relatively sure that wasn’t part of the factory design. The doll rushed forward with floppy, squeaky, and spastic movements. Its body was almost too light to move with any real effect. It was only about ten feet from Mike, but it looked as if it was going to be a good forty-five seconds before it could reach him. It smacked wildly into the racks and display cases, nearly being thrown off balance each time.
“What the fuck is going on?” Mike exclaimed, firing the gun into the chest of the demonic incarnation of Fuck Buddy Fay. The hunk of lead ripped into the doll and out the other side, sending the plastic doll sailing down the aisle. It let out a hellish wail as it rapidly deflated.
“Is it dead?” Ann questioned.
Mike said, as he looked at the demonic doll farting out its last puffs of air, “I think so. Someone get something to put this thing in. We’re going to burn it just to be sure,” Mike added. He kept the gun pointed while the fat man snagged a trash can that lay tipped over on the floor next to him and began hustling over to Mike. The fat man sidled up beside Mike and looked at the deflated mess.
“Well, I don’t really want to touch it,” he grumbled.
“Fuck, I can’t blame you, man,” Mike said. “What’s your name?”
“Rick.”
“Nice to meet you, Rick. I wish it was under better circumstances, but we've got to deal with what we've got.” Mike paused for a moment before saying. “Y’all bring us the mop. It should be over in the corner,” he said, looking back to the girls and pointing to the mop sitting to their left-hand side. Ann snatched up the mop and ran it over to them. She handed the mop to the pudgy man as he tried to steel himself from whatever might come next. He tried his best to adjust his sweat-stained shirt and then stepped one foot down the aisle. His face was pale and clammy as he inched forward a bit more. Mike came up beside him with the gun clenched in his hand.
“It’s OK, man. If it moves, I’ll bust a hole right in its noggin,” Mike said. The fat man let out a labored breath as they both crept up onto the twisted pile of plastic. They moved within about four feet from the thing and stopped.
“Hit it with the stick, dude,” Mike said. Then Rick nervously raised the mop over his head and slammed it down. The wooden mop handle smacked the tip of one of the doll’s limp pigtails with a clack, but before the echo could bounce off the wall, the creature leapt back to life. In a flash, it grabbed the mop handle with its deflated tentacle-like arms, and before the fat man could even let out a gasp of horror, it had slithered its way up the handle like an octopus. It reached his hand with an astonishing quickness, and teeth met flesh.
“Get it off,” he screamed. The doll stuck tightly to his hand as if it had been shrink-wrapped. The fat man bellowed as he tried to rip the unholy succubus from his hand. Mike grabbed the dangling legs of the doll and ripped as hard as he could. The doll stretched as Mike yanked at it and, sounding like cork being pulled from a wine bottle, the doll popped off. Mike slammed the doll as hard as he could as Rick hurried away from the threat.
“It was biting me,” he wailed. Mike looked down at the man’s plump hand to see a half-dollar-sized chunk of flesh had been sucked out.
“Girls, get over next to the door,” he said as he ran. Both Ann and Beverly rushed to the door, passing Rick as he wheezed. It took a few moments for Mike and the injured man to reach them. When they did, Mike turned around and monitored the general direction where he had thrown the demonic masturbation aid, but the horrendous doll had vanished.
“Anyone see where that fucking thing went?” Mike bellowed, but no one said a word.
“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath as he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.
“What do we do now?” Beverly said as she hid behind her brother’s shoulder, trying to peek out into the store.
“Well, I’m not going to—” The same sound as before started to creep into their ears.
A popping and crackling, but on a much larger scale, rose up within the store. The entire back wall of the store began to shake. The entire back wall filled with blowup dolls. The packages began bursting like popcorn kernels in a fire, and they spilled their contents to the floor.
“Ohhh, fuck me,” Mike groaned.
“We’ve got to go,” Ann barked as dolls began to inflate themselves. Ten had nearly formed, and there were at least fifty more to go. The dolls started bobbling their way toward the frightened group as fast as their pliable legs could carry them. The dolls’ eyes were flashing like purple strobe lights as they screeched.
“Yep,” Mike said, rushing for the door. Ann hit it first and threw open the lock and rushed into whatever terrors the night held for her. The others quickly followed suit. Cool night air enveloped them, giving a welcome relief from the stench that had accumulated within the store. They all rushed into the parking lot to see that the cars had all been brutally torn apart. Bits of Mike’s small red sedan had been thrown haplessly about like a child’s unloved toys.
“My fucking holy hell,” Mike muttered in disbelief. “My car! My motherfucking car, man,” was all he could repeat.
“What do we do?” Beverly whispered. Before anyone could say a word, a shrill whistle sprang from the roof. They all turned to see Hegel standing on the peak with an old pitchfork in her hand.
Maleficarum: Hunger of the Witch Page 3