Individually Wrapped Horrors

by Eric Joel Kleinschmidt, Sr.

  ****

  6

  “What Hells May Come”

  “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” came a raspy voice from the darkness. The scuffling of slowly approaching footfalls scraping against concrete flooring. The woman’s bruised and puffy eyes began to slit open as she took in the utter and complete blackness of the room. Was it a room? Where in God’s name was she? What had happened? Groggily she looked around, trying hard to focus her eyes to let them adjust to the pitch black she now found herself in. The voice came again, but from another area of the room—more to the left, she judged. “I said wake the fuck up, bitch!” Not so raspy now. Now just angry and menacing and not to be trifled with.

  She tried to say “I’m awake, asshole!”, but all that came out was a muffled sound. Her jaw was intensely sore and also swollen, but what produced the muffled quality to her voice was the long strip of duct tape across her mouth. Jesus, everything hurt and nothing made any sense. What the fuck was going on? Her head came up to the eyes front position, but then lazily lolled to the right. She was weak, so damn weak. He must’ve beaten her good. He chuckled, low and eerily. “I know you can’t speak right now; trust me when I say that that’s for the better. I’ll do all the speaking for both of us right now, OK?” She sat motionlessly. “OK?” His voice louder, angrier. She sighed weakly and nodded, never taking her eyes off of the dark blankness of the room ahead of her. “Good,” he said, more patiently. “Then we understand one another.” The sound of the footsteps again and his voice began to travel around the room. “You are one Jamie Roberts. You live at 15 Crestview Court in Columbia, Missouri. You, your husband, your two children and your eight goldfish. By the way, that’s enough fish for now, wouldn’t you say? That’s way too many fish for one tank, got it?” She sighed again and nodded listlessly. “Good. Well, to the point. The good news is that your husband and your two children and your gaggle of goldfish are all just fine and dandy. Well…they’re fine anyway. Dandy? Probably not so much. I did leave a bit of your blood getting you out of there, so I’m sure there are plenty of concerns right now. I saw a few lit-up pigs heading that way too as we were quietly making our get away. Nothing to concern yourself over, though. We are long gone and nowhere near the place now. Pretty far away from anything or anybody out here, so I may just take the duct tape off pretty soon. No one to hear you should you get the temptation to exclaim to the world that you’re a victim.” He paused. “The only reason why I haven’t so far is because I want you to hear me out. Gagging a bitch is the only way to get her to listen. Ever!” She made the muffled grunting sound that was all the duct tape would allow her to produce and then fell silent again.

  “Yeah, I know,” the invisible figure continued. “It sucks. Man, it really sucks. Here you are, nice lady, handsome and athletic husband, two beautiful children, healthy goldfish, great house, really great job. Girl, you got it all, don’t ya?” He chuckled again. “This must really chap your ass, having a no-good shit like me abduct you out of all of that heaven and bring you here to this place I call hell. I have been looking for you for a long time now, Jamie. I mean, years have gone by that I have really been looking for you. I thought I had found you a few times, but I hadn’t done enough research on the matter. Looked-before-I-leaped type of thing. I got the others where I could talk to them…one on one…and they turned out to not be you. Of course, they had seen me by then and so I couldn’t just let them go. I had to cover my ass, you know? You understand, I’m sure you’ve covered your ass plenty in your life. Anyway,” he continued, restlessly shifting around the darkness, “I did make a few mistakes and it sort of labeled me as a serial killer of sorts. I didn’t want that, see? I just wanted you. I just wanted us to have this nice little talk that we are having now, kinda walk down memory lane together. What do you say?” Again, the muffled speech sounds and the metal legs scraping the concrete as she wiggled in the chair.

  “All right, now. Here’s the deal, missy. I’m going to undo the gag, but you need to shut the fuck and listen and only respond when prompted to, you got that?” He waited and reluctantly, she nodded. The phantom of her captor swam through the darkness toward her, from vague shadow to ebony man-shape. His head was very oddly deformed. That was one of very few details she made out in the absence of light. The other was that he was a big guy. Six feet or above at least. Big muscles. Not much else. A ghostly form came out of the darkness and became the silhouette of a hand and fingers reaching toward her. She flinched back slightly, as the bonds wouldn’t allow for more, and the fingers grabbed an edge of the tape and pulled hard. The strip of duct tape came off with a rip of stinging pain that went all the way across her face. She took in a few gasping breaths and licked at her parched lips. The hand disappeared for a moment, then returned with a small plastic cup of liquid and a straw protruding out from the top. It found her cracked and puffy lips and she sucked greedily at the unknown drink. It turned out to be refreshing, ice cold water. She tried to drink more, but he pulled it back.

  “You are dehydrated. Drink too much too fast and it’ll all be out on the floor. Slow, small sips, that’s the ticket.” She tried again, taking the suggested smaller sips. She was beginning to feel a bit better. She stopped and licked again at her parched lips. “Let me get that,” he whispered. The cup disappeared into the gloom and a small cylindrical object approached her. It was a tube of lip balm, pressing now gently against her lips and applying to all areas that needed it. It was a small slice of heaven in this madman’s hellish paradise. Then, the lip balm disappeared and his voice came again. “You have been such a good girl, you may ask one question. Any more than that and the tape goes back on, understood?” She nodded at the deformed face of shadow and thought for a moment.

  “Who are you?” she nearly croaked. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Who are you?”

  “I’ll give you a re-do on the question as that particular question is of no consequence at the moment. I can assure you, all will be revealed in time. Please feel free to try again.” His voice sounded much friendlier now, but falsely so.

  “Why am I here?” she managed. A sliding, grating sound came across the concrete floor. Another metal chair being slid over closer to her. It stopped and the figure sat down.

  “Now that, my dear, is an excellent question. You are here because you have wronged somebody in your past. Somebody who you probably don’t even remember. That certain somebody has sent me to have a talk with you. The sins that we commit in life and get away with follow us around like a bad scent. They wait for the appropriate time and then demand we be held accountable for what we have done. We all have such sins in our pasts, Jamie. You, your wonderful husband, even me. Especially me. The lengths I have gone through, as I mentioned, to find you, for instance. There will come a time and soon where the check will come and I won’t have the means to pay the bill. It waits for us all. And what happens when you don’t have the means to pay the bill? Then someone like me comes along to settle the debt. Your debt has come.” With this, he paused and said, “You know what, I’m not big on monologues. You may jump into this conversation anytime you wish as long as you keep a civil tongue and don’t just start screaming at me, K?” She nodded, still weak.

  “What is my debt that I have to pay? What sin have I committed that is worth all of this?” She panted heavily, coughing up a small amount of blood and spitting it to one side. Her insides hurt, he must have punched her in the ribs a few times as well.

  The dark man hesitated, then continued. “There was a boy in your high school, many years ago now. A very peculiar boy. A boy with overly bright red hair. Do you recall this young man?”

  She looked down at the floor, seeing nothing, and thought hard. Up from the hazy valley of her long-forgotten memories came the echoing faint chant of: “Ginger! Ginger! Ginger!” Something in her mind triggered the memory. The Halstead kid? Or was it Halstein? Holstein? No, that’s a type of cow, isn’t it? Come on, Jamie, think!”I thought I had it for a minute there
, but it’s just…I can’t quite remember,” she said.

  “Well, OK, that’s fair. It was forever ago. Think about a lonely boy who everyone said wasn’t right in the head. Think about a lonely boy that never had any friends. Think about a pretty young cheerleader girl with a seemingly gentle heart making his acquaintance. Think about them getting to know each other a little bit and that young man feeling safe around her, safer than with anyone else he had ever known before. Think about the girl suggesting that they go see a movie across town where no one knew who they were so the young man could feel at ease out in public. Think about all of his public shaming at that school and all the times the bigger kids beat him up in the school yard or between classes or in the locker room. Think about him taking her up on the proposed date across town.” In the dark, Jamie’s eyes widened. The sin had come home to her. “Think about the group of seniors waiting in the alley beside that theater. Think about how much trust and affection was betrayed and destroyed that day as blow by blow, they took that poor young man apart. Think about the three weeks that young man spent in intensive care being put back together and monitored before being moved to the recovery floor for another exhilarating two months of physical therapy.” She began shaking her head in fear as the figure rose up from his chair and flung the metal chair against a nearby wall. “Think about what a shady bitch this young cheerleader must’ve been to set this whole elaborate plan up with her fucking friends. Think about it, you cunt! Think about how long it takes to recover mentally from that type of a mind-fuck!” He was inches from her face now, screaming. She noticed in the terror of the moment that his face was not deformed, there was something covering it. The man stopped yelling and walked away from her. A moment later there was a small snicking sound as the lights in the room came on. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the newfound illumination. As the haze of temporary light blindness faded, her vision returned to the sight of a man standing to her right, fully clothed in black, the top of his head obscured by the night vision helmet he wore.

  “What the fuck?” she began, but trailed off.

  “Bitches like you never really think at all, do you? At least, not about anything but yourselves. Never about the consequences of your actions.” His hands came up to the sides of the helmet and his fingers released the catch holding the strap. He slowly slid the helmet off and let it clank to the floor. The unmistakable mop of bright hair almost let a blast of laughter escape in her hysteria. He had severe scarification along the right side of his face and neck, but other than that she recognized the adult version of the boy from school without mistake. An intense chill drove itself through her body as she knew that he knew he had found the correct Jamie this time. A lot of growing up had occurred to her since high school, as with them all—her and her friends—but no, she had given no further thought to the incident or the repercussions of the event. The “sin” as he called it. Now, as a twenty-four-year-old Mom of two, she did. She thought about nothing else.

  “Christian?” she began.

  “Halstrom,” he concluded. Their eyes met, his burning with rage, her glistening from tears now beginning to streak down her face.

  “Christian, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” He cut her off.

  “Bullshit! You were right there on the sidelines, cheering them on. You fucking little liar!” The survival instinct was kicking in stronger than ever now and she was shaking her head violently.

  “No, I got pushed to the back of the group when they attacked you. No, it wasn’t me. I’ve got a husband and children. Please don’t hurt me.” She was openly sobbing now. He grew silent and walked across the room. This old storage room, or was it an assembly room of some type? Whatever or wherever it was, she had no escape. No cavalry was coming for her. It was up to her. He grabbed the metal chair he had flung and stood it upright in front of her. He sat down, face to face with her.

  “So, I am supposed to believe that you had no real part in that shit show, is that what you’re telling me now?” She was nodding fiercely.

  “I really did care about you and I wanted to get to know you better. I thought across the city from anyone we knew would be safe. I don’t know how they tracked us down, but I didn’t do it.” He took this in as his frown increased.

  “Then where were you when I was in the hospital all those months? Why didn’t you come to see me? What kept you away?” He sat back in his chair waiting.

  “I—I—I wasn’t allowed to come see you, nobody was. They didn’t know who had done this to you and they thought you didn’t have any friends so no one was allowed in.” She was panting again and her tangled, blood-streaked blonde hair kept falling into her eyes. He leaned forward and with a gentle hand, brushed the locks of hair behind her ear.

  “OK, let’s just take a minute here and breathe.” Saying so, he did so. Deep breath in, let it all out. He continued. “Do you remember what you were wearing that night? Do you have any recollection of that at all?” She looked confused and struggled slightly at the duct tape holding her in place. “Come on, Jamie, think. What were you wearing?” She looked down at her bare feet. Spots of dirt on her otherwise perfect and quite pretty feet. The fading nail polish from four days ago that she meant to touch up that night caught her eye. The pale blue, that sky blue color that was always her favorite, was the same color as the dress she wore that night. She had never worn it again after that night. It had to be thrown out because she had gotten a small amount of blood on the shoulder when…when…that part would come back.

  “Sky blue. The dress I wore that night had been sky blue. I had to throw it out though. Somebody got blood on it that night. I think it might have been yours, but I can’t remember.” He smiled and his tongue darted out across his now fairly dry lips.

  “Well, let me fill in the details, princess.” He stood up. “When they were done, the big jock douchebag that gave me most of the scars I now wear told you that you needed to wait for the cops there with me so it looked random. You cradled my badly bludgeoned head against your shoulder. That was just before I began my short bursts of blacking out before blacking out entirely when they arrived.” He reached into an inner pocket in the lining of his black jacket. He pulled out something flat. “I’ve learned from my mistakes. This time, for all the innocent girls—or so-called innocent girls—that came before you, I did my research well.” He produced the flat object into her view. It was a picture. A young couple at a dance. The well-dressed young man was the big jock douche bag that had given him most of the scars. The young woman—now in a sky-blue dress with a slightly faded stain on the shoulder and a strategically placed pinned-on corsage covering the stain—the young woman, of course, was Jamie. The smile on her face went from ear to ear and the two were holding each other in what can only be described as a lovers’ embrace. The other guys that attended the beating that night were scattered around in the background, each with a miscellaneous date on their arms. She looked hard and long at the picture, trying to prolong the inevitable. Then her gaze shifted up to his. Tears were standing out with stark clarity now in his eyes and trailing down his flush cheeks. The truth was in every second of that look, those tears, her tears, her eyes. Her guilty, shameful eyes. He dropped the picture on her lap.

  “That photo was taken at the dance at school…the same night.” He had his back turned to her, now quickly spun around and put his face in hers. “That same fucking night, you cunt! So, please, tell me again how it all went down.” He was panting now. His hot, acrid breath in her face. He waited.

  “You want to know?” she said cautiously. He smiled down at her.

  “Bitch…I am all fucking ears,” he said.

  “You were this kid I passed in the hallways from time to time. I never really gave you much thought. Honestly, I haven’t given any of this much thought since it happened. I didn’t know you, didn’t really want to know you. You were like everywhere no one wanted you to be. I remember you were kind of creepy, too. You used to take extra-long water breaks at
the fountain just outside the girls’ bathroom, do you remember that?” He stood up. He had that ever-popular “who, me?” look on his face now. He took a few steps back. She went on. “Yeah, you used to do your homework under the steps going up to the second floor of the school only I don’t think you were ever doing anything under there except looking up girls’ skirts when they wore one. That’s why no one wanted to be your friend. You were a pervert and a creep.”

  “You fucking lie,” he cut in quietly.

  “Do I?” she countered. “Do I really? How many detentions did you receive for your behavior toward girls at that school? How many reprimands for lewd and inappropriate comments to or about the girls at that school? Huh? You think your only so-called sin in this life is the murder of those other women? Remember the mice?” The memory had just popped into her head and just as quickly escaped from her lips.