by West, Sam
Instinctively, Andy edged closer to Gavin and the girl he was about to rape. Sobbing softly, Tracy righted herself and straightened out her clothes.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Gavin said, turning heel to run.
Andy shook his head. It was like he had fallen under a spell and Gavin speaking had jolted him back to his senses.
But no one got the chance to run anywhere. In total horror, Andy watched the little man. The bastard was actually glowing.
No man, that ain’t possible…
Except it was possible because it was happening, right before his disbelieving eyes. Eric Flu appeared to be lit-up, as if from within. An orange light emitted from his parted lips as if his head was a hollowed, Halloween-pumpkin with a candle placed in the scooped-out insides. Even his nostrils glowed orange and when he opened his eyes, all three of them screamed.
Bright, red orbs stared back at them and the beam of orange light coming from his mouth widened with the curvature of his smile. Then it wasn’t orange light anymore, but fire. Fire that was spewing forth from his mouth in a straight red-line, hitting the fleeing Gavin square in the back.
Gavin went down with a high-pitched wail, landing flat on his front like a felled tree.
Tracy started screaming and didn’t stop. Her eyes bugged from her head and Andy’s mind swam with the insanity of the situation. Eric had stopped breathing fire and smoke billowed up from Gavin. With Tracy’s screams ringing in his ears he stumbled backwards, his knees wobbly and his legs doing a crap job of supporting his weight. His backside hit one of the carousel horses and he clung to the pole that extended out of its saddle.
“On your feet, Gavin King.”
Eric’s voice sounded different now. Louder. Deeper. Crackling, somehow, like he was gargling though flames and shards of glass.
Oh dear God, this can’t be happening.
Gavin got to his feet and even in the dark, Andy could see that his face was contorted in terror.
“Get off me,” he screamed, although his cries of protest were barely audible over Tracy’s incessant screaming.
Gavin looked weird when he got to his feet, like he was doing so against his will. Like invisible hands were dragging him upright. The fire on his back was completely out, but tendrils of smoke still curled upwards. A smell of cooked meat hit Andy’s nostrils.
Bacon, he thought, fighting the urge to double over and throw up.
More flames shot out of Eric’s eyes and seared Gavin’s face. The man’s screams pierced his ears, high-pitched and blood-curdling. Andy watched in mute horror, teetering on the brink of madness as everything he thought he knew and understood about the world he lived in crumbled to dust.
Gavin’s entire head was on fire. Nothing else, just his head. Beyond the flames Andy could clearly see the contorted grimace of his friend’s twisted, open mouth. His head was on fire, but his face wasn’t burning. The sight defied logic; it defied every law of nature.
There is nothing natural about this…
When the flames ceased to shoot from Eric’s eyes, he turned that red gaze onto Andy.
Now it’s my turn, he’s going to incinerate me…
Wet heat soaked his crotch and inner thighs and he was only dimly aware that his bladder, in the grip of fear, had let go.
“His skin won’t burn. It will never burn. He will feel pain though, oh yes he will experience pain. It takes a human mere seconds to burn to death, the agony of which is unspeakable. Imagine if that agony lasted for all eternity.”
Gavin’s entire body burst into flames and he twisted and writhed, his clothes instantly consumed by fire and disintegrating on his body. His muscled physique was clearly visible beneath the licking flames, his body convulsing and his muscles flexing, dancing the dance of death.
A dance that will never end. Oh Jesus Christ…
“No Jesus,” Eric said. “Not here, not tonight.”
Tracy, apparently, had seen enough. Just as a crack in the ground opened up silently beneath the human fireball that had once been Gavin and more flames appeared in the split in the earth, so Tracy fled. Andy wanted to join the fleeing woman, but he could not tear his gaze away from Gavin. Vertical flames flared upwards in a perfectly straight line from the narrow fissure; a fissure that Gavin appeared to be suspended over. A man made of fire suspended over a lake of fire.
He’s dangling over hell...
It was impossible, yet he knew in his heart it was the truth.
Then just like that, he was sucked down. Instantly the fissure closed over and Gavin was gone. It was like both had never been, not even a wisp of smoke remained.
“What have you done?” Andy cried, stumbling to the empty, cold spot where just, mere seconds ago, his best-friend had been aflame.
“Dear Gavin got what was coming to him. He will burn for all eternity. And so will you. After I have some fun. Go and get the girl. Ravage her.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Andy said, but already, entirely against his own will, he was running after Tracy. “What the fuck have you done to me?”
He was gaining on her, but he didn’t want to be.
Eric Flu’s laugher rung in his ears, like he was right behind him. Like he was inside his head. But when he glanced over his shoulder, Eric was some way back from him. He faced forward once more, scared of tripping. His arms pumped hard in time to his striding, powerful legs. Her speed was no match for his. With her short legs and high heels it took less than ten seconds to close the gap between them. Andy tumbled on top of her and easily tackled her to the ground so that she was on her back, the blood pumping in his ears and his body shot with adrenalin.
She screamed and fought, clawing uselessly at his face. Something wet and hot ran down his face.
My blood.
He didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except for stripping naked the struggling girl. In some distant way, he knew what he was doing was wrong but he couldn’t seem to stop. His breath was ragged and desperate to his own ears, the roar of his own blood drowning out all rational thought. All he cared about was seeing her body. Touching her. Fucking her. Hurting her.
Even with all her clothes ripped off her body, she continued to struggle. That made him smile. She was a fighter and that was a good thing. Those perky, cone-shaped tits jolted and shimmied beneath him with her struggles, taunting him with their juiciness. A sudden, crystal-clear image of biting off one of those hard, little nipples sprung into his mind and his erection strained at the seam of his jeans.
But the screaming was giving him a headache so he punched her in the jaw. It didn’t have the desired effect; the bitch continued to scream like a scalded cat. So he punched her in the mouth three times, hard enough to knock out her front teeth and get his face sprayed with her blood. That sort of worked. Her screams turned to whimpers and he stuffed her knickers into her gaping, bloody mouth.
Much better.
Some of the fight had gone out of her, but not enough for him to do what he wanted to do. Instinctively, he got to his feet and lifted up his booted foot, brining it crunching down on her elbow. He felt the snap of her bones reverberate pleasingly up his leg. She kind of lay there stunned, her eyes bulging over her knicker-stuffed mouth.
Better still.
He fell back to his knees, kicking her thighs apart so he was kneeling between them. Now she made a low, keening sound, like a wounded dog. It didn’t matter, he could live with that. He stared down at her exposed pussy, wishing he could flick on a light-switch so he could see her properly. He licked his lips, staring at the shadowy cleft, lightly running a finger over the neat tuft of dark hair above the shapely folds that comprised her cunt.
Light to see her by wasn’t the only thing he wished for. He also wished for a knife. Never mind, he would just have to get by without one.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he said, balling his hand into a fist.
A moment of doubt washed over him.
Had he? Ha
d he really wished such a thing?
The thought didn’t hang around for long. He pressed his fist against her anus, her legs prised apart as far as they would go.
With all his might he pushed his fist against her arsehole. He grunted in frustration when all that accomplished was to propel Tracy’s body along the ground.
Getting to his feet, he grabbed her ankles.
“Shut the fuck up,” he said to her wails of protests, panting with the effort of dragging her along the ground.
When his back connected with a small, little building that was probably going to be some ticket hut or something, he dropped her legs. Scooping her up under her armpits he swivelled her round so that the top of her head came to rest against the wall of the building. Once again, he kneeled down between her thighs and spat on his tightly clenched fist for the second attempt at fisting her arse. He smiled through gritted teeth, beads of perspiration stinging his eyes. Or perhaps blood. Whatever. Who cared? Her head snapped sideways on her shoulders, going some way to stop her incessant whining.
At last. Success.
The snugness of her arsehole smothered his knuckles in the tightest caress, hot and wet and gut-wrenchingly inviting.
Yes! I’ve split her anus, just a little more…
His fist disappeared in further, now most of his knuckles were inside her. Yes, she was definitely bleeding, her blood ran down his forearm, easing his passage. Her body was slack now. For a horrible moment he thought she was dead. Where, exactly, would be the fun in that? He breathed a sigh of relief when she moaned softly under her breath, those perky little tits rising and falling slightly.
His fist suddenly jerked forwards, like something had split inside her. Blood gushed, oily and black in the moonlight.
Tracy came round. Andy smiled at that irony; if the pain had initially knocked her out, then now it had brought her to. He pushed all the harder and she screamed some more. Her screams sounded different now. Even with the knickers in her mouth, the sound was higher pitched, inhuman. In the gaps when she wasn’t screaming, he was sure he heard a deep, throaty chuckle that seemed to float around his head like the caress of a soft breeze. The sound of it was somehow empowering, egging him on.
“I can’t wait any longer,” he grunted, slipping his fist out of her twitching body and freeing his cock through the zipper of his jeans.
There was little fight in her when he rammed into her ripped anus. If anything, the sensation was a little disappointing; it was a loose fit due to the massive fissures, but at least the blood was good and hot and wet, pumping over his cock.
He leaned down and took one of those jaunty little nipples in his mouth. He didn’t even try to resist the animal urge to clamp his teeth down on the puckered flesh. In his orgasmic frenzy, he shook his head from side to side like a rabid dog. The nipple stretched taut in his mouth and her glorious, bitter tasting blood flooded his mouth, fuelling his desire further. He clamped down with his molars, chewing and grinding and tearing until the little nub of flesh came away in his mouth, making him gasp in pleasure. The delightful little morsel slipped down his throat like the most succulent oyster just as his orgasm hit.
Sloppily he slammed his hips into her and being as caught up in the moment as he was, it barely even registered that he was strangling the life out of her. Only when he slumped on top of her, his body slack and sated did he notice that she wasn’t moving.
The adrenalin, endorphins and testosterone that had flooded his system just seconds before dissipated. The awfulness of what he had done was just too much to contemplate. There was no way he could even begin to understand it.
I didn’t do that. I couldn’t do that.
Without warning, he turned sideways and vomited up the nipple and blood. He shook violently when he wiped away the blood-curdled vomit on the back of his hand, tears of despair and self-loathing streaming from his eyes.
“Oh dear God, what have I done?”
He stared down at her broken body, still crouched on his knees between her legs. And when he could bare the bloody sight of her no longer, he howled up at the moon, a broken man.
But not even that drowned out the laughter of Eric Flu.
6.
“Did you hear that?” Georgina gasped, whilst being dragged along by Jim.
Her sides burned and twisted in pain, and her heart slammed against her ribcage. Besides, despite her abject terror, she worked behind a desk at the job centre and the nearest she got to exercise was an occasional cream-cake run.
“Hear what?” Jim said. “Come on, we have to keep moving, we have to get out of here.”
Whatever she had heard had stopped now.
But by God if it didn’t sound like screaming.
Must have been a seagull.
At night? I don’t think so.
It was Tracy and you know it.
“Please,” she panted, almost falling flat on her face when she dug in her heels like a stubborn mule.
Jim quit tugging on her hand and clumsily skidded to a halt next to her.
“We’ve been running for ages but we still can’t find the door we came in through,” she panted.
“Fuck it, she’s right.” Nigel said, he too stopping and hunching over his knees. “Besides, we passed that ride just a minute ago.”
“What? But that’s impossible,” Jim said.
“No shit, Sherlock,” Nigel replied.
Georgina said nothing and just stood there, stupidly staring at the swinging boat ride. Nigel was right. They had passed that thing a few minutes ago. They were running round in circles like headless chickens.
“We just have to get to the perimeter. Even if we don’t find the same door we came in through, there’ll be others. Or we’ll just climb over the fucking wall.” Jim said.
“We can’t find the perimeter because she won’t let us. We’re trapped,” Nigel said.
“That’s bollocks,” Jim began, “what, you think he really is the devil, or something…”
“Sshh,” Georgina said, putting her finger to her lips, “do you guys hear that?”
“Hear what?”
Jim stopped talking and froze on the spot when he too heard the screaming. The sound might have been faint, but it was definitely no shitehawk.
“Shit,” Nigel cursed. “What the hell is that?”
“I think the question is, who is that,” Georgina said softly.
“Oh God, this is seriously fucked up. “We need to get of here, like now,” Jim said to the both of them.
“I second that. Only problem is, I’m guessing that the more we run, the more we’ll wind up in her clutches. The only way to get away from her is to use our heads.”
“Her? Why do you keep calling him a she?”
“Because it was a woman. Why the fuck else would I call her a she?”
“A woman called Eric?”
“Why not? It could be a unisex name.”
Jim snorted. “Are you fucking blind? How could you mistake that little bloke for a girl?”
“Little?” Georgina asked.
Both guys turned to look at her, and then it twigged. It made no sense, and yet it was the only possible answer.
“He was tall. Really tall and skeletal thin. He was wearing a tatty jumper and jeans,” she said, feeling sick and scared.
“You’re right,” Jim said, realisation dawning in his eyes. “We’re seeing different things. He was wearing a long leather jacket. And a beat up fedora hat.”
“I saw a woman. Not just any old woman, but some really fat bitch that used to, you know, touch me when I was a kid. She lived next door and my mum was kind of friendly with her and she’d babysit me once in a while. I’m telling you, it’s the devil messing with our heads.”
Georgina looked at the weasel faced man thoughtfully. She figured he was half right.
“I don’t know about demons, but I’ll go with drugs.”
“Drugs?” Nigel said. “How could she have drugged us? That’s just stupid.”
“And saying it’s the fucking devil isn’t?” Jim said. “It’s possible. I mean, maybe it was something in the print on the leaflets, an hallucinogenic or something. We all touched them and somehow it got into our bloodstreams and is making us see things.”
Georgina admitted it sounded lame. But she liked that a lot better than the whole, devil thing. Nigel, however, wasn’t sold.
“She’s the devil.”
“Christ Nigel, I didn’t know you were so superstitious.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Jim.”
“This isn’t the time,” Georgina said. “Let’s just go. Nigel’s right, running is stupid, we’re getting disorientated. We need to be calm, look for landmarks and find our way out.”
Her heart skipped a beat when Jim closed the gap between them and slipped his fingers into hers. It felt so right, so natural and for a moment she let herself forget he was getting married in a few days.
Slowly, the three of them pushed onwards. Georgina forced down an entirely inappropriate giggle. The whole thing was so preposterous, so utterly ridiculous. They were just three idiots lost in an empty, seaside amusement-park. They weren’t running from the devil.
Oh yeah? Then how did he read your mind?
When they rounded the corner of the big boat suspended from the massive, steel-frame, all three of them stopped in their tracks. Georgina wanted to cry. Her legs felt shaky and close to buckling.
“But that’s impossible,” Jim said.
Georgina could only stare in horror at the entrance to the ghost-train; at the very place from which they had originally run.
“I told you, it’s the devil. He’s messing with us. All roads lead to damnation,” Nigel said.
Like that even made sense.
“Two down. Four to go.”
Georgina let out a short, sharp scream, invisible fingernails raking her spine. Eric Flu’s voice seemed to float around their heads, coming from everywhere at the same time. The effect was dizzying and she slumped against Jim, drawing comfort from the physical contact. The hug lasted less than a second before she was ripped out his arms with such force she felt the rush of the night against her face. She had no idea what was happening, all shew knew was that one moment she had her face buried in Jim’s chest, the next she was flying through the air and landing on her rump with a sickening thump that reverberated through her body and made her teeth clank painfully together.