The Bookshop From Hell

by David Haynes

  JJ opened the book on his lap. The page was as blank as it had always been. Dan watched JJ blink several times, as if he were trying to bring something into focus, and then he started making strange sounds.

  He couldn’t describe it as talking, not in the sense that the sounds were words. They were unrecognizable to him, unlike any language he had ever heard, unlike any language anyone had ever heard.

  JJ’s gullet moved up and down as if he were trying to swallow something huge. It worked constantly as his voice uttered the strange resonances. They were hard to hear, unnatural, and Dan found himself wincing with each monotone and guttural vibration. It was as unpleasant as touching the book itself.

  He looked at Lori, who raised her eyebrows and hands in incomprehension. What the hell were they hearing? What was JJ reading? He got to his feet, about to slam the book shut but Lori shook her head, mouthing the words one page at him. That’s what he’d promised, no more, no less.

  He remained standing, ready to jump in before JJ turned the page, but there was no pause between finishing the page and starting the next. No break to gather breath, no hesitation in turning the paper. It just happened in one slick movement.

  Both Lori and Dan reached out at the same time. Lori tried to brush JJ’s fingers away from the page while Dan made a grab for the cover in an attempt to close it. He had no idea what JJ was reading or what it meant but it was horrible to listen to, repulsive, almost nauseating.

  JJ kept reading, the throaty rasps coming as fast as ever, maybe even increasing in speed. He didn’t exactly resist the two pairs of hands, but neither did he cede to the touch.

  “JJ?” Dan said. “Enough.”

  But JJ was determined to keep hold of the book, to keep reading.

  “JJ!” Dan shouted, with a growing sense that this was slipping out of his control. “Let go of the book!”

  He took hold of both sides of the cover. Not only was the disquiet growing stronger, but so were the feelings of disgust at the texture of the book.

  He wrenched it free, JJ’s fingers grasping at thin air, and flung it across the room. JJ frowned, blinking rapidly. He opened his mouth and for a second Dan imagined he could still hear the throaty rumble from JJ’s throat. But the boy coughed and then swallowed hard. He licked his lips and grimaced as if he’d just eaten something distasteful.

  He looked up at Dan, opened his mouth again. “I…I…”

  “Are you okay?” Lori asked.

  He shook his head and looked at her. “I…I think so,” he said.

  “I’ll fetch you a glass of water,” Lori said, walking to the kitchen.

  “I could see it,” JJ said, scratching the back of his neck. “I could see everything, I could hear it, hear the words, see the words, not just the letters, the words themselves, the meaning behind them. It was as if I was…”

  He paused, searching for the right explanations, if there were any. “I was living it. It was my story.” He looked past Dan to where the book had fallen.

  Dan didn’t like how that sounded, or felt.

  “How much did I read? How long?” JJ asked.

  “A page and a half. We couldn’t get the book off you.”

  Lori walked in with the glass. She handed it to JJ. “Couldn’t have been more than sixty seconds,” she added.

  JJ nodded. He took the glass but his eyes were trained on the book. “Imagine being in the most vivid movie ever, like…like…VR but real. Like you’re reading but the words are exploding in your mind like crazy fireworks, like…like…no, it isn’t like anything.” He took a drink. “I can still feel them in there, buzzing, fizzing and popping, creating pictures. I can see them!”

  Dan and Lori exchanged looks. JJ was coming out of a trip, a hallucinogenic journey, but there were no drugs involved, just a book. It was crazy but how could it be refuted?

  “What did you read, JJ? What was the story?” Dan asked.

  JJ laughed. “Didn’t you hear me? I was reading it. I know it was in English too. I don’t know where Alex got…”

  He stopped, looked at them both in turn.

  “It wasn’t English?”

  “No,” Dan replied. “I don’t know what the hell it was.”

  “Shit,” JJ said. “It sounded English when I was reading.” He looked over at the book again. The initial awestruck reaction he’d had was fading. Now there was something closer to fear in his eyes.

  “Just like Alex. It’s going to happen to me too.”

  “Hey,” Dan said, sitting beside him. “That’s not going to happen. You didn’t read much more than a page and Alex…well, Alex read the whole lot.”

  JJ licked his lips. “All I want to do is go over there and grab that book, you know that, right? I just want to pick it up and read it. I want it more than anything else right now. It’s all I can think about and it scares me. I’m hooked. It’s like drugs.”

  Lori knelt down in front of him. “We won’t let you read anymore. Okay?” She turned to Dan. “We should probably burn it.”

  “No!” JJ shouted. “You can’t do that!”

  Dan exhaled loudly. “I don’t know. I mean, we don’t understand what’s happening here. We don’t know how or why that book works the way it does, why it’s so specific. We need to let someone look at it, someone who might understand it better than we do.”

  “Who?” Lori asked. “Who the hell will believe this? This isn’t one of those books you read…this…this is just crazy!”

  “Castavet,” JJ said. “He’s the key.”

  “I’m going to pay the guy another visit.” Dan said. “This time he won’t put me off. Not this time.”

  “What? Now? No way he’ll be open,” said Lori.

  Dan stood up. “I don’t give a shit. I’ll kick the goddamn door in if I have to.” He walked to the book and picked it up. The feeling of distaste was still strong. “When I get back, we’ll decide what we’re going to do with it.”

  “I’m coming,” JJ said, standing up.

  “No way,” Lori and Dan said in unison.

  “I have to. I need to take the book back to him, I need to. It’s the only way. And if you don’t take me with you, I’ll walk there on my own.” He nodded at the book. “You can keep hold of that. Keep it safe.”

  Dan walked into his room and got dressed. He had a terrible feeling that he was walking into a lair of some kind. A lair that a little old man lived in. He shouldn’t feel afraid, but he’d read enough scary books to know appearances were usually deceptive.

  46

  Brad Simmons was snoring in the passenger seat. He’d eaten his way through two family-sized bags of chips and drunk enough beer to sink a ship. Now he was out of it, grunting like a pig and smelling not much better than one either.

  Paul was glad the man was sleeping. He wouldn’t have to listen to his constant whining and bitching. He didn’t know how much more he could take.

  He watched Dan Law’s house. He’d seen the kid banging on the door and all the lights coming on inside. Quite what the kid was doing there was beyond him. It occurred to him that the teacher might be a pedo too. And if that was the case then he had every right to go in there and bust him. But then Lori was there too and she wasn’t into anything like that. No sir, she was just into destruction of property. A pretty big offence in his mind.

  If only he had the end of the story with him. He was lost without it. Brad kept on asking what they were going to do, how they were going to play it. Truth be told, he didn’t know, not now the book was damaged. Everything that happened up to now had been clear, easy to follow. Making up his own story wasn’t as easy as he’d thought. He was back to the old indecisive, aimless Paul he’d been for the last few years.

  “Wake up!” he shouted at Brad, punching him in the arm. He didn’t really want the man awake but he was frustrated and angry, and Brad was the closest target.

  “Huh? What? I wasn’t asleep.”

  Paul sighed. “So, you seen anyone coming or going from the h
ouse?”

  Brad shuffled in his seat. “No. Not a soul.”

  “You missed that kid, then?”

  “Huh? What kid?”

  Paul shook his head. “Forget it.”

  Brad was silent for a few seconds. His brain, and his mouth, needed to warm up a little. “I need to take a leak.”

  “So, hold it,” Paul snapped.

  “I need to take a dump, too.”

  Paul closed his eyes. “Well, they’re isn’t anywhere to go out here, so you’ll have to…”

  “I can’t,” Brad replied. “I can feel it coming and once it starts I can’t…”

  “Jesus Christ, Brad. Shut up about it, would you?”

  “Well you can either take me home, or I’ll have to do it right here, in your truck.”

  Paul banged his fists on the steering wheel. He felt the fiery anger ignite in his stomach. Brad’s place was over the other side of town. It would take him ten minutes to get over there, another half hour waiting for Brad to take a shit and then another ten back. That was nearly an hour.

  Brad released a long fart. It sounded bad, like there was something waiting behind it. The stench was immediate and stomach-churning.

  Paul banged the steering wheel again, put the truck in drive and pulled away.

  “I’m sorry, man,” Brad said when they arrived at his place. He opened the truck door. “You coming in?”

  “And listen to you on the shitter? No thanks, I’ll wait here.”

  Paul noticed that the lights in Brad’s shanty town trailer were on. That weird kid of his was probably jerking off in there. Another reason to stay out of the way. He watched Brad haul himself inside, while drumming his fingers on the wheel. Why wait? He didn’t need the lazy asshole anyway. Not anymore.

  He turned the car and drove back toward the road. He could handle the teacher on his own. And then he’d turn his attention to Lori. He smiled as he headed back to town.

  *

  Brad opened his door and stepped into the trailer. It seemed like every light was on. He cursed under his breath. He’d told the kid about the electricity bill. Not that he’d paid it in a couple of months, but Ryan didn’t know that. He’d have another talk to him. Maybe he’d have to use the belt again, like he’d done when he was a little boy, or even the baseball bat. He wouldn’t forget that in a hurry.

  He walked quickly to the bathroom, dropping his pants as he walked. He heard Paul’s truck driving away. There was a brief moment of frustration at being left and then he shrugged. All they were doing were sitting outside Dan Law’s house and waiting. Waiting for what? They should just go in there, beat the shit out of him and drag her up to the lake. What was Paul waiting for? An invitation?

  He could hear talking coming from Ryan’s bedroom. He had someone in there with him. He cocked his head. It was a girl’s voice. The kid was more popular with the girls than Brad had ever been. He smiled. He might just have to walk in there and embarrass them both. He might even get to see a bit of her sixteen year old flesh, if he was lucky.

  He finished and pulled his pants up. He could still hear her voice but he couldn’t hear Ryan talking back to her. All women, no matter the age, liked to hear their own voices.

  He walked down the hall. Light crept out from under the door. He smiled and pushed straight in without knocking. He opened his mouth to speak and then stopped. His mouth went instantly dry.

  “Oh, hello Mr. Simmons,” a girl said, walking toward him. He might have recognized her had her face not been covered in blood. “I was hoping you’d be home soon.”

  He tried to speak but he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure this was real.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, lifting one of Ryan’s football trophies above her head. “I need to finish my story.”

  She smiled sweetly at him and swung the trophy like a tennis racquet. The marble base hit him on the temple. He saw a bright flash of light just before his legs gave way.

  *

  He woke up to singing. It was so gentle and sweet that he thought the radio was playing. Then he remembered he didn’t own a radio and he didn’t especially like music either. He opened his eyes.

  “Good morning, Mr. Simmons.”

  It wasn’t morning. It was still dark outside.

  “Who are…” Brad squinted, his vision blurred, trying to calm the pain in his head.

  “Lie still,” she said. Her face was smeared with blood. Her shirt was open but what color her bra might have been was impossible to tell. It was dark with blood and her skin was painted crimson.

  He tried to sit up, to lift his arms, but he couldn’t. His hands had been bound together with some kind of wire. It cut into his skin when he moved. It was chicken wire, his own supply from the workshop. His legs had been tied together too. It was so tight that he could barely feel his feet. He looked down to check they were still there. They were but his pants weren’t. Someone, this girl, had taken them off and left him with his shorts and socks only.

  Was it a joke? Was Ryan playing some kind of prank? If he was, it wasn’t funny. The baseball bat was going to see a couple of home runs later.

  “Ryan!” he yelled. He was about to call a second time but stopped short. His brain pushed an image to the front of his mind. It was the last thing he’d seen before she hit him with the football trophy. The girl. He remembered her now. Megan Palmer. Ryan’s girlfriend. Gary Palmer’s niece.

  “Ryan won’t be able to answer,” she said. “I cut his cock and balls off.”

  She said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, like picking up a can of soup from the store.

  Brad gasped at the memory. Ryan had been on the bed, naked from the waist down, blood all over the bed, on the wall. The girl crouching above him, holding a knife.

  She leaned over the bed and grabbed something. She held it up, dripping and bloody. It looked like a lump of fatty steak. A cheap cut. She smiled at Brad and then dropped the remains of his son’s cock and balls on the floor next to his head. It made a dull, wet thud as it hit the floor.

  “I’ve got this really cool book,” she said. “It’s my story. Ryan had one too but I don’t think he read the ending. I was always a faster reader than him and I got to the end a week ago. I knew what he was doing. My book told me what I had to do. After what he did to me at my uncle’s cabin, and what he did to Samantha, Melody and Nicole, it was pretty obvious his cock had to go.”

  She laughed. “Boy, was there a lot of blood!” She reached onto the bed again, grabbing a long-bladed knife. Globules of congealed blood dripped slowly from the tip.

  “As the father of Ryan Simmons, leader of the Simmons family, your penis will have to be removed too. A poisoned bloodline like yours cannot be allowed to continue. I am the avenger of all the girls you and your son have assaulted, raped and humiliated over the years.”

  “I haven’t done anything!” Brad screamed. “I never did anything to…”

  She sat on him, straddling his legs, the knife just an inch above his groin.

  “Oh, but you have, Mr. Simmons. My book told me everything about you. It told me everything!”

  Brad Simmons screamed, bucked his hips and tried to move his bulk out of the way, but Megan Palmer was determined. Her story said she had to be determined. She had to avenge.

  47

  Paul Weaver made it back just in time to watch the teacher’s Focus drive up the street, away from his house. It was difficult to see clearly; the streetlights threw down some strangely shaped shadows at two in the morning, but the passenger seat looked like it might have someone sitting in it. Maybe the kid? Probably taking him back home. That was perfect. Lori would be home alone and when Law got back, he’d already be inside. He wouldn’t be expecting that. Paul laughed at the thought of Law’s stupid expression when he saw what was happening inside his own home. It would be like being back at school.

  He patted his pocket, felt the remains of his book. He needed to show her what she’d done. See if she cou
ld remember how it ended. He might have to encourage her a little but that was okay. Then he would kill her, make up some offence that required capital punishment.

  He checked his gun and the yellow Taser strapped to his leg then climbed out of the car. He looked up and down the street, glancing at the darkened windows to see if anyone was watching, and then marched quickly toward the house.

  The lights were still on. It was the only house on the block that was lit up. He rested his hand on the door handle, testing the resistance, and then eased it down. The door opened inward without a creak. He stepped over the threshold, pulling the door behind him.

  The lounge was empty, nothing special, but it smelled good. It smelled of Lori’s perfume. He liked that scent.

  “What’s the matter? You forgot something?” Lori’s voice. “I’m glad you came back, I don’t think you should…”

  She stood in the entrance to the lounge, her eyes wide with shock.

  “Hey, honey,” Paul said, stomping over to her. She tried to turn and run but he was on her before she had the chance to move. He grabbed her around the body, turning her around so her back was against him. He covered her mouth with his hand and put his mouth close to her ear.

  “Now, I’m not feeling too good anymore, Lori, not since you destroyed something of mine, something really important. You remember my little book, don’t you? Well, it’s missing a page or two now and I can’t read the ending. You’re going to sit down, nice and quiet and tell me what it said.” He nibbled her ear. “Then I’m going to have a little fun with you and teacher boy. You got that?”

  He felt her struggling beneath his hands but he was too strong for her. He always had been.

  *

  Dan drove straight to the bookstore. The town was lifeless, as it should be, but the silence of the night didn’t mean a thing anymore. If anything, it was just a precursor to another hideous event. A calm before the inevitable storm.

  The store was in darkness too, as it always seemed to be, but Dan wasn’t put off.