by Stephens, L.
“That's the whole story,” Daryl said slowly. “So, what the fuck did you get me into?”
“Where are you?” Jake asked through the phone’s speaker.
“Hiding out in a park…” Daryl whispered. “I think it’s on Gladys Ave.”
“No shit? I think I'm right around the corner,” Jake said enthusiastically. “Stay where you are!”
“Hurry up, man, I’m in a bad way,” Daryl said incoherently. “Cops… Fire, people on fire.”
“Stay alive!” Jake yelled, doing his best Daniel Day Lewis impression. “No matter what occurs! I will find you!”
The phone went silent.
“Asshole,” Daryl said as his eyes rolled back in his head.
† Don’t worry he wasn’t dead. He was still breathing, for the time being anyway. †
CHAPTER 42: MARIANAS TRENCH
Jill had one mission. She needed to get drunk, immediately. She went straight from the restroom to the bar. There was a lot of anger she had to drink away: anger with herself mostly, but the asshole was the focus of her rage right now, and he would be until she sobered up, which wasn’t on the agenda for a long time, maybe never. Even though rage was at the forefront of her mind, a weird sense of elation was running through her as well. It was eating away at the anger. She had to constantly think about how he talked to her and how disrespectful he was, but she kept finding herself putting on a pair of rose-colored glasses. She didn’t know his name. He hadn’t bought her an extravagant dress or given her some spending money. But he had made her cum, and it felt more life changing than any of those stupid trinkets.
“Shot of vodka,” Jill demanded to the bartender.
The bartender turned his head slightly in her direction. Jill knew him of course, and as usual she wasn’t on great terms with him. He had tried to fuck her many times over the years, and she had done her usual Jill thing of leading him on, making him think he was going to get some and then at the last minute blue-balling the fuck out of him.
To Jill, scams were the most personal human interaction anyone could have besides fucking. The trust that you developed and then took away was so intimate that it could be categorized up there with rape and murder. Anytime Jill ran a scam with a guy, he always felt the need to try and fuck her. Scams made dudes horny, and she knew it. It was like they were in so deep together that the next move was obviously to fuck and, in some cases, she’d give in. But she only did that so that when she scammed him he never saw it coming. The bartender was not one of those cases. She knew she’d be back eventually and that if she fucked him, the next scam would come with its own set of problems.
The bartender lined up a shot of vodka and put it in front of her.
“I fucking knew your name wasn’t Danni,” he whispered.
Jill rolled her eyes at him and threw the shot down the back of her throat. She couldn’t believe how out of practice she was. Lurch must have hit her harder than she thought. It was such a rookie move to leave on her necklace when she was running a scam.
“Another,” Jill said, ignoring the bartender’s taunt.
He did as instructed and refilled her shot glass.
“What you doing later?” he asked as he wiped down the bar. “You wanna hit an after-hours with me?”
Jill looked up from the shot glass to the bartender and studied his face. She couldn’t work out what was going on—hadn’t he seen her go into the employee’s bathroom with the asshole? Maybe guys just didn’t give a fuck, she thought. Even the thought of sloppy seconds didn’t stop them from wanting to fuck the prom queen. Jill did the shot and slammed the glass back on the bar.
“Just pour me another one, loser,” she spat. “And while you’re doing that one, pour me up another couple as well, so you don’t have to bother me all night.”
The bartender shook his head as he put two more shot glasses next to hers.
“Whatever your name is,” he said as he poured vodka into the three glasses. “You’re a real fucking cunt, aren’t you?”
“You fucking know it,” she said before she slammed back one of the shots.
Jill watched as the bartender walked away. She was at a low point in her life, but there was no way she was ever going to fuck some loser drink jockey, well not unless he was hot anyway.
She sat at the bar for a while, watching the restroom door out the corner of her eye. He hadn’t left yet. She had thoughts of going back in and giving him a piece of her mind, which added more fuel to the rage fire that was making her dig her nails into the palms of her hands. It was a cute idea, but she knew what would happen. She would see him, and she would fall into his web again. She would get down on her knees and give him the best blow job he had ever gotten, just to show him what he was missing. Jill fought back tears, real tears, as she contemplated the situation she was in now. In a few hours, she had gone from an opulent life, lazing by the pool, to sitting at a shitty bar, drinking shots, pissed at the guy who had fucked her in a dank restroom and whose cum was now dribbling out of her pussy. She gave one final side eye glance at the restroom before she stood up, holding onto the bar for safety. Jill knew she had to get out of there before she did something totally out of character and showed some real emotion. She pounded the remaining shots and made a beeline for the door. She swung past the employee’s restroom, hoping beyond hope that the asshole would emerge from his den and bump into her again, but he didn’t.
“Put it on his tab!” Jill slurred as she walked out the door.
She didn’t wait for a reply from the bartender or to see if he had even heard her. She just walked out and hoped no one chased after her. #StandardJill
Jill got her phone out and pulled the Uber app up, but every time she tried to order a new ride the billing portal opened.
“That, fucking, gardener!” she muttered to herself. “I let him suck on my breasts and eat me out in the back of that car, and he cuts me off my fucking Uber!?”
She was regretting not being nice to the bartender. He probably would have given her his actual credit card to use, but she did have some cash now, and she was able to do the unthinkable and catch a taxi. Her losing streak was getting out of hand, so she decided to try and finish the night with an actual W and hit another bar before last call. She didn’t get far before she realized how drunk she was and had to initiate autopilot, limiting her mental energy output before she ended up passed out on the street, or worse in some ugly guy’s basement. Her pride wouldn’t let her go back to the bar in case the asshole was still there. There was no rage anymore, only lust, and she just couldn’t handle rejection right now.
After walking slash stumbling for ten minutes, no bar or taxi or human came within shouting distance of her. She was lost and alone. Jill saw a small park in front of her and for some drunken, horror-movie-inspired reason, she decided that she could hold up there for a while and get sober and make a more rational decision. She hoped, with any luck, the usual park rapists that she imagined lived in the area would be away, possibly raping someone else, but just in case she grabbed the small taser that inhabited her purse. It had never been used, but it was standard equipment for Jill when she was out scamming and slamming, though she assumed it would be used on a jealous skank way before it got used on a dude. She flicked it on and off, and the taser made its familiar zap, zap. Thoughts of tasering herself flashed through her mind. It would be the perfect way to end the day.
The playground smelled of piss, which was to be expected. It was your standard fort construction with monkey bars and a twisting covered slide. Considering the state of the park, the playground wasn’t in bad shape. Jill assumed it was probably built via crowdfunding or some rich guy trying to give something back to the community other than chlamydia. She practically dove into the covered slide and curled into a ball. There was enough room at the bottom that she could safely lie down out of view of the street.
The light from her phone lit up the inside of the slide, and she scrolled through the direct messages on her In
stagram account. There was a litany of men’s names that would drop whatever and whoever they were doing to come and pick her up, but she didn’t want them. She wanted the asshole, the asshole who had treated her worse than any guy had before. The negativity was weighing her down, and there was only one thing to do. She needed something positive to wake up to, because waking up with a hangover in a covered slide, in a playground, in a seedy park, in the middle of downtown was going to be rough. Jill pulled up Instagram’s new post function, then went to her photo library and accessed the folder called “Latergram”. It was the only picture folder she had downloaded from her iCloud using Starbrite’s shitty WIFI. She guessed she had known her night was going to really need this.
Latergram was a collection of photos she kept to use at a later date to make it look like she was on a luxury vacation somewhere or eating at a fancy restaurant or shopping at a high-end boutique, buying something regular people could only dream of. It was a pure vanity collection, each and every one had been Photoshopped to perfection and uploaded to the cloud for later use. She knew this day was coming, but she had no idea it would be followed by this night. Jill selected the hottest photo she had. Of course it was her, showing ample cleavage with a big smile on her face, seated at a small table with a juicy lobster in front of her. The caption she added to the post was simple:
“Enjoying #SingleLife”
Even though she never intimated she was in a relationship on social media, every time she was single she let the world know, and it caused a flood of Biblical proportions each and every time. Being an Instagram babe and owning up to having a boyfriend was one quick way to lose a bunch of followers, unless that guy was more famous. Dudes hated nothing more than seeing that an object of their affection was off the menu. Deep down, they knew they would never be able to get an Instagram babe for themselves, but as long as the object of their fantasies was seemingly single, the hope was still there. Jill hit the “Share” button and sent her net of love out into the internet, hoping to catch a lot of small fry and, just maybe, one big fish to replace Max.
After putting the phone back in her purse, she took hold of the taser again, flicking it on and off to make sure she was not as alone as she felt. Tears were swelling in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself as tightly as she could. For the first time in her adult life, the sobbing was real, and there was no one else to see it.
CHAPTER 43: THE KEYMASTER
Jake had gotten the fuck that he had been after all fucking night, and even though he had jizzed in her womb and potentially made another human ready to be put through the meat grinder that is life, he felt good. There was of course the small problem of Daryl to deal with, and the cryptic phone call from Max that was trying to take away the positive feeling that was oozing out of his cock right now.
To Jake, Daryl’s story had seemed a little far-fetched and maybe a touch over dramatic, but Daryl was certainly not the type of guy to embellish. He gave you nothing but the facts, good or bad, so Jake hastened his exit from the restroom. Jake half expected to find the girl waiting for him on the other side of the door, but she wasn’t there, and he was kind of glad. He probably would have tried to fuck her again or do something stupid like give her his number. He settled up his tab with the bartender and didn’t even blink at the extra couple drinks his maybe baby mama had added post coitus.
Jake stepped out of the bar and into the street. He consulted Google Maps on his phone to make sure he knew exactly where he was going, and, contrary to what he had told Daryl, he wasn’t around the corner. He was maybe three city blocks away as the crow flies. Once he had triangulated his position, his destination and the quickest way to get there, he looked up from his phone. It was only midnight yet the street was eerily empty. There were signs of life; he could hear cars on the freeway and a car alarm wailing in the distance, but something felt wrong. He surveyed the street for movement but nothing stirred.
“Oooh, scary,” Jake said sarcastically.
He started walking briskly across the street in the direction of Daryl. He may have put on a tough exterior, but on the inside, he was a little creeped out. An extremely loud police siren made Jake squeal like a little girl. A police car had rolled up on him even though he thought he was being very cautious. Jake spun around like the scarecrow in the Wizard Of Oz slash The Wiz—take your pick—to see the police car sitting idle behind him. It didn’t have its flashing lights or even its headlights on, which probably helped with its stealthiness. Jake stood still, suddenly in a silent standoff, quickly cataloguing any contraband that may be in his pockets.
“Hello?” Jake said into the darkness.
A spotlight hit him straight in the face, blinding him for an instant and making him put his hands up to block it from burning out his retinas. He couldn’t make anything out behind the light, but he heard a car door open, and he strained his eyes through the crack of his fingers to barely make out what looked like a police officer.
“What’s going on?” Jake asked innocently, trying not to sound like he wanted to be stripped searched.
“Sir, there is a citywide curfew in effect,” the voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “Please go back to your home.”
Jake had to check himself. He wasn’t sure how drunk he was, but with the light and the booming voice it was like God was speaking to him.
“Curfew?” Jake asked, confused.
“Sir, move along,” God said.
“Okay, okay,” Jake said, pointing in the direction of Daryl. “I'm on my way.”
“No sir, you can’t go that way,” God said stiffly. “Head in a westerly direction.”
At that moment Jake didn’t know which way was west. Hell, at any given moment he had a one in four chance of knowing the exact direction he was heading. He looked to his left and then his right then looked back to the light.
“To your ri—” God said before being cut off.
A bloodcurdling scream that wasn’t put through the speaker but was just as loud followed before going silent. Jake took a step back from the light. He could hear something moving near the car, but he couldn’t see anything.
“Officer? Are you okay?” Jake said quietly.
There was no reply—just feedback from the megaphone before Jake heard what sounded like a crowd of footsteps converging behind the car, and the spotlight bounced a little, giving the impression the car it was attached to was rocking.
“This can't be good,” Jake murmured to himself.
The silhouette of three men staggering and stumbling in front of the light made Jake take a few more steps back. The silhouettes of the men looked vaguely like The Three Stooges, right down to Larry’s curly hair.
“What you numb skull’s doing?” Jake yelled in his best Moe impression, which was pretty bad. “Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!”
The Three Stooges groaned, and, to his dismay, more silhouettes started appearing.
“Fuck this noise!” Jake said, backing away at a faster pace. “I think I’m just going to go.”
The crowd of silhouettes mumbled and grumbled something indistinguishable as they began to increase their momentum in pursuit of Jake. As he got further away from the blinding spotlight, his eyes adjusted, and The Stooges and their band of friends were no longer in silhouette but in vivid color, VistAvision if you will. He couldn’t believe it at first. They looked like those dinguses who get dressed up and went bar-to-bar on a zombie pub-crawl. At that point, Jake knew he was still drunk or may have crossed the border into completely fucking wasted, because he was being a little too calm about the situation. He wasn’t processing what was going on. He wasn’t asking questions, and he wasn’t checking to see if they were fake. He just accepted his fate and acted accordingly, which in this case was running for his fucking life.
Over the first ten to twenty yards it was basically a stagger, but the further they ran, it seemed, the faster they could go. By no means were they natural sprinters, they had a top speed just like a living human. Jake was
easily away from them, but he needed somewhere to lay low, and he saw the neon sign for a hotel in the distance and sprinted for it. He hit the door to the hotel at speed and bounced straight back off it. He pulled and banged on the door trying to get it to open, but it wouldn’t budge. To his surprise, the lobby of the hotel was crowded with people checking in and drinking at the bar, but none of them paid any attention to him. He did however catch the attention of two security guards standing on the other side of the door with their arms folded. Jake banged on the glass of the door again like his life depended on it, because it did.
“Let me in!” Jake screamed.
The crowd in the bar turned to him and decided they weren’t going to intervene on his behalf before going back to their conversations and drinks, but the security guards acknowledged his existence by simply waving him away. Not wanting to end up like Louis Tully, Jake kept moving as the horde of zombies converged, and before he had even run twenty feet he heard glass smash and the screams of the snobby lobby folk pierce the air.
@KillingJake is it me or is downtown filled with the fucking undead now!? #RTIfYoureAlive #NyukNyukNyuk
CHAPTER 44: ALARM BELLS
I’ll never learn from my mistakes, Lynne thought. I never did. I deserve all of this crap. I should never have come back to this fucking city. I’ll never learn from my mistakes. I never did.
Before the world as they knew it came to an end, Ava slept, while Lynne watched a late-night movie slash surveilled her cellphone out of the corner of her eye, hoping slash praying Mark would respond to the messages and the tit pic she sent him. She wasn’t sure why this guy in particular had so much control over her. Lots of guys had relentlessly pursued her, lots of guys had promised her the moon and lots of guys had treated her like absolute garbage. So it was strange this used car salesman from the valley had left such an impact on her. Even before he planted his seed in her, she would drop everything to come do his bidding. He had never told her he loved her or been there when she needed him, and it seemed nothing had changed in the five years since she had last seen him. Not even a nice juicy tit pic could change his mind. She wasn’t slipping; she had slipped. I’m just not pretty enough anymore, she thought, I never was. I deserve all of this, all this mess I’ve got myself into. Ava doesn’t though. I’m just selfish. It’s just the best I’ll ever be.
