Seth looked over at Dicky and noticed he had fallen asleep with his head down as he leaned back against the wall of his cell. While Dicky snored, Seth went over to a climate controlled cabinet and grabbed a plastic container, and when he came back to the cell he threw the contents on him. After a few seconds, Dicky jumped to his feet and started screaming as he frantilacy slapped at his body to knock away scorpions, and as he ran around his cell like a crazy person, Seth walked over and grabbed the bars. “You didn’t hear a damn thing I said, but in short, no one will probably come looking for you here because I‘m very cautious and plan out every step. So, if you were hoping that I had left a fingerprint or something else behind that would bring the police to your rescue, I suggest you don’t hold your breath.”
Dicky was standing in the water that was pooling in his cell as he looked at the scorpions. “Eventually you’re going to get caught.”
“Maybe, but I can promise you one thing. You’re going to burn to death if someone enters this room and sets off a trigger.”
He looked nervous. “What trigger?”
Seth shook his head. “You should have been paying attention instead of sleeping. And the next time that you fall asleep when I am talking, you will wake up on fire.”
Seth slid the chair that was next to the bars over to the rack with the dissected man, then sat down in it backwards and rested his arms against the back of it. “I didn’t like slicing up the cop, but that’s what he gets for abusing his authority. I also read the asshole did survive. He has been the only encounter with the police where I had to use deadly force. I’ve had a few other encounters, but I used non-lethal means to evade them. The police have their non-lethal weapons and I have my own. One of my special devices came in handy one time when a cop had pulled me over. He was adamant about searching my car, and unfortunately, I had a scumbag in the trunk. Several years ago, as I was traveling through Kansas in a car that I had taken from a lowlife, I was pulled over for some bullshit reason. I knew the asshole in the trunk was wanted by the police for the same shit that I went after him for, so before the cop came up to the car I put on an oxygen mask.
He walked up to my window. “I need your driver’s licenses and insurance.”
I handed him my fake license. “This isn’t my car. I can check to see if the owner keeps the insurance in the glove box or above the visor if need be.”
“Who’s the car registered to, Sir?”
I knew he already ran the license plate. “Brian Tubbslin.”
“Do you know the whereabouts of Mr. Tubbslin?”
“He’s tied up right now, but earlier he was telling me he wanted to turn himself in.”
He had been watching my eyes to see if I was lying, but I hadn’t been. Brian actually told me he would turn himself in if I let him go.
The cop sat his hand on his firearm. “Please exit the vehicle.”
“Can I bring my oxygen tank?”
“Is it medically needed?”
I looked at his gun for a second. “Sure is.”
He nodded for me to get out. When I stepped out with the oxygen tank, I flipped a switch on it. A few seconds later, I was hauling ass back down the highway and the cop was lying in the ditch unconscious. I had modified the medical tank just for that situation. The top half is filled with air and the bottom with an odorless gas that can knock someone unconscious, released though a hidden switch. I’m not affected because I am breathing the air from the top portion of the tank.”
Seth pulled out a small cylinder from his pocket. “This is an emergency oxygen cylinder I started to keep on me. It holds about twenty breaths and I carry it alongside a glass vial with the gas. You never know, it might save my life one of these days.”
Dicky had a don’t-give-a-shit look on his face, so Seth tossed the glass vial towards him, and it shattered when it hit the floor.
Four hours later, Dicky awoke with a bad headache, and as he sat up he could hear the song Beth by the band Kiss playing loudly in the chamber. Seth was across the room, and when he noticed Dicky was awake, he walked over to his cell. “See what I mean? You didn’t even know what had happened. Much less the tattoo I gave you across your face.”
He crawled over to where water pooled on the floor, and as he stared at his reflection he noticed he had a fresh tattoo on his face that replicated Gene Simmons’ Kiss makeup. He looked back at Seth. “What the fuck!”
Seth laughed. “You’re lucky I wasn’t listing to Rammstein. I might have gotten carried away and did something really fucked up to you.”
Dicky gritted his teeth.
Fucking Fuck
Seth walked back over to the rack and sat down. “Let’s get back to Blackwell. Now that I had the tracking device planted on his car….”
Dicky was furious. “Hold the fuck up! You can’t just do some fucked up shit and go on like nothing fucking happened!”
Seth looked at him like he was crazy. “What are you crying about now?”
He pointed to his face. “Look at my fucking face!”
Seth walked back over to the bars. “You know you’re in a torture chamber where fucked up shit happens, right?”
He just stared back.
Seth looked around as he spoke out loudly. “Does anyone in here want to trade places with this fucker? He apparently feels he has been mistreated.”
He quickly calmed down. “Hey, I didn’t mean what I said. I’m okay with….”
Seth turned back and faced him. “Hush!”
He stood quiet as Seth turned and looked back at all the people in the chamber. A few seconds later he turned back around. “Damn! No one took me up on my offer.”
He looked relieved.
“Don’t take that as a good thing, pal. They just don’t want to be in your shoes.”
Dicky walked up to the bars and stared at all the gruesome shit in the chamber. He remained quiet.
Seth reached down and pulled Sandy’s broken bone from the lock. Dicky noticed and started getting worried—he was busted for trying to pick the lock back when Seth and Ozy had played the trick on him. Seth used the bone to pick his teeth, then tossed it on the floor. “Can we get back to Blackwell now?”
He looked down as he nodded his head to say yes.
Seth walked back over to the rack and sat down. “Now that the tracking device was mounted under the front of his car, I went back to my motel room. The GPS receiver indicated his car was at his hotel, so as I waited, I watched the local news about the explosion on television. The live news footage stated the gas line had been shut off and there hadn’t been any real damage. The fire department was still investigating the cause, but there was an indication of foul play due to the surrounding circumstances. The construction workers were interviewed by the news crew, and they all stated they had seen a homeless person attack the cop in the alley before the explosion, and they were pretty sure he’s the one that caught the gas line on fire. Of course, the assholes didn’t mention they had shot at me. For the rest of the day, Blackwell’s car didn’t move from the parking garage at his hotel.
The next morning, the newspaper said the police officer who had been attacked was in stable condition. I was relieved to read that no one else was injured or killed from the explosion, and there was little damage done to the surrounding buildings. The police described the attacker as a vagabond and they really didn’t have much more detail other than the man was dirty and stood a little over six-feet tall. I tossed the paper on the table and turned on the tracking device to see the whereabouts of Blackwell’s car, and it showed he was at the golf course where he usually ate breakfast with friends. An hour later he was back at his hotel.
Around nine o’clock that evening, the GPS indicated his car had left his hotel and was heading west across town, so I quickly drove to a secluded area and disguised my car. About an hour later, I found his car parked in a Hooters parking lot on the edge of town. The area was dimly lit and I knew it would be an excellent location to nab him if he was a
lone. Around fifteen minutes later, the guy that was parked next to Blackwell’s car left, so I took advantage of the opportunity and moved from my spot to there. About two hours later, Blackwell came out of the club alone, and I knew this was my chance. While he walked across the parking lot, I quickly slipped under my car through the trap door on the passenger side floorboard. I could feel my heart beating viciously as I watched between our cars, and as he unlocked his door, I reached out with a syringe and injected a tranquilizer into the calf of his leg. He didn’t even know what hit him as he fell to the ground. There were a few people in the parking lot as I pulled him under my car and up through the trap door, but they were too drunk to notice. He still had the tracking device around his leg, so I cut through the cartilage of his ankle with a knife and amputated his foot. He was bleeding profusely and I had two options; cauterizing or pressure. Time was crucial, so I quickly tied a tourniquet around his calf and wrapped the nub with a large dressing. Before I left, I cut my signature mark into the bottom of his foot, then threw it and the tracking device down the trap door and onto the asphalt.
When I got back…”
Dicky interrupted. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense?”
He walked close to the bars. “The newspaper article stated he had skipped bail and disappeared. The police should have found his foot when they located his tracking device.”
Seth nodded to agree. “You’re right. That was my intention. I wanted them to know I was responsible for his disappearance.”
“Well, what happened?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve tried to analyze that myself.”
“Do you think the police kept that information classified?”
“Possibly. But over the years I’ve hacked into their databases, and I’ve eavesdropped on them through electronic surveillance, and there has never been any evidence that led me to that conclusion.”
Dicky looked confused. “Eavesdrop on the cops.”
“Sure. They do it to us.”
“Why do….”
Seth interrupted. “Listen, pal, I do a lot of things that would surprise you. It’s not like I only hang around in here all day. And believe it or not, I do have a normal social life.”
He smiled with a sarcastic grin. “I doubt that.”
Seth walked over to the bars. He pulled out his wallet. He opened it and showed him a picture.
Dicky grabbed the bars, and in an angry voice said, “What the fuck! Why do you have a picture of her?”
Seth put his wallet back in his pocket. “We went out a few times.”
He became hostile. “That’s my fucking sister, you sick and twisted fuck!”
Seth walked back over to his chair and sat down. “Listen, I didn’t know she was your sister at the time.”
“Fuck you!”
Seth laughed.
“No, you fucker. I will kill your fucking ass!”
“You have to see the funny side of it. I met her at a dance hall when I was staking you out. And I had no clue she was related to your sorry ass. She’s a lot younger with a different last name.”
“Fuck you!”
“Don’t worry, pal. I was a gentleman.”
“Fuck you!”
“And the funniest part was she had made several comments how her older brother was a piece of shit.”
“Fuck you!”
“When I put two and two together, I laughed my ass off when I realized she had been talking about you.”
“Fuck you!”
“I also learned some really fucked up shit about you as well.”
“Fuck you! He paused for a moment. “Like what?”
“You know what.”
He put his face between the bars to get a better look at Seth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, you do. You hated your wife and had her committed to a mental institution.”
He looked down.
“That’s not why you’re in here.”
He looked back up.
“You’re in here for some other fucked up shit that you did. Now that the subject has been brought up, let’s talk about it.”
“I can’t recall what else you think I did.”
“No, fuckhead, your wife. The other we will discuss in depth, later.”
He eased back into his dark corner and sat on the floor.
Seth lit a cigarette. “Okay, let’s hear it.”
He knew he had to tell the truth. He knew lying didn’t work for the others. He sat forward, Indian style. “Well, I…. I had…”
Seth blew a smoke ring, then looked at him. “Like I said, you’re not in here for that shit, and it’s not going to make a difference in what I have in store for you. That’s inevitable.”
He looked down. “My wife was bipolar. I hated her and made it appear worse than it was so I could have her locked away.”
“That was nice of you.”
He remained quiet.
Seth walked over to the bars. “How long had you been married before you did this?”
“Fourteen years.”
“How long has she been in there?”
He hesitated.
“Go ahead and say it.”
“She… She was in there for ten years until she…. She died.”
Seth grabbed the bars. “How did she die?”
He looked up. “The autopsy report stated it was from complications due to pneumonia.”
“You sure?”
He looked confused. “Why would I believe otherwise?”
Seth pulled out his wallet again and tossed a picture into his cell. “Check it out.”
He eased over and picked it up. Confusion came over him. “I… I don’t understand.”
“Understand what? Your wife is alive and well.”
He jumped to his feet and ran over to the bars. “I don’t understand.” He looked at the picture again. “I had her buried next to her parents.”
Seth noticed Dicky was staring at the picture. “That picture was taken a few years ago at the Ayers Rock in Australia, where she now lives.”
He held the picture up. “I…. I don’t…”
Seth smiled. “Keep it.”
Seth started to walk off, but Dicky yelled out, “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
Seth turned around. “You’ve done enough shit in your life. At least this makes up for part of it.”
“No. You need to tell me what you did.”
“If I do, will you shut the fuck up for a while?”
He grabbed the bars. “Yes. I need to know.”
Seth sat down, then crossed his feet as he leaned back. “When I figured out Missy was your sister, and what you had done to her sister-in-law, your wife, I faked your wife’s death and established a new identity for her.”
He thought for a moment. “How did you fake her death? How did you fool all of us? Does she know who you are? Did she go along with it?” He paused for a moment. “Does she know I am in here?”
Seth took a deep breath. “I’m not going into detail about it. All you need to know is she hates your ass and was very glad to have an opportunity to start over. She doesn’t know me or our little secret.”
He became very upset. He started pacing back and forth. “This is fucked up! You dated my sister. You’re some type of fucking hero with my wife while I’m locked up in this fucking hell hole.”
“Ex-wife.”
He stopped and glared at Seth.
“You divorced her while she was locked up.”
He walked over and grabbed the bars. “Fuck you!”
Seth smiled. “No, the fucking is coming later when you find out the reason you’re in here.”
“Fuck you!”
Seth laughed.
“Fuck you!”
Seth pulled a glass vial out of his pocket.
Dicky noticed, but didn’t care. “Fuck you!”
Seth tossed the vial towards him.
/> “Fuck…” He passed out.
Later that evening as Seth was walking past the cells, Dicky shouted, “Fuck you!” as he was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall.
Seth stopped and grabbed the bars. “Wow. If I had known that would have pissed you off so much, I would have told you at the beginning.”
“Fuck you!”
Seth shook his head. “You’re sure obsessed with fucking today.”
“Fuck you!
Seth walked off. A few minutes later, he came back with a large, nude, black man. He was leading the man with a chain that was secured to a metal collar around his neck. The man’s hands and feet were shackled. Seth stood by the bars and looked at Dicky. “Since fucking is on your mind so much lately, I decided if you mention the fuck word, or any variation of it, for the remainder of the day, I will gas your ass, and speaking of ass, while you’re asleep, ol’ Jimmy here will have his way with you.”
“Fu……” Dicky paused as he looked at Jimmy, noticing his dick was getting hard.
Seth secured the end of Jimmy’s leash to one of the bars. “Jimbo. Have a seat.”
Jimmy sat on the floor. He leaned against the bars while staring at Dicky.
Seth sat next to the dissected man, then laughed. “I think ‘ol Jimbo has takin’ a likin’ to ‘ya.”
Jimmy was playing with his dick while he stared at Dicky, and as Dicky stared back, he had a look of disgust on his face. Seth shook his head. “Hey, Jimbo, not while I’m present.”
Jimmy smiled, then winked at Dicky. He then looked at Seth as he put his hands by his sides.
Dicky raised his knees to his chest, shivering at the thought of being raped.
Dissecting the Living
Seth propped his feet up on the side of the rolling rack. “When I got back home, I restrained Blackwell’s arms and legs tightly to this rack using large two-hole conduit straps, and I used leather straps to hold his chest and abdomen to the planks so he couldn’t move around. He was still bleeding, so I used a hemostatic agent on his nub, then wrapped it up with sterilized gauze. I connected him to some intravenous bags filled with nutrients and antibiotics, and laid out all the books and medical instruments that I would use on a stainless-steel table next to him.
The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore Page 39
