The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore

by Garrett, Wade H.

  “Sure, but not like an animal, because I like animals.”

  “That’s messed up.”

  “It is what it is.”

  Wyatt counted on his fingers, then looked at Seth. “How did the other two hundred and eight die?”

  “From all kinds of reasons, but most were from the loss of blood, infections, heart attacks and severe trauma. Some just died for no reason at all. Some only lived for a few days; some for years.”

  “What did you do with the dead bodies?”

  “Burned them up in an incinerator.”

  “And where did you take the fifty-three?”

  “To a new hell.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Their last home was unimaginable and they had to endure the most sadistic and barbaric shit that not even your worst nightmare could conjure up, but their new home runs parallel with the horrors that could only be found in the deepest and darkest parts of hell.”

  Fucking Buffoons

  Ron stood up from the control panel and put on a Kevlar vest. “Hey, Jim, the team has arrived. They’re one block away and waiting orders.”

  Jim put on a wireless headset. “The Target has been confirmed. Move forward as planned.”

  A voice came over the headset. “We’ll be on site in two minutes.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Jim stood up and grabbed Thomas’ shoulder. “Do what I say and don’t be a hero and everything will be alright.”

  Thomas nodded to say okay. The three men exited the van and took off across the parking lot towards the Miller building. Three teams of SWAT officers came running towards the building. Two teams met with Jim and his group and the other team headed for the rear entry. Jim gave a hand signal, then two teams entered the front doors with their weapons ready. The third team entered the rear of the building, half of them stood guard while the others went up a rear set of stairs. When Jim came to the elevator, he noticed the control panel was dead. He pointed to several men. “Stand guard in case our target has disabled the elevator.” He motioned to the rest of them. “Head up the stairs.” He looked at Ron and Thomas. “Let’s follow them up.” At the thirteenth floor, Jim and his team noticed the steps were covered with something oily. The substance was very slippery, causing them to slip as they tried to hurry up the stairs. Suddenly one of the SWAT officers fell, sliding back a few steps and knocked down another man. Jim grabbed the handrail to keep his balance. He noticed the slippery substance was on the handrail as well. He smelled his fingers, then looked at another officer who was smelling his hand. “What the fuck is this?”

  The officer who had fallen quickly stood up. He looked down at his stained clothes. “Fucking stinks, whatever it is.”

  Thomas was holding a rag over his mouth. “Oh my God! I think it’s human waste.”

  Ron was feeling nauseous. “It is. It’s mixed with some type of oil.”

  Jim shook his head. “Let’s go! Pull up your skirts and man up.”

  The men had to walk slowly as they continued up the stairs. When they came to the seventeenth floor they had to stop—the steps leading up from there had been covered with spikes and the lights were off further up. One of the officers grabbed a spike and tried to move it. He turned back to the others. “They’re attached.”

  Jim signaled for them to stop. “Hold your position.” He walked closer to the steps. He noticed the spikes were two inches tall, spaced three inches apart and covered every step. He kicked one, but it didn’t budge—the base was wide and firmly secured to the step with some type of glue. He turned and faced the group. “He knew we were coming.”

  Thomas pulled out a flashlight and leaned up against the railing. He shined it upwards between the sections of the staircase. “I can’t see anythi…” Something came falling from the dark knocking his flashlight from his hand and splattering blood all over him. Ron and Jim looked down the center section of the stairwell and watched as Thomas’ flashlight fell to the first floor.

  Ron quickly pulled out his flashlight and searched the dark above. “Y’all stay back.”

  Jim grabbed Thomas’ shoulder. “You alright?”

  Thomas wiped the blood off his face with a rag. “Just startled.”

  Ron shut off his light. “Nothing up there that I can see.” He looked back down towards the bottom of the stairwell. “Did you see what that was?”

  Thomas put the rag in his back pocket. “No sir. It came out of nowhere and sped by too fast.”

  Jim motioned for everyone to back away. “Stay clear—our target might be up there.” He looked at the spikes. “We can’t continue up the stairs so we’re going to have to go onto the seventeenth floor and find an alternative route.”

  Jim’s radio broke silence. “Jim?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “We have an issue over here. The staircase is not accessible.”

  “Spikes?”

  “No, sir. Rattlesnakes. And slippery human shit.”

  Jim looked puzzled. “Snakes?”

  “Yes, sir. About twenty or so. They’re secured in place with twine on the steps so they can’t flee. It will take a bit for us to secure them.”

  Jim shook his head. “Move with caution. Our target knew we were coming.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Jim looked at the group. “He’s fucking with us.” He motioned for one of the officers to check the door that led to a hallway on the floor. “Check to see if it’s clear. And watch for booby-traps.”

  The officer slid a mirror under the door. “It’s clear.”

  Another officer grabbed the knob, but he quickly let go and rubbed his hand on his pants for a moment.

  Jim noticed the man’s glove was smoking. “Move out of the way.” He licked his fingertips and quickly touched the knob, causing a sizzling sound. “The door knob is hot.” He took a mirror and looked under the door, then motioned with his fingers at Thomas. “Give me your jacket.”

  “You want to use my gloves?”

  “Did I ask for your gloves?”

  Thomas took off his jacket and handed it to him. “Just tryin’ to help.”

  Jim wrapped it around the knob and turned it, then slightly opened the door. It was clear, so he opened it all the way, noticing an electric heating element was strapped to the other side. He turned back to the group. “Like I said, he’s fucking with us. Follow me. I’m going in.” Jim eased into the hallway with caution. “Be alert. There could b…” Suddenly a loud boom echoed out and smoke filled the stairwell and hallway. The other men immediately stormed the floor. They had low visibility as smoke engulfed the hallway, but they were trained for this type of situation. Jim yelled for them to follow him. Thirty feet down the smoke had thinned out. Jim motioned for them to hold their position. He pointed down the hallway to another set of stairs, then motioned for two of the officers to secure it. When they reached the door to the staircase, they noticed it was nailed shut. One of the men made a no-go signal. Jim motioned for another officer to check the elevator. When the man approached it, he shook his head and made a hand sign of no-go—the controller had been removed. Jim got aggravated and ran to the door that was nailed shut. “We have to get this open.” He looked at his watch. “We’re losing too much time.” He keyed up on his radio. “What’s your status?”

  “We got the snake issue taken care of and we’re at the eighteenth floor, but the doorway has been barricaded.”

  Jim gritted his teeth as he looked at Ron. “This is fucked up!”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Keep working on the door; we have to get through there.”

  His radio broke silence. “Sir?”

  Jim keyed up. “Go ahead.”

  “I think the elevator is working now—the control panel just lit up.”

  “Bring it down and have it waiting on us—we’re on our way.” Jim keyed up and addressed the team at the rear staircase. “Go back to the first floor. We’ll meet you at the elevator.”

  “Ten-
four.”

  Jim was angry. “Fuck!” He looked at the officers. “Let’s go.”

  The men followed Jim back down the stairs, slipping in the greasy shit as they went. When they reached the end of the steps on the first floor, Thomas and Ron went to the side of the stairs to see what had fallen. Nothing was there but a blood splatter where something had impacted the concrete.

  Jim was in a hurry. “Let’s go fellas. We have to get up there before he gets away.”

  The men took off and met up with the other team at the elevators. Jim noticed the elevator door was closed. “Why didn’t you bring it down?”

  One of the officers that had been standing guard held his hands out, palms up. “Sir, I’ve been pushing the button, but it’s not working.”

  Jim noticed the elevator was at the eighteenth floor. When he pressed the up button, the elevator started coming down. He glared at the officer. “I’m not going to say a word.”

  “Sir, I pressed the button just like you did.”

  Jim shook his head as he looked back at the group of men. “We look like a bunch of fucking buffoons!” Suddenly he held his hand up for everyone to be quiet. “Listen.”

  A dirty rap song could be heard coming from the elevator shaft. Everyone was listening to the lyrics; ‘She sucks it sucks it, then fucks it fucks it, gonna lick you up and down (baby), gonna make you scream (baby), gonna make you drip (baby), rub dat clit again, spank dat ass again, she can suck my dick again, walkin’ through a jungle with my dick in my hand, I’m a mean motherfucka’ I’m an Af ri can.’

  When the door opened, two black gangbangers were in the elevator smoking weed. One of the men had a large afro and was holding an old-school boom box on his shoulder. He looked at the cops, then reached up and turned down the music. “Sup, cuzz?”

  Ron shook his head. “What the fuck!”

  The man with the boom box smiled as a joint hung from his lips. “Mutherfuckin’ Afrofuck, dat what’s up.”

  Ron was pissed. “What?”

  Thomas stepped forward. “Sir, he’s referring to Afrofuck the rap group.”

  The man with the boom box looked at the other thug. “Damn, dog!” He looked at his joint. “Dis be sum good chit. I see white folks.”

  Jim motioned with his thumb to get out. “We don’t have time for this shit. Get the fuck out, now!”

  The two men strutted out as if they didn’t care. Ron shook his head as they passed by. “Get goin’. And you’re lucky we don’t haul your asses in.”

  The man with the large afro smiled as he walked by. “Yes, Sir, Jake.”

  Thomas bowed out his chest, holding his fist in the air as if he wanted to punch the man. “Fuckin’ punk!”

  The man smiled, then reached up and cranked up his boom box as he and the other man walked away. Ron shook his head as the music echoed in the hallway, playing the lyrics, ‘I gots my dick inside yo’ ass, spankin’ dat ass with balls of brass, call me the booty hole reaper, takin’ what’s mine and driving it deeper, is it a hunk, is it a buck, no, it's the sex fiend Afrofuck.’

  Jim gritted his teeth. “We don’t have time for this shit!” He stepped into the elevator and noticed it was too small to hold all the officers. “Gosh dammit!” He looked at the other men who were staring back, looking as if their favorite team had lost the Super Bowl. “Well, don’t just stand there!” He looked around the elevator to determine how many men would fit. “Ten… I need ten of you to go up with me. The rest of you come up afterwards. We’ll hold our position in the hallway.”

  Ron and Thomas walked in followed by eight of the officers.

  Jim gritted his teeth as he was being crowded, smelling the foul odor from the staircase. Several seconds passed. “Will someone please press the eighteenth floor?”

  Thomas reached over and pressed a button. As the door closed, Jim shook his head.

  Charlie has no Guts

  Wyatt jotted down a few things in his notebook. “Where do you currently live?”

  Seth extinguished his cigarette. “Still in Texas. I wasn’t born there, but it’s been home since my early twenties.”

  “Have most of the ones you went after been from Texas?”

  “Just the opposite. I’ve probably been to more states than the full-time RVer.” Seth laughed. “Scumbags are everywhere.”

  “Speaking of scumbags, how do you pick them?”

  “I used to be very selective back when I was doing the long-term thing. The chamber could hold so many, so I would only go after the worst criminals that had slipped through the judicial system. I also didn’t want to get in trouble by the Fire Marshal for having too many occupants.”

  Wyatt smiled.

  “I’m glad you get my sense of humor. The last asshole I told my stories to was a stick in the mud.”

  Wyatt looked troubled. “Last asshole?”

  “Don’t worry, he wasn’t a reporter. He was just some piece of shit that got, or I should say, is getting what he deserves. He’s one of the fifty-three that I moved and is still alive.”

  “Why did you tell him stories?”

  “It was part of the punishment process. I wanted him to know how sick and twisted my punishments get before I started on his.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Absolutely. Fucking with the mind can be just as painful as torturing the flesh. The anticipation of pain and suffering can be very excruciating.”

  Wyatt looked concerned. “Do you always tell stories to your victims before you torture them?”

  “No. Just with that fucker. For his punishment to work, he needed to know without a shadow of a doubt what kind of predicament he was in.” Seth noticed Wyatt was worried. “If I wanted to harm you, you wouldn’t be in this nice hotel room; you would be locked in a cage or something, or at least tied up.”

  Wyatt looked around.

  Seth laughed. “It is a shithole.”

  Wyatt was still nervous, but he tried to hide it. “I want to know more about how you pick your victims.”

  “Back when I was being selective I used the media mostly, and occasionally a pain-induced tip from a lowlife. I would spend days, weeks, and in some cases, months doing my own research. I would spend a lot of time staking out these assholes making sure they were guilty of their crime. Now it’s seldom from the media and mostly from tips, and since I don’t do the long-term thing as much, I get to go right ahead and fuck them up without worrying about vitality. And I don’t have to waste time researching them because I usually get to catch them in the act.”

  Wyatt had a confused look. “You said, as much, when referring to long-term. I thought you didn’t do that any more?”

  “I still have what’s left of the original fifty-three, and if I run across a real bad piece of shit I will bring them to the fiesta en el infierno aqui en la tierra.”

  “What?”

  “Party in hell here on earth.”

  “That’s a strange name.”

  “I have a Mexican in there that screamed that phrase out when he saw the chamber for the first time. It kind of stuck, so that’s what I call it. So, to answer your question, yes, I still do the long-term punishment with certain assholes, just on a smaller scale.”

  “You said chamber. Does that mean you built another one?”

  “No. I bought a warehouse that already had a basement.” Seth laughed. “I’m too old and lazy to dig another one.”

  “Where is it located?”

  “Right down the road from my other one.”

  “Why so close?”

  “Because that’s the opposite of what is expected.”

  “That makes sense, I suppose.” Wyatt looked at his notes. “You said you now catch them in the act. What kind of acts were you referring to?”

  “I’ll fuck up anyone that’s committing a crime against another person, and the worse it is, the worse they get it.”

  “What type of people are they?”

  “Gangbangers, perverts, scammers, thieves, abusers. You k
now, the bottom feeders of society.”

  “I didn’t know you went after thieves and scammers.”

  “Sometimes I do.”

  “Do you torture them?”

  “Depends on what you consider torture.”

  “Stuff like what’s in my articles and reports.”

  “Nothing to that degree; most of the time I just cut off their hand or something.”

  “And where do you get the tips from?”

  “From other scumbags. When I run across these fuckers on the street, it seems every lowlife that I punish tells on all his buddies. It’s been a revolving door that has kept me overwhelmingly busy. One led to another, another to another, and so on. Occasionally I will run across a scumbag on my own, but the tattletales have been the main source. It has definitely been a nice change of pace.”

  “How do you find the ones that are not from a tip?”

  “There are a lot of scumbags in society. You just have to open your eyes.”

  “It seems your random acts of vengeance have gotten quite a bit of attention lately. There is a lot of talk on the streets, even a reward out for your capture by some of the gangs and organized crime groups.”

  “Yeah, these scumbags know I can be hidden in every shadow or around the next corner and it makes them nervous.”

  Wyatt flipped to the first page in his binder and tapped his fingers on it. “Two days ago, a building was burnt down close to here. Nine people were found dead. Some had been tortured. Can I ask you about Logan’s House of Adult Entertainment?”

  Seth lit a cigarette. He took a long drag. “What do you want to know?”

  “Was this of your doing?”

  “Yes.”

  Wyatt leaned forward in his chair. “Wow… The building was just a few blocks down from here. You killed people. Why did...”

  Seth interrupted. “Perverts.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The building was filled with the worst type of perverts; they were pedophiles.”

  Wyatt had a look of interest. “I’m surprised you did this here in New York just two days prior to meeting me.”

  “I hadn’t planned on it, it just happened. That’s how I operate now. I was simply here a few days early to find an appropriate location for us to meet when I ran across this filthy ass place.”