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

by Garrett, Wade H.

  “About two hours to the south west.”

  “I think we need to leave the state as quick as possible.”

  “That’s probably better—you would have got creeped out anyway, ruining everything I’ve accomplished.”

  Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m just a sick and twisted bastard now that I’ve gotten my hands dirty.”

  “You know what I mean. It’s better that you’re being eased into this.”

  “Eased? This is a freakin’ crash course. And I’m sure I can handle whatever you have going on back at your house.”

  He laughed. “I doubt that. I’m still not used to it and I did the shit.”

  “So, what’s the other option?”

  “We can head to Oklahoma. I have a car in a storage building in Stillwater.”

  “That sounds good. Head that way.”

  “We’re already heading north.”

  “Why do you have a car in Stillwater?”

  “Because I occasionally go there to fuck with this guy and it’s a backup in case something goes wrong.” Seth looked at Wyatt. “Remember earlier when I mentioned Barry Muller?”

  “Sort of. You said he had blamed you for something and you paid him a visit after you left the Bayou.”

  “That’s right. He’s kind of an old shadow.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Seth nodded to Wyatt’s bag in the backseat. “Get out your folder. You should have an article about how I, The Angel of Death, killed a woman in Dodge City, then dismembered her, scattering her body parts all over the city with clues.”

  Wyatt pulled his bag up front, found his folder, then flipped through it. He shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

  “I thought you had all the articles relating to the shit I do.”

  “I do if they made it to the media.”

  “That one did. I read about it online.”

  “I don’t have it.” Wyatt shrugged his shoulders. “So, what happened?”

  “The husband of the woman eventually confessed that he had done it, so…”

  “Hold on.” He started flipping through the pages. “I do remember it now that you mentioned the husband.” He stopped on a news article. “Here it is. It looks like he originally blamed you to cover up what he had done. Later he told the police that his guilt got to him so he came clean. So, what’s important about this one?”

  “He came clean after I found his ass.”

  “What did you do to him?”

  “Helped him change his mind about passing that shit off on me. I don’t harm innocent people and I’ll be damned if I was going to get blamed for his wife’s death.”

  “Did you threaten to kill him?”

  “Hell no, I made him wear my shoes around.”

  “Kind of like what I’m doing?”

  “Not at all. You haven’t done anything compared to what he had to do. This was back when I was doing the long-term thing, so he got hands on.”

  “What do you mean hands on?”

  “I made him fuck up some lowlifes.”

  “Like how?”

  “Sick and twisted shit. Guts and ass up to his elbows type of stuff. I’ll tell you about it on the drive up to his house.”

  Wyatt looked confused. “His house? Why are we going there?”

  “To visit him.”

  Wyatt’s eyes opened wide. “In prison?”

  “No, I said at his house.”

  “I would have figured he was still in prison since he admitted to killing his wife.”

  “He was only in jail for a few months, then a mental institution for about a year.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Sure, it does. After he admitted to killing his wife he went nuts and started saying he was The Angel of Death, confessing to everything I had done. Barry’s attorney had him subjected to a mental-health evaluation and he was found to be suffering from a dissociative disorder. The doctors claimed it was from the overwhelming stress of losing his wife in such a traumatic way. He was released and cleared of all charges, but he did wind up staying in a mental institution for a while.

  “I’m surprised the investigators didn’t jump on the chance to say they had caught The Angel of Death to save face.”

  “I’m sure they wanted to, but they couldn’t link him to the other murders because his statements didn’t match the facts, and his statement regarding his wife’s murder was simply thrown out because of his mental state. It also probably didn’t help that while ol’ Barry was sitting behind bars I was still doing my thing, proving he had fibbed about being me, which in turn discredited his original confession.”

  “If you had stopped, he would have looked guilty in the long run. You could have lived a normal life.”

  “Normal life? Where in the hell would be the excitement in that? And besides, I don’t want someone else blamed for the shit that I have done.”

  Wyatt laughed. “Well, you could have at least gotten a long vacation out of it.”

  Seth smiled. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I guess I could have taken a few years off. It would be nice to take Missy around the world.”

  “You can still do that.”

  “Jim has everybody and their mother looking for me at airports and shipyards. And that’s not just here in the states, but all over the world.”

  “Don’t you ever get tired of having to look over your shoulder?”

  “Now that I’m with Missy I do—it’s not fair to her.”

  “Then maybe you should think about setting up the next scumbag that you go after. At least long enough to take that vacation with her.”

  “Actually, I have this asshole that I have been saving for something special; maybe I will alter my plans for him.”

  “You should before it’s too late. And speaking of assholes…” Wyatt held up a news clipping that showed a picture of Barry. “He doesn’t look crazy. Did he really go nuts, or was that a scam?”

  “He really did have a mental breakdown.”

  “Was it from the loss of his wife?”

  “No. He skillfully planned her death and had no remorse for that. He went crazy because of the shit I made him do.”

  “Did you make him kill someone?”

  “I made him torture some scumbags in the most gruesome ways possible.”

  “Who were they?”

  “Handpicked child molesters; Rodney, Don and Carl.”

  “Why did you pick them?”

  “Because they were child molesters. Duh!”

  “I meant, why them over all the other sex offenders?”

  “I knew what I had planned was going to be sick and twisted, so I wanted the lowest form of human beings for the festivity.” Seth looked at Wyatt. “And that would be someone that commits sexual crimes against young children.”

  “If you handpicked them, then they must have been the vilest of them all.”

  “I actually had a list of about eight names and addresses; Carl, Rodney and Don happened to be the only ones home when I came knocking.”

  “How do you know they weren’t innocent?”

  Seth frowned. “Really? I thought you were passed that phase?”

  “Don’t take it wrong. I’m just being the devil’s advocate.”

  “Fuck the devil, and how can a molester be innocent?”

  “A vengeful ex could have lied.”

  “I’m not fucking stupid. The assholes had raped or molested numerous kids.”

  “How would you know that?”

  “By looking up their record on the Internet thanks to the National Sex Offender Registry.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Anyone can. Not only do you get to review all the shit they have done, but you also get a picture of them and their freakin’ address. That’s how I was able to put my list together. Like I said a few days ago, the registry is like a smorgasbord for vigilantes.”

  “I remember what you said; there were more red dots than actual map.” Wyatt sh
ook his head. “That’s really fucked up that there’s that many perverts running around.”

  Seth smiled. “Maybe when our trip is over we can have a competition to see who can cut off the most molester dicks in one night.”

  He laughed. “In reality that’s what those fuckers deserve.”

  “I’m being serious. I get tired of playing by myself.”

  Wyatt’s eyes got big. “You really do that?”

  “Hell yeah. My record is fourteen in a twenty-four-hour period.”

  Wyatt grinned. “What did you do with the penises?”

  “Remember the ham sandwiches Missy made for us? It wasn’t ham.”

  Wyatt laughed. “You’re full of shit. And besides, Missy made those.”

  Seth had a serious expression. “Why wouldn’t I do something like that? Look at all the other unusual shit that I do. And you know Missy is crazy as fuck.”

  Wyatt’s face turned flush. “What? Why would you let me eat those?” He rolled down the window and started gagging.

  Seth started laughing. “I’m just messing with you.”

  Wyatt wiped some slobber from his lips. “I can’t believe I fell for that. I should have known better.” He rolled the window up. “So, I take it there is no penis record as well?”

  “Oh, that’s real.”

  “Then what did you do with them. And be serious this time.”

  Seth looked at Wyatt. “You’re awful interested in them.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Don’t start.”

  “They’re at my house hanging on a steel ring.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “Maybe so, but now I know what I’m going to give you for your birthday.”

  “Dude, you’re the one that kept them like souvenirs. Maybe I need to be worried about you.”

  Seth laughed. “No shit.”

  “So how did you get the three child molesters? Did you make Barry go get them?”

  “No, I rounded the fuckers up myself when I was in Oklahoma, then took them to an abandoned house that was located several counties away from where he lived. The house was owned by the city and they had acquired it a few months earlier for a new outer loop project. The surrounding properties had also been bought out. It was a perfect place where I felt secure.”

  “Where did you get that information from? Did you just drive around and look for an abandoned house?”

  “Sometimes I do it that way, but in this case I had gone on the city’s website and look at their past city council agendas and minutes. Once I checked out the place and made sure it would work, I backed up a truck with a camper shell to the rear door and unloaded all my supplies that I would need. I also laid out several escape routes and set up my motion sensors to be on the safe side. I didn’t want Barry to be able to describe the location, so I snuck into his house in the middle of the night and tranq’ed him while he was asleep. When he awoke, the first thing he noticed was some oil burning lanterns sitting on the floor around him. He was confused as he looked around, then he noticed an eerie sight; Rodney, Don and Carl were standing along a wall with their arms above their heads, staring back at him with horrified expressions. Barry rubbed his eyes, then stood up. “What’s going on?”

  They remained silent.

  He noticed something around his waist. He pulled on it. “What is this,” he said under his breath. He looked back at the men. “Where am I? Why am I here?” He noticed a table that was covered with all sorts of strange looking items (tools, surgical instruments and medical supplies), then he noticed a large medieval looking wheel that was mounted to a wall. It resembled a game show style spin-the-wheel, kind of like Wheel of Fortune, but with unusual and filthy terms written on it. The back of the room was dark, but he could see the outline of strange looking items, possibly furniture. He walked closer to the men, then panic overcame him when he noticed their arms were chained above their heads. He ran to the front door and tried to open it, but it was nailed shut. He quickly walked over to a window and pulled back the curtain. Horror overcame him when he noticed it was boarded up. He ran into the kitchen. I was sitting at the kitchen table eating a sandwich, wearing a black long sleeve shirt tucked in faded blue jeans, worn cowboy boots and a NRA ball cap. “Hey, Barry, wanna sandwich?”

  He had the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look. “Uh… What’s going on?”

  “Having a snack.”

  He was a normal looking man, around forty years old, bald on top, average height, small beer belly and a round face. He kind of reminded me of Elmer Fudd. He was standing motionless, but with caution. “How did I get here?”

  “I brought you here.”

  “I don’t remember anything.”

  “Of course, you wouldn’t—I drugged you.”

  I could see the confusion in his eyes. “What? I don’t understand. Why would you do that? Who are you?”

  “I’m who you wanted to be.”

  He looked around the room to see if there was anyone else, then noticed a back door. He took off quick as a rabbit for the exit, but it was locked. I pushed a chair out with my foot. It squeaked as it slid across the wood floor. “Have a seat.”

  He turned and leaned his back against the door. “I don’t know who you are or why you have brought me here, but you need to let me go.”

  I nodded towards the chair. “Sit down, Elmer. We need to go over our agenda and the rules.”

  “I’m not doing anything.”

  I pulled a remote from my pocket. “The first thing we’re going to establish is what happens when you don’t follow instructions.” I held up the remote. “If I push this button the belt around your waist will shock the fuck out of you.”

  He pulled up his shirt and looked at it, then tried to move it around. “How is this on here?” He glared at me. “You need to remove this.”

  “You need to shut the fuck up.” I pressed the button. He immediately fell to his knees, then onto his side. His body was violently shaking, then he vomited and shit his pants at the same time. I released the button. “Now that I have your attention, go in the bathroom and clean up, then come join me.”

  He sat up on the floor. Tears were running down his cheeks. “Oh my God! Why are you doing this?”

  I waved the remote.

  He stood up. “Okay, okay.”

  I pointed to a door. “Bathroom is that way.”

  He kept his eyes on me as he walked to the bathroom. Five minutes later he poked his head out the door. “The water is off. I have no way of cleaning up.”

  “It took you five minutes to figure that out?” I knew he had been trying to open the window. “There’s some wet wipes under the sink cabinet. And stop trying to escape. If the belt gets too far away from the remote it will automatically energize the electrodes.”

  He looked guilty. “I wasn’t trying to.”

  “I know better than that.”

  “Uh, I…” He closed the door. A few minutes later he poked his head out again. “I don’t have any clean clothes.”

  I stood up. “You can have Carl’s. He looks to be your size.”

  “Who?”

  “The nasty fucker in the living room, standing on the right.”

  “I don’t want to wear anyone else’s clothes.”

  I walked into the living room. “Get out here.”

  He yelled out, “I’m naked.”

  “I don’t give a shit.” He wouldn’t come out, so I gave him a quick shock.

  “Okay, okay.” He came walking in the room nude from the waist down. He was covering his genitals with his hands. “This isn’t right, what you’re doing to me.”

  The three men were staring at us as we stood in front of them. I looked at Barry, then pointed to the taller man on the far left. “This is Rodney.” Barry noticed the man was slightly stocky, mid-fifties, his medium length dirty blond hair was greasy and his face was tan and rough looking. I pointed to a short man in the center. “This is Don.” Barry noticed he was short and overweight, bald on top,
baby faced and had an earring in each of his ears. He also had tattoos covering his neck and some small ones on his face. I pointed to the man on the right. “This is Carl. He’s about your size, so you can take his pants.”

  Barry shook his head, noticing Carl looked like the stereotypical white trash crack head; he had sores all over his face and his thin mustache and goatee had patches of missing hair where it didn’t grow. Barry noticed his clothes were filthy and he could even smell the body funk radiating from them. “I don’t want to wear his pants. I’ll stay naked.”

  “Fuck if you will. Strip the fucker down and get dressed.”

  “I can’t do it—it’s gross.” He had a sad expression and looked as if he was going to cry. “Why you doing this? I want to leave.”

  “You better start getting some balls if you’re going to wear my shoes around.”

  He reached for Carl’s belt. “This is sick.”

  Carl threw his hips around as he yelled, “Get the fuck away from me!”

  I grabbed Carl’s face and squeezed it. “You remember what I told you?”

  Carl looked down. “Alright, alright, I’ll cooperate.”

  Barry looked scared. “What’s going on? Please tell me.”

  Rodney had been gritting his teeth, fighting the urge to speak out, until now. “This coward says he’s that Angel of Death dude, and if we don’t do what he says he will make us suffer.”

  I hit Rodney in the face with a club, knocking out several of his front teeth, then glared at Barry. “Get to changin’ before I get aggravated.”

  He stepped back. He had a disturbed look. “Why did he say you were The Angel of Death?”

  “Because that’s who I am.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Look around. Who else would have this shit?”

  He had already seen the wheel of torture and the stuff on the table when he first awoke. “It looks like someone collects oddities and unusual things.”

  I pointed to the large items in the back of the room. “What about those?”

  “I can’t really see them.”

  “Grab a lantern and go check ‘em out.”

  He walked across the room holding a lantern in one hand while covering his privates with the other. I watched as he went from one item to the other, then the light stayed motionless for a while. “Stop fucking around and get your ass back over here.”