by Tim Miller
He stepped over the bodies and headed outside and strolled back to the car. Mr. Socky was looking up at him when he climbed in.
"Fun wasn't it?"
"Yeah, it was pretty cool," Dusty said.
"Good. I told you it would be fun."
"Yeah. The teenage girl was crazy. I wanted the mom to carve her up, and the kid went and stabbed herself in the chest. It was nuts."
"Wow," Mr. Socky said. "That sounds intense, sorry I missed it. So, they all dead?"
"Yep, all four of them. You kind of didn't tell me about the little boy."
"Yeah, I wanted to leave you a surprise."
"It was a surprise all right. The kid startled me, and I shot him in the face."
"Oh, well I bet that was colorful."
Dusty started the car and began pulling out.
"So, where to now?"
"How many bullets you got left?"
"I don't know. Five or six maybe."
"Perfect. Let's go to the park."
Dusty didn't question or argue this time. He did as Mr. Socky directed and they headed to the park where kids were playing on the swings while adults were walking and biking along the trails. Without any instruction from Mr. Socky, Dusty sped up to a group of joggers bunched up just ahead until he was side by side with them. He the leaned out the window with the gun and opened fire. He fired the final six shots, hitting a jogger with each round. They screamed as they went down while others tried to run away. He shot several in the back until he was out of ammo. Once the gun was empty, he tossed it to the ground and stomped on the gas, speeding away.
"Woohoo!" he yelled. "Did you see that? You see them scatter?"
"Yeah man!" Mr. Socky said. "That was awesome. I'm proud of you bud. You've come a long way."
Just as they pulled out of the park, a police car rolled up behind them and activated their lights and sirens.
"Fuck! What do I do? What do I do?" Dusty said.
"Get the hell out of here," Mr. Socky answered.
Dusty accelerated and turned at the first turn he reached. The police car sped up but kept pace with him. Within a few minutes, there were several other police cars behind him. Before he knew it, more police cars were coming toward him from the other direction. They swerved in front of him, blocking the road as he drove up onto the sidewalk, taking out a mailbox as he went around the roadblock. Before he was clear, a cop in an SUV sped toward him and plowed into the side of his car.
Dusty blacked out as the car spun out of control and bounced off a utility pole before coming to a stop. As he slowly came to, there were cops surrounding him with their guns drawn.
"Get out of the car! Put your hands up and get out of the fucking car now!" They were collectively screaming.
He did as they commanded and slowly climbed out. The door was already hanging open. He kept his hands in the air as he climbed out; it was hard keeping his right hand up as his shoulder and back were both in pain. Once he was clear of the car, a group of officers ran up and slammed him to the ground. His jaw rattled as his head bounced off the pavement. They jammed their knees into the small of his back cuffing his hands behind his back. As they pulled him to his feet and walked him toward one of the cop cars, he saw Mr. Socky sitting motionless in the passenger seat of his wrecked car. The cop roughly stuffed him into the squad car and looked at him with a smile before shutting the door.
"We got you now asshole," the cop said. "Enjoy the pain while you can feel it. You'll be getting the needle soon."
Chapter 13
Dusty sat in the white jail cell feeling all too familiar. It had been years since his arrest. Most of that time, the trial, his sentencing to death, and the trip to death row, all seemed a blur. Looking around the cell, he thought back to that dream he'd had that final day. This cell and even the guards looked just like in his dream. Did he somehow predict this all would happen? Was he a prophet?
"No, you're not a prophet, dummy." Mr. Socky said from beside him. He hadn't seen the toy since his arrest.
"What are you doing here? How'd you get in here?"
"Don't worry about that. We need to talk."
"Talk? Are you fucking kidding me? You talk me into doing all that shit and then just hang me out to dry? You didn't come talk to me or anything. You could have talked to the cops and proved I'm not crazy. They think I'm like the Son of Sam or some shit."
"Dude," Mr. Socky said. "I'm about to throw you a fucking tampon if you don't quit your crying. Just listen. They are going to execute you today, probably in a few minutes."
"What? How? Isn't there appeals or something still?"
"I said, shut…up…," Mr. Socky continued. "You're already dead. That dream you had years ago. You were dreaming about your actual execution. You had already committed these crimes, and put to death for them."
Dusty tried to make sense of what Mr. Socky was saying. How could he be dead? He wasn't dead. Dead people don't eat or sleep or walk around.
"Trust me, you're dead Dusty. Think about it. When was the last time you took a shit."
"I don't remember."
"You don't because you didn't. You were arrested and woke up right here. At least in this place. You're just reliving your crimes and punishment as you've experienced them. Not to mention the fact that you talk to a fucking sock monkey. That seems totally normal to you?"
"So, you're saying I did all this stuff when I was alive, but now I'm dead, and I went and re-did all the same things again? And will get re-executed for it?"
"Something like that. You are not necessarily alive, but fear not, the experience is certainly real. This is only your first time around. This was the easy part."
"Easy part? What do you mean?" Dusty asked.
"I can speak no further on this. The rest you have to experience. I'll let you in on a secret, your next time it will be very different," Mr. Socky giggled maniacally at this statement.
"Different how? Why can't you tell me?"
"Because, it's more fun for me this way. I mean, I could tell you if I wanted. I just don't want to. It's how I get my kicks!" the giggling continued.
The door swung open, and the black guard was standing there with another group of guards.
"It's time buddy," he said.
"Just tell me," Dusty called to Mister Socky as they shackled his hands and feet. "Tell me! What is waiting for me?"
Before Dusty knew it, he was shackled up and marching back to the death chamber. Mister Socky sat on the edge of the bunk and waved as Dusty was led out. Once again, he tried to struggle when they got him into the execution chamber, but, as before, they were too strong for him. Within minutes, he was strapped to the table, and the curtain opened; his mom was in the crowd again.
"Mom?"
He'd never seen his mom throughout this experience. Not since, he was a little boy. He wondered if she was still alive or had he killed her too? He couldn't believe he'd killed his dad, that part didn't seem real at all. The needles went into his arm, pumping his veins full of drugs that will kill him again. What did Mr. Socky mean about the next time not being as pleasant? Was he going to hell? He'd be finding out soon enough as his mind slowly went dark.
Chapter 14
Dusty woke up, but he was already walking. Everything looked so big and strange. As he became more aware, things weren't really all that big, he was suddenly very short. He looked over, and he was holding hands with some boy. It was Brandon, his old classmate. Looking down at himself, he was no longer a 'he'. Dusty was now a girl, a little girl. With long blonde hair and wearing a pink sweater and tennis shoes. What was this? Mr. Socky said he'd be going through this again but not as pleasant. Oh no. He was now Jenny, his very first victim.
There was a scream from behind him as a boy charged them with a huge branch. The boy was his seven-year-old self, and he was coming at them with death in his eyes. Before Dusty could react, his younger self had bashed him over the head with the branch. His new body tumbled to the ground as his vision blurre
d. Lying on the ground, he could feel his cracked skull throbbing. Right, before things went black, standing near a bush Mr. Socky was standing there smiling.
Dusty awoke again. This time he was working in a bar, and, as per last experience, he wasn't himself. He was a hot girl with tits and all. He tried to stop working the bar and leave but was unable to control this new body. It was as if he were a passenger in this person's body. Yet, he could feel and sense everything that happened to it. Once he'd finished with the bar and cleanup duties, he headed out to the parking lot. His back and feet were killing him. He could feel all the girl's fatigue and frustration.
Once in the parking alley, he tried to coax his new host away from certain doom.
"No, no!" he tried to say. "Don't go in the alley. Stay inside and call a cab." However, it was no use. Before he knew it, Mr. Socky was standing before him, and his host was carrying the conversation with him. Next, his adult self showed up and began talking. He couldn't believe how he looked. His eyes looked wide and crazy. Did he always look that way? No wonder people were always creeped out by him.
He tried to run away as Mr. Socky began biting into his host's neck and shoulder. He felt the pain too, it was hot and sharp, stinging all up and down the side of their bodies. He could hear his hosts screams, causing his own senses to go into overdrive, his ears were ringing at the sound of his own screams.
He heard Mr. Socky yelling as Dusty's old self grabbed a rock and smashed it into the women's skull. He felt the dull thud as she collapsed to the ground. Things were once again fuzzy as Dusty brought the rock down again. Now he knew what Mr. Socky was trying to tell him. No way could he go on forever reliving his own murders as his victims. Next time he'd be ready.
He awoke this time as he was jogging through the park. Oh God no, not the jogger. He'd really did do a number on her. Now he was going to have to feel his former self raping his new self; this was some weird Christopher Nolan-Inception type shit, and he had to break the cycle, but how? Before he knew it, his former self was jumping out of the bushes and pulling his new host off the trail. He could feel his host's struggles while feeling her panic and fear.
He tried struggling against himself, but he still hadn't figured out how to take control. He watched helplessly as his former self inserted his penis inside of his hosts' vagina. That was the weirdest feeling so far. His cock was short but thick. He'd never realized how uncoordinated he was. His cock kept coming out and slamming back in, causing stretching and tearing with each thrust. Each time it felt like someone was hitting them in the crotch with a hammer.
Mr. Socky was standing nearby giving himself directions.
"No! Don't listen to him!" he tried to, but no noise came out. Soon his past self was holding a knife, ready to slice up his host's vagina. Suddenly, his former self froze as Mr. Socky looked at him and his host.
"See? I told you it would be unpleasant." Mr. Socky said.
"What? You can see me? You know it's me?"
"Yep."
"Who are you exactly? What is going on? Is this hell?"
"Closest thing to it. I guess you could call me a demon. Except I'm a sock monkey."
"Why? Why are you doing this?"
"You spent your life hurting people Dusty; this is the moral of your life story. You get to relive it again and again as each and every one of your victims. Plus you get to do it over and over and over."
"Why? You were there; you had me kill them all."
"Not the first time buddy. That was all you. In your personal hell, I just had to guide you to get the trip started. There is no stopping the ride once begun."
"I can't do this. Please? I'll do anything else. Throw me in eternal fire or freezing water forever! Anything else, PLEASE!."
"Can't do it Dusty. You made your hell." Mr. Socky said as he stepped back as his former self unfroze and began stabbing his host with the knife in the vagina, trying to cut it out. The hurt was unlike anything he'd felt before. He screamed so loud in his own head, he couldn't tell where his host's scream ended, and his began. He felt the blood gushing between their legs as the gushing got out of control, he knew they were about to bleed to death. He watched his former self get up and run away with Mr. Socky tagging along behind. As the lights went out, he knew what was coming next and promised himself to change the outcome.
Chapter 15
Dusty awoke in a supermarket. After looking around, he realized it wasn't just any supermarket, but the supermarket. The one he'd committed the horrible massacre. Looking down, at least he was in a guy's body this time. It was an employee's uniform, and he was standing next to a pallet of cereal boxes.
His body kept stocking the shelves with boxes of Fruit Loops and Frankenberry. Once again, he tried to take control of the body, but it still wasn't working. Out of the corner of his host's eye, he could see out the window where his car just pulled up. He knew what was happening in that car and what was about to happen. He had to do something. Once again, Dusty struggled against his host, trying to impose his own will, by any means possible.
As his host was stacking a box, it slipped from his hand. Dusty's first thought was that he did it, but his host grabbed another box and stacked it. Trying again, the host knocked a box off the shelf, and then another. Dusty began to laugh and heard his own laughter outside of his mind. He'd done it. He wasn't sure how, but he'd somehow taken control. He knocked off another box, ran across the aisle and knocked over another one.
"Brian? What the hell are you doing?" a man said from the end of the aisle. It was one of the managers, but Dusty had no idea what his name was. Brian was obviously his host's name. He stopped and looked around.
"Oh, nothing. Just goofing off I guess," he said.
"Well clean this up and finish up already. Jesus Christ." The manager walked away as he ran to the other end of the aisle where he saw himself coming in through the front door. Shit! He turned and ran toward the back of the store. He had to get out of there. Maybe he could stop himself from committing the killings, but not in this body. It was a male, but a short and skinny one. He wouldn't stand a chance against his former self, especially waving a machete. Dusty reached the back, as people in the front were screaming. The laughter coming from his former self echoed through the store. He didn't remember laughing while he ran through hacking people up. Apparently, he'd enjoyed it more than he remembered.
He got to the rear exit, but the door was locked. Dammit! He kicked and pushed the door, but it wouldn't budge. His only other choice was the front; meaning, he'd have to run past himself. Looking back into the store, his former self was in the produce aisle to his right, so Dusty ran left. He got through some of the crowd to find people already pushing through the doors. The crowd hadn't totally bunched up yet, so he had a shot.
When he reached the door, he pushed his way out and into the parking lot. If he knew what kind of car his host drove, he'd head for it. Instead, he ran for the Impala, as he remembered when he raided the store leaving his keys in the ignition. Once he reached it, he opened the door and jumped inside, starting the car. Mr. Socky was in the passenger seat lying there motionless. In that state, he was just a harmless stuffed toy.
Once he started the car and put it into gear, Mr. Socky sat up.
"What are you doing?" Mr. Socky said. "You! What have you done Dusty? How did you do that?"
"I don't know, shut up." Part of him wanted to pitch Mr. Socky out the window, but he had a feeling the toy was the key to all this. In his rearview mirror, he saw his former self-running out of the store and yelling. He pulled into the street and onto the highway.
"What do you think you're doing Dusty? You can't change this. You know that." Mr. Socky said.
"Doesn't mean I can't try."
"Try all you want. It's pointless. There is nowhere to go."
"So, what are you anyway? You like the devil? I mean this afterlife, who is behind this? How did you get your job?"
"You wouldn't understand if I told you," Mr. Socky said
. "It's complicated. You've never wrapped your pea brain around something like this."
"Well try me."
"You're wasting your time. How did you get control of that body anyway? No one has ever done that before."
"It's complicated," Dusty mocked. "You couldn't wrap your little pea brain around it."
"Touché." Mr. Socky answered. As they drove, police cars with lights and sirens blaring sped past them headed toward the store. He wondered if his former self would be caught now that he took the getaway car. The car sped past the city limit sign and toward the hills.
"You need to turn the car around Dusty; this isn't how it works. Take the car back to the grocery store and take your medicine like a man. This is your hell. You created it, now just live it like everyone else does. I've been doing this a long time and taken a lot of people into their own hell they made for themselves. Everyone else resigns to their fate. Nothing you can do about it."
"How many times would I have to go through the cycle?" Dusty asked.
"I don't know. Forever. You go through as each victim, after the last one it repeats. You get to feel their suffering over and over."
"Yeah, I'm not resigning to that."
Dusty drove into a large park and followed the winding road deeper into the huge park. He pulled onto a gravel road and followed it into the woods until he reached a large clearing. He pulled the car up and turned off the ignition. Grabbing Mr. Socky he got out of the car and walked toward the clearing.
"What is it you think you're doing?" Mr. Socky asked.
"You'll find out soon enough."
