Meet Your Favorite Serial Killer

by Spencer,Alan

  "I know what's behind that giant door ahead of us. Once that's opened, most of you will soon be dead. Those who live, your fate will be even worse. Death is unavoidable. I'm sorry. These are the facts. They got so much planned for you. This isn't like the other events. They've amped up things this year. Their budget for The Event has quadrupled. This will be hell on Earth. They're out of control. They're getting stronger on the other side. They want more bodies, more death, more blood, more violence, more everything, and they're ready to give it to them. One day, those running the show will be overtaken. Nobody wants that, me included. There's no telling what will happen when that day comes. It may truly be hell on earth for us all. Even outside of these walls."

  A gun from the ceiling blasted four rounds into Niles's chest center masse.

  Niles's butterball body was thrown up against those surrounding him. They let his corpse slam into the ground. Niles's face was molded in permanent shock.

  An intercom addressed the distressed group.

  "You're allowed to talk to one another. There's no need for silence. We advised Mr. Backwater to keep his mouth shut. If he survived The Event, he could go free. We were being very fair. He threatened us with blackmail. If we didn't pay a ridiculous sum of money to his greedy ass to keep our special game quiet, he would go public with his information. Well, you see how that went for him.

  "And by the way, Mr. Backwater was incorrect with his previous statement. He cannot help you. Only you can help yourself. Remember your motivation, people. You outlive the game, we let you go. The game begins soon. Mentally prepare yourself. Now it's time for some pre-show festivities."

  Nobody dared to move Niles's still-bleeding body. Nervous chatter spread fast. David couldn't take away anything from their words. Kayla gave up trying to get other people to talk to them. Nobody trusted anybody. David and Kayla restated their plan to each other. The strategy: stick together. Everything else from here on out would be a wait and see situation.

  When the television screens blinked on, the room went deathly quiet.

  The screens flashed to a scene being taped live. The camera focused on a long room that was a deep red color with brick walls. Giant pentagrams were drawn in fresh blood on every surface. There were double doors at each corner of the room. The area itself was the size of a basketball court.

  The doors opened automatically. That marked hordes of people stumbling forth into the room. They were all naked, dirty, and wearing terrified expressions. Hundreds of persons were bunched up together in that single room in one cluster.

  Figures at the perimeters of the room were wearing pig, horse, and goat heads. They were dressed in ceremonial robes and clutching M-16's. They were forcing the stragglers into the room before the double doors closed. After everybody was inside, the armed robe wearers made their exit.

  The camera changed rooms.

  A person wearing a horse head clutched onto a black book and read incantations to a circle of fellow Satanists.

  "Oh Satan, bring forth hell's elite. We shall honor them tonight. We worship you, oh Satan. Blood for blood. Sin for sin. The murders we shall commit this night will be in the name of thee, o' dark prince. Let our love flow like blood. This is our sacrifice to honor you, oh Satan. Bring forth hell's elite! Blood for blood. Flesh for flesh. Death for death. Satan, honor us with your gifts!"

  The TV screens showed the room jam-packed with persons. They were pounding and scratching against the walls to escape. Others were trying to take the doors off their hinges. Building screams carried notes of genuine discord.

  David's heart sank watching them. He had once seen slaughter house footage. How the cattle would march up through the stockyards to have their skulls smashed, their throats slit, and their bodies butchered into choice cuts. The moment the cows waited unknowingly of their fate reminded David of this moment, except this time, the slaughtered knew exactly what was to come.

  Everybody stayed silent in the coming moments.

  The fate of those in the room was becoming apparent.

  Gears shifted. Engines churned. Those bunched up in the room were holding tight to each other, while others slammed their bodies into the side walls to escape. Their efforts were for nothing.

  The ceiling and floor were made of steel. The steel was rising up and coming down to pancake everybody in the room. The sounds the people made when they realized this would never leave David's memory. It would curdle his blood and darken his soul forever. The cries, the pleas, the unanswered calls for help would all give him reason to fight later on.

  The camera captured it all.

  The angles changed constantly to catch every glimpse of the slaughter. Bones ripping forth from skin. Guts bursting from bellies with sharp popping sounds. Skulls broke so hard the eyes and tongue blasted forth from orifices like cannon fodder. Ribs shattered and penetrated lungs. Guts and gallons of blood were forced out of anuses and mouths at high pressures. Physics and science turned blood and death into high-powered projectiles. David saw one woman kiss her baby's head before both were crushed simultaneously.

  "Those sons-of-a-bitches!" David raged. "They won't get away with this. I'm killing every last one of them! People capable of this shouldn't be honored with the right to live! I'll take that privilege away. Watch me. Fucking watch me!"

  Kayla grabbed him. He thought she was going to try and calm him. It was just the opposite.

  "Both of us will enjoy killing them all. You're not alone, David. We'll both see them bleed. Every last Goddamn one of them."

  The camera angles showed the blood, guts, and pulped bodies roll and clunk down a steel chute. The ugly mess splattered into another large room below the original killing area. This drop sight was marked with a giant pentagram. This pentagram had extra pieces of information. Mathematical equations. Words written in ancient languages. The room must've been air tight, David guessed, how the blood level was several feet high and still rising.

  Before anything else happened, the camera was in a new room, and trained on a new scene.

  He saw the face of the man he hated.

  David did his best to contain his anger.

  And failed.

  Luke Bloom was wearing a business suit that probably cost nearly half of what David made in a year. The handsome sociopath held a microphone in his hand. He was standing outside of a thick paneled window along a cinder block wall. This looked into the room where the smashed remains of the slaughtered had landed. Blood and death was still dripping down the chute.

  "As the room above me drains, and we wait for our very special guests to arrive, I want to welcome another special guest. Mr. President, I must ask you the big question. Who do you hope to see show up this year?"

  David's stomach did flips. He was about to double over in shock. That was in fact the Ted Yearling. The president of the United States. The white-haired, pork-bellied pig was holding onto a smoldering cigar in one hand, and the other held a high ball glass of what David guessed was an insanely high end spirit.

  "Well, Luke, that's a BIG question. You can ask me questions about fixing the economy, improving health care, and dealing with ISIS, and I can throw whatever bullshit your way and come away without really saying a damn thing. But son, when you ask me a question about The Event, I can't bullshit you.

  "Everybody enjoyed Typhoid Jane, but she hasn't come along in three years. Slice was a welcome addition, but last year, he was drunk the whole time and tripped over himself half a dozen times. I could've stalked and slashed better than that lush. Bloody Mask killed that guy with a mirror. I've never seen a kill like that before. And lots of Kudos to Bloody Mask. He's always full of surprises. Robert Fish makes a lot of funny jokes after he kills. He busts me up, that guy. I'll give him that."

  "You can only choose one, Mr. President. Who do you want to see come out to play this year?"

  "Oh, okay. If you're going to twist my arm about it, kind sir. One killer. Fine. Well, I'll come right out and say it. Chomps didn't make an app
earance last year. I was very disappointed. I want Chomps to show his mug. I'd be thrilled to see that guy tear some bitch's tits off with his mouth. Those teeth! Chomps is all passion. He fights with his heart, and his stomach. I can relate. I make almost all my decisions based on how hungry I am."

  Luke was booming with cheesy energy. "Very good, Mr. President. Great choice. Chomps would be a welcome addition to this year's program. Now I'll let you get back to the party. Thank you for taking the time to talk with me."

  Ted Yearling pointed at the camera and said, "You people in the holding box better put up a good fight. You have no idea how hard the Blooms and their crew work to put this show together year after year. Don't let us down. That's an executive order!"

  The president was gone. Luke moved down a long hallway. The camera followed after him. He entered a white-painted doorway and stepped into a room full of individuals dressed for an extravagant party. People were drinking high end champagne, booze, and eating up caviar and special delicacies. The host stood in front of hundreds of people from different countries, including dignitaries and politicians.

  "Are you ready for The Event?" Luke shouted, pumping his fist in the air. "Are you ready to watch your favorite killers in action? I want to hear it!"

  Everybody roared with excitement. Luke was hurrying faster. He glided up and down stairs, moved down narrow hallways, and was heading to an unknown place.

  "It's almost time for The Event to begin. I want to go over the rules of the night, because we have a new round of guests this year. During The Event, there will be TV's playing scenes where the action's at on the various screens placed in our many viewing rooms. You can move about the outskirts of the arena and watch through plated glass as our killers do their thing. You will also receive a DVD copy of the night's kills. You will not miss a single moment. I want you to feel comfortable to do as you please and not worry about missing the action.

  "We have comfort suites. If you would like to have sex while one of our elite killers watches you through a plate of glass, or if you want a killer to dedicate a murder to you, we can arrange that. Anything you want, we can accommodate. Our killers cross over because they want to entertain you."

  Luke stood in front of a blank white wall. A projector cast power point bullets onto the wall beside him. New bullet points were added to the screen as Luke touched on each new idea.

  "This year, we have some new features to announce. The theme this year is FIGHT BACK. We've given our victims a fighting chance. Weapons are placed throughout the arena. Anything from guns, to axes, to grenades, we've got 'em all.

  "Another new feature this year is the PANIC ROOM. There are steel tanks that allow one of our gamers a twenty or thirty minute break. Once that time is up, that person can leave, and a killer cannot be within so many feet of that person for a full minute. It's all about a fighting chance. The stronger our players are, the more resources they have, the more interesting the event will be to watch.

  "I'm sure you've noticed how many persons we used for the sacrifice earlier. It's triple the normal numbers. We hope more serial killers will show up this time. Hell deserves to be honored, and we've done our best this year.

  "We've gathered one-hundred and fifty people to enter the arena, or so you thought!"

  The camera panned to another room just like the one David and Kayla stood in currently. It was crammed tight with countless persons.

  "We've got one hundred and fifty MORE people to add to the massacre! More death! More weapons! More killers! You want it, you got it! This night is for you. ENJOY THE MASSACRE!"

  Luke Bloom was gone. The camera was now on the room where the blood had collected. That blood had mysteriously disappeared. The mess left a cherry gleam on the walls. Not even the bones of the slaughtered remained.

  "Where did everything go?" Kayla asked. "That room was flooded. Now it's only the pentagram. It's as if..."

  She couldn't say it.

  He said it for her.

  "It's as if the pentagram sucked everything up."

  Right when he said that, thick red smoke began to hiss from the pentagram. The room was obscured by the red fog. Thicker and thicker, the red fog continued to spew up from an unknown source. Growls emanated about the area, echoing from a deep chasm. Chains rattled. Maniacal laughs of amusement spread. Satanic incantations began. It sounded like a choir of beasts were singing praises in vomit-purging unison. This became so loud, David cupped his ears. Everybody in the room did the same.

  David kept his eyes on the screen. The moment before the room burst into pieces from the pressure of fog force and noise, he swore he saw figures standing there, and slowly, they were marching towards the camera.

  Then the screens went black.

  Luke's voice exploded over the holding room's intercom:

  "SIXTY SECONDS UNTIL ENTRY. STAND IN PLACE. KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE MAIN ENTRANCE. IF YOU REFUSE TO ENTER, GUNS WILL SHOOT YOU DOWN. ONCE YOU ENTER THE ARENA, IT'S UP TO YOU, AND ONLY YOU, TO SAVE YOURSELF. HISTORY SHOWS THE EVENT CAN LAST BETWEEN TWENTY-FOUR AND SEVENTY-TWO HOURS.

  "IF YOU SURVIVE, WE LET YOU GO. IT'S THAT SIMPLE. REMEMBER YOUR MOTIVATION. THIS IS NO JOKE. WE ARE VERY SERIOUS. THE PEOPLE OUT THERE WILL KILL YOU. YOU CAN FIGHT BACK. NO LAWS EXIST, EXCEPT THE BASIC LAWS OF NATURE. FIGHT FOR YOUR LIVES. THE BEST OF LUCK TO ALL OF YOU!!! ENJOY YOURSELVES!"

  There was a red digital timer over the giant door.

  Forty seconds until entry.

  Kayla clutched his arm. "This is going to become one cluster fuck. Everybody's going to be running forward at the same time. We'll get lost in the shuffle. We move at a fast jog, okay? I won't let go of you. Once we get somewhere clear, we can lay low and figure this out. How's that for a plan?"

  Twenty-five seconds until entry.

  "Good thinking," David said. "I don't know what they're going to throw at us. I saw people in that fog. They must be the killers they summoned."

  "Summoned from where?"

  He couldn't believe he said it. "From that pentagram."

  "What the hell are we getting into?"

  "I don't know. I just don't know."

  Five seconds until entry.

  Four.

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  "THE EVENT HAS BEGUN!!! RUN, YOU FUCKING BASTARDS! RUN FOR YOUR STINKING PATHETIC LIVES!!! PROVE TO ME YOUR LIFE IS WORTH LIVING! GRUBS! WELFARE CHECK CASHIN' INGRATES! LEECHES! POVERTY STINKING SHITBAGS! FUCKING GET SOME!"

  The giant garage door came open with the sound of struggling hinges and the coughing of an old motor. Gasoline fumes spread thickly. Fog machines churned out white from the ceiling. The white obscured the area ahead of them. David couldn't see a damn thing.

  Kayla's hand clutched his arm. "Let's bolt!"

  He was moving without feeling his body. Kayla was running hard. He struggled to keep up with her. His knees were already killing him, and he was coughing and gasping for breath. That damn fog was choking him. No matter what pain his body registered, he wouldn't stop moving. He refused.

  He kept blinking the smoke out of his eyes. The fog wasn't simply white air. There was something about it that stung his eyes. Were they spraying a diluted form of tear gas at them?

  "Keep going," Kayla shouted over the rising screams all around them. "Stay with me."

  Bright stage lights turned the fog different colors. Blues, reds, greens, yellows, and bright whites were rotated.

  One of the group refused to leave the holding area.

  -"I will not play this game! I refuse! You can't make me."

  Machinegun fire sprayed the protestor. When the body struck the ground, David swore somebody was dragging the corpse off somewhere.

  David and Kayla forged their way up a sharp incline. The ground was loose gravel. They tripped every other step. The repetition couldn't be avoided. Fall. Grab onto each other's arms. Get back up. Fall. Grab onto each other's arms. Get back up. Fall. Grab onto each other's arms. Get back up. Fall. Grab onto eac
h other's arms. Dodge the twenty-inch saw blade poking up from the ground and spinning fury!

  The spinning metal sheared the tip of David's boot. His toes were spared. The blade clanged against the steel toe. He stumbled backwards. He lost hold of Kayla.

  "Kayla!"

  She was gone. Seconds later, Kayla screamed. She was being pulled away by her legs. The sound of a dozens of feet pounded the ground in retreat. David got back up as fast as he could. He was about to search for Kayla when a wet lasso wrapped around his neck. He slipped out of it by tilting his head to the side.

  The rope was an intestine.

  He twisted his body and barely avoided the giant buzz saw blade once again that had almost killed him earlier.

  Kayla's pleas couldn't be heard anymore. A cleaver caught the yellow light as it swung down. David grabbed the arm clutching the weapon. He swung his fist wildly, landing a solid gut punch. The stomach was a solid wall of muscle. It did nothing to deter the monster. The cleaver sliced at the air again, bound to carve him up into pieces.

  A maniacal voice shrieked, "GIVE ME A GOOD PIECE OF MEAT!"

  David kicked the side of the attacker's knee. The attacker raged in pain. Before the madman in the fog could right himself, David shoved him backwards.

  Pay dirt.

  "Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

  The spokes of the giant saw blade sliced the body into pieces. He could hear the sounds of wet dismemberment play out for fifteen seconds.

  David picked up the cleaver he heard clang against the ground and kept moving.

  He sensed others forging ahead. The fog was too thick to make out more than vague profiles of movement. People were running for their lives everywhere.