Men of Perdition

by Kelly M. Hudson

  The three of them thrust forward and down, their greedy fingers digging into soft pieces of William’s flesh. He kicked and screamed but much like his dead son Ralph, he didn’t stand a chance. And in truth, he gave up just a little bit, enough so that any hope of escaping was gone by the time they opened his throat and pulled out his vocal chords like long strings of bloody spaghetti.

  II

  Tina

  Tina finished up the last of the filing and sat down in her chair, exhausted. She could feel the Mayor’s love juice on the back of her leg, long since dry now, crack and flake off. That was too bad. She liked having it there; something about it gave her a thrill and made her feel naughty. She loved the danger of it, the way it made her toes curl and her nipples tingle with excitement.

  Not for the first time did she wonder if she had a problem, some sort of mental imbalance. She laughed the thought off like she always did, whenever it reared its stupid little ugly head. That was society talking. She was an animal, just like any other, with wants and needs. And so she had a large sexual appetite. So what?

  She sighed and leaned back in her chair. What were her plans for tonight? It was going to be another lonely one, she was sure. She could go out, maybe, hit up a bar or two in Hazard. She did that sometimes, when she didn’t want to be alone. She’d drive out there, pick up a guy like her, sad and lonesome, and go back to his place and screw his brains out. She’d be gone by morning, sometimes staying if the chemistry had been good, and ball the guy one more time before leaving. But she didn’t do this much, maybe once every three months or so. Usually she was content with her time with the Mayor.

  Tonight, she decided, she was going to go home, cook some dinner and drink wine until she passed out.

  A slight hissing sound drew her attention to the open window by the front door. She glanced over and saw a small piece of rubber hose sticking through the bottom of the window. She furrowed her brow and stared, walking over to the window, the sound of the hissing louder and more insistent the closer she got. She smelled burnt rubber and lemons and wondered what was going on. Did something come loose from the side of the building and fall in through the window?

  She was almost to the hose when her legs froze and she couldn’t walk anymore. Panic gripped her as she opened her mouth to scream just as her neck and shoulders seized up. She toppled to the right, landing hard on her side, stuck like a mannequin in a store window, posed in the motion of walking. Only her eyes could move, and they darted back and forth.

  Her mind whirled with fear as the window slid open, the fading light of day splashing across her immobilized body like a wave of water. The light was blocked out by a large, dark shape. The Mad Gasser crept in through the window, pulling the hose in with him. It was attached to a tank with a twist valve on the top. He turned the valve and the hose stopped hissing.

  Tina’s eyes riveted, found him, and stared. Her eyes teared up and the excess water dripped from her eyeballs, pooling into a puddle on the floor by her head. She wanted to blink them clear, she wanted to shut her eyes and not see anything, she wanted to run and never look back, but she could do none of these things. She was stuck, unable to do anything but watch.

  The Mad Gasser studied her a moment, tilting his gas-mask face to the side. He looked like a big bug the way the goggles bulged out and the stem of the mask dangled down his chest. Seeming satisfied, he reached inside his coat and pulled out another short tube of hose and stretched it tight between his hands. He bent down and opened her legs. They parted easily, as if of their own accord and she wondered why she couldn’t get them to work for her. She felt his cold, gloved hands on her inner thighs and she wished to God she could scream.

  He yanked her panties off, sliding them over her ankles and tossing them into the corner of the room. As her underwear settled into a pile, he flipped her dress up, exposing her groin. She watched with horror as he slid the hose up the inside of her thighs, dragging it lightly along the skin. Her flesh prickled and she wasn’t sure if it was with delight or fear. The Mad Gasser rubbed the tube at the entrance to her vagina, greasing it up, before plunging it inside of her.

  She would have gasped if she could. It was cold and sticky and tore her skin as it went inside her. Tina’s eyes darted about, looking for something to help her, some way to get out of her predicament, wishing she could scream for help. But she was helpless and could do nothing.

  The Mad Gasser slid his mask off and gazed down at her. When their eyes met, she thought her mind would snap in two. She could not describe what she was seeing because it was too horrific, too nasty and vile. And when he slid the other end of the hose into what she guessed he would call a mouth, she fainted dead away.

  She did not remain unconscious for more than a few seconds because the sound of him puffing away, blowing some sort of gas inside of her, combined with a glowing, warm feeling in her groin, combined to pull her into consciousness. Tina’s eyes flew open as he blew blue smoke down the hose and inside her. It smelled like roses and as the gas entered, spreading up from her groin to her stomach, all the way up to the top of her head and down to the tips of her toes, she felt the most pleasant sensation of her life.

  The Mad Gasser blew one more puff inside her and leaned back, pulling the hose out. He replaced his mask, for which she was thankful, and hovered over her, watching.

  The first contraction hit a couple of seconds later. It wracked her groin and made her lower body spasm. Her eyes bugged out because it hurt but felt good at the same time. Another contraction hit her and this one didn’t hurt at all. In fact, it was the greatest feeling she’d ever had.

  They came fast and furious after that, wave after wave of pleasure, shaking her entire body, radiating from her crotch all the way down her legs and up to rattle her brain.

  The smell of roses grew stronger, filling her nostrils and mouth, cloying in their intensity. Then she came. For the first time in her life, she orgasmed. Her body shook and her breath came shallow and fast. At last she knew what it was like to reach that peak, and before she could blink, before she could even process what had just happened, she came again and again.

  Warm, wet liquid pulsed from between her legs, flowing out and staining the floor beneath her. She didn’t care. She was lost in the thrall of the most incredible experience she’d ever known. Her body bucked and her hips humped the air as her lips parted and she squealed with pleasure. Tina grunted as she came again and again and before she knew it, she lost herself in the multiple orgasms.

  Something tore loose inside her. She heard it, a wet rip, and she felt something slither from her vagina and burp out onto the floor between her legs. It was the worst pain of her life. She came again and the pleasure wiped the pain away until something else cleaved open inside her and then it farted out between her legs and after that, came an avalanche.

  She bucked and writhed as her uterus and intestines vomited from her vagina, spitting and sliding across the floor. She was having such a good time, she hardly cared. Until her stomach went, pulling her esophagus along with it, flushing out from between her legs.

  Tina spasmed and died, blood and inner organs splashing on the floor.

  The Mad Gasser studied her body a long moment before exiting, closing the front door behind him.

  III

  Sadie

  Sadie stepped out of the shower, fresh, clean, and nervous as hell. She’d taken a hot one, so when she got out, the bathroom was filled with steam. This was in spite of the central air, chugging away, desperately trying to fill the large house with cool air to fight a long day spent soaking up the heat outside. She grabbed a towel and opened the door to let some of the steam out.

  She was nervous. She toweled dry, feeling the cool air come in from the hallway. It was a relief after the heat of the day and then the shower, but she’d wanted it hot and now she wanted it cool. She couldn’t believe Sam finally asked her out. Her hand shook as she used a towel to wipe steam from the mirror over the sink. She really n
eeded to get a grip here. It wasn’t going to be very exciting for Sam to spend the evening with a woman who couldn’t hold her hands steady and, from the lump that formed in the back of her throat every time she thought about the night ahead, a woman who couldn’t speak, either.

  He’d called her an hour ago, saying he was closing down the diner and headed home. He would be by in two hours to pick her up. Did she mind going to Hazard to get dinner and see a movie? No, she didn’t. What would she like to eat? Whatever he wanted. What kind of movie would she like to see? It didn’t really matter, whatever was good. And then he’d hung up and she feared she scared him off by sounding so retarded on the phone. She guessed she’d find out in about forty minutes or so, when he should be pulling up in her driveway.

  Sadie brushed her hair, slapped on some deodorant, and sprayed a few delicate spritzes of perfume on her wrists, her neck, and even a shot down in her panties. You never knew, after all. A wicked smile slashed her face. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to jump in the sack with him just yet, but at the same time, she wanted to have sex something fierce. It was a funny thing; she hadn’t gotten laid in years and her body desperately wanted to tear Sam’s clothes off and bang his brains out. But her head told her doing so would be a mistake, that it would be better to be cool and let things happen as they will. She wasn’t sure which advice to take, although she was sticking with the head and control, but if things got heated, she couldn’t really say how it would turn out.

  She left the bathroom, walked the hall across cold hardwood floors down to her bedroom. She looked herself over, naked but for her panties, in the full-length mirror by her closet, fairly happy with what she was seeing. She was a little pudgy around the waist, sporting what the men liked to call a pooch, and her thighs were a bit thicker than she wanted, but overall, she was in good shape. Her eyes had circles but she could hide or at least diminish them with a little makeup, and there were crow’s feet forming in the corners of her outer eyelids, but again, some makeup would do away with that.

  All in all, she looked good for a woman of her age. She couldn’t compete in a pageant with a bunch of twenty year olds, but she didn’t need to. And then there were her tits, big and round and impossibly buoyant despite her age. They should have been sagging by now, swinging down to her waist like worn-out cow udders, but they were high and firm and so very pretty to look at. Hell, even Sadie liked to stare at her own tits, and she’d lived with them her whole life. For some reason, despite everything else that had happened in her life regarding men and marriage and the like, God had blessed her with a pair of knockers that were out of this world.

  Maybe she’d let Sam touch them tonight. Maybe she’d slip out of her bra and let him suck on her nipples. She got a hot flash and that spot between her legs tingled as her nipples grew large and hard. She needed to rein it in, to hold on and not get so flustered. She had a long night ahead of her so there was no reason to get revved up so early.

  She went through a dozen dresses and none seemed to be the right kind. Finally, she settled for a pink summer dress that she’d made two years ago but rarely wore.

  Sadie looked at herself in the mirror, decided on a white pair of sandals to go with the dress, and her white handbag as an accessory, and she knew she was set. If Sam didn’t want to rip this dress off and fuck her on the floor then she didn’t know what to say about him.

  She slipped out of the dress and shoes and put on a pair of shorts, a tank top, and some worn sandals. It was still a while before he was supposed to arrive, so there was no sense in getting fully dressed and then sitting on the couch and waiting. She had a lot of things she could be doing in the meantime.

  So she went downstairs and paced her house, nervous. It was big, a two-story colonial that sat fifteen miles outside of town in the country, nestled at the foot of one of the big, rolling hills that ran through Constance. To get there, you had to take one of the two main roads in and out of town, follow it south, and then turn onto Higgins Hollow. This paved road soon became a gravel road and that turned to dirt. Five miles later, you had the driveway entrance to Sadie’s place. Her house was at the end of the drive and her nearest neighbor was a mile down the way, so she was fairly isolated out there.

  Her house was pretty modern inside, at least as much as she could afford. She had a large living room with two black leather couches, an easy chair, a fireplace against the south wall, a big screen TV on the west wall, and a couple of paintings on the east wall. The living room was the first room you came into when you opened the front door and off of that, at the north end, was the kitchen.

  There wasn’t much to say about it because it was a typical kitchen: oven, stove, dirty dishes in the sink, refrigerator, microwave, and a separate freezer. A big table sat in the middle of the kitchen and off to the right of it was two sliding glass doors that led to the backyard. There was a door that led to a garage full of junk, and a back staircase that went to the three bedrooms upstairs. Sadie used one, of course, had another as her guest room, and the last room she used for her work space. It was full of fabrics and the tools of her trade.

  All in all, she had a nice place, but sometimes it was too big and too lonely for her. That would change tonight, hopefully. Not that she expected Sam to stay over nor would she ask him, but it was a nice thought to entertain. Then again, there were the other possibilities: they went out and she found he had some horrible secret, or he went to kiss her and he had bad breath, or he found her boring and childish despite her age and wanted nothing more to do with her.

  She interlaced her fingers and popped her knuckles. There was no need to think like that, no need to think about it at all, in fact. She was going on a date and she should just relax and let things play out as they would.

  She wondered if Sam would make a good husband and as that thought flitted through her head, she laughed and walked to the kitchen. She couldn’t help her mind, the way it was always working, exploring every possibility. Give her ten minutes and she’d have lived through their marriage, their kids, and watching Sam die of cancer in a hospital bed when he reached seventy years old.

  She poured a glass of water and checked the clock on the wall. Thirty more minutes. How was she going to pass them? She decided to go out back, sit on a lawn chair, and enjoy the fading light of the afternoon.

  She slid the door open and shut it behind her as she stepped out, the heat and humidity slapping her face like a fat, wet sock. This was a mistake. Now she’d break out sweating and ruin all the work her shower did. She turned to go back inside when a whispering noise rustled through the tops of the trees behind her. She whirled back around in time to spy a dark shape shuffling through the tops of the pine trees just thirty yards away.

  Her lawn was small but well-kept, and at the end of it, the forest began. Somewhere in those trees, up where she could barely see, something was staring at her. She could feel the eyes, though they didn’t seem like eyes, more like a presence, and they bore into her like a drill cutting through butter. Her heart thudded in her chest as her blood thickened and her head spun. Something was very wrong out there.

  Her skin tickled at the back of her neck. She could feel those sockets that weren’t eyes, searching her, watching her, sizing her up. A chill ran through her body and she shivered, despite the heat, and nearly dropped her glass of water.

  A car horn blared, shocking her from her stupor.

  A car pulled up into the driveway. She watched as a brown Mercedes skidded to a stop and for a moment, she forgot her fear and instead was filled with disgust. She groaned out loud as the car door opened and Tate Stevens stepped out, his brown eyes hidden behind his mirrored sunglasses. He still had his quarterback’s build from college ball, stood six foot five, weighed two hundred pounds, trim and lean with hard muscles, perfect suntan and even more perfect teeth. Tate Stevens had an unrequited crush on Sadie such that, from time to time, he would drop by her work and remind her of it. And he showed up now, today of all days.


  “Sadie!” he called out. He hadn’t seen her yet and was walking towards the front door. She briefly thought about hiding out until she heard the trees rustle out across from her again, and the momentarily forgotten fear struck her heart like an electrical shock.

  “Over here!” she yelled.

  Tate turned, saw her, and grimaced. He still had those damned sunglasses on. Sadie couldn’t understand his desire for her except that it was purely a sexual thing for him. Tate could have any woman he wanted, in this town or any other. His father, Richard Stevens, owned a couple of farms the next county over and had a prosperous cattle business. Richard was stinking rich and therefore, so was his son.

  “We need to talk,” Tate said. He walked over towards her, his shoulders stiff and his chest puffed out. He must have heard, somehow, about Sam, and was pissed. This was the last thing she needed.

  Tate had started harassing her a year ago, coming by her shop at first to commission work for his mother, but it was all a pretense to get into her pants. Sadie didn’t mind at first because the work was steady and the money was good, so she played along a bit, teasing him out to keep the jobs coming. She knew that she probably shouldn’t have done that, but she couldn’t help it. She liked the attention, even if she didn’t like him.

  One day he came in and stood a little too close and asked her if it was true what he’d read about cougars. When Sadie confessed she didn’t know anything about cougars other than they lived in the wild and were mean. Tate found that funny, laughing hard, before he put his hand on her ass and pulled her to him. Sadie slapped his face and from that point on, it was contentious between them. Still, he kept bringing work and kept trying to win her over, even though she was having none of it.

  Now he was here, walking across the grass, red and angry, fit to be tied.

  “I heard about you,” he said, jabbing his finger in her direction. “About you and that lowlife Sam Drake. What were you thinking?”