Rabid Heart

by Jeremy Wagner

  The large stranger nodded and grunted while he put his fat and dirty fingertips into the space between the trunk and bumper near the Passat’s rear left panel. Rhonda stayed back and observed.

  She lowered her gun began her count. “Here we go. One. Two. Three!”

  When the trunk flew wide open with no effort at all, Rhonda recoiled at the sight of the kids inside.

  What the fuck? They’re NOT kids!

  Sure, they were the height of grade-schoolers, but the undersized man and woman before her were wrinkled and filthy middle-aged things with dark eyes and bad teeth.

  The little man inside bared mule teeth at Rhonda while the tiny red-haired woman leapt out, running and pointing something at her. She muttered, “Dumb bitch.”

  Rhonda raised her .45 to fire but wasn’t fast enough. Instant pain from pepper-spray blasted her eyes and ravaged her nose, throat, and mouth. It blinded her. She couldn’t scream as she retched and coughed and whirled around in the road. She fought an urge to press her hands into her eyes. Rhonda had trained with mace and pepper-spray and learned not to touch an affected area to avoid spreading irritants, but it took all the self-restraint she had.

  “Grab her! Get her! Get the gun and get the bitch before she tumbles down the ditch!”

  In pain, blinded, and fearful, Rhonda knew she couldn’t escape.

  “That’s a good lady. Don’t even think-a runnin’ from me.” The big stranger’s voice boomed right behind Rhonda. Even through the pepper-spray, she smelled his strong and noxious breath on her head. “Let’s get her put away before her friend gets on to us.”

  “What friend?” A high-pitched voice said.

  “She left someone behind in one of them Hummer deals up there on the road,” the man answered. “We’d best get into our place before we get shot or somethin’. I’ll deal with ’em later.”

  “You fuckers!” Rhonda cried out in pain and despair. She felt her .45 yank away and a pair of huge arms bear-hugged her from behind, lifting her off the ground to whisk her away... to a fate she couldn’t see coming.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Oh, God. Where were they taking her? She couldn’t see anything, but she knew they had placed her in a small room. It felt claustrophobic.

  Her eyes burned and she coughed in fits. She assumed her abductors had made a beeline to the oasis at the bottom of the exit ramp.

  She overheard the little people and big bearded man discuss a number of unsavory plans for her. Her captors debated: Would they make her a sex-slave or into a stew? The little people and the big guy argued over having her for sex, dinner or both. Every suggestion made Rhonda feel sick.

  Brad! Oh, God, he was still buckled in his seat, all alone on the highway. She batted her eyes. Slowly her new environment came to light, though her throat was still raw from coughing fits and her face burned.

  Rhonda moaned in a combination of pain, frustration and frank fury. These scumbags were good as dead. But if they harmed Brad, she’d do them slow.

  She seemed to be in some kind of broom closet. A door, several feet in front of her, stood ajar, allowing daylight to cut in a narrow beam. Gray metal storage shelves stood from floor to ceiling on either side of her, bare save for some yellowed newspapers from another world.

  The closet door opened wider, and in the watery light, Rhonda made out silhouettes of two short and stout forms. Yes, she remembered these two: Patty and Randy. Were their names even real? No matter, she didn’t give a shit. They held blurry objects in their tiny hands. She thought they might be batons or pipes, or maybe her trusty sidearm.

  “She don’t look too damaged.” Randy’s squeaky voice came from Rhonda’s left. “Her eyes are fucked-up is all.”

  “I’m not interested in her eyes.” Patty scoffed. “I wanna see what this pretty young thing’s tongue can do.”

  “That all you think about? Eyes make good eatin,’ I say.”

  “And I says I want her t’do a number on me. You boys can eat when I’m done with my fun.”

  Great. Rhonda grimaced through her facial sting. Vertically challenged cannibals. A dyke cannibal to boot. How do I get into this shit?

  “Wait.” Rhonda raised a hand. Gotta stall ’em until my vision returns.

  “Wait nothin’, dumb bitch.” Patty barked and released a malicious cackle. “You’re eating pussy or else you’re getting the mace again. Want that?”

  Rhonda shook her head. No, she definitely didn’t want to take spray to her eyes again.

  “She’ll eat you, and then we eat her.” Randy guffawed, nudging Patty.

  With each new disgusting threat, Rhonda’s fury rose one hot notch at a time. She’d be damned if she’d be anyone’s dinner, or taste this wee bitch’s fire crotch.

  Fuck them.

  Rhonda made a nonchalant pass with her hands and remembered her .45 automatic had been stripped from her.

  “Hey.” Rhonda did her best to smile and sound upbeat. “Randy and Patty, right?”

  The little people paused. Patty spat. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”

  “Just curious is all.” Rhonda blinked. Shit, Patty held Rhonda’s .45 in her child-sized hands, though she appeared to be handling the firearm with some difficulty.

  “Curiosity killed the cunt.” Randy sounded amused by his brand of wit.

  Rhonda coughed, her trachea raw. “I just wanna know why y’all wanna eat me and hurt me. Aren’t things bad enough out here? People need to stick together. To fight Cujos and to survive.”

  Randy stopped and scratched his head. He turned to Patty. “Don’t you just love these naïve ones?”

  “Shut-up, dummy.” Patty spat and held the handgun out with her stumpy arms. “Dumb bitch thinks like a dumb bitch. Ain’t nothin’ t’do but take care of your own neck.”

  “Every man for himself now. I want to keep her, pretty girl like that. Don’t have to eat her.” Randy nodded at Rhonda. “Roy’s easy. He’ll agree.”

  Roy, huh? Rhonda committed all their names to memory.

  “Roy’s horny and hungry. He wants to fuck, but he’ll want to fill his belly before the next one rolls along. I’m sure on that one.” Patty frowned. “‘Sides, we can’t afford to feed another mouth here. Pretty slut or not. Not with us ’n Roy and those two little brats.”

  Little brats? Rhonda’s heart jumped. Were there real kids out here, around these monsters? The thought was chilling.

  “Where’s Roy?” Rhonda started to rise.

  “Sit your ass down and don’t mind where Roy is.” Patty stepped closer with the bulky handgun in her mitts. “He went up to the highway to take care of your friend.”

  Blood drained from her face and rushed to Rhonda’s heart. Poor Brad, still strapped in his seat, waiting for her, confused. Roy would kill him easy as a trapped animal. She whimpered.

  “Awww. You worried ’bout someone special up there?” Patty grinned. “Well, Roy’s gonna kill ’em and we’re gonna eat ’em.”

  Rhonda gritted her teeth. Patty’s voice vexed her. Her vision finally back to normal, she glared into Patty and Randy’s small and wrinkled faces. Her inflamed eyes met theirs. “If Roy’s so much as mussed up Brad’s hair, I’m gonna blow his balls off. And I’ll feed you pieces of yourselves until nothin’s left.”

  Patty and Randy giggled together, shaking their heads.

  “Sure you will, pretty. And Brad? That name’s gayer than my sister here.” Randy giggled his way into further high-pitched guffaws.

  “Shut it, idiot.” Patty yipped at Randy through her giggles. She bore an expression of contempt. “You ain’t blowin’ off or feeding anyone nothin’. We’re running this show.”

  Rhonda couldn’t end this crap fast enough. She jumped to her feet, only to freeze fast when Patty rammed the .45 into Rhonda’s crotch.

  “Hold it, bitch.” Patty snarled, flashing tiny, discolored and square teeth. She fumbled with Rhonda’s .45, twisting the barrel into Rhonda’s pubic bone. “How ’bout I blow something off of you?
Randy! Tape her wrists together.”

  With a snort, Randy switched his rusted metal pipe from one hand to another. He reached into his raggedy, cutoff pants and pulled out a battered roll of duct tape. What else did he keep in his pockets?

  “Put your arms out and down in front of ya’ or I’ll brain ya’ with this pipe.” Randy raised his right arm and shook the pipe at Rhonda.

  This Munchkin enforcer, what a joke. If it wasn’t for the dangerous placement of a .45 to her holiest-of-holies, Rhonda thought she could take Randy and Patty down.

  Randy wrapped silver-colored tape around Rhonda’s wrists while Patty held the gun in place. With her arms bound tight, the little people led Rhonda from the closet and into a deserted gas station mini-mart.

  Rhonda’s eyes ached, but she saw well enough. The unoccupied station smelled like old oil and food grease. She noticed shelves stocked plenty with expired snacks and food. No doubt, this stuff was valued like gold out here. Behind the bulletproof glass of the old attendant partition, she saw rolls of old scratch-off lottery tickets, phone cards, cartons of cigarettes and bottles of cheap booze. Everything was covered in dust.

  “Looks like you got a good stash here.” Rhonda scanned more dirty and stocked shelves as she walked down an aisle. “Plenty to eat and party with.”

  “We claimed the exit and this entire stretch of fast food joints and gas stations months ago.” Randy bragged as he pushed Rhonda along. “There ain’t animals ’round here to hunt. Most got Necro in ’em anyways. We’re saving all this stale shit in here for when things get real bad. So far, we’ve had plenty of food from the other joints, and thanks to dumb-fucks like you, we get fresh meat just about once a week.”

  Just half a year and here we are. Half a year and people become cannibals and casual rapists.

  “And this stash ain’t for partying.” Patty spoke from behind. She pushed Rhonda forward with the .45 planted into her tailbone. “Roy ’n Randy ’n me stay away from booze and all that bad shit. We don’t smoke and we don’t drink out here.”

  “Oh, of course not.” Rhonda feigned laughter. “You’re living the good and pure life with all of your raping and people eating.”

  Patty pushed the .45 harder into Rhonda’s coccyx. “You need to fuckin’ shut it.”

  Randy turned to Rhonda when they reached the station’s front doors. “We’ll see which side of the coin your purty ass lands on. Heads we eat. Tails we screw. Since we make the rules, we might do both.”

  Rhonda found Randy’s threat to be one part ridiculous and one part creepy. They led her outside and into the fading amber light of the day. She frowned at a lofty BP sign high above her for all eyes to see.

  Oil spills or Necro-Rabies. We sure shit in our nest. Rhonda gazed at the flower-like corporate logo with distaste.

  “Move it.” Patty shoved Rhonda forward.

  “Where we goin’?” Rhonda looked around. Everywhere were things left behind from a vanished civilization; rigs and cars, an abandoned McDonald’s and Waffle House across the road, dejected gas pumps nearby, an adult toy store and a fireworks stand—everything left to rot.

  What about Brad? What was going on up there? Rhonda shot a concerned glance at the highway, now ahead and high above her. She spotted the Passat-trap parked on the exit ramp, and above it, the dark shape of her Humvee’s top poking above a highway guard-wall. She didn’t see any movement.

  “We got a real nice place over yonder.” Randy walked ahead. He pointed at a five-story building with a big sign in cursive script: Ruthie’s Inn.

  “Except you ain’t getting a suite at this place, bitch.” Patty sneered. “We’re taking you to the slave pen. Should’ve put you in there already. You’ll stay there ’til we decide what t’do with ya’.”

  Rhonda’s eyes widened.

  What the fuck was a slave pen?

  Chapter Sixteen

  They forced Rhonda into the darkened, green-tiled foyer of Ruthie’s Inn. A terrible reek bombarded her nose, acrid smells of carrion and human excrement... and old urine everywhere. She raised her taped wrists to her face and covered her nose with cupped hands.

  “Smells like home.” Randy inhaled deep. He walked quickly into a long hallway and motioned to Rhonda and Patty. “C’mon. Follow the leader.”

  Rhonda followed and noted the hotel’s dusty and neglected interior. She stepped over suitcases and bags, the foyer and reception area littered with countless pieces of assorted luggage. Everything appeared rummaged through, clothing and personal items spread about in disarray. Perhaps these personal effects belonged to those who had fallen victim to Roy and these undersized psychopaths.

  In a corner, near a tall and cobwebbed faux palm tree, she glimpsed piles of dark turds and shit-smeared rags and papers.

  Shitting in the nest again.

  Patty and Randy escorted Rhonda along a dark hallway flanked by multiple rooms on either side. Many rooms waited with doors open wide, and in these doorways, she glimpsed human remains scattered within; some skeletal and others covered with leathery flesh. Not a single one was complete.

  If this isn’t a hotel of horrors, I don’t know what is.

  “We like to keep all them body parts piled inside to make any riff-raff think twice about coming in here.” Patty’s tiny voice sounded winded from her walk. “When we use up the parts we want, we chuck what’s left around here. Scares off undesirables.”

  The idea of Patty calling anyone else “undesirables” was almost enough to make Rhonda laugh, but the .45 at her back kept her tongue in check.

  Deep red bloodstains saturated the hallway carpet. As daylight faded, she discovered gory evidence with every step, and envisioned bloody bodies, or parts of bodies, dragged through this corridor toward fates sane people wouldn’t think of... or ever want to.

  “Why would you wanna prey on people?” Rhonda blinked and focused on a door at the end of the hall. “You must remember what it was like to be normal people. Good people.”

  Randy stopped and scowled at Rhonda. “Who says we was ever normal or good?”

  On this, Randy began a new round of high-pitch giggles. It seemed infectious as Patty also went into a fit of staccato giggles. Rhonda’s minikin abductors led her through the hallway door and through a blood-smeared Texas Chainsaw kitchen. They stopped at a formidable beige metal door posted with a Maintenance Only sign.

  In gloom, Rhonda squinted. Someone had secured the door with a stainless steel deadbolt, and below it, a stainless steel door-latch with a hefty steel padlock added extra security.

  Randy fished around in his pants pockets and pulled out a ring packed with keys of all sizes. Metal rattled as he flipped through them and scrutinized, murmuring and cursing to himself. Finally he paused with a large key between his fat thumb and index finger. He smacked his lips once and walked to the door.

  Rhonda watched Randy climb a tallboy chair near the door. Standing tiptoe on the chair seat, he raised his hands and slid the key into a padlock above his head with a grunt. He unlocked the shackle and dropped the padlock on the seat of the chair, then raised up again to open the deadbolt. With everything unlocked, Randy jumped from the chair and swung open the door with a flourish.

  “We’re gonna need flashlights soon.” Patty pushed Rhonda through the open doorway. “It’s gonna be darker than a boxcar full of cocksuckers ’round here.”

  Maybe Patty worked as a truck driver or steel worker in her former life. The little bull-dyke sure wielded a huge and ferocious mouth. Rhonda wanted to kick her teeth in.

  “I left a lantern and Maglite with the kids. They got ’em down in the basement.” Randy held the door open and ushered Rhonda and Patty to the stairs.

  Rhonda heard Randy slam the door shut behind them as she descended the dark stairway. She couldn’t see anything but a faint glow of yellowish light farther below. It smelled terrible here, much like all smells throughout Ruthie’s Inn: A miasma of putrefaction mixed with a pungent stench of shit and piss. Maybe another
blast of mace, straight to her nose, wouldn’t be so bad.

  Near the bottom she noticed the glow grew brighter. Her ears detected weird sounds. Things below rustled and grunted, then something hissed. A fetid stink hung in this dead air and she knew it: the unmistakable fragrance of zombie rot and undead B.O.

  What the fuck? They have Cujos down here?

  Rhonda stopped cold.

  “I didn’t tell ya’ to stop.” Patty barked from above and kicked the back of Rhonda’s neck with a tiny boot.

  Patty’s kick was weak and didn’t hurt, but it pissed Rhonda off. She didn’t like being walloped any more than she liked a handgun drilled into her vertebrae. With her wrists taped together, her captors held the advantage, for now. She turned, and in the dim light cast from the nearby glow, she made out Patty’s small and round body a few steps above her. She whispered through clenched teeth. “There’s fucking Cujos down here, you stupid assholes.”

  Patty’s shadowy figure shrugged. “So what? Tell us somethin’ we don’t know. And we don’t call ’em Cujo’s. That’s the stupidest fucking name for these undead bastards. They’re Fleshfucks. Flesh plus fucks. Got it?”

  From darkness behind Patty, Randy’s shrill and impatient voice spoke. “Move goddammit. We got stuff t’do.”

  On Randy’s last word, Patty kicked Rhonda again, but this time her little foot connected hard with Rhonda’s chin, sending a blast of stars and pain through Rhonda’s head. Surprised and caught off guard, and with her wrists taped together in front of her, Rhonda couldn’t catch her balance and fell backwards. On reflex, she jumped off the stairs and hoped to land on her feet somewhere in the gloom below.

  Rhonda didn’t fall far, but landed roughly and did a backwards jig, her legs kicking out like a showgirl’s as she fought to keep from taking a spill in the dark. A blast of pain rocked her when she stopped hard, her back and ass slammed against a cinderblock wall. She groaned.

  Okay, you fuckers.