T-Rex: A Dinosaur Thriller

by Alan Spencer

  The facial features of this fucked up corpse art was the worst thing to behold. Livers and spleens were jammed into mouths to make cheeks puffy. Eyes were hollowed out so long intestines could dangle from them. Exposed brains served as glue to keep scalped heads of hair stuck in place. Hands were cut off and hearts were put in their place. Candy counted fifteen bodies mutilated, cut up, and crudely put together like some third grader's craft project.

  The drip, drip, drip caused her eyes to dart to the corpse sculpture on the left and over three collages. This was the freshet display. Red was oozing from the combined bodies in thin rivers. She could see swimming trunks on the pelvis, female legs from the knees down, and lungs for feet. The face looked like two skulls were smashed together and somehow stayed melded together. The yin yang of two female heads wore expressions locked in terror screams. Out their brains, two severed hands reached out as if extended for help. She recognized the faces of the actors. The way the pieces were partially devoured, she believed this guy had picked up the pieces T-Rex has discarded from today's attack.

  Candy was weeping. That would be her soon. She would be carved up and put on some butcher block's display. The life she lived, her experiences, her future, they would all add up to gore on some fucked up psychopath's canvas.

  She fought the thick leather straps that held her down. The gurney's rusted wheels shifted back and forth in protest. The only thing she was accomplishing was making a bunch of noise. She had so little energy, and what she was doing was futile anyway. She was strapped in nice and tight and helpless.

  Candy sucked in a breath and did the only thing she could think to do, and that was SCREAM.

  Her screams were answered by footsteps rushing up the stairway from the first floor.

  Soon she would meet her captor.

  Sneaking Around

  Bruce had to be quiet. He wanted to sneak up on the son-of-a-bitch who had taken the woman he loved. He wasn't a strong man. He couldn't fight, but the feelings that had been building up inside of him the past few hours encouraged him to believe otherwise.

  When he opened that back door to the mysterious house and closed it behind him, he was no longer emboldened. He was dropped right back into a fearful state.

  My God, what is this son-of-a-bitch doing here?

  This was just like many of the cheap slasher movies he made in the '80's. But this was the genuine article. He thought psycho killers and demented weirdoes were a thing of pure imagination.

  The basement was pitch black. The only source of light was from an open door coming from the top of a wooden stairway. The light offered enough illumination for him to see the outlines of what lay on the ground. Piles of bloody clothing were left in a giant heap. Shirts, shoes, dresses, purses, jewelry, bras, and panties by the dozens had been discarded and left there. A smell added to what he was viewing. It was easy to deduce the reek. They were rotting bodies. In this heat, a putrid humidity filled the house. He covered his mouth with his hands to stifle the urge to vomit. He couldn't afford to be heard. He needed the jump on this guy to save Candy.

  One thing was for certain now.

  This was where the castaway creep lived.

  Bruce edged his way across the basement. He listened. He didn't hear anything. Then he froze. He heard Candy unleash a terrorized scream. A man upstairs suffered a fit of phlegm induced coughing. He spat something out onto the floor, grunted, cleared his throat, and his feet touched the floor.

  "It's about time one of those bitches woke up," he muttered to himself. "They're about ready."

  They're alive.

  Thank you, God.

  He was headed in the direction of the stairs when something stirred in the basement from the corner.

  Bruce realized he wasn't alone.

  Castaway Creep

  Candy couldn't believe her eyes. The man was hideous. Only his cheeks, eyes, and forehead were visible. The rest of his face was covered in a long, bushy, gray beard that looked to have been dipped in oil. His skin was a flaking sunburned red. He had a deviant's scowl. His eyes studied the length of her body..

  Her eyes weren't focused on his tattered clothing or that peculiar tang of piss emanating from him, but instead, she focused on the cloth bundle in his hands.

  He spread out the cloth along the floor. Inside, metal clanged together. He played his dirty, grit caked hands along the collection of instruments. There were five different sizes of scalpels. Hammers of various types: mallet, ball peen, and carpenter's. A small hatchet. The thickest meat cleaver she'd ever seen, and her dad was a deli butcher.

  "Stay," was all he said to Candy, before getting up, going downstairs, and then shortly returning. He had an armful of steel poles. He placed them near the cutting tools.

  Candy gave a short snort when he moved to Zoe. She was still unconscious. The rise and fall of her chest indicated she was alive.

  The man trailed his hands along her jaw line. He played with her hair, spreading out the dark strands. He trailed his finger down her lips.

  "It gets awful lonely on this island sometimes," was all he said, breathy.

  He pressed on her abdomen like a doctor would during an examination. Then he slipped his hands underneath her bikini and cupped her full breasts. He gave a shudder.

  When he tweaked her nipples with his dirty fingers, Zoe's shock filled eyes sprang open. She screamed, but not before throwing her head forward and head butting him.

  The man didn't expect the blow. He tripped over himself, falling backwards.

  "Candy!" Zoe turned to her. "Did he hurt you? Tell me you're okay."

  "Yes. I'm okay. For now, I guess."

  Zoe's face lost all color. She smelled the horrible reek of death. The sight of bodies on display in such bizarre fashion made her cringe in horror.

  "What should we do with them, Mother?" The man had returned to his feet. He was talking to a corpse with a head of silver curly hair. This corpse was more like mummified remains. She wore a house dress and wore leathery, sunken skin. "Should we carve her up into a good little girl, huh, Mommy?"

  The man spoke like a ventriloquist, talking from the corner of his mouth. He mimicked the voice of a crotchety old lady. "Good girls don't know when they see good boys. Bad girls don't want to be good. They want to be bad. They're trash. Sluts. Whores. Harlots. They use their female parts for evil. They know men are weak. Like you, boy.

  "But I'm a Christian woman. I believe there's good in everybody. Even the whores and sluts can be redeemed. You must separate the good from the bad and rebuild these harlots. Cut the flesh and remove the evil. That's the only way to save these nasty girls.

  "I think you've found the right women this time. These other sculptures came close. It wasn't your fault they turned out bad. They didn't have the right parts. You tried, Timmy, you really did try, God bless your big ol' heart. You deserve the best woman. The perfect girl. That's why I tell you to keep trying. These two women you found can make one good girl. Then you can finally settle down and have children. The rest of these attempts you don't need anymore. Get them out of here. They're ripe. They stink! We don't need their company anymore. Throw them out that window over there."

  The man spoke with his normal voice. "Of course, Mother. You're right."

  He opened up the window behind Candy and Zoe. The two girls didn't move or talk or breathe. What was happening was too unbelievable. No sane human being could react to this situation, Candy thought.

  She prayed for many things in the coming moments. She prayed for Bruce to save her. She prayed for escape off of this island. She prayed they could save the lives of their fellow crew members. Most of all, she prayed to get the fuck away from this Goddamn psycho.

  One by one, the man picked up the fetid sculptures of gore. The man was crying as he was pitching them out the window. Pieces of them would slough off the metal bars and splat onto the wood floor. The smell was horrible before, but now bellies were broken, intestinal cavities torn open, and all the gases, bact
eria, and juices played on the air. Colonies of maggots, and even the occasional rat, were uncovered during the transfer.

  The strange man was sobbing to himself. "I'm sorry, Brian. You're my best friend. But Mother says you have to go. She knows best. What Mother says goes."

  He lugged a head sinking into a pile of wet guts and slopped it out the window. The man kept going back between himself and his Mother's voice between pick up and drop-offs.

  "I'm sorry! I care about all of you so much. I love you with all of my heart. Forgive me!"

  "You're a big boy, Timmy. You know you're doing the right thing. Now quit being a sniveling brat."

  "Yes, Mother! They're only my best friends. I'll stop being a human being. I'll repress my emotions, Mother. Yes, Mother! Anything you tell me to do, I'll do it!"

  "Boy, never talk to your Mother like that. I brought into this world, and I can take you out of it."

  He was now clutching onto two fetid breasts sinking into the gnarled bones of a sternum. "Not her, Mother. Please. She's different. I really liked Beverly. She gave me the sweetest kisses."

  "I bet that whore gave you the sweetest kisses. I caught you sticking your little thing in that pile of mess. The awful grin on your face. You defied me. My Timmy. The boy I raised. I didn't raise no boy to act like that towards a lady."

  "Fine. You're right. She's gone. She's out of this house. You happy? Huh? You pleased, Mother?"

  "I'll be happy when you speak to me with respect."

  "Forgive me, Mother. This isn't easy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."

  "You care about people. You only want to see the best in each and everybody. That's what you're good at. You show off the best in them. It's such a wonderful thing what your father taught you. People viewed him as a meager taxidermist. Nobody realized he was a visionary. God gave him the eyes to see the good in people. God gave him the hands to cut out the evil and to display the good. This is preservation of humanity. God gave you the same abilities, son. Preservation. Goodness. The gift of seeing.

  "I always wanted you to create a woman you could love. A good woman. You take these two women, and you make something spectacular with them. When you do that, you can finally enjoy the pleasures of a woman. You can kiss her all you want. Wouldn't that make you happy?"

  "Oh yes. Very happy, Mother. Very, very happy."

  Candy heard this and kept seeing gore and sloppy pieces being dropped out of the window. The sounds. The smells. The dripping. She couldn't take it any longer. Screams ripped out of her throat. Zoe joined her. They were both pleading out for help.

  "Silence them, Timmy! They'll upset the creatures outside."

  "Yes, Mother."

  The man picked up one of the scalpels and placed it up against Candy's throat. He brought his wet lips up next to her ear. Timmy made a wet slurping noise to clear his mouth of heavy saliva. Every breath he expelled stank.

  "You two keep screaming, those monsters out there will come in and tear us to pieces. I keep them at bay by going back to the mainland and bringing T-Rex his sacrifice. I honor the king of the island, and they let me live among them in peace in exchange. Do you want me to tie you up out there for him to find and eat you later? I can look for more women with nice tits and pretty skin. You're not the only one pretty out there."

  Candy shook her head, that no, she didn't want to be eaten by anything. Yes, she'd be quiet. Zoe promised the same.

  "You two should be honored. I'm going to bring out the best in you and combine your bodies into something truly beautiful. Who wants to go first?"

  "Go fuck yourself you Goddamn psycho!"

  Bruce lunged at the man. He swung hard, throwing his whole body into the blow. His fist plowed into the man's jaw. Timmy fell over Zoe, rolled across her body, and struck the ground hard.

  The director was about to go in for another punch. Timmy was too fast. He was right back up on his feet with a hammer in his hands. The man swung it with a killer's determination. The hammer struck Bruce on the shoulder, then the chest, and then the side of his eye. Caught up in a whirlwind of pain, Bruce couldn't defend himself.

  He fell to his knees with blood streaming down his face. Timmy towered over him and raised the hammer high to drive home a death blow.

  Fight for Your Life

  Bruce was slow working his way up the stairs. Then he heard Candy and Zoe scream. He had no reason to be stealthy or quiet anymore. He lunged into the room. The sight of the man up close was a shock. He imagined a bum who'd dipped themselves in river water, piss, and took a shower in shit. Bruce didn't hesitate to challenge the man who literally reeked of the word "killer". The first punch landed so hard, his own fist flared up in pain.

  He didn't care. This man had tied down these women to gurneys with instruments spread on the ground. God knows what he was really up to here.

  Before he could do anything else, he spun to his side. He was struck three times. Hot sticky blood filled his eye. Before he could shake off the blows and get back to his feet, the castaway creep raised his hammer. He was a split second from bringing it home over his skull.

  Candy was calling out to him to watch out, snap out of it, and for God's sake, dodge the attack. Zoe's words were indistinguishable shrills.

  "You're not touching my friends ever again!"

  Three booming shots resounded. The castaway creep was thrown backwards, smashed through the window, and fell from the second story down into the front yard.

  Blast stood there with the 9mm extended for a few seconds before getting over the shock that he had gunned a man down.

  "Is everybody okay?"

  He helped Bruce up to his feet. Bruce rushed to the gurneys, undid the leather straps, and freed the girls. Candy hugged Bruce, and Zoe hugged Blast.

  Candy said, "Thank God for you."

  "Yeah, Blast," Bruce agreed. "You saved my ass. You're the hero."

  When the room went silent as they heard steps coming up the stairs. Everybody was worried except for Bruce.

  "It's okay." He moved towards the entrance of the room. "I found another person downstairs. This guy kidnapped her. Her name's Kate."

  Kate stepped up to the group hesitantly. She could've been between eighteen and twenty years old with a short auburn bob haircut. She was a lithe one hundred pounds. Her summer dress was dirty with blood and dirt.

  Candy smiled at her. "You poor thing. How did you get here?"

  Kate had a small, meek voice. Terror underscored every syllable. Bruce listened to her, and knew she would be scarred for life.

  "He took me. I was on the beach with my friends. That weirdo attacked us with a hammer. He killed the other two the night he brought us to the island. He hacked Nora up in this room. I had to listen to her screams. They lasted for hours. And Debra, he fed her to that dinosaur."

  "You don't have to talk about if you don't want to," Zoe said. "It's over. The guy's dead. And thank God he is."

  Kate saw the mummified remains of Timmy's Mother. She couldn't stand it. She grabbed the corpse by the arms and heaved her out the window. "Stupid bitch!"

  She moved away from the window and unleashed her pent up horror.

  "I've been here for two days. All I hear is that guy talk to himself. I can't get his voice out of my head. I learned plenty overhearing the bastard talk to himself. Chatty psycho, that guy. I'm studying criminology. I've read a lot of true crime. I know all about this creep. The guy's name is Timmy Blunt. His father was Darrel Blunt. Darrel was a professional taxidermist and a religious head case to boot.

  "He would do his thing with animals during the workday, and at night he would find people he deemed immoral, cut their so-called good parts out, preserve them in jars, and leave the bad behind. Darrel got to the point he was stitching, grafting, and making new people out of these parts. You saw Timmy's work earlier. His father was along the same lines.

  "Darrel's wife, Mildred, would help her husband differentiate the good pieces from the bad. Timmy watched everything as a c
hild and learned the nut bag craft. He earned the nickname Taxidermy Tim. I guess the police were onto Darrel, so the three got onto a boat and escaped to this island. They were able to build this house and everything. Don't ask me how. I guess the psychopath family got creative."

  "What about T-Rex and the messed up monsters out there?" Bruce asked. "Wouldn't that keep them busy?"

  "If I heard Timmy right, he said the island wasn't full of these things until a large body of water separating one half of the island from the other dried up. When it dried up, the whole island was taken over by the creatures from the other side including that T-Rex. Timmy survived the change, but his parents did not. His Mother was bitten by a poisonous moth, and Darrel was eaten whole by the T-Rex.

  "I don't know how long Taxidermy Tim has lived on this island or how he avoided being killed for this long."

  "The taxidermy douche is dead," Blast said. "And thank God that's the end of that story. It looks like he was going back and forth between the island and America to kidnap new victims."

  "Did I hear you right, Kate?" Bruce asked. "You saying there's a boat on this island?"

  Kate was regaining her natural voice. It was now edgy and full of bite. "Taxidermy Tim talked about a path down from this house. It forks two ways. He said one side of the fork leads to the boat, and the other fork leads to death."

  Bruce threw up his hands in resignation. "Jesus, are you kidding me?"

  "How can we trust a psycho like that?" Candy posed. "He tried to cut us up to make a fucked up sculpture with our pieces. Keep in mind, you got all of this information while the creep was babbling to himself."

  "What else do we have to go on?" Blast posed. "We're marooned otherwise. We could build a raft, but by the time we build it, we'd be attacked by whatever's out there. We need something to jump right on and get going fast."