The Late Night Horror Show

by Bryan Smith

  “So you wouldn’t get away. Obviously. What are you, stupid?”

  Lashon frowned. “But…but you were going to help me.”

  Ashley laughed at this, but there was no warmth in it at all. Her eyes remained just as cold and dead-looking. “I guess we fooled you then. Like we’ve fooled so many before you.”

  “I thought you were nice.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  Lashon’s frown deepened. “But…those guys…Rick and Grant…they were gonna look for the guy who chased me. Why would they do that if…”

  Ashley arched an eyebrow as Lashon trailed off. “What? You don’t get it yet?” Another cold laugh. “That guy with the chainsaw. That was my brother, Barry. He likes to play at being Leatherface while chasing girls through the woods. It’s how he gets his kicks. You’re not the first he’s chased right back home. And you’re not the first we’ve pretended to help.”

  “Why would you do that? What’s the point?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? It’s fun. We live in the middle of nowhere, for fuck’s sake. We’ve gotta make our own entertainment.”

  “But…your friends. They all seemed so…”

  “So normal?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ashley smirked. “More playacting. We’ve had a lot of practice. And, oh yeah, those other people you met. They’re not exactly my friends, really. They’re my brothers and sisters. And the names they gave you were all fake. Mostly.”

  “And you all live out here together?”

  “Yep.”

  Lashon wasn’t sure why she kept asking the girl all these questions. Mostly, she guessed, because Ashley was willing to talk and the longer they talked, the longer they were putting off whatever unpleasantness these people undoubtedly had in store for her.

  “What was that scream I heard?”

  Ashley giggled. It was a weird and unnerving sound coming from a mentally unbalanced, naked girl with a knife. “Oh. That. My brothers did find somebody out there in the woods. A stranger. Some middle-aged, pudgy guy.”

  Lashon got a sick feeling in her gut.

  The guy who saved me.

  She swallowed hard. “Is he…”

  “Dead?” Ashley smiled in a way that was as unnerving as the giggle had been. “No. Not yet. But he’s probably wishing he was right about now. My brothers had to rough him up some and now they’re, uh…working on him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ashley kept smiling as she came a step closer and waved the knife around some more. “You know, working on him. Doing stuff to him. Fun stuff.” Yet another step closer and another slow wave of the knife. Then she jabbed the point of the blade at Lashon’s face, making her gasp and cringe backward as Ashley laughed at her reaction. “I’m gonna start working on you pretty soon.”

  Lashon’s eyes misted with tears as she shook her head. “No…no…”

  Ashley knelt in front of her and crossed her arms over Lashon’s knees. Lashon felt the girl’s bare breasts push against her legs. The girl lightly poked the tip of the big knife against her stomach. She was still wearing the ruined black camisole top, but she could feel the sharpness of the blade through the fabric. She held her breath and stared down at the knife. Then she made eye contact with Ashley, holding her gaze for several long, silent moments, knowing they were both thinking much the same thing—how little pressure it would take to push that blade through the fabric and into her flesh.

  Ashley poked the tip of the knife against her belly a little harder. “Time to take your clothes off.”

  “No.”

  Ashley smirked again. “Didn’t you hear me filling the tub? I’m gonna put you in it and do some stuff to you in there before I start cutting on you. So you’ll need to be naked.”

  Lashon made no move to remove her clothes. “What kind of stuff?”

  Ashley poked at her stomach a couple more times with the knife. The second time the tip of the blade did pierce the fabric and she felt the cold steel against her flesh. Ashley didn’t pull it away this time, apparently content for the moment to let Lashon feel its potential lethality so intimately. “Well, not sex stuff, if that’s what you’re thinking. At least not to start.” Another of those unnerving giggles. “No, I have this little game I like to play with the girls we get. It’s called the Drowning Game. I fucking love the Drowning Game.”

  Lashon’s breath started coming in quick gasps as she edged toward panic. She tried to speak, to beg the way people in her current position probably always did, but the words wouldn’t come. In their place, strangled, inarticulate croaks.

  Ashley laughed as she struggled. “That’s it. That’s good. I like that panicky shit. Girls are the best for that. That’s why I always play this game with them. I like the screaming. It just goes on and on and on sometimes. What I’m gonna do is, I’m gonna hold you under the water until you start to lose your breath. Then maybe I’ll pull you back up and let you get your breath back so we can start the game over.” She gave the knife another little push and Lashon felt it slice into her skin. It hurt. Bad. “Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll just hold you under until your mouth opens and your lungs fill with water. Maybe you’ll never come back up. Alive, that is.”

  Lashon at last found her voice. “What’s wrong with you people? Why would you do this?”

  Ashley pulled the knife away from her stomach and licked a speck of her blood off the blade. “Hurting people is fun. That’s why we do it. You’d see that if you ever tried it yourself.”

  Lashon couldn’t help thinking back to that night she’d punched Greg in the face. Twice. As hard as she could. She’d never done anything like that until that night. Had never thought of herself as a violent person. It had surprised and frightened her. She had been under so much pressure then and Greg had gotten on her very last nerve one time too many. Yes, she’d felt bad about it almost immediately after, but when she was being ruthlessly honest with herself, she could admit to having derived a very brief, nasty sort of satisfaction from hurting him. But that was different from what this unhinged girl was talking about. Wasn’t it? An unplanned outburst like that was worlds apart from torture and murder.

  Yes. Obviously.

  But maybe you’re getting what you deserve, she thought. Maybe this is some kind of weird cosmic justice or payback for what you did.

  She recognized this as an irrational notion.

  But the knowledge made her feel no less guilty.

  For the first time since that awful night, she wished she could see Greg again and give him the sincere apology he deserved. She didn’t want to reconcile with him. But, yes, he deserved that gesture from her at least.

  Now, though, it almost certainly would never happen.

  Ashley abruptly poked the knife at her again, harder than any of the previous times. The blade pierced the lacy top and cut her, drawing blood again as she cried out and Ashley laughed.

  “Did that hurt?”

  Another helpless, frustratingly pathetic whimper. “Y-yes.”

  “Good. I’m thinking maybe you should start practicing your screaming before we start the Drowning Game. Get your lungs good and warmed up.”

  Another hard poke from the knife.

  Another cut. More blood.

  Ashley was yelling at her with each jab. “Go on, bitch! Scream! Fucking scream!”

  The door to the bedroom came open and the guy Lashon had initially known as Grant poked his head in. His wavy brown hair now looked a little less perfect and he had an abrasion on one of his cheeks. Apparently the “middle-aged, pudgy guy” had put up a fight.

  He looked at Ashley. “Hurry up and play your stupid little game. We all want a turn with this bitch, ya know.”

  Ashley flipped him off with her free hand. “Get the fuck out of my room, Dylan. You’ll get your goddamn turn. Don’t rush me.”

  Dylan snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t damage her too much before the rest of us can have some fun.”

  Ashley waved the knife
at him. “Get out of my fucking room, asshole.”

  Dylan laughed. “I’ll go. But don’t take too much longer or we’ll come get her.”

  He backed out of the room, but before he closed the door Lashon heard a shrill scream issue from some other part of the house. The scream was so loud and piercing it was impossible to determine the person’s gender. It could have been some other poor girl they were torturing. Or it might be the guy who had saved her in the woods. She suspected the latter. It made her sick to think what they might be doing to someone who had acted so selflessly on her behalf.

  Ashley was leering at her. “You heard that, huh?”

  Lashon choked back bile and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “They’re probably pulling his fingernails out.”

  Lashon’s stomach lurched.

  Ashley giggled. “Rob, that’s the one you know as Rick…anyway, that’s how he likes to start shit. Or maybe Heidi is sawing things off. That’s her thing. Fingers. Toes. Noses. Hands. Dicks. You name it. Then a torch to cauterize the wounds so the fucker don’t bleed out.”

  “You’re a bunch of sick fucking assholes.”

  Ashley smiled. “You say that like you think it’s an insult. We’re sick and proud, bitch.” She stood and held out her free hand. “Come on. Get up. Time to start the game.”

  Lashon just sat there and stared up at her. “No.”

  “Do what I say or I’ll kill you.”

  “No. You won’t.”

  Ashley’s expression turned hard again. “What? What the fuck did you just say to me, little girl? Do you know how hard I can fuck your world up?”

  Lashon shook her head. “You won’t kill me because the rest of them would be pissed at you for not letting them have their turn.”

  Ashley’s face contorted with rage as she seized a handful of Lashon’s hair and jerked her off the bed. Lashon cried out in pain as Ashley dragged her toward the open bathroom door. But her legs still felt a touch rubbery from the drug and she dropped to her knees after just a few steps. Ashley spewed more insults and epithets as she grabbed her by the hair again and yanked her up. This time, though, Ashley was off-balance and Lashon fell into her with her full weight, knocking her to the floor. The big knife went flying out of her hand and into the bathroom. From somewhere seemingly far away, Lashon dimly heard more screaming. Scream after scream in rapid succession.

  They’re probably pulling his fingernails out.

  Rage consumed her as Ashley’s sickening words flitted through Lashon’s head again. She didn’t know if she could do anything to help that poor man. Probably not. But she did know this might be her last chance to help herself and she meant to take full advantage of it. She had fallen on top of Ashley and the other girl was flailing away beneath her. She struggled to keep her pinned down as she raised her head and looked into the bathroom. She saw the knife. It was no more than a few feet inside the open door. What she had to do was clear—get to it and bury it deep inside Ashley’s body, probably multiple times, before one of her other twisted family members put in another surprise appearance.

  Ashley clawed at her face and screamed.

  “Too much noise, bitch.”

  The next time one of Ashley’s hands raked across her face, Lashon seized it and clamped her teeth down around her wrist, biting down as hard as she could. Blood quickly filled her mouth. It was like biting into a tough but extremely juicy steak. Lashon jerked her head side to side twice and tore off a piece of the girl’s flesh.

  Ashley was wailing now. She hadn’t solved the noise problem, but it probably didn’t matter. Anyone else hearing it would likely assume Lashon was the one screaming so much, and maybe begging for mercy during the Drowning Game. Blood spilled in bright red streaks from Ashley’s wound. Lashon experienced a moment of nasty satisfaction eerily similar to what she had felt in those first moments after hitting Greg. She thought about spitting the girl’s flesh and blood in her face, but some nameless, unfathomable impulse made her swallow it.

  Oh sick.

  I hope that bitch doesn’t have any weird fucking diseases.

  She balled up a fist and drilled Ashley as hard as she could dead center in the face. There was an audible snap of bone as her nose broke, triggering another gusher of blood. Adrenaline was burning away the last effects of the drug. She felt at full strength again. More than that. Supercharged. And possessed with a desire to exact vengeance.

  After two more hard punches to Ashley’s already broken nose, Lashon disengaged herself from her adversary and crawled hurriedly into the bathroom on her hands and knees. She grabbed the knife with both hands, stood up, and turned around with the knife held out in front of her as she heard Ashley come running at her.

  They stood pressed against each other, standing almost still.

  Their faces were only a few inches apart.

  Lashon had an odd impulse to kiss the girl on the mouth. So she did. And Ashley wheezed in pain. Lashon made a sound of triumphant satisfaction. “I guess I ought to thank you for impaling yourself on your own knife. You made this so much easier for me.”

  She pulled the big knife out of the girl’s stomach.

  And then rammed it back in again up to the hilt.

  And again.

  Lashon stepped back and Ashley dropped to her knees. The cracking sound her knees made when they smacked the hard tiles was music to her ears. That had to hurt. Not as bad as big knife wounds to the gut, but definitely painful. And right now there wasn’t much she liked better than the idea of this girl in wretched, awful pain.

  Ashley looked up at her. “Please…”

  “Look who’s begging now.”

  Ashley whimpered. “Please…”

  “Okay. I’ll be merciful.”

  Lashon slid her free hand into Ashley’s long, silky hair, wound it around her hand, and pulled the girl’s head back.

  Then she ripped the knife across her tender neck.

  Yet another gusher of blood—this, the most explosive so far.

  Ashley toppled over and bled out all over the tiles. Lashon looked down and saw the blood pooling around her bare feet. Which reminded her that she needed to find footwear of some kind before making her getaway. There was also one other thing she wanted to do. It was foolhardy and meant wasting valuable time, but the impulse to do it was undeniable. Brutal struggles like the one she had just survived apparently fucked with a person’s psyche in some strange fucking ways. She could scarcely believe the things she’d done in the last few minutes. The flesh eating. The mouth kiss for a girl she’d just mortally wounded.

  And now this.

  She set the knife atop the nearby toilet and began hauling the fresh corpse over to the brimming tub. Then, huffing and puffing mightily from the effort, she hauled the dead girl up over the edge of the tub and dropped her in with a loud splash. Lashon reached into the water and turned the body so that it was facing up.

  Then she stood and stared down at her former tormentor.

  She smiled. “Hey…about your game, Ashley? Looks like I won.”

  She lingered another moment longer and then walked back into the bedroom to search for shoes. She soon found surprisingly cute and comfortable ones and put them on. That done, she retrieved the knife from the bathroom and tried to decide what to do next. The screaming was still coming from another part of the house. With any luck, the rest of these twisted fucks would be preoccupied with their other catch long enough for her to slip away. But even if this was the case, leaving the bedroom to look for a direct path out of the house was almost suicidally risky.

  The bedroom’s one window was the only viable exit.

  She had taken one step toward it when she saw the bedroom doorknob start to turn.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The fresh blood jetting into her mouth was the most divinely delicious thing she had ever tasted. She sucked at the pulsing wound with an animal ferocity she would have found appalling only hours earlier. She just couldn’t get enough blood. It sort o
f felt like she could never get enough. Her instincts urged her to drain the slender girl of every remaining drop in her already limp body. She knew giving in to that urge meant the girl would die, but right now she didn’t care. No. Scratch that. She did care, just not in the moralistic way she would have prior to the change. She wanted the girl to die. Wanted to feel her life slip away as she held her featherlight body easily in her arms and greedily sucked down all that wonderful blood. Oh, the blood. It was a delicacy like no other. The most wondrous thing in all of creation.

  She felt a tug at her shoulder.

  Victor, her vampire lover, spoke. “Kira? Release her.”

  Kira hissed at him, then went back to suckling at the wound. Which, she realized with dismay, was yielding substantially less of the crimson delight than only moments ago. In fact, the flow was down to the merest trickle.

  Another tug at her shoulder. “Kira. Darling. She’s dead. Let go of her.”

  With great reluctance, Kira relinquished her grip on the now very still body of the girl whose life source she had consumed. She experienced a moment of emotional numbness. But it was short-lived and bore only the faintest resemblance to anything like real regret. The girl’s body hit the hardwood floor with a dull thud. She hadn’t weighed enough to make a big noise. Weighed even less now. An insight that made her giggle.

  She wiped blood from her mouth with the back of a hand and turned to look at Victor. “Have them bring me another one. I’m still thirsty.”

  Victor beckoned two of his black-clad security men forward with a raised hand. They instantly abandoned their positions to either side of the big drawing room’s main entrance, rushing forward to scoop up the corpse and take it away.

  Kira giggled again. “Do you have, like, an official corpse disposal room?”

  A corner of Victor’s mouth twitched. He looked faintly amused. “We use an incinerator.”

  “Far out. And didn’t you hear me? I want another one.”

  “Your hunger is nearly overpowering, I know. This is common in new vampires. But you must be careful not to overfeed.”