Terror Town

by James Roy Daley

  She liked him all right, liked him a lot. And she was single now, looking for love, a little remuneration to help ease the pain of a terrible break-up. Maybe she needed a man in her life, not another boy. Maybe she needed someone like Dan. Was it possible the attraction was a two way street? She thought that perhaps it was.

  Silence claimed the room.

  Roger disrupted it: “Should we get going?”

  Cameron heard the words, but their meaning did not register. She was thinking about Daniel now, wondering if she could find a way to get him alone.

  5

  Nicolas Nehalem sat in his car across from the Laundromat, eying The Big Four O. He had a squirrel lying on the seat beside him. He had driven past the rodent, then decided to go back and scoop him up. The poor little guy was still alive, gasping for air, and squealing in pain. The squirrel had been run over by a truck. Its back legs were crushed. Intestines were sticking through a long grisly tear in its stomach. Its tail was twisted awkwardly. A little pink piece of meat hung from its mouth, surrounded by fur that was sticky with blood.

  Nicolas felt a connection with the rodent, and named him Fuzzy.

  But it wasn’t Fuzzy that brought Nicolas to The Big Four O. It was the girl behind the counter: Cameron.

  She captured his interest a week earlier.

  Rewind: Last Wednesday Nicolas had lunch at The Big Four O and Cameron served him. He ordered a hamburger without the bun, three hardboiled eggs, and a glass of chocolate milk. She said it was a strange order. He said she was beautiful. She smiled politely and walked away. When she returned, Nicolas said, “What’s your name?” She told him. Nicolas smiled and said nothing more. And as the day wore on, Nicolas repeated her name over and over inside his mind. It was rattling around his thoughts for hours. Cameron, Cameron, Cameron… All at once, it was decided: he would fill his empty cage with Cameron.

  Fast forward: Nicolas was excited.

  Inside the car, he pressed a button. The automatic window rolled up. He hit another button. The window rolled down. This went on for over ten minutes, and all the while the squirrel wheezed and cried and felt more pain then most people can imagine.

  Then something happened, something that made Nicolas smile with delight: a fly landed on the steering wheel and when Nicolas slapped it, the fly fell onto his lap. The insect was stunned, but alive.

  Delicately, carefully, Nicolas lifted the fly by its wings. This was so good it was making him dizzy. He had a fly, a squirrel, and soon he’d have Cameron too.

  How lucky can one man be?

  He kissed the fly and petted it and held it by its legs; and when nobody was looking he opened his zipper, pulled his pants to his knees and pressed the insect against his manhood.

  “That feels good,” he groaned psychotically.

  After a moment he looked out the window. The coast was still clear. He pressed his shoulders deep into the seat, tightened his muscles and licked his lips. And when he grew tired of his strange little affair he placed the fly onto his tongue and sucked it down his throat.

  Fuzzy gasped and Nicolas picked his nose. When his nose began bleeding he licked the blood from his finger. He liked the taste of blood. Sometimes he would bite his fingers just to taste the juice inside. Sometimes he’d cut his babies fingers off for similar reasons.

  Inside the restaurant, lights dimmed.

  It seemed as though Cameron was getting ready to leave.

  Nicolas pulled his pants up and started the car. He put a hand on Fuzzy and Fuzzy bit his finger. The bite didn’t bother him. It didn’t make him upset. He imaged himself as a God and the rodent was one of his many creations, and he was a merciful God, powerful and tolerant, compassionate beyond comprehension.

  Today he’d fill his empty cage.

  6

  Roger scribbled a note on a napkin and left it in a place that was easy to see. The note said:

  Hey William, guess who’s back in town? Dan McGee!

  Cam and I have to gone to his place for a while.

  You should come. We’ll be in the basement (don’t ask).

  ~Roger.

  Dan watched him write. “Is your brother going to see that?”

  Roger nodded. “His time is divided between home and work. He usually pops by after we close. Sometimes he cooks. Sometimes he checks inventory and makes sure things are turned off. It’s his routine.”

  “You think he’ll come to my place?”

  Roger shrugged. “He might. Want me to grab a six pack?”

  Dan smiled. Apparently Roger knew how to read minds. “Sure. You guys want to ride with me?”

  Roger said, “Can you drive me home later?”

  “Yeah, no problem. Or you can stay at my place the night… if you want.”

  “Maybe. Let’s play it by ear.”

  “I’m dropping my car off at home,” Cameron said. “Can you pick me up? If I’m drinking I’d rather not have my car.”

  “No problem,” Roger said. “Right Dan?”

  “Right.”

  Roger went behind the bar, pulled beers from the fridge and placed them in a bag. Dan and Cameron stepped outside. Roger turned off the lights, stepped outside, and locked the door. Dan and Roger jumped into Dan’s car and drove, making a pit stop at Roger’s place for more supplies. Cameron followed.

  Inside Roger’s garage they found two more flashlights, one 25-foot extension cord, one 20-foot extension cord and one 15-foot extension cord. They also found two 500-watt work-lights in Roger’s basement; each of them had a yellow casing and was designed to blast a serious amount of light into dark places.

  “Perfect,” Daniel said. He looked at Cameron and quickly looked away. “This stuff will help for sure.”

  Roger made a joke about sending him the bill as Cameron toyed with her hair. They returned to their cars and drove to Cameron’s place.

  Cameron changed vehicles.

  They drove on.

  Dan noticed a car in the rearview mirror, following along like it was heading to the same destination. It seemed unusual but not extraordinary; he wondered if the car was following on purpose. A moment later the car pulled off the road and disappeared from view, which seemed to answer his question.

  Once they arrived at Dan’s cottage they went straight to the basement.

  Roger carried the extension cords and the flashlights. Dan carried the work lights. Cameron carried the bag of alcohol in one hand and a radio in the other. When Roger asked what’s the radio was for, she replied, “So we can listen to music, stupid.” Dan laughed and Roger said, “Very funny.” Dan opened the trapdoor with a grunt as Cameron plugged the radio into an outlet. A song by Joy Division came on, making Dan wonder if Cameron enjoyed anything from her own era. Cameron turned the volume low and approached the pit with a smile. All three of them looked down the hole. And when they saw the darkness that seemed to have no end, nobody said a word.

  7

  Nicolas followed Cameron’s car, humming along with a song on the radio. When Cameron made a pit stop at Roger’s place, he turned the radio off and drove around the corner. He parked, waited, and followed them once they were driving. When they stopped at Cameron’s place he slowed but kept moving. Through the rearview mirror, he watched Cameron change from one car to the next. This wasn’t good. He wanted her to be alone at some point soon. Following them undetected could only become harder now that they made two pit stops.

  He turned the car around, waited a few seconds, and followed Dan’s car to Stone Path Road. He knew Stone Path very well. He lived on a small, nearly uninhabited loop called Stone Crescent, and the two streets were attached. Stone Path Road and Stone Crescent were shaped like a lollipop on a stick. Stone Crescent was the lollipop. Stone Path was the stick. This meant both streets were a dead end, and there was no way for Cameron to escape without him knowing. No way at all.

  Cameron was trapped.

  Nicolas pulled next to the ditch, turned his engine off and let Dan drive away. He waited a few min
utes, giving Cameron time to settle down, get comfortable, and kick off her shoes. During this time he lifted Fuzzy by his broken legs and squeezed the rodent as hard as he was able.

  A smile crept across his face.

  Claws scratched frantically. Eyes bulged. Teeth snapped together in a mix of pain, fury, and desperation.

  Nicolas said, “Oh Fuzzy, what’s wrong, buddy?”

  Still clamping his fingers like a vice, he changed gears inside his mind. Nicolas smashed the rodent against the dashboard three times, causing animal innards to explode against the window and floor. Guts splashed everywhere. Now Nicolas’ feet were kicking, his mouth was wide open and his glasses fell to his lap. He slapped the animal’s mangled body against the passenger’s seat repeatedly, bouncing it against the padded fabric.

  Suddenly he was furious.

  His face turned red and his eyeballs quivered like he was having an epileptic fit. Screaming, he crushed the rodent’s body against his chin and inhaled the wild scent with a loud and noisy snort. Blood dripped from his fingers. It ran down his face and neck. After a few seconds he blasted the tiny creature’s body against the steering wheel like a slave driver cracking a whip. Fuzzy snapped in half. The rodent’s head, chest, and his two front legs flew through the air, smacked against the windshield, and fell onto the dash. Gore hung from the exposed ribcage like pasta.

  Nicolas looked at the mangled legs squished between his fingers. Anger, frustration, and excitement, became diluted with feelings he didn’t understand: loss, despair, misery, confusion. The emotional overload was too much. He began crying. His face turned red and his bottom lip launched into the foxtrot.

  “It’s not fair,” he exclaimed, loudly. “It’s just not fair!”

  When he was done with his brief, yet psychotically expressive bout of mourning, he rolled down the window and tossed Fuzzy’s legs outside. They hit the ground with a SPLOTCH and rolled in the dirt. He lifted his glasses from his lap, wiped the dribbles of gore from the lenses, and placed them on his teary-eyed face. He started the car and drove, ignoring the string of intestines that was clinging to his hair and the blood dripping from his chin. He didn’t care how he looked––driving down Stone Path Road with his fingers strangling the steering wheel and guts rolling off his stubble, but he did consider shooting himself. He also considered setting the town on fire, and wondered what it would be like to go on a nice, big, killing spree.

  The upper half of Fuzzy sat on the dashboard near the steering wheel, lying in a small pond of blood. Black bubble eyes stared lifelessly out the window, still looking very much alive. Drops of purple and red waste blemished the glass, framing the animal’s body with macabre style. And as the animal’s mouth slid open one final time, and the car’s wheels rolled towards their destination, Nicolas wondered if there was such a thing as rodent heaven. If so, the squirrel was surely there.

  8

  It was Roger that spoke first. “Wow,” he said. “Just… wow.”

  Dan couldn’t help but agree. Looking down such an unusual hole was astonishing. “See the light switch attached to the wall? It doesn’t work.”

  Roger eyed the switch quickly before looking down the hole again. “No?”

  “Nope.”

  Cameron picked a hammer off the floor, stepped close to the edge, and dropped it.

  As the hammer disappeared from view, Dan looked at Cameron flabbergasted. “Hey! I need that!”

  “So what?” Cameron replied. “We’re going down there, aren’t we?”

  “Yeah but… ” Dan trailed off, reflecting on the fact that he didn’t reach the bottom earlier. He considered the value of the hammer. It wasn’t worth much, ten bucks maybe. Still, he couldn’t help thinking he’d soon buy a new one.

  “I didn’t hear it hit,” Roger said. “Did you?”

  “No,” Cameron said.

  “I wasn’t listening,” Dan admitted. A moment later he grabbed a crowbar off the floor. His intention was obvious.

  “Don’t you need that Dan?” Cameron mocked. “It looks important.”

  Dan smiled. “We’re going down there, remember?”

  “Oh,” Cameron said with a grin. “That’s right! I forgot! You’re so smart!”

  Roger rolled his eyes.

  Daniel dropped the tool. All three of them listened. Seconds slipped past and nobody heard a thing. In time, Roger stepped away from the edge saying, “That is one deep hole.”

  “Seems that way, doesn’t it?” Dan replied. “Know what? You guys should chill out a minute. I’m going to the garage to grab another extension cord.”

  As Daniel went upstairs, Cameron lifted the bag of alcohol and pulled out a beer. “I’m assuming you want one?”

  “Sure do.”

  She tossed Roger a Bud and took one for herself.

  Roger opened the bottle. Beer foamed. He put his mouth to the opening, drank like a second year college student, and sat the bottle on the floor next to a screwdriver. Afterwards, he unraveled an extension cord and plugged it into an outlet. He tied the female end of one cable to the male end of another, holding them together with a knot. He tied the second cord to the third. Now three extension cables were connected and the knots he created insured they wouldn’t become unplugged.

  Cameron said, “Maybe you should wrap the cable around the pickets.”

  “Huh?”

  “The pickets,” she repeated, pointing towards the staircase. “The pickets in the stairs. Knot the extension cable around a few of them so it doesn’t get pulled from the outlet in wall. It will, you know.”

  Roger looked at the cable, the outlet, and the pickets. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Now I get it. Good idea.”

  He followed her instructions.

  Daniel returned. “I’ve got two more cables. One isn’t very long, eight feet maybe. But the other one is a thirty footer.”

  “Nice.”

  “Hand ‘em over,” Roger said. “I’ll knot ‘em together.”

  Daniel passed the cables to Roger. “I’m going to put the beers in the fridge.”

  “Cool.”

  Daniel went upstairs with the bag of booze and returned with an open beer in his hand.

  Roger tied the last of the cables together. “Now, the moment of truth.”

  He tied the work light to the extension cables and plugged the light in. 500 watts of white light blasted the room.

  “So far, so good,” Cameron said, putting a hand on her hip.

  Daniel agreed. “Yep. So far so good.”

  Roger hung the light over the hole and when he lowered it, he kept his arms steady. As the light descended the weight in his hands increased. Soon, the light became quite heavy and he asked Daniel for assistance. Dan took the cable in his hands, relieving Roger of the full burden. The two men released more and more cable. The knots tightened. The light fell farther into the pit, slowly spinning in a circle, knocking out webs and lighting the area around it. Looking down, there wasn’t much to see: just a ladder and four walls, really. Nothing more.

  “I can’t believe how far the light is dropping,” Cameron said with her eyes wide. “It’s like a bottomless pit.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Daniel laughed, still releasing cable.

  Soon, the cable was unraveled, all ninety-something feet of it. When the men released their grip, the strain the cable put on the pickets was more than they anticipated. The pickets bowed in the middle, threatening to snap. There was no way the cable’s male end would have stayed in the outlet without the pickets help––no chance, not in one hundred million years.

  “What now?” Cameron asked.

  Dan lifted an eyebrow. “Still want to go down?”

  “I do,” Cameron said, sounding slightly unsure.

  “I do too.” Roger confirmed, offering happy a smirk. “I’m just wondering what the smart thing to do might be.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, what should we do? Drop a flashlight? I’d like to know where the bottom is
, don’t you?”

  After a moment of silence, Daniel said, “I’ve got an idea.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Hold on. I’ll be right back.”

  Daniel ran to the kitchen and opened the cupboard doors beneath the sink. There was a bag of sponges sitting in a milk crate, along with some cleaning materials and rags. He grabbed the sponges and closed the doors. After riffling through a couple of drawers he found a half-roll of duct tape. He took the tape and the sponges downstairs, unrolled a long piece of tape and dropped the roll on the floor. After opening the bag of sponges he pulled one out and dropped the bag onto the floor by his feet. With the line of tape against the sponge, he picked up a flashlight.

  “Wait,” Cameron said.

  “Why?”

  “I know what you’re doing.”

  “And?” Dan pressed the flashlight against the sponge and began taping them together.

  “And it’s a great idea: wrapping sponges around the flashlight. You’re going to sponge it and drop it, right? You want to drop the flashlight without breaking it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, you know what we should do?”