Lustmord 2

by Kirk Alex

  “I WANT OUT!”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “LET ME OUT! JUST LET ME OUT!”

  She yanked on the lever, nonstop. Chainsaw sputtered. That was about it.

  “I’ll have to blow your brains out if you don’t knock that shit off.”

  He walked to the staircase. Olivia was able to get the Black & Decker going at last; not smoothly, but it was working, the blade spinning. She had the blade against the door and was cutting through it. Biggs climbed the stairs.

  Irked; he was that. The door would have to be replaced once again. How many goddamn times would he have to go through the process?

  He paused halfway up the staircase, took aim. Decided he needed to be closer. Climbed a few more steps until he was just about near the landing. Took aim. Took his time. No point wasting bullets. He fired at the back of her left knee. Watched her scream out and fold against the door.

  After a moment, she forced herself to get back up, at least on her good knee. She stood on it, had the blade against the door again. . . . Biggs took aim at the back of her right knee. Fired. Small chunks of bone, flesh, and blood spattered. The Black & Decker flew from her hands and landed down below, no more than a yard from where Muck was, while her body rolled down the stairs past Biggs; in fact, he’d had to step aside in order not to roll down with her. The nosy, barking dogs belonging to the Roscoes could be heard raising hell outside one of the basement windows.

  It took Marvin a moment to recover from barely having been missed by the chainsaw once again. That damn chainsaw had a way of landing too close for comfort all the time.

  “Hear that, Trusty? Them K-9 be tryin’ to dig they way in an’ don’t never give up.”

  CHAPTER 490

  Biggs did not respond. Stood still from where he was, looking down at the unmoving Olivia Duarte at the bottom of the stairwell who was evidently in a state of shock. Or was she? More fakery? Couldn’t tell at this point. The chainsaw motor made the intermittent whir as the saw blade scraped against the cement floor of the basement.

  “Cut that goddamned saw off before the blade gets totally fucked up and ruined.”

  Biggs made it down the stairs. Knelt at Olivia’s side. The Duarte girl was silent. Remained out of it.

  “See what you made me do? And I liked you, too. Really went for you. . . .”

  Marvin shut the chainsaw off.

  “Them dog’ be tryin’ real hard, Cecil.”

  “Fuck the dogs. On second thought . . .”

  CHAPTER 491

  It wasn’t long before the sidekick returned with the mutts. It had been a matter of baiting them with a chunk of meat. Easy as pie. He led them inside the Fun Room, where Biggs had the barely conscious Olivia Duarte strapped to the butcher’s block, heavily made up, the way he, more often than not, preferred his victims to look.

  Marvin dropped the chunk on the cement floor and watched the dogs battle over it. The Boston terrier wasn’t half the size of the other, heavier dog, but clearly was the tougher and more courageous of the two.

  Biggs took it in, half amused by their antics; he’d needed another break anyway. Olivia was damaged goods at this point, to be sure. Not much could be done with her.

  He watched the dogs. Little bastards. Had caused him so much grief—and here they were. This is going to be amusing. The Boston terrier had got hold of the meat and was lapping it up guardedly. The Lhasa apso wouldn’t shut up about the loss, and yet was too cowardly to step in closer than a couple of feet to the terrier.

  Biggs tossed down another piece of meat for the Lhasa apso to work on.

  “Bring Pearleen in here.” He tossed Marvin the keys. “Leave the cuffs on.”

  “Pearleen? I don’t know no Pearleen.”

  “Wait a minute: You don’t know who Pearleen Bell is by now?”

  “LaBelle of da Ball be Peach. Know that one.”

  “Get her.”

  “Why come, homes?”

  “Before you do that, want you to round up the conflicted ones: staff and board members, and take them to the Bunk Room. You don’t walk away without first making sure their cell door is locked.”

  Muck was about to say something.

  “Do it.”

  CHAPTER 492

  A short while later Marvin entered the room with the woman.

  Pearleen Bell took one quick look at what was being done to Olivia Duarte and was about to faint. Cold water had to be thrown on her to bring her out of it, and then smelling salts used in addition. She began to retch, only there was nothing to upchuck. Her belly was empty. Biggs was amused by the performance. Muck tossed the keys back to him.

  “How she gonna help if she can’t even keep on her feet?”

  Pealeen did her utmost to recover and put on a convincing front, as before. “I can handle whatever you’ve got planned. I go out like that sometimes when I don’t eat.”

  “Whose fault is that?”

  Marvin shook his head. “Who you be boo-shittin’, ho?”

  “Shut up, Marvin. I’ll handle this.”

  “You the boss, Hoss. Always been.”

  Biggs looked at her. Instructed Marvin to hand her the chainsaw. “You talk a good game, sister. Now let’s see what you’re made of.”

  She held the chainsaw loosely in her hands. Nearly dropping it. Held on for the time being. Marvin hadn’t liked the idea that the bitch might have it in her to be able to do this, didn’t care for it. He didn’t trust her.

  What if the bitch be tryin’ to take his place? If she had better luck bringin’ hoe’ to the crazy clown, it was more than likely his own standing in the church would be compromised. He’d be pushed out. Demoted to nothing. Like one of them retard’.

  Biggs was tinkering with the Polaroid, taking his pictures. He looked at Marvin. “What do you think, Free Ride? Is there ‘Hope’ in her future? Should we let her join up?”

  “She ain’t done nothin’ yet. Wait ’til the slum ho do somethin’ first.”

  Biggs noticed that Olivia was out again. Pointed it out.

  “Bring her back. Throw some water on her. Use the smelling salts.”

  The deacon accomplished that.

  “What chu gonna make the ho do, Cecil?”

  “Shut up and watch, Marvin. Just watch.”

  Biggs looked at Pearleen, who was trembling, although doing her very best to control it, at least temper it, keep it down to a minimum. It was amusing to witness.

  “Pull the lever. Start the chainsaw up. Get it up and going, the way you’re able to get all those dicks up and orgasming during your stage act.”

  She looked at him.

  “Start the chainsaw up. Place the blade across her neck. . . . Take her head off. . . .”

  Pearleen Bell stood there. Stiff with fear and revulsion. She couldn’t move. Bile was about to wind its way up her throat.

  Dear God, Dear God . . . I can’t do this. . . . So help me, I just can’t bring myself to go on. . . . Help me, help me. . . .

  Marvin was chuckling, picking his nose and chuckling.

  “I be right: can’t trust no strawberry.”

  CHAPTER 493

  Biggs said nothing. Taking it in. The bit amused him. “You wanted to be one of us. . . .” He cleared his throat. Scratched his groin, then his buttocks. The hemorrhoids were painful and he had to go about it gingerly. “Back in the john, when you were in there with the other cunts, you fought us every step of the way . . . and then you do a complete one-eighty. . . .”

  “I had to put on a good show for them, Cecil. You know I like getting high . . . as much as I like sex in general. . . . If it got out you were called every name in the book by the very same sluts who are no better. You know for a fact with my figure I can bring in other great looking ladies to you: lap dancers, porn starlets, high-class call girls. . . . We both know I can do a lot better than this loser over here.”

  “Who you be bad-mouffin’, bitch? You ain’t shit. Ain’t even prove yo’-self, ho. How we k
now she don’t be runnin’ off to po-leece first chance she got?”

  “Could be he’s onto something, Pearleen baby. Now and then it happens.”

  “I’d be incriminating myself if I did that.”

  “For wasting someone who’s practically dead—on orders from someone else.”

  “Yo, ho. Buncha boo-shit, if you aks me. “

  “How do you know he won’t drop a dime on you one day?”

  “He’s got blood on his hands. Not quite as much as I got on mine—but enough. Isn’t that right, Brother Free Base?”

  “Ho be givin’ you a bunch of double-talk, Cecil. Just so she don’t have to get on wiff it. They all be like that. Get her to get on wiff it, Cecil. See what the ho do then.”

  “She’s already dead. What’s the point?”

  Olivia’s eyes blinked open. Her head moved ever-so-slightly. This was about the only sign of life initially. Not much came out of her mouth—sound-wise, that is, other than traces of blood mixed in with saliva and a modicum of vomit.

  Biggs stuck a folded blanket under her head to prevent all out vomiting and to keep it from flowing onto his floor. It didn’t make him exactly happy to see excreta make a show at the victim’s other end. Nothing to be done about it. It happened. Killing them wasn’t always fun and games. They shit and pissed themselves and it was a nuisance and messy and had to be cleaned up afterwards. With all that on his mind, his primary concern was that the death rattle didn’t take place too soon, that it didn’t end too quickly.

  Olivia Duarte’s face twitched just then; she was belching up blood and vomit and having difficulty breathing, not entirely aware of her surroundings, or any of it, it seemed. Heavy gasps followed, while she belched up more of the same. The death rattle was imminent; he was sure of it—and was desperate and determined to postpone it for as long as possible.

  “The point is just this: I want to see you slice her head off—before she expires. Do it. Quit stalling. It’s her head . . . or yours. You have a choice.”

  “Got yo’self a choice, sistah. Yo. See what you do.”

  She put it off for as long as she was able. There was nothing else that she could think of, no other way to work out of this. If she didn’t do as told she was as good as dead herself, maybe even if she did exactly as told, she’d still end up on the chopping block.

  “I’ve never used one of these before.” Pearleen fought hard to keep from completely breaking down.

  “Nothing to it, but to do it, ho. Yo.”

  “Don’t drop it. I don’t care how awkward you are with it.”

  Although it was a real task to stay focused, she tightened her grip. Kept trying to convince herself that she had to stay with it, do as told.

  “Yank on the starter handle. Pull on it.”

  She did that. The chainsaw started buzzing. It was a good sound for Cecil to hear, something like the buzzing of green flies. Good and bad. Love/Hate. He supposed he felt both.

  CHAPTER 494

  It took much effort on Pearleen’s part to keep herself together, from folding, as well as from falling apart. Her arms shook as she slowly raised the chainsaw a foot or so above Olivia Duarte’s neck, held it this way. Did her very best to keep her arms steady. Only it was evidently a losing battle. Attribute it to weakness due to lack of nutrition, and a battered, weary psyche and constitution in general.

  It was no use.

  Pearleen felt it coming on: fainting spell. Felt herself stagger back and land on her side, out cold, that sent the chainsaw flying in Marvin’s direction, intentional or not, and landing at his feet.

  Marvin cursed hard, spitting on the floor. Biggs stood there with a bemused grin on his face while rubbing the erection inside his trousers.

  “You know how I feel about people spitting and/or otherwise littering my floors, Marvin.”

  “Yo. That what you be worried about, Brotha Trusty? Fuckin’ blade miss’ my ass by less than a foot, an’ you be bitchin’ ’bout me spittin’ on this dirty mothafuckin’ concrete?”

  Biggs continued to rub himself, while gazing down at the passed out Pearleen Bell.

  “So what do you think, Brother Base? We got a potential new member here, or what?”

  “Now I know you be fuckin’ wiff me. Potential member? This weak bitch? Ho be all mouf, no action. Cum-addict ho only be good for suckin’ dick. Crack and Jones. All they know. What I think.”

  “Do I detect jealousy on your part—”

  “Jealous? Who the one jealous?”

  “Nervous that she might take over your duties as deacon.”

  “Boo-shit. Bitch ain’t got the ball’. You seen what happen’.”

  “Are you suggesting that you have more balls than she does?”

  “I know I got more ball’ than that strawberry.”

  “Prove it.”

  “Prove what? I prove it every day, me. I ain’t got to prove shit.”

  “Pick up the saw and return it to the cabinet, and bring Big Daddy out.”

  “Big Daddy? Yo. How she gonna control Big Daddy when she can’t even hold on to this one?”

  Muck knew it behooved him to carry out the order. A moment later he was lugging a heavy Stihl chainsaw with a two-and-a-half foot guide bar. This was a solidly-built, massive beast of a saw that looked like it could cut through almost anything: wood, mortar. Most, if not all, of the weaker metals. Certainly humans.

  CHAPTER 495

  A bucket of water was thrown on the stripper to revive her. She was exposed to a whiff of smelling salts.

  “How she gonna do it?”

  “She won’t. But you will.”

  “Me? Fuck that.”

  “You.”

  “She the one got to prove herself. Ho don’t even drank no blood, like I been doin’. She the one should ice this Messican ho, not me.”

  “I can’t risk it. Big Daddy cost me too much to see it get damaged.”

  Marvin had the chainsaw on the block, beside the strapped down victim.

  “Pick up the saw and finish off the Duarte cunt.”

  “Ice her? Why waste pussy that way? I never could see it.”

  “She’s CTD. Put her out of her misery.”

  “Make no sense. . . .”

  “It makes all the sense in the world. Kill the cunt. Cut her head off.”

  Marvin Muck stood there looking at his keeper, then at the presently motionless woman whose eyes hardly blinked as she stared at the ceiling in silence.

  “She’s CTD anyway. Circling the Drain. Finish it, finish the job. She’s no good to us this way. Her knees are gone. Can’t walk. Let’s see you show some real backbone for a change. Show me whose side you’re on: theirs, out there, or mine. . . .”

  Marvin picked up the chainsaw. Yanked on the starter handle several times. He positioned himself so that he stood at the same end where her upper body was on the chopping block. He paused, shaking his head.

  “Chickenshit punk.”

  “Ain’t no chickenshit. Ain’t no punk. You seen me wiff Big Bertha. Seen what I done there.”

  “With my help.”

  “Boo-shit. You wasn’t down there in the grave when the big ho had that elephant culo in my face. I ain’t had no help there.”

  “Homely Heifer was ninety-eight percent gone. By then, anyway. There wasn’t much to it.”

  Biggs kicked Pearleen awake. Had her unzip his fly and take his groin out, while he waited with his Polaroid at the ready for Marvin to do what he was supposed to.

  “If she dies, peeler, before I blast off . . . you’re in serious trouble. . . . Suck the toxins out. Siphon them out of me. Make it happen.”

  While Marvin stood there working hard to get the nerve up to do what was required of him, Biggs at this point was full out masturbating, helping out Pearleen as she worked it with her tongue and lips.

  He gripped the top of her scalp and shoved her face in on him, then back out again. Slid his member in and out of her jaw. Looked up at Muck. Yelled at him.
/>   “What the fuck? What is it? Waiting for Kris Kringle to slide down the chimney? Christmas is months away.”

  Muck raised the chainsaw. Held it horizontally above the victim’s neck and moved ever-so-slowly toward her and stopped.

  Cecil’s focus was back on the woman sucking his cock.

  “Drain the nutsack. Get the meds. Siphon all that shit out of my system. Milk the moose.”

  She was getting him there. He slapped her once or twice as he exploded. Jammed his groin deep in her mouth. Withdrew. Rubbed the knob furiously against her chin and mouth and watched her lap it up in the hungriest way.

  Muck hadn’t moved so much as an inch closer to the victim from where he stood the last time Biggs’s eyes were on him. Seemed to have given up on the idea.

  “What’s with you? Spoiled my BJ. Didn’t get any Polaroids, either. Blow job should have been better.”

  “Ho be dead.” Muck lowered Big Daddy. Wanted out of the room. “Waste of pussy. Nothin’ but a waste of trim.”

  Biggs shoved his groin inside his trousers. Checked Olivia’s pulse. Weak, but there. He held a small mirror to her lips, then held the mirror up to show Marvin traces of her breath on the glass.

  “In shock. Or faking. But not dead.”

  CHAPTER 496

  Biggs zipped up. Was clearly bothered by the fact Muck had disappointed him once again.

  “That’s another strike against you. You get so many strikes and you’re out of the game—for good.”

  Marvin stood by the door, said nothing. He looked a wreck.

  “The kinda shape the ho be in, she ain’t no good that way.”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  The dogs were chomping away at the chunks of meat, not giving a damn about anything else that was going on. Took time out for a moment to rush under the butcher’s block to lap up the blood that dripped down from the victim’s leg wounds.

  “Ho be good for nothin’ now.”