Phobias

by Ryan Horvath

  In spite of their issues, Walt cared about these three people. They were the only family he had and he meant to stick with them no matter what. And the trap was set. Walt wondered how long it would be before Andrews discovered their lure and came to find them. He hoped it would be soon.

  Walt stood up and stretched. He wiped sweat from his brow. He looked over toward the house and saw Chad. His own stomach growled and he decided it was probably time he took a break and ate some lunch as well.

  Walt heard their phone ring. It had to be Holly calling. Calvin rarely ever used the phone. He saw Chad look over and pick up the phone. He heard Chad say a few words, but he wasn’t close enough to hear exactly what he said.

  Then Walt saw Chad drop his plate and sandwich to the ground and saw Chad’s eyes go wide.

  ~*~0~0~*~

  “Hey, Holly,” Chad said into the phone. He knew it had to be her. Calvin hated the phones. Chad chuckled when he heard that and remembered thinking that at least the kid hated them and wasn’t afraid of the damn things. He continued without waiting for her reply. “I gotta say, the ‘bitch-itch’ is not good this time. I really want a drink. Just a little shot or two.”

  “Well then have a little shot or two, you dipshit drunk fuck,” a voice said through the other line.

  Chad was startled for a moment by not hearing Holly’s voice and he was sure he misunderstood or, perhaps, misread the caller ID on the phone. Whoever was on the line had the wrong number. “What? Who?” Chad said and furrowed his brow.

  “Well it sure as fuck isn’t Holly, drunk ex-cop,” the voice replied and then laughed.

  Chad instantly recognized the voice, having had it slither into his ears dozens if not hundreds of instances. He saw Walt stand up and look his way and his heart sank, and, with it, his plate and unfinished sandwich fell to the ground.

  Chad widened his eyes and thought He’s here! Andrews. And he’s with Holly.

  After they sent the teasing photo of Holly at the diner as bait, they planned. But they didn’t think Andrews would come this fast, and they always thought he would try to strike them at home or at the diner. Chad’s “bitch-itch” was flushed away by deep feelings of anxiety, animosity, and angst. “You son of a bitch,” Chad said. Walt was coming his way, and heard Chad, and could now tell something was wrong. “Where is she? Where are they?” he fired into the phone.

  “Well, I’m not going to lie to you. But first, tell me about what you just called your ‘bitch-itch’,” Andrews said with what sounded like genuine concern blended with scientific curiosity. “Does it have something to do with you being a fucking lush, you piece of phobic dog shit?”

  “I… I… I… am… n…n… not… a… lush, a… a… asshole. I… I… I’m clean,” Chad stammered. Walt was by his side. Chad didn’t have to tell him anything for Walt to know who was on the phone. Chad pulled the phone away from his head and clicked on the speaker phone.

  “Whatever you have to tell yourself, you drunkard. A leopard doesn’t change its spots. You might think you’re over it but you’ll never really be over it,” Andrews said. “In my profession, I know. Trust me.” He paused and snickered a bit through the phone after the last sentence. When he stopped giggling, he went on. “That’s what your ‘bitch-itch’ is, right? The bourbon-laced desire scratching behind your eyes, or perhaps inside your teeth…”

  Andrews was right. Chad’s “bitch-itch” had a way of scratching at his teeth and gums. Chad fought back the urge to curse at Andrews and tried to calm himself. He was going to need a clear head for this. “So you found us. We thought we’d see you at the diner.”

  “That would have been too easy for you,” Andrews said.

  “Where are Holly and Cal?” Walt interrupted.

  “Ah! Wild Card! It’s so good to hear your voice,” Andrews said.

  “You won’t think that when I’m choking the life from your scrawny fucking neck,” Walt returned.

  “An appealing thought for you, that must be,” Andrews countered without missing a beat. “Oh, my. I’m afraid that with all our useless chatter, Holly has gone rather pale.”

  “Damn it, you animal!” Walt shouted. “What did you do?!”

  “I shot them, of course,” Andrews said. “And it’s been more than a few minutes so, while you two have been prattling along here, they’ve been losing blood. Miss Don’t-Touch-My-Panties more than Mr. Big Dick.”

  Walt opened his mouth to shout more, but Chad put a finger up to silence him. “Where?” was all he asked.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” Andrews answered.

  “I don’t get it,” Walt said. “If you want this finished as badly as we do, then why not just kill them?”

  “I don’t want to just kill them,” Andrews said coolly. “I want their fears to kill them.” He paused as if to let that sink in. “You, on the other hand, Wild Card. You don’t have any fears.”

  “So why not just kill me then?” Walt retorted pompously.

  “That’s the plan,” Andrews replied calmly.

  Just then, Chad felt something zing through the air an inch or so from his ear. A fraction of a second later, a black-red hole appeared between Walt’s eyes and the back of his skull lifted away from his head. Blood, bone, and brain sprayed the side of the house and ground. Chad felt warm splatters of blood land on his arm, cheek, hand, and chest. He gasped as he watched Walt’s corpse fall first to its knees, then onto its face. Chad had another victim of what had to be gunfire at his feet. His heart accelerated and sweat poured from his underarms and brow. He felt his bladder resist letting go.

  “Ha ha!” Chad heard through both the phone and from nearby. “Got the fucking Wild Card good! And to think… all this time, I was worried about that one.”

  Chad turned slowly. Justin Andrews stepped out of the back door of Chad’s very own home. He held a silencer-equipped pistol in one hand and a phone in the other. The phone, he tossed away. The pistol he trained on Chad. Chad stood petrified. He hadn’t had a gun pointed at him in ages and here one was being carried out of his own house.

  “Still haven’t gotten over that phobia, have you?” Andrews said. He stepped closer to Chad.

  “P…P…P…Please…,” Chad whimpered, staring at the gun with eyes wide in fear. The coppery smell of Walt’s spilt blood started to rise and it brought back that night Chad and his partner happened across the gang rape.

  Andrews moved closer.

  Chad lost control of his bladder. He was wearing loose shorts and no underwear, so his stream essentially ran right down his leg into his shoe and onto the porch where it mixed with Walt’s blood.

  Andrews laughed and said, “Light’s out, drunk.” He slammed the pistol into Chad’s face.

  Chad’s vision went dark.

  ~~39~~

  Miedo’s itchy arm hadn’t bothered him for a while. After he knocked Chad out, Miedo quickly injected him with a special sedative he created a few months ago. If Miedo played his cards right, Chad would be out for two hours give or take. He eyed Chad’s unconscious body from where he sat on Walt’s deceased one. The drunk ex-cop pissed himself, like all the phobics do, and now he rested in a puddle of mixed, stinking bodily fluid.

  Miedo shifted where he sat. Soon, Walt’s corpse would release its own miasma of emissions and Miedo would have to move but, for now, he felt rather victorious sitting on the dead Wild Card. He leaned over and looked into the ruination of Walt’s skull cavity. Walt’s skull looked like it had been crushed forward and Miedo guessed that was some physical counterforce of the bullet impacting the back of the kid’s skull. The Wild Card was definitely dead. When Miedo loaded a special hollow-point bullet into his pistol for his shot at the Wild Card, he wanted to make sure the kid went down and went down for good.

  “You sure did, didn’t you?” Miedo said to his victim and giggled. His laughter made Walt’s body jiggle and that made Miedo laugh even harder. After a few seconds, he let his laughing fade and stood up from the corpse. He looked
at it with distaste and hoped that no one would find it, and that the Wild Card would swell, burst, and then rot here in the New Mexico sun.

  Now that Miedo had the three phobics in his possession, he wasn’t sure he wanted to end this. Thoughts of endlessly using them as his playthings and feeding off their fear appealed to Miedo greatly, and he felt arousal arise in his pants.

  But he eyed the bandage on his arm and thought about the wound underneath and knew all great things must come to an end. He moved to Chad’s body and squatted down. He hooked his arms through Chad’s underarms and began to drag the heavy man away, leaving a trail of piss-stinking blood in their wake.

  ~*~0~0~*~

  Holly scrunched her eyes as brightness on the other side of her lids pressed in. Her head felt cloudy and her mouth was dry. She knew she’d been shot. The bullet entered her shoulder and she didn’t think it hit anything major, but she also didn’t know that for sure. Perhaps she’d been drugged and just wasn’t able to feel the severity of the injury.

  She pried open her eyes and realized her head was turned sideways. And she was inside something. She reached out with one hand and it met hard resistance, but whatever she was in was clear. Clear and solid. She turned her head and saw something horrid.

  There was a spider above her.

  It wasn’t terribly big but it was unlike any spider Holly had ever seen in her life. And it just sat there, motionless and suspended, about ten inches above her face in an invisible web. The fact that it was there didn’t bother Holly nearly as much as the realization that it was inside whatever Holly was in.

  Her gunshot wound started to burn and she felt sweat erupt all over her body.

  Suddenly, the spider started to twitch in its web, as if it reacted to her perspiration. Its motion made Holly sweat even harder. And as she did, the spider twitched even faster.

  Fear washed over Holly as she envisioned the vile creature falling from its web. If it did and fell straight down, it would land on her lips or chin. Tears spilled from her eyes at the thought of all those creepy legs touching the most delicate part of her face.

  From the side she hadn’t looked to yet, she heard a voice she despised.

  “If you don’t relax, he won’t relax,” Justin Andrews said. “That little guy in there with you is something unique. A marvel of genetic engineering really.”

  “Wh… wh… what have you done with Calvin?” Holly stammered. The spider above her continued to shimmy in its web. In spite of what Justin said, she found it incredibly difficult to calm herself.

  “Mr. Big Dick is right here beside you,” Justin said. “But the crate you are in is clear Plexi-glass, while he is in one made of solid wood.” Justin paused and smiled broadly. “Very dark in there…and lonely. I’m sure we’ll be hearing interesting sounds shortly when he wakes up.” He gazed at the arachnid in Holly’s crate. “But back to my little eight-legged friend here. I first put him in the kneehole of your desk back in the Twin Cities. I wanted to take you out of the equation early in the game, and, believe me, his venom can do exactly that. But I’m glad I waited. Now, it’s a joy to see the fear in your eyes from this close up.”

  Holly mustered all the defiance she could and glared at him. “Walt and Chad will stop you.”

  Justin burst out in laughter. He began to sway and he and the spider appeared to match pace. His maniacal smile grew even bigger and he shook his head.

  “Naw. The drunk fuck got one look at my little pistol here…” Justin brought his gun into view. “… pissed himself, and went down like a sack of bricks.”

  Holly gasped.

  “And the Wild Card,” Justin began with a teasing look on his face. “Well, he and I decided we would see what it’s like if old Walt took a hollow point bullet between his eyes. I believe the last of his thoughts, desires, memories, and dreams are baking with bits of his brains, plastered against the outside of your house in the desert heat right at this very moment.”

  “No!” Holly hissed. More sweat poured out of her. The spider above her quavered rapidly. “You… you… didn’t!”

  “Yes. I did. And relax, Holly. I’ve not seen the spider this worked up before. If he falls on you, well, this…” Justin held up a tiny remote. “…may prevent him from biting you, but there is no guarantee. And the venom puts rattle snake and the black widow venoms to shame. So please… relax.”

  Holly did the best she could. It must have worked to a degree because the spider slowed its motion.

  “That’s better,” Justin said. “Anyway, yes, you should have died a long time ago… before you even left the city and Mitchell’s worm went all crazy. But even the best-laid plans sometimes go amok. Especially when dealing with you phobics.”

  “What happened to your wrist?” Holly asked, dragging her eyes from the arachnid and changing the subject.

  “Occupational hazard,” Justin answered. “One that I intend to rectify today.”

  Holly heard a groan nearby and tried to turn her head in the direction of it.

  “Ah,” Justin said. “That’ll be the drunk waking up.”

  The groan was followed by a howl. The howl was much closer and louder and Holly recognized who issued it.

  “And that would be Mr. Big Dick!” Justin looked in the direction of the howl and appeared to take pleasure in the anguished sound.

  But then a pounding noise began.

  ~*~0~0~*~

  Calvin woke up but it was still dark wherever he was. His leg was hot and itchy from his wound. He tried to sit up, but instead banged his head against a wooden surface.

  The darkness pressed in.

  The solitude followed.

  Calvin howled as loudly as he could. It echoed back on him in the small space.

  He heard muffled voices. One of them was soft and sounded defeated, but the other was recognizable. Calvin had listened to the speaker at length. Dr. Andrews was out there.

  Suddenly, Calvin didn’t feel alone.

  The confines he was in didn’t appear so dark.

  His gunshot wound felt like it disappeared.

  All of these were replaced by raw rage.

  Dr. Andrews was right there. Right outside. Calvin was closer to the shrink than he had ever been during a session. And Calvin wanted nothing more than to wrap his large hands around the doctor’s neck and squeeze. He could taste retribution on his tongue.

  Calvin began to pound the walls of his prison. With his legs, even the injured one, he began to kick. Under his breath, but with gradually increasing volume, he said “Andrews” over and over again.

  ~*~0~0~*~

  Chad nodded his head slightly as he slowly regained consciousness. He was sitting in a hard chair. He raised his head and surveyed the room. His smell told him he was soaked in blood and urine.

  He gasped loudly.

  Four large shotguns were trained on him from various positions.

  Chad instantly went cold at the sight of all the deadly metal. He began to tremble, but then realized he wasn’t secured to the chair. His hands and feet weren’t bound to anything. He started to move one of his arms and found gentle resistance, so he immediately stopped. A closer examination revealed there was fishing line tied around his wrist. He checked his other arm and discovered the same thing. His ankles also had lines attached to them.

  He looked back to the first hand and followed the fishing line. Dread washed over him as he realized the opposite end of each of the fishing lines was connected to the trigger of each of the shotguns. If Chad moved any limb more than an inch or two, he would be filled with hot lead.

  Sweat poured from him while he wondered what to do.

  ~~40~~

  “Stop making all that ruckus in there, you little fuck!” Miedo said, and slapped the thick, solid, wooden surface of Calvin’s crate. Calvin wasn’t going to be able to break his way out of there. Miedo was confident of that. But, as he finished slapping, the thrashing from inside Calvin’s crate stopped.

  A faint laughter replaced
it.

  Confusion washed over Miedo’s face. He was certain none of his victims had ever laughed while in his clutches.

  When the laughter ended, a voice came from the box. Calvin’s voice; strong, defiant, willful. “Andrews. Dr. Andrews. You know? You had to be running your mouth. If I hadn’t heard you talking to Holly, then I might not’ve even known you were there.” Calvin paused and went on. His voice took on a tone of icy coolness. “But now, I do know you’re there. Right there on the other side of this thin piece of wood. And you know what? It’s not so bad in here anymore. I’m not so alone. And the dark… well… I guess it’s just the dark. It’s not bothering me anymore.” Another pause. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to get out of this fucking BOX!” With Calvin’s last word, the crate shuddered against another kick from within.

  Miedo took a step back and his eyes widened. The last kick was tremendous. Miedo knew Calvin wouldn’t need to break through the metal support brackets. If he kept it up, he’d break right through the wood.

  “Did you hear what I said, you pile of day-old-dog-shit?” Calvin asked, and gave another fierce kick. “I’m not afraid of the dark anymore. I guess you actually were good for fixing me of something.” He kicked again. “But I sure as fuck am not gonna pay you for it.” Another kick. “Instead, I’m going to take everything back.” Another kick. “And then some!”