by Steve Wands
When he got back home he noticed she was downstairs again, playing with the piggy. Damn it, he thought, can’t she ever listen? He went down the stairs, his feet hit the steps heavy and served as a warning that he was not pleased.
“Kate, what the fuck are you doing down here? I thought I told you not to come down here unless I say so?”
“You did, but he got his tape loose. He freed his hand and ripped off the tape from his mouth—see, look, there’s the rat. He spit it out and I heard him moving around, trying to get out the window. So, I stopped him.”
“That’s good sweetheart. Real good, I thought I was going to have to hurt you real bad this time. And you know I don’t want that. I hate to see you hurt.”
“I know,” Kate said.
“But we got to put this piggy to sleep now, and clean up the place. We’re gonna have a new piggy soon, a really pretty piggy,”
“Prettier than me?”
“You know that’s not possible, sweetheart.”
“Let’s see what this son of a bitch can take, now,” he grinned.
She looked excited. They left the man alone in the basement for a day with the rat without hurting him. They wanted him to heal up a bit. To heal for this…
Jerry grabbed a screwdriver, and Kate grabbed a box cutter. They poked and prodded the man, who writhed along the cold basement ground. He knew he was a dead man, so he prayed through muffled mouth and asked God to watch over his family. To be there for his little girl and to watch over her, because he wouldn’t be able to do so anymore. He wanted to tell his wife how much he loved her, how much he loved their life and how he wanted to start trying for a son again. But instead he felt the dull pain of a screwdriver pierce his shoulder and strike bone, sending rockets of pain shooting through his body. Then she began to slash him across his face with the box cutter, cutting his lip, his eye, and his ear. He squirmed in agony. She kicked him. He spat on him. They laughed.
“This is great,” she said.
He didn’t respond. His eyes were wild and he was beginning to drool. This wasn’t great; it was the best, better than all the women and drugs in the world. He was death incarnate. He plunged the screwdriver into the man’s throat, twisting it as if tightening a screw. He bled out and Jerry left her to clean up the mess. He needed a nap.
Though she was able to clean up the mess, the body was too heavy for her to move and Jerry would have to do that. She didn’t want to bother him till he was done with his nap, so she just sat there in the man’s blood, petting him like a stuffed animal. His blood was sticky to the touch and before too long she tired of its feel on her fingers.
By the time Thursday rolled around the basement looked as clean as it ever did. Jerry walked around as happy as could be, not a care in the world. He shaved, brushed his teeth, and even took a shower. Which was something he didn’t do unless he had to. Kate went off to school and would be back long before it was time for him to party so, he took advantage of the solitude. He strutted around naked, sang terribly out of tune, and even gave way to bouts of laughter. He called a guy he knew that could score him some coke. He knew he needed a lot, strippers tended hit the stuff pretty heavy, and he wanted to make sure things went smoothly…at least for the first few hours, until he revealed to her his true self.
When Kate came home from school Jerry was asleep on the couch. He had a few empty beer cans scattered on the ground and she stepped on them until he woke up from the tinny, crinkly noise.
“Home so soon, sweetie?”
“Duh, Daddy, school’s over, now,” she said.
“I guess so. Don’t you have any friends to hang out with?”
“I thought you didn’t want me to make friends?”
“That’s right, but when do you ever listen to me?”
“All the time, don’t be silly,” she walked away.
“Go do your homework.”
“Where do you think I’m going?”
“To the basement if you keep giving me lip.”
She didn’t respond and went upstairs to her room to do her homework. Jerry closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
Hours later, Kate woke him up once again. “Get up, it’s late. You’ve been sleeping all day,” she whined.
“I’m up…just resting my eyes,” he said, lifting his head up.
“When are you bringing home my new mommy?”
“Soon. But you can’t play with her till tomorrow when you get home from school, understood?”
“But that’s not fair!”
“Life ain’t fair, but that’s how it is. Daddy has to have his time alone first, then you can play.”
“Whatever. Can we keep her if she likes us?”
“Sure. But I don’t think she’s going to like us.”
“You always say that.”
“And Daddy’s always right, ain’t he?”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Whatever.”
Jerry pulled himself up off the couch and patted her on the head. He yawned and stretched and his back cracked and he grumbled about it. He grabbed his keys and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Make sure you’re upstairs with the door locked and your ass in bed. And don’t leave any of your shit lying around, okay?”
“Whatever!”
Red agreed to meet him in the parking lot of the Food-town nearest Club 18. She’d leave her car there and he’d take her back to his place. She thought it was odd, but went along with it anyway. He was paying enough to not give a shit and she didn’t plan on doing any driving once the party started. She was a stripper with a heavy coke habit who fucked on the side for cash, looking just barely eighteen years old, but driving under the influence was a no go for her.
When he pulled up, he was disappointed that she wasn’t wearing her usual costume, but smiled when she pulled out a picnic basket from the trunk of her car with the red cloak dangling out. She looked great aside from that, not oily like she did on stage, but dry and pretty like she could live next door and not be a whore. But she was what she was and that was what he wanted. He wanted a whore tonight, and he wanted to break her in every which way.
Jerry gleefully drove back to his home. She ran her fingers up and down his leg, stroked his neck and spoke to him in such a soft voice that it almost made him forget he wished her harm. It was euphoric. He was enchanted, aroused, and eager to please her. He pressed down harder on the gas.
Once home, Jerry was ready to party. He locked the door and headed for the kitchen. He fished out a few beers, a plate, a razor, and a bag of the sweetest candy this side of the street. He handed her a beer and they clinked rings and took swigs.
Jerry took the plate and emptied out a few little piles of coke. He took the razor and began to smooth them out into nice narrow little lines as Red dug through her purse for a single. By the time he was done she had rolled up a dollar into a tight tube and was ready for it. He slid the plate over to her and she took a nice long smooth snort of it, coughing when she finished. She handed him the rolled up dollar and he did the same, only chasing it with a chug of his beer. They both did another line and found themselves high and numb and ready to fuck.
They began to probe each other’s bodies, pushing, pulling, grabbing, clawing. They tore each other’s clothes off in minutes and he was fingers deep in another. They moved at each other so quickly that Jerry found himself wondering what the rush was. To him everything was foreplay. It was all ritual. All a build-up to the climax. He could go right now if that was how it was going to play out and the coke would make sure he could go all night long if he wanted. He just couldn’t help himself, and as if hearing his thoughts she stopped.
“Jeez, tiger, you’re ready to pounce, huh?”
“Can’t help myself, babe,” he smiled, “just looking at you drives me nuts.”
“Well, then watch this…”
She walked over to her picnic basket and pulled out her usual stage outfit. She began to perform
a little reverse strip tease for him, putting on one article of clothing at a time, as slow as she could. First the panties, then the leggings, the skirt, the bra, the shirt, and finally she donned the cloak, lifting the hood over her head. This was what he wanted. He wanted a show, the fantasy to become reality, the real to become unreal. And here she was standing before him, dressed in red and paled to perfection snorting another line of blow, as Jerry couldn’t take it another minute. He got up and began to undo everything she just did, but he left the cloak on. He thrust into her and it felt like everything he ever wanted, the perfect drug wrapped wet around his throbbing member. They did their dance and when it was all said and done Jerry collapsed onto the couch. He couldn’t believe how great it was, and how tired he felt. He did another line and pounded a beer, but he still felt so damn tired. Red came over to him, still cloaked and spoke to him in that soft seductive sales-pitch for the champagne room tone. Her face was blurry, and then all he saw was black.
She picked him up and carried him to his bed upstairs. She placed him gently on the bed, covered him up and as she turned around she saw Kate standing in the doorway.
“Hi, Kate,” she said, “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Hi…umm…”
“You can call me Lilly.”
“I thought you were Red?”
“That’s what your daddy likes to call me,” she smiled.
“Is that because you dress like Little Red Riding Hood?”
“Exactly. I’m an actress at the Downtown Theatre Group.”
“That’s not what my daddy said. Daddy said you’re a whore from the strip club.”
“That’s no way for a little lady to talk.”
“I can talk however I want when I home. Not that its any of your business…can you…I just…I want my daddy to read me a bedtime story, okay?”
“Daddy’s sleeping right now. How about I read you a bedtime story?”
“Whatever. But daddy makes up his own. He makes them better than they are in the books.”
“Don’t worry about that. I got a story for you, sweetie. Why don’t you come lie down with me and we can keep daddy warm?”
“Whatever.”
They each took to a side of Jerry. Lilly snuggled close, making sure their skin touched. Kate just looked agitated and impatient.
“So…a long time ago, when the world was still new there was a man named Adam. He was made out of dirt and dust. He thought he knew everything, but he didn’t. He was blinded by his father and only knew the world as it was told to him. Then one day a beautiful woman came along who truly knew the world. She knew Adam was made of dirt and dust and didn’t care. They fell in love and got married in a big garden. They were happy for a while, but Adam didn’t really love Lilith, he thought he did, but he didn’t really. He just wanted a wife because he didn’t have one. So, Lilith left and Adam and his father wouldn’t let Lilith back into their garden because she found another man who could love her for her, and ever since then Lilith was called bad names. Men began to hate her, they would throw stones at her, even spit at her in public, but when they went home all they thought about was Lilith and how they wanted her. After a while all the bad words they called Lilith gave her strength and power. From then on Lilith would take the power of men who spoke poorly of her and leave them to die, and if they had children she would sometimes eat them. The end, now go to sleep.”
“That’s a stupid story, my daddy tells much better ones. His have tons of blood and guts in them.”
“How about we save the blood and guts for tomorrow?”
“Whatever.”
Want more? Get it now: http://www.smashwords.com
Please also enjoy the first three chapters of my debut novel:
STAY DEAD
A Novel
Available at http://www.smashwords.com
CHAPTER 1: Dark days
The world doesn’t end overnight.
Peoria, Illinois. The United States of America.
A sultry woman with jet-black hair and olive skin cocks her head and smiles at the camera. She and her co-anchor are making jovial small talk with each other. They share the same plastic smile but off air they share nothing but contempt for one another. They end their chuckling and stiffen up for the next story. The woman shuffles her papers.
“A woman who had been pronounced dead at her home by a doctor was found to be alive in a hospital morgue when a family friend working for the undertakers saw that she seemed to be breathing. The woman then began moving and attacked a family friend. Witnesses said she was belligerent and unintelligible,” the woman smiled at the camera.
“That is one crazy story, Lorelei. We hope the woman is in better health and out of the morgue,” her smarmy coworker chuckled.
Japan.
Prisons across Japan have been executing mentally ill inmates, which is a clear violation of U.N. standards for individuals facing the death penalty. Despite numerous accounts documenting the issue, Japan’s Justice Ministry official, Akiro Ishi, has denied all accusations.
Prisoners given the death penalty are often kept in solitary confinement, sometimes for decades, and are not told when their sentence is to be carried out until the morning of their execution. This method can lead to “significant mental illness,” a London-based human rights group reported.
The group created major headline news but was unable to gain any ground on the situation. They, along with U.N. officials, were denied access to any prisoners on death row. Japanese officials were quoted as saying, “…a death sentence means death…mental illness is not a reprieve from punishment.”
What the report and subsequent articles failed to mention was that moments after execution the bodies of the executed returned to life. The families of the executed have yet to bury their dead.
Kunduz, Afghanistan.
Sean Ferral, a British Journalist was reporting on the aftermath of a NATO air strike when he and his interpreter were abducted. Seventy people died as a result of the air strike, many of which reanimated sometime after, though that information was never made public. Special Forces raided the bunker in which Ferral and his interpreter were kept–though neither of them survived the raid. The Ministry of Defense refused to comment.
Lacy, California. The United States of America.
The body of an 8-year-old girl, Sandra Binantu, was found stuffed inside of a suitcase in a pond near her home. Her Sunday school teacher, 28-year-old Melissa Chuckaby, who is also the mother of one of Sandra’s closest playmates, has been accused of her murder. Sandra’s family has been denied access to the body and has been instructed by federal authorities to “not make any funeral arrangements at this time.”
Istanbul, Turkey.
A fatal flash flood roared through the city, at least 30 people have gone missing. In a news conference at Istanbul’s Disaster Management Center, Turkey’s prime minister, called the floods the “disaster of the century.” The prime minister blamed the high death toll on record rainfall and on developers, who have constructed buildings in vulnerable riverbeds and known flood plains. The Disaster Management Center is in the process of searching for the bodies.
Sydney, Australia.
Researchers have begun testing the H1N1 vaccine for contaminants after massive reports of side effects, and, in some cases, death. After 19 days, blood samples showed that most participants stayed or became even more susceptible to the virus and in addition had developed long lasting side effects including paralysis, heart palpitations, and even death. Researchers are baffled. The Center for Disease Control has issued a warning against taking the vaccine and is in the process of recalling all H1N1 vaccines. Vaccine related deaths continue to climb.
Across the world, the dead walk.
Many nations of the world have declared martial law, and the United Nations has declared a state of emergency throughout the world.
Many believe it is the end of times.
***
The incessant beep-beep-bee
p of the alarm clock jolted Scott from a warm and comfortable nook he managed to squirm into during the night. He lie nuzzled up with his wife and their cat, of which he calls Steamer, but Judy, his wife, calls Mister Butters, as it was the only name they could both agree upon. Scott, however, continued to call him Steamer, and on special occasions he’s been given the moniker of Captain Stank-Puss. Scott begrudgingly shoved himself out of bed, rubbing the glasslike crust from the corner of his eyes and straightening out his shorts which somehow managed to nearly twist around his lower half. He blindly fingered at the off switch and eventually found it, putting an end to the beep-beep-beep machine till it would go off again tomorrow morning and the two of them would once again square off like a couple of gunslingers in the old west. Steamer stretched slowly at the corner of the bed, eyeing up Scott as he pulled a plain white T-shirt over his head and exited the room. Once Scott was out of sight, Steamer laid down in the empty warm nook next to Judy and closed his eyes.
Scott walked into the kitchen and turned on the laptop computer that sat on top of a heap of business papers that neither he nor Judy could force themselves to do last night. Among them were three obituaries that needed to be sent to the local newspapers by 11:00 am today, concerning the three houseguests they have on tables downstairs in the basement. He walked over to the pantry and grabbed a coffee filter while trying to decide what flavor and of which brand he felt like having. After little debate he grabbed the half-empty pouch of New England’s Eye-Opener Blend, and began heaping spoonfuls into the filter. By the time it began brewing he was already opening up his web browser to read the morning news. He wasn’t surprised at the headline, but scoffed regardless. THE DEAD RISE, in big bold capital letters. For days there had been random reports and articles popping up in print, online, radio, and even television in regards to eye witness accounts of the dead returning to life. Scott dealt with death on a daily basis. He was born into a business of death, and if anyone knew anything about the dead it was him. And he had yet to see one get up and walk out of his home.
