Psycho Killers in Love

by C. T. Phipps

  “Believe what?” Nancy asked, confused.

  “Yeah, are you talking to us with your mind-thingy?” Carrie asked.

  I said I would share the information with you, the Spirit of the Hunt said. You can share this bit of historical trivia with them, but I would claim an equal boon from them as I will claim from you.

  Talk is cheap, I replied, noting I’d never actually agreed to her terms but unwilling to argue with her.

  You’d be surprised, the Spirit of the Hunt said.

  “Nothing,” I said, frowning. “Nothing pertinent.”

  “Why haven’t we gone to rescue your sister yet?” Carrie asked, surprising me. “If my brother was held by vicious murderers, I’d already be burning down buildings to draw my enemies out.”

  “We were held by vicious murderers,” I said, dryly. “The US government.”

  I wasn’t filled with much patriotism after being raised by crazy people and then held prisoner for a decade without trial.

  “Oh, then I’d be burning down buildings if I wasn’t on a wonderful combination of drugs,” Carrie said. “Also, free room and board. The torture was a small price to pay really. You know my first victim was there.”

  “My mother raised Summer and I to keep a calm head about these things,” Nancy said, frowning. “William is right that we need a plan to attack this place. Honestly, I jumped in half-cocked to try to save Cassie and the others by volunteering. In retrospect, I may have just been trying to show my sister up.”

  It was interesting getting an additional perspective into the events that night. Not only was Nancy trying to save her sorority sisters, which she was remarkably well equipped to do it turned out, but also be the big hero of the night. It wasn’t an entirely selfless deed, but I’d yet to meet someone who did anything out of pure altruism. People are complex creatures, I knew that more than anyone, and only a few are ever wholly good or evil. It made Nancy a bit more approachable in a way even as I wondered if we’d be able to save her only remaining family.

  “Your sister is named Summer Loomis?” Carrie asked.

  “Really? That’s what you’re concerned about?” I asked.

  “It’s a weird name,” Carrie said. “Like something a dirty-dirty hippie would do.”

  “No, she’s going by Summer Day,” Nancy said, as if the name was physically repellent rather than a sign she was born in California. “We had to pretend to not know each other. Really, it was the best part of our infiltration of the campus.”

  I sensed some acrimony between Nancy and her sister. “I see. So, we have a potential ally who could be of exceptional aid during the jailbreak.”

  “Or who will kill us the moment she sees us,” Carrie replied. “So exciting!”

  Yeah, we were probably not going to receive as nice a reception from Summer as we’d received from her sister. I didn’t know Nancy all that well, but everything about her made me think she was inclined to give outsiders—which we were—the benefit of the doubt. I didn’t know how many other Artemises would be so inclined.

  Nancy gave a shrug. “Yeah, probably. My sister was the reason Hawthorne University’s disappearances were cleared up. She took down the Arbor Day Killer, Elizabeth Bathory, and the Grandson of Sam.”

  “You’re making at least one of those up,” Carrie said.

  “I wish I was,” Nancy said. “The Arbor Day Killer used sheers and made lots of wood jokes. He was also sexually violent, which means making fun of him feels wrong.”

  “On the contrary, I find that makes him even better to do so,” Carrie said. “I hope Summer chopped off his wood.”

  “Timber,” Nancy said, smiling.

  I shifted uncomfortably. “What about the other girls?”

  “Women,” Nancy said. “We’re all graduates after all. They’re all capable people and survivors. There’s Cassie, who is our queen bee and an heiress. She’ll keep the others calm, I’m sure. The three Heathers will do whatever Cassie wants but all are Marines now. Summer, I’ve mentioned. Tina is dead and that’s a shame because you’d have liked her. Completely crazy. Shinobu qualified to join the FBI as a Special Agent. Then there’s Jenna who does women’s MMA despite complaints.”

  “MMA will never catch on,” Carrie said. “Boxing is where it’s at.”

  “So it’s a small army of horror movie heroines,” I said.

  Nancy seemed to think about it. “Kinda, yeah. I mean, the three Heathers are more like the bitchy girls who would get murdered in one, but I think that’s because they hate that movie with Winona Ryder named after them. But if you have three Heathers in a sorority, you’re going to make that comparison.”

  “I actually have never seen it,” I said.

  “It’s a movie about murdering your obnoxious classmates,” Carrie said. “I predict it will age well.”

  I had no idea if my sister was being sarcastic or not. “Well, let’s take care of this vampire.”

  “You got it,” my sister said, walking over to vampire and ripping the stake out of his chest.

  Both Nancy and I stared at her.

  “I thought we were going to kill him,” Nancy said. “You guys are so confusing.”

  “Well I want to see what he has to say first,” Carrie said, ignoring the renewed barking of Cujo at the vampire. Animals did not like the undead as a rule. She then opened the plastic tub of blood and poured it down his throat. “Open up wide.”

  “Should we be stopping her?” Nancy asked.

  “There’s no point,” I said, sighing. “Carrie does what Carrie wants. Just be ready for things to go south.”

  “Arise, undead creature of the night!” Carrie shouted. “I compel you to arise and obey me!”

  “Bark?” Cujo, I swear, asked.

  Nothing happened.

  “Well, that was anticlimactic,” Nancy said.

  “Wait, he’s oozing!” Carrie said, pointing to the corpse.

  I looked to where she was pointing and saw, yes, that the corpse had started to “sweat” for lack of a better term. A black substance was coming through the vampire’s skin and starting to make the body a good deal moister.

  “Gross,” I said, not sure what else to say.

  “This is a lot more dramatic in the movies,” Carrie said, disappointed. “At this rate it’ll take hours for him to regenerate.”

  “Maybe that’s a good thing,” I said, sighing. “Usually, the vampires leap up and try to drain the nearest mortal.”

  All of us looked over at the vampire.

  “Nope, not happening yet,” Carrie said, reaching out and slapping the corpse. “Wake up.”

  “Don’t taunt the vampire, Carrie,” I said.

  “I’m not afraid,” Carrie said.

  “No, I mean it’s just rude,” I said.

  “I’ll get some more blood,” Carrie said. “Nancy, you want to help?”

  “Not in the slightest,” Nancy said, taking a sip of a beer can she hadn’t possessed before.

  “Where did you get that?” I asked, looking at her.

  “It was down here,” Nancy said. “Over on that stack of boxes.”

  “You’re just drinking random beers you find?” I asked.

  “Yeah?” Nancy said. “Why not?”

  “I think that’s a Billy Beer,” Carrie said, looking at the can. “Grandad used to drink those. I think they stopped making them in 1978.”

  “Eh.” Nancy shrugged and continued drinking. “It’s beer.”

  That was when the vampire’s head slightly turned to us, creaking as it did. Its blackened and gross mouth, now possessing the early stages of lips, spoke, “Blooooood.”

  “Well, that’s just stereotypical of you to say,” Carrie said. “You can’t think of anything more original? Maybe your name?”

  “We should check to see if he has a wallet,” Nancy suggested, throwing the empty beer can over her shoulder.

  “We need to talk about your manners,” I said. “They’re hellacious.”

  “If
you stop your swearing,” Nancy said, giving a light burp. “Wow, that was terrible. Thank God for my superpowers including super-digestion.”

  “What swearing? Hellacious?” I asked, genuinely confused.

  “Yes,” Nancy said. “What’s wrong with heck?”

  “I’m not five,” I said.

  “Bloooooodd,” the vampire moaned. “Moooooore, please!”

  “I guess his vocabulary is a bit limited,” Carrie said, rifling in the vampire’s pants pocket. “Still, I’ve got a few more tubs of blood upstairs.”

  Cujo whimpered as if trying to tell us what a terrible idea this was.

  “Well, if we’re not cutting off anyone’s head, I’m going to get some more sleep unless there’s something else I can do,” Nancy said, giving two thumbs up. “I want to be on my A game for when we rescue my sister.”

  “You should prepare yourself for your sister having suffered terribly or possibly being dead,” I said, my voice dry. “It’s a worst-case scenario but we’re going into a very hazardous situation.”

  “I should be so lucky,” Nancy said, looking guilty. “No, that’s not true. I love my sister. I’m just trying to keep a positive attitude. A positive attitude that we’ll save everyone and murder the hell out of the bad guys. Oh and I can lord it over her for the rest of her life.”

  “Sounds like siblings alright,” I said.

  “Hey!” Carrie said. “That’s a fact we keep to ourselves. No one else can know that siblings fight!”

  That was when my head started pounding and I saw an image in my head of a group of six men approaching the house. They were armed with rifles, baseball bats, chains, and pistols. All of them were dressed in flannel and baseball caps. I saw them flashes of them murdering the previous owners of the building as well as beating down a man before dragging him behind a car to his death.

  “You think they’re here?” One of them spoke.

  “Yep, their car is,” Another said. “Idiots actually came here after they paid for the place.”

  “I told you selling the place was a bad idea,” the original spoke.

  “We needed the money to pay off the Irishman. Besides, these folks won’t last long,” one in the back said.

  “Well, we need to get the vampire,” the original said. “The Fraternity will pay top dollar for the blood.”

  My vision ended and I knew we were about to have guests. I grinned. “Did you feel that?”

  Carrie nodded vigorously as Nancy looked confused.

  “What’s going on?” Nancy asked.

  “Lunch time!” Carrie said, cheerfully.

  “Bark!”

  Chapter Ten

  The meth dealers above us radiated their presence to my mind like flickering lights in the darkness. Their past violence and desire to kill us triggered something in me that made me feel like I wasn’t entirely in control of my actions anymore. All there was, was the need to act. Reaching over to a nearby cardboard box, I picked up a ball of piano wire sitting on top of the broken piano and started unspooling it around my hands. The piano wire bit into my flesh but the tiny cuts healed around it, creating a crisscross of flesh that felt oddly good.

  “Uh, Carrie, what is your brother doing?” Nancy asked.

  “Oh, he’s just got the eye of the tiger,” Carrie said. “I bet he’s sensing prey. It’s what our Dad looked like whenever he saw an innocent young twenty-something. In William’s case, it’s a bunch of the local thugs. One of them used to beat his girlfriend and his kid so I’d like to call dibs.”

  I paused at the base of the stairs, pulling out from my fugue enough to respond. “There’s no dibs in murder, Carrie.”

  “Dibs is an ancient and irrevocable law!” Carrie said.

  “We’re being attacked?” Nancy said, holding her ax tightly.

  “Yep,” Carrie said. “I guess none of them are your type of prey. So sorry, better luck next crime.”

  “Could you not call them that?” Nancy said.

  “What? Prey?” Carrie asked.

  “Yes,” Nancy hissed, unhappy.

  “Why?” Carrie asked.

  Nancy glared.

  “Oh, right, that thing that happened to you,” Carrie said, nodding. “My bad.”

  “Bloooooood,” the vampire beside them said, managing to lift one of its bony skeletal arms.

  “You hush,” Carrie said. “We’ll get to you in a minute.”

  I slowly began to creep up the stairs, thinking about how profoundly creepy this whole thing must be to Nancy and whether I should tell her to just run away while she still could. Perhaps there wasn’t much difference between me and the bored rich idiots who were engaged in their version of The Most Dangerous Game other than who we targeted.

  That’s a fairly huge difference, Carrie spoke in my mind. It’s like people love dogs and hate rats. Mind you, the social acceptability of murdering animals can vary from place to place as well as change. Cows in India vs. cows in America for example. Also, pigeons used to be beloved pets and now they’re the rednecks of the sky.

  Carrie? I asked.

  Yeah, bro? Carrie replied.

  Let me handle this, please, I replied, slowly ascending the stairs like a ghost.

  Just remember, ancient laws of dibs on the spouse and child abuser! Carrie said. You’d be giving me blue balls if I had balls.

  We really need to talk about appropriate conversation topics between siblings when we have time, I replied.

  Sure, we can take a bath together and discuss it, Carrie said.

  Okay, now you’re doing it deliberately, I said.

  What? Me? No! Carrie said. Besides, I’m rooting for you and Nancy Loo Who. I’ve think she thinks you’re creepy but hot. Which is one-half very promising.

  I didn’t know how I felt about that. I really liked Nancy, but my lifestyle was not conducive to any kind of long-lasting emotional relationship.

  Then have a short-term one! Carrie said. You only live as many times as it takes to finally kill you.

  I really hoped Nancy wasn’t listening in on this. Signing off, Carrie. I need to focus.

  May the great spirit of slashers everywhere be with you, Carrie said. Right now, she’s telling me about some winter-appropriate murder weapons down here.

  I didn’t respond, instead slowly opening the basement door as I listened to the people moving around the house on the first floor.

  “Alright, Earl, Jimbo, you check the upstairs. James, Karl, and I will go through this part of the house. Esteban, I want you to check the basement,” the leader of the group spoke. He was one of the ones I’d seen earlier in my vision.

  “You got it, Wilbur,” One of the others spoke. Somehow, I knew it was Karl Johnson, a man who had once beaten a man to death for coming on to him.

  “Wait, we’re splitting up?” A third voice spoke. I knew his name was Jimbo Jones listening to his sin. He killed the child upstairs. “Haven’t any of you yokels seen a horror movie in your lives?”

  “This ain’t a horror movie,” Wilbur Packard spoke. “Just some townies who are interfering with business. I remind you that you were the idiot who sold this house because you thought our boss wanted to kill us for dipping too much into the product. Turns out the Irishman just wanted us to make up the losses next quarter.”

  I’d wondered why the previous owners had sold the house so cheaply. Disregarding the fact they weren’t the actual owners, it seemed they’d had a scare with either their supplier or most frequent customer. Either way, it seemed fate had put me in this position, and it was now up to me to make the best use I could of it.

  I creeped out past the basement door and shut it behind me without making a noise. It was strange because the door had creaked loudly before. Maybe there was some subtle slasher magic at work or, perhaps, I was just getting lucky. Either way, I crouched down and slowly moved around the house from corner to corner with the furniture providing cover.

  Dad had made us play hide and seek with a religious devotion,
burning my flesh with cigarettes every time he managed to spot us. He’d also done the same to losers of any game, regardless of how well we’d done. I’d allowed myself to get found deliberately in order to protect Carrie, though she was astoundingly good at finding me anyway.

  I managed to get into the living room where the fire had mostly died out. I placed myself behind the couch, which gave me a view of the intruders. They were very similar to my vision, a bunch of nearly identical white men, with a single exception in a long-haired man almost seven feet in height. He had a pock-marked and tanned skin with some Mexican heritage. Diego Estevan, I assumed. There was something else about him that made me worried, a miasma of otherworldly power that made me wonder if he’d been dipping into the vampire blood they were harvesting from their creature below.

  “This isn’t a horror movie, Wilbur? Christ, you do know where we live, right?” Jimbo said. “My next-door neighbor growing up was the Hookman. Guy would carve up hitchhikers for his wife’s diner.”

  “So you keep saying,” Wilbur said, clearly not believing this was a town full of serial killers. There was a cracking noise that sounded like someone hitting a man in the face with a rifle butt. “Now get upstairs or I’ll do a hell of a lot worse to you. Estevan, make sure our golden goose is still laying eggs.”

  “He’s a man,” Estevan said.

  “You know what I mean!” Wilbur said.

  With that, the group broke up and started to go in various directions. Wilbur’s crew were the ones to watch as he went with his group and Estevan into the kitchen while Jimbo and Earl headed up the stairs. Thankfully, none of them headed my way, though I didn’t think there was enough light for them to see me in the dark anyway.

  Only two of the meth dealers had lanterns, Jimbo and Wilbur respectively having electric ones attached to their pants, and they were providing only a tiny amount of light. There was a half-moon outside and almost zero cloud cover, but that didn’t mean much as little was streaming in through the house’s curtained windows.

  The lack of power in the house was proving to my advantage. One of the earliest lessons my father had taught me was to cut the power to any place before you went on a killing spree. Another was to cut the phone lines, though the era of cell phones meant that was no longer foolproof. Supposedly, you could go down to any electronics store and buy a cellphone jammer, but I hadn’t made that investment yet.