Depravity

by Woodhead, Ian

  Katie raised her head, expecting to see her sister's face awash with anguish, instead she found the woman smiling.

  “We killed the other one way too quickly,” announced Pamela. “Let's see if we can do her more slowly.”

  “You'd torture your own sister?”

  “Why not? After all, it's what our new masters would want us to do. Look, it's going to be a while before we get another chance.” Pamela walked over to Katie and crouched beside her. “It looks like the boy got his times wrong regarding our guest. Judging from the mess already made, I'd say that he's already here, no doubt looking for his wife while the hotel's present torturers are looking for him.” She grinned. “While they're busy killing each other, let's show the boy exactly how it should be done. You know, seize the moment and all that.”

  Katie closed her eyes and listened to the sound of their voices. The last thing she wanted was to die, especially at the hands of her younger sister. This was not what she'd expected to happen to her. She found herself wanting to laugh, to cry out at the unfairness of it all. Just what the fuck had she done to deserve all of this shit?

  Another bout of pain shot through her belly and while the two women above her continued to debate how they should torture her. Katie moaned quietly and started to cry.

  “The poor little cry-baby doesn't want to live forever,” taunted Joyce. “I can't even believe you even contemplated bringing her into our new gang, Pamela. She's spent all her life playing the underdog, she obviously knows no better.”

  Katie had no gun. Her knife could be anywhere. Most likely she'd dropped it somewhere in that dining room. She stifled her sobbing and listened to those two women discuss the best way to prolong her death. Joyce's dippy husband had found some metal cord at the top of the steps. He was so happy over the find. The daft old bastard had designs on her body as well. He wanted to fuck her before those two made Katie's body too unsightly. He'd wanted to stick his cock inside Katie ever since he'd seen her bending over when she'd first started working at the cafe. A delight that his bitch of a wife had denied him. Jack wouldn't have minded. As long as he was able to watch before joining in on the action.

  Katie paused, not too sure where this previously hidden knowledge had appeared from. The man hadn't spoken any of that stuff out loud, that's for sure.

  She found herself flexing her fingers, acutely aware that the pain that had tormented her guts had died down. Oh, it hadn't totally vanished, traces of discomfort still remained but nothing she couldn't handle.

  Katie raised her head and saw the two women were stood on the first step, waiting for the man to bring his prize down to them. Joyce wondered if the cord was long enough to hang Katie, while Pamela wanted to knot the end and use the cord to whip Katie's front. It was as if the thoughts from her future tormentors were no longer confined to their skulls.

  This had to be the work of the ghosts, they'd come back to help Katie out of this mess. She dug her fingers into the carpet, not too shocked to find the tough weave ripping. Why bother with a knife or a gun when her digits were capable of doing the job just as well?

  The beast who kidnapped this present torturer's predecessor enjoyed using his fingers and thumbs to finish off the men, women and children he'd spent his days mutilating. He simply pressed down against their eyes and didn't stop pressing until they'd stopped moving.

  Katie slowly got to her feet, watching the man slide his fingers over the surface of the cord. He was the only one who could have seen Katie move and yet, his eyes, like his mind were elsewhere. That suited her purpose just fine. Her incorporeal friends had showed her what to do,all Katie needed now was to follow the instructions. That part was easy. Katie had been following instructions all her life.

  She reached out, her fingers reaching around the top of Joyce's collar. Before the woman had realised that her prospective victim hadn't given up on life after all, she found herself tumbling off the step and flying backwards. Her back smashed into the table. Katie back-handed the woman then swept her legs out from under her.

  Katie fell on the woman, pinning her arms down with her knees. Her sister had seen what Katie had done and yet, her sister had not moved an inch to help Joyce. Katie found that a little surprising but didn't dwell on this. Her new friends had told her not to.

  “Please, we're only joking. We weren't really going to hurt you.”

  Her new friends also said that this pathetic bitch wasn't the only one in this reception tonight who'd begged for their lives. They also told her to fucking hurry up. Katie nodded and leaned forward, following instructions.

  She held the woman's head tight. Unlike with Jack, Katie had no problem holding her head still. The ghosts must have somehow juiced up her body. Katie giggled, that was rather funny. She placed her thumbs on Joyce's eyelids and pressed down, watching in fascination as the woman's eyelids appeared to absorb the pressure. Joyce screamed, she shrieked, the sound was like nothing Katie had ever experienced, she found it unnerving yet at the same time it excited her. The woman's body bucked and danced, but Katie's thumbs stayed where they were. She pushed down a little harder, this time the thin skin tore, the sudden movement sent her digits plunging past the woman's eyeballs and into the warm organ below.

  Joyce's body shuddered once before finally laying still. Katie kept her thumbs inside the woman's skull cavity for a moment, it was rather pleasant. It reminded her of the time as a child when she had dropped her spoon on the floor and instead of picking it up, Katie used her fingers to eat her dinner. She relished the memory, it felt good to remember something pleasant from her mainly miserable life for once.

  Katie reluctantly removed her fingers, knowing that her instructions weren't yet complete. She stood up and made her way over to her sister, while wiggling her thumbs.

  “Leave me the fuck alone, you mad cow!” spat Pamela.

  Katie hadn't stopped smiling, in fact it widened when she saw her sister's own smile had totally disappeared. That made her feel very happy, Pamela wasn't supposed to look happy, it didn't suit her face. The girl jumped to the side, a move Katie already knew she'd do. In anticipation, Katie had already clenched her fist and got ready to strike. As soon as Pamela jump, the girl ran straight into Katie's outstretched arm. Pamela folded up like a broken clothes horse and fell forward.

  “That was easy,” Katie muttered. She grabbed the back of Pamela's hair and slammed her head into the corner of the wooden banister. “That was for Maddie,” She pulled her onto her back knelt above Pamela's head before placing her thumbs beside her eyes. Unlike Joyce, her eyes were open. Katie suspected the girl was already close to slipping off this mortal coil. Not that it mattered, she still pushed her thumbs into the girl's eyes. She rather liked it.

  Katie closed her eyes, trying to recapture that last moment, yet this time, there was nothing, even when the girl's eyeballs slipped out of their sockets and rested against Katie's wrist. All Katie felt was disappointment mixed with a sense of loss. That wasn't right, why did she no longer feel happy? Katie had followed the instructions, she had...

  The man stuck her from behind. She felt the knife, her knife enter her back, missing Katie's heart by a hair. She felt no pain, but the gift from the others, her new found strength was fading fast. She got to her feet and spun around, thankful that this creepy fucker hadn't pulled out the knife.

  Why had she not sensed his movements? Had her new friends already given up on her? That didn't seem fair at all. It had to be true though. Even now, Katie felt the first fingers of pain creeping through her body. It looked like she was going to die here after all. She looked hard at the little man standing in front of her, if that was the case then she wasn't going by herself.

  Katie wrapped her fingers around the man's throat and squeezed out the miserable man's life. She let him fall to the floor and staggered away, not wanting her own body to fall with the one's she'd killed. Katie managed to get into the dining room before her strength finally gave out. She fell against the wall and took
one final breath before closing her eyes.

  7

  Michael had searched this section of the hotel from top to bottom, and yet he had found no evidence of his prey. The fat man and the wild-haired banshee ran into here, so where the fuck were they? The bastards couldn't have vanished into thin air.

  There had to be another route out of here, it was the only logical explanation. He stopped beside a metal-framed bed, not sure of what to do next. He's even considered the idea of a door hidden behind that wall bookcase in the other room. He put paid to that idea after demolishing it. All he'd discovered were a couple of abandoned mice nests.

  “Where the fuck have you got to?” he snarled.

  Time for his wife was running out fast. The ghost had assured Michael that as long as they still believed he was on the way, Jodie's life wasn't in too much danger. He moaned quietly, that pair of deranged psychopaths certainly knew he was here now!

  “Oh fuck, this is so messed up.” He looked at the gun in his hand, just what was the point of bringing this along? He dropped the weapon on the bed and wandered back into the other room, deciding to give that wall next to the window another examination, perhaps he had missed something that last time.

  He stopped dead, gaping at the green wooden panelled door, standing ajar. Michael crept a little closer, discovering a flight of worn stone steps, leading down. Impenetrable darkness obscured the bottom. Looking into that abyss sent a freezing chill down the back of his spine. He knew that's where they had gone. He also knew the fuckers would be waiting for him to join his wife who would be no doubt already chained to one of those fucking walls. Michael ran back into the bedroom to collect his gun, when he returned, the door had gone.

  “Come on,” he cried. “How the fuck is that fair?” Michael looked at his gun, then at the wall. “Oh, it's like that is it, you set of mean cunts.” He dropped the gun on the carpet, watching, with irritation as the door reformed. “Fuck you all,” he snarled, making his way over to the door.

  Michael began his decent, being careful not to slip. So much for a clean kill. He had no knife, no gun, nothing. How did the ghost expect him to despatch his enemies. Perhaps the fuckers thought he'd be able to push his thumbs into their eye sockets? He shook his head, that was just too ridiculous for words.

  He finally reached the bottom. The light, although weak, did give him the blurred outlines of two doors. Michael mentally flipped a coin and chose the one on the left. He placed his ear against the damp wood, listening for any sounds that might give away their location. Apart from the sound of his heart thudding against his ribs, he heard nothing. He ran his hands down the surface until his fingers found the handle. The metal was wet. He brought his fingers up to his nose and sniffed them. That was blood on there. He nodded to himself before slowly pushing open the door.

  Yellow candle light spilled into the bottom of the stairs. His first sight was his beautiful wife. A gasp escaped his mouth when he saw those depraved bastards had stripped her naked before shackling the woman to that black wall. Michael resisted the urge to rush in there and pull those thick clamps off her wrists and peel away the silver duct tape covering the woman's mouth. There would be no more hidden doors in there, this was the final room. Somewhere in there, those two crazed fucks were waiting for him.

  He stood back and booted the door catching the wood as it slammed back. Michael looked to his left, seeing no obvious sign of activity, he ran in and slammed his back against the wall, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light. There was a stone slab-like altar in the middle of the room, and another set of clamps on the wall opposite. He saw a pile of what appeared to be human remains in the opposite corner on the room. The foul stench coming from there almost overpowered the sickness emanating from these walls. He did not want to even guess how many poor bastards had met their end in here over the centuries.

  He felt like his head was about to detonate. The sound of Jodie's muffled screams buzzed around his mind, obscuring every other thought. He couldn't do anything about her until the others were dead. One mistake, meant he'd end up clamped to the opposite wall.

  Michael tensed himself and edged along the wall, his movements revealing more and more of the other side of that slab. They could be armed with anything. Even so, as long as he saw their intent, at least he'd be able to prepare himself to some extent. He stopped dead, when he found they weren't hiding there after all. Could they be on the other side of the other door? He wasn't going to wait around to find out. Michael ran over to his wife and reached up to grab the edge of the tape.

  She violently shook her head, pulling away from him. Her eyes bulged, staring past his hand. Michael slowly turned around and saw that pile of human remains start to move. A severed arm shifted and slithered down the pile, rest in a puddle a stinking, red and grey slop. He took one step back, not entirely sure what he was seeing here.

  Two naked figures rose up through the vile mess, both smothered in human excrement and mushed up entrails. Two pairs of eyes found him. The two figures snarled before rushing from their concealment and jumping at him.

  Their combined weight brought him crashing onto the stone floor. He narrowly escaped concussion by lifting his head a split second before making contact. The man growled and smashed his shit covered fist into the side of his head as the woman tried to bite off his fingers. Michael wrenched his hand away from her snapping teeth and head-butted the man before elbowing the crazed woman in the nose.

  Hot blood gushed across his face and spurted into his eyes, making vision impossible. He cried out in agony when her teeth did find his fingers. She snapped her jaw shut, sliding her teeth down the bone until they found the joint. She growled before pulling her head back, taking his two knuckles of his forefinger with her.

  Michael's agony intensified as the man's groping hand moved up his thigh, those slime coated fingers wrapping around and squeezing Michael's genitals. He sat up pulled his hand back and punched the laughing man in the throat. The woman seemed to have forgotten about him. She had scuttled over to Jodie, still chewing on Michael's digit. He screamed out then dived forward, wrapping his arms around the man's head.

  The woman turned around and jumped for Michael but he anticipated that. He shifted his body to the left. Before the woman could grab him again, Michael put both hands around the man's throat. He picked it up and swung the man as hard as he could against the stone slab.

  A sharp crack resonated around the dark room, soon followed by a howl of anguish coming from the woman. She looked away from the dead man, her crazed eyes finding his face. The woman launched herself at him. This time, she made contact, knocking hard against the side of the slab. He tried to get a grip on her body, to get this vile bitch off him but the shit and blood covering her naked body made it impossible. He lunged forward, his open mouth clamping over one of her nipples. Michael ignored the disgusting taste of the stuff now flowing onto his tongue and bit down, suppressing a hysterical laugh as her flesh tore away.

  The woman pulled herself away, clamped a hand over her wounded breast before running out of the room, screaming. He got onto his knees, his stomach heaved before the contents rushed out of his mouth.

  He managed to stand up without his legs giving out then made his way over to his wife. Tears of relief flowed down his face. He couldn't believe he'd made it to this point. Michael gently pulled the tape from her face before releasing her from the clamps.

  The sobbing woman collapsed into his arms. Michael wrapped his coat around her shivering body and slowly led her towards the open door. “I want you to keep close to me, honey. This isn't finished yet.”

  “What about you,” she whispered. “What about your finger?”

  “I'll live,” he replied. Michael took her to the bottom of the stairs. He could hear the other woman's sobs from here. She wasn't that far behind. “Come on, this is nearly over.” Michael helped her up to the top of the stairs, thanking whoever was looking out for him at the blessed sight of his gun, still lying on th
e carpet. The witch was obviously too far gone to have picked it up and use it against them.

  It didn't shock him in the least to find the door stayed visible when he retrieved his gun. Michael helped her through the room and into the next corridor. “Honey, you might want to keep your eyes closed. It isn't a pretty sight from here on.”

  She looked up into his face. He knew what she was silently searching for and lowered his gaze. “I'm so sorry, Jodie. Fern didn't make it.”

  “Is this nightmare ever going to end, Michael?”

  He gripped the gun hard. “Yes, when she is dead.” Michael took her over to a chair. “I want you to wait here,” he said. That woman was at the bottom of the stairs now, it sounded like she was stuck on something.

  “Please don't leave me again!”

  “You're safe now, I promise. There's only one more left.”

  Their fingers parted and he ran towards the top of the steps, desperate to get this over with. The woman was right there, by the edge of the reception table, in the midst of a lake of blood and bodies. He ran down the steps, watching her look in his direction, her face displaying a bestial snarl. The woman kicked back before stumbling forward and disappearing into the dining room.

  “Fuck!” he yelled. Michael got to the bottom of the steps, and made his way through the mess, not wanting to lose the woman.

  “Michael? Oh God, it is you.”

  He looked down to find his friend staring back up at him. His dead wife was in his arms.

  “I held onto her leg for as long as I could, my friend.” He looked away, his hand stroking Fern's hair. “He told me what to expect before pulling me through. They told me but I didn't believe him. How could I believe them, despite the horror I saw in there?” The man sobbed. “Listen to me, Michael. Please, you have to finish this, you have to get them all, do you hear me? Get them all!”

  He nodded once before rushing into the dining room. He needed to keep his focus on the task ahead, not contemplating over future consequences. Michael stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, seeing a door at the other end opening. He raised his gun and readied himself, knowing that all this would be over soon. Michael heard footsteps behind him but dare not turn around. It wasn't her, it couldn't be. The woman was in front of him.