Trapped Within

by Bradshaw, Duncan P.

  My attack made it on the ten o'clock news, but since I was careful and left no evidence behind, the authorities had no idea who could have committed such a heinous crime.

  What I've failed to mention is that Brandon didn't die—at least not right away. When the firecrackers went off, they ruptured his colon, sending bacteria-filled shit coursing through his body. Although the doctors pumped him full of antibiotics to try to prevent an infection, Brandon died a few days later.

  What a shame.

  After that, life for me returned to normal, and I kept an eye open for other crimes against animals that took place around my neighborhood. All was quiet for a while, until one day, in early January, I saw a news report about a man who threw hot bacon grease on his pit bull because the dog wouldn't stop barking. The man was arrested for animal cruelty, but because he had no previous record, he was released on bail while he awaited trial. The dog survived, but lost both eyes in the attack.

  I got especially excited when I heard this report, because the dog, Max, was a patient of mine. He was owned by an older man, Thomas Johnson, and I knew exactly where the piece of shit lived, since I’d made many house calls to the Johnson home in recent years. Johnson lived alone in a small, two-room house on the edge of town. Within seconds, I knew what I was going to do, and I knew it would be a lot of fun.

  I went into the clinic early the next day before anyone else reported for work, and made my way to the back, where we kept the drugs and surgical equipment. I filled four large syringes with pancuronium, a neuromuscular paralytic, and grabbed a scalpel, putting everything in the computer bag I took with me every day to work. Having a firm plan in mind, I went on with my day, seeing patients as usual, but as the day wore on, my excitement grew.

  I left the clinic at 6:15 and made my way to Johnson's house, on the other side of town. By the time I got there, it was dark, which made things a lot easier for me. I walked up to the front door and knocked. After a minute or so, the door slowly opened.

  “Hi, doc.” Thomas said to me, staring at the floor in front of him. At least he was ashamed of what he had done. If he expected to open the door to a friendly face, he was sadly mistaken, as he would soon discover.

  “Thomas,” I greeted coldly. “Let's talk. May I come in?”

  “I… I'm not feeling real good, doc. Can we talk some other time. I just want to lay down.”

  “We need to talk now, Thomas. Let's go inside,” I said as I pushed my way into his house.

  I sat on the dingy tan sofa sitting against the left wall in the room. As usual, I sat on the right and Thomas sat on my left, which is exactly where he usually sits when I come over. It put him in the perfect position for me to carry out my plan.

  “What happened, Thomas? You loved Max, didn't you? How could you do something so awful?”

  Thomas continued crying, tears and snot running down his weathered face. “I don't know. He wouldn't shut up! He kept me awake the night before and every time I told him to be quiet, he just seemed to bark more. I was in the kitchen, making breakfast, and I was gonna share with him, like I always do, but—”

  “But instead, you blinded a twelve-year-old dog with bacon grease? Did it ever occur to you that he might have been trying to tell you something? Maybe he was sick or in pain. Maybe he just wanted your attention!”

  The old man sobbed. He leaned away from me to take a tissue out of the box on the end table, when I reached into my own pocket for one of the syringes. The drug I was about to give Thomas was a paralytic, meaning he would be awake and aware, but unable to move. That's exactly what I wanted. I wanted this scum to see everything that was about to happen to him.

  As he sat up and turned to face me again, I stabbed the needle deep into the right side of his neck and pushed down the plunger. Thomas screamed, but shut up when I began speaking.

  “How do you think Max felt when the one person he loved hurt him? How do you think his life will be now that he's blind? Not only has he lost his eyesight, he's lost the person who was supposed to always love him!”

  The drug started working as I reached into my pocket for another syringe. This time, I stood in front of Thomas and stabbed the needle into the left side of his neck. I had given him enough to paralyze a two-hundred-pound mastiff, yet, this small man was still moving.

  You have to be patient. If you rush this, you'll get careless, I thought. I took a deep breath as I stared into Thomas' face. I watched his muscles relax as the medicine took effect.

  “Thomas, have you ever heard the expression, 'an eye for an eye'? I think it fits here, don't you? You took Max's eyesight from him as he's nearing the end of his life, and I think it's only fair that someone take yours.”

  I removed the scalpel from my pocket and watched Thomas for a reaction. Of course, the drugs had taken hold, so he couldn't do anything but stare at me with horror in his eyes. The fact that he felt remorse for what he had done didn't matter at all to me.

  Scalpel in hand, I straddled Thomas, putting one knee on each side of his thighs. I'm not a large woman, but I seemed to easily contain the man in front of me. I pushed his head back and whispered in his ear, “This is for Max and all the other animals who are injured and killed by assholes like you.”

  I sat up and stabbed the tip of the scalpel into Max's left eyeball. It surprised me when the eyeball made a slight popping sound, similar to the noise a grape might make when stepped on. Pink fluid ran down the old man's face as I hacked away at his left eye, pulling it out in pieces. Thomas was fading fast, so once I was satisfied that he'd never see out of that eye again, I started on the right eye.

  As I climbed off Thomas' lap, there was a knock at the door, and then a man's voice boomed, “Mr. Johnson, this is the police. Open up!”

  I stayed silent, rooted to the spot in front of Thomas when the voice spoke again.

  “Mr. Johnson, your neighbor called us and reported hearing a scream from this address. Open the door and let us know you're okay.”

  Silence.

  “Mr. Johnson, you have until the count of three to open this door or we're coming in!”

  I looked around the small house, and soon realized there was no way out. No back door, no basement or attic. I was stuck.

  “One…”

  I looked at the scalpel still in my hand and thought about using it to slice my own throat.

  Death isn't pleasant. I can't do that, I thought.

  “Two…”

  It's better than spending the rest of my life in a prison cell, isn't it?

  I raised the scalpel to my throat as the officer outside the door finished his countdown.

  “Three!”

  On three, the front door came crashing in. The officer used so much force that half the frame came in with it. A large, black man wearing a police uniform had his gun raised and pointed at my chest.

  “Drop the weapon, ma'am! This is your only warning.”

  I allowed the scalpel to hit the floor and slowly fell with it, as sobs took over my body. Within seconds, I was lying face down on the floor with the officer straddling me, placing handcuffs around my wrists.

  Mr. Johnson died that night. The shock to his system was too much for him, and his heart gave out. In March, I was tried for murder. The judge claimed that he understood why I did what I did, but that 'premeditated, vigilante justice' wouldn't be tolerated on his watch. Since the old man died, I was tried and found guilty of murder. The jury sentenced me to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

  Unlike some other criminals, I don't regret what I did. I regret getting caught, and with better planning, I'd still be a free woman.

  My hope is that whoever reads this takes up where I left off. Abused and neglected animals need people like me to defend them when the justice system fails.

  Unfortunately, I can't allow myself to grow old in this hell hole. I had to bide my time while I had a cellmate, but now that I occupy this tiny space by myself, I can end my self-induced misery.

&
nbsp; As I sit here finishing my notes, staring at the sheet I have tied around the ceiling beam, I beg you… please make my death worth something.

  Author of stories such as Sleep Deprived, Bucket List and Cash Out, Dawn Cano gets a kick out of making people sick. Often referred to as the ‘Queen of Extreme,’ when she’s not thinking of gruesome ways to kill those around her, Dawn frequently roams the Pennsylvania countryside, staring at Amish people and trying to pet cows.

  Check out her books here:

  https://www.amazon.com/Dawn-Cano/e/B01C80B12U/

  And find her on Facebook here:

  https://www.facebook.com/dawn.cummings.716

  He found her in a supermarket parking lot, crying and trying to hide the bleeding stumps where her wings had been. Her once lustrous white dress was streaked with blood. She snarled as he approached. He smiled.

  “Relax. I’m here to help.”

  He held his palms up to show he meant no harm.

  “I fell.”

  “I know.”

  As he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, she looked up at him with the bluest eyes that he had ever seen. They were as cold as the ice and snow that covered the ground around them.

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  “Oh, I just got a phone call. Someone somewhere else does the finding. Come and sit in the car. It’s freezing out here. Here, just let me clear this garbage off the seat. There you go. I’ll come round.”

  Once both doors were shut, he rubbed his hands together before turning the key in the ignition. The engine coughed a couple of times before reluctantly starting. He turned towards her.

  “We won’t go anywhere for a minute. I just wanted to get the heating going. I’ve got a bottle of Scotch somewhere.”

  Who are you?”

  “Nobody special. Just a guy who does odd jobs.”

  “So I’m an odd job?”

  “So to speak, yes. Here, have a swig of this.“

  “What is it?”

  “Whiskey; to heat you up.”

  Her eyes glowed as the fiery drink washed down her throat.

  “See? Feeling better already.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  ‘So, what happens now?”

  “Another drink?”

  She almost smiled.

  “No. I mean what happens to me?”

  “Ah.”

  “Ah?”

  “I don’t know yet. I expect someone will want to look after you.”

  “Not you?”

  “Oh, I’m not really the mothering type. There are… places… people.”

  “You mean Churches don’t you? Worshippers…”

  “Well…”

  She took another swig from the bottle and sat up in her chair.

  “Have you any idea about the Kingdom of Heaven?”

  “Well, I…”

  This time she smiled widely enough for him to see the pointed ends of her teeth. She licked the alcohol off her lips before wiping them with her arm.

  “Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “Stupid? Why would I…”

  She leant across towards him so that her face was just inches from his.

  “Do you think I don’t know who you are? I can smell you…”

  He shrugged.

  “Well, it was worth a try. I thought maybe I’d get lucky and avoid all the usual unpleasantness.”

  “I heard that you people were lazy. What are you going to do with me? Eat me? Rape me?”

  She squinted at him.

  “You look more like the monkey than the organ grinder though. I’m guessing you wouldn’t even get a taste. What am I? A present? What happens if you don’t do your job properly? Slit your throat? Take out their… frustrations… on you?”

  “Oh I always do my job properly. I’ve been doing this for a long…”

  He stopped short as she grasped his collar and smashed him through the windscreen. He rolled over the hood and disappeared. She laughed, took another swig of whiskey and got out of the car.

  When he stood up smoke was already starting to rise from his suit. He stood with his fists clenched, any pretence at decorum now abandoned. The air around him glistened with drops of moisture and he phased in and out of focus.

  “Oh, it’s like that is it? What a shame.”

  She watched as he grew, limbs swelling and twisting into grotesquery. His feet were becoming hooves and thick hair sprouted from his legs. His chest widened and darkened, the skin turning leathery and scarred. With a sigh she threw the bottle aside and got out of the car.

  “What a show, what a show.”

  She clasped her hands together and intertwined her fingers, looking towards the sky and gathering strength. Words not fit for human hearing spilled faster and faster from her lips in dry whispers. A web of cracks ran out across the concrete with her at their centre, as her weight multiplied.

  He was now about five times his original size. His jaw had extended and it hung open, pink drool pouring from between enormous fangs. He kicked the car and it flew backwards twenty feet before smashing into a parked truck. The sound of wailing alarms filled the air.

  Her metamorphosis was moving quickly now. Serpentine tentacles of light writhed around her, wrapping her in a cocoon of dazzling luminescence. She rapidly caught up with and overtook his growth and was soon more than ten times her original height. Utterly obscured by illumination she blazed like a small sun in the dim winter evening.

  With a groan and a physical effort that rippled across his body, he grew again too, expanding to a height of some sixty feet. He roared in triumph, his spittle hitting her and hissing as it turned to steam. There was no mistaking the dog-like nature of his face now, despite the gnarled horns sitting atop his head.

  As the light covering her began to dim, what lay beneath was revealed. Soft human skin had been replaced by diamond shaped scales that gleamed even in the darkness. Her face, now bereft of hair, lips or nose, had become reptilian. Green eyes stared out malevolently from lidless sockets, a dark membrane occasionally flickering across them. Huge wings formed from the ruins of her own, now spread out behind her, were as pale as the rest of her. She had become the white lizard.

  “Look! What the hell is that?

  “Oh Jesus…”

  A small crowd, either finished with their shopping or attracted by the noise, had filed out into the parking lot. They stared up at the scene unfolding in front of them, their minds struggling to deal with what they saw.

  “Are they making a movie?”

  “I don’t see any cameras.”

  He lunged for her, swiping with gnarled claws. She sidestepped him and smashed an arm into his back, sending him sprawling into the side of the supermarket. Brickwork crumbled and fell, revealing the inside of the building. Shoppers stared up through the gap in horror.

  The group outside the building looked at each other in hope of understanding but found none in each other’s faces. Then they turned to the uniformed security guard that stood with them, desperate for him to assert his authority. He looked back at them with the hang-dog expression of one who knew his duty but not how to enforce it.

  “What? You think I’m going to restrain them? Come on…”

  “Shoot them!”

  The guard craned his neck up at the creatures that towered above them.

  “Are you crazy? What’s that going to do? Let them deal with it.”

  A trio of police cars, lights blazing and sirens screaming, roared into the car park and skidded to a halt. After a few seconds’ hesitation their crews clambered out and hid behind the vehicles. They looked less than confident, despite the guns in their hands. Whether it was deliberate or simply a shaking hand, a single shot rang out.

  The demonic beast turned towards the source of irritation and growled. It was a low rumbling sound that shook windows and loosened the bowels of those who heard it. He took a step towards the patrol cars before reaching down and c
ommencing to fling them as if they were toys. The first flew out of the parking lot, across the adjoining street, over the row of residential housing on the other side and into a shop on the other side. The second slammed into the side of the supermarket, narrowly missing the crowd of gawkers at its corner. They turned and ran. With the third he raised it above his head before throwing it down at the cowering cops. Two were crushed instantly and another was struck as the car scraped along the tarmac. The others fled screaming into the night.

  Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, she stepped up behind him and bit into his neck. At a glance it could have been mistaken for an act of affection, but as soon as she tore her teeth free, along with a chunk of flesh, the illusion passed. He span around, landing a clawed fist into the side of her head, before backing away. She staggered but stood straight, sneering at his retreat. Gore smeared her teeth and face. Her eyes burned a terrible black.

  Something in her expression must have concerned him because he ran. She gave chase. As she ran her wings extended and she took flight. When she caught up with him she grabbed him by the head, lifting him up into the air. They passed over the adjoining street and two rows of houses before she could hold him no longer and let go, sending him crashing into the side of a nightclub emblazoned with neon signs. Dust and sparks flew all around as he bounced off it and crashed into the ground, crushing cars and bystanders alike. She alighted a little way off, causing chaos and confusion amongst those fleeing from the scene.

  Around the city the presence of two battling beasts was starting to be noticed. Panicked conversations between emergency services crackled back and forth as they tried to make sense of the information they were getting.

  “Dispatch, there is a giant lizard and a giant dog fighting in the northern part of the city.”

  “Please repeat. Is this a situation for animal control?”

  “We’re not talking someone’s escaped pets here. These things are sixty feet high goddamn it.”