He saw the door into the back room open, and the whore came back out. She was stark naked except for her feet, where she wore big clunky galoshes, and her hands, which were covered in latex gloves. Her hair was pulled back into a single ponytail now, and all hint of the little girl makeup was washed away. Now Herman could see that she was a good ten years older than he had thought, at least thirty, and the stretch marks on her stomach said she had given birth at least once. Herman tried to look away, but his eyes betrayed him. His gaze was drawn to her porcelain skin, flawless except for the tattoo of a purple dragon running down her left thigh. Chinese in style, the dragon’s tail wrapped all the way around her waist and buried its pointed tip into the red curls of her hair down there. She had shaved the hair there into a triangle, so the whole thing looked like her hair was the dragon’s tail. Herman looked up, trying to focus on her face, but his eyes kept dragging down to her small, pert breasts, each with a small silver hoop dandling from the nipple. She reached up and pulled on each ring, closing her eyes in a mockery of passion, then strutted over to Herman and ran her breasts over his nose.
She giggled at Herman’s discomfort and said, “It’s just easier if I do my work in the nude, Herman. You don’t mind, do you?”
Herman closed his eyes, sealing her nakedness away from him to preserve himself from the image of her filth. He felt the rush of wind even before he felt the sting of her slap land on his temple.
“Open your eyes, Herman.” All the giggles were gone now, and her voice was cold. “I want you to look at me. Look at what you lusted after. Look at what you panted after like a dog. Look at what you betrayed your family for.”
Herman squeezed his eyes shut, wondering what the whore was babbling about. He had no family, not since she died all those years ago. He betrayed no one, lusted after no one. He was a lion, a predator, a hunter. Not a dog, some stupid pack animal.
He felt her hot breath on the side of his face even through the mask. “Open your goddamn eyes and pay attention or I will carve off your fucking eyelids.” His eyes flew open, and she smiled again, suddenly the coquette she had been just moments before.
“That’s better, baby. Good boy. Now you get a treat.” And she kissed him, wrapped her mouth around the ball gag in his mouth and shoved it farther into his mouth in a choking French kiss. She held the kiss just long enough for Herman to start to thrash against the ball gag, then she skipped away, twirling naked through the apartment.
She vanished from view, and when she twirled back into his line of sight, she held a plastic yellow and black toolbox. She set the toolbox on the scarred surface of the kitchen table and opened it. She hummed a little tune to herself as she pulled several X-Acto knives, a pair of needle-nosed pliers, a roll of duct tape, and several unmarked squeeze bottles of liquid from the box. She arranged her tools and bottles and walked over to the refrigerator. She opened the door and took out a large pack of hamburger meat. The whore walked over to Herman and slit open the package with one of her knives, dumping the entire soggy, cold clump of meat in his lap.
“Now you just let that sit there and keep you company, Herman, while I do my work.”
Herman tried to talk around the ball gag, tried to ask the whore what she was doing, but she just turned back to him and waved the knife in front of his face. “No-no-no, Hermie. No talking. If you try to make any noise, I’ll have to carve out your voice box, and who wants that? I certainly don’t. Now behave.” She flicked out her hand, and Herman felt a thin line of fire burn across his chest. As she walked back to the table, he looked in the mirror and saw beads of blood running down his chest where she had sliced him with the razor blade.
The whore cut me! She hurt me! I’ll kill her slowly for that. Just for that, I’ll make it hurt. That, that, that bitch! Herman was shocked. He never swore, not even to himself. This whore must have really shaken him to get him to even think that word. He leaned forward as far as he could, trying to rock the chair back and forth to maybe break the chair and free himself.
The whore turned back to him and strode over to him, the rings in her nipples bouncing with every step. Herman tried not to look, but he could stop himself. She glared at him and said, “I told you to behave!” Then she drove the X-Acto knife into the back of his left hand, pinning him to the wood of the chair. The small razor tip slid between the bones of his hand, followed by the dull cylinder, jamming through tendons and muscles as the tiny blade slid through his flesh into the soft wood of the chair. Herman’s eyes went wide as the initial blunt pain of the stabbing quickly transformed into an inferno of agony that radiated out from the back of his hand and sent lightning bolts all the way up his arm to the shoulder. He tried to scream, but with her standing right there, he didn’t dare. All he could do was open his mouth and breathe rapidly, then she poked the ball gag even deeper into his mouth and he felt his throat convulse. He was caught between trying to breathe, trying to scream, and his gag reflex forcing him to retch, all while thrashing against bonds that gave not a millimeter. Tears poured from his eyes and snot bubbled up from his nose and started to stream down into the corners of his mouth, making him retch even more violently.
The vicious circle spiraled Herman deeper and deeper toward panic until finally he began to hyperventilate. Cindy pulled back her hand and rocked Herman’s head to the side with a vicious slap. The shock and pain brought everything to a halt, and suddenly his breathing was back under control. His hand still screamed, and he still wanted to vomit from the pain and disgust at the snot rolling down his face and leaking past his lips, but the ball had moved enough that his gag reflex relaxed, and he no longer felt completely frantic. Of course, there was still a psychotic naked whore looming over him, but at least he could breathe a little better.
Cindy walked over to the table, grabbed a cloth, and came back. She gently wiped away Herman’s tears, dabbed the sweat from his brow, and cleaned his face. “There, there, Herman. You’re just fine. You’re going to be okay,” she crooned, crouching in front of him and taking his face in her hands. “Now you don’t need to be a bad boy, do you, Herman? You don’t need to try to get free, because you can’t. That chair is bolted to the floor, and you’re tied up like a Christmas goose, so you just sit there and be a good boy, and this won’t hurt a bit.” She smiled then, and kissed his forehead, and brought his head to nestle between her breasts.
Herman could smell her perfume, and beneath that, the musky scent of her, and he started to swell. The lump of hamburger in his lap twitched, and Cindy jerked back. “Having naughty thoughts again, Herman? Well, that’s the kind of thing that got you here in the first place, wasn’t it? You had dirty thoughts about me. You wanted to do nasty things with me, and now you’re here. You could have gone home to your wife who loves you, couldn’t you, Herman? But no, you went out looking for a little young thing in a little girl miniskirt and wanted to do nasty things. So now we will. We will do nasty things, Herman, they just won’t be the same ones you were thinking of.” Her lip curled back in a snarl every time she said his name, like it was something disgusting.
She walked over to the table and picked up a pair of scissors. “Usually I like to use my knives for this part, but I’m running a little short on knives right now, aren’t I, Herman?” She stepped in front of him and put the tip of the scissors to his throat. She snipped the blades together, and Herman felt a little tear and the scissor just barely cut into his neck above his tie. Then she grabbed his necktie and jerked it off of him. She threw it to the side and grabbed his dress shirt in both hands, pulling the shirt apart with a single hard yank that sent buttons flying. One bounced off her chin and she laughed. She pulled his shirt off, using the scissors to cut the pieces that wouldn’t slide through the ties. She did the same thing with his undershirt, finally leaving him sitting shirtless and sweating in the wooden chair with a crazed naked woman dancing around him with scissors. His fish-white belly flopped down over his belt, and his few chest hairs looked nothing like the majestic lio
n’s fur he saw rippling through his imagination.
She reached down into his lap, pulling chunks of the raw hamburger and smearing it all over his chest, spreading it all over the mask and up under the edges. She kneaded his crotch every time she reached for another handful, pulling and stroking him through his pants until he stood fully erect. When he was completely hard, she grinned at him and unfastened his belt. She tossed the belt aside and put the point of the scissors at his zipper.
Snip! Snip! Snip! Herman squeezed his eyes shut tight, waiting for the stabbing pain to come from his groin, but nothing happened. She slapped him across the face, and his eyes flew open. He looked down and saw his penis protruding from a hole she had cut in his pants and his underwear.
“Say hello to little Herman. Hello, little Herman.” She grabbed his shaft and bent it painfully down in a sharp yank. “I just love to play with these things. They get so hard, then so soft. It’s like flipping a switch. Hard, soft, hard, soft, hard, soft.” She giggled like a bizarre schoolgirl and yanked his penis up and down violently with every word. Herman’s eyes began to water, and he started to feel nauseous from the pain, when suddenly she let go of him and went to work with the scissors again. Moments later, Herman was naked except for scraps of cloth and plastic wire ties, and Cindy was back to smearing hamburger meat all over his body. She shoved a huge lump underneath him, probing Herman vilely to make sure there was plenty of meat up there and behind his balls, then she molded a big glob of the stuff and plopped it down on his crotch.
“We’ll let that settle while I work on the rest of you. How does that sound?” She stood up, stepped back as if to survey her work, and went back to the table.
She picked up one of the squeeze bottles in each hand and came back over to where Herman sat, shivering and contemplating prayer for the first time in many years. In one hand she had a red bottle, like the kind used to dispense ketchup in cheap roadside diners all over the U.S. In the other she held a yellow-topped plastic bear with a smiling face. The bear was filled with a golden viscous fluid that Herman recognized instantly as honey. Cindy upended both bottles over Herman’s head and started to squeeze. The honey dripped slowly, but the other bottle held…water?
“It’s sugar water, just a little more sweetener to draw them out. They like sweets, you know. And the sweeter I make you, the quicker they’ll come find you. And they’re here, don’t worry. They’re all over these old buildings. I just have to make sure they can find you.” She emptied both bottles over Herman, coating him completely in a disgusting mix of hamburger meat, honey, and sugar water.
“Now we just need one more thing.” She went back to her table and picked up the other X-Acto knife and a third squeeze bottle. “This goes much quicker when I have both of my knives, but somebody was a little spoilsport and made me stab his stupid little hand, now didn’t he?” She walked over to his chair and dragged the blade across his chest, opening a thin line from armpit to armpit. Blood welled up and started to flow slowly down his chest, joining all the other substances coating him. Just as the pain kindled across Herman’s chest, she squeezed the yellow bottle over his chest and the lemon juice set his every nerve ending aflame. He tried again to scream, to no avail. All he accomplished was another gagging fit and the release of his bladder, which would have been more embarrassing if he hadn’t been tied to a chair by a psychotic whore who deserved to have all her haughty-naughty bits carved up, but who was more than likely going to kill him right here.
Just as Herman’s fit died down, a knock came at the door. Herman jerked upright, hoping against hope for a rescue. Cindy’s head whipped around, and she got a very confused look on her face.
“I didn’t invite any other guests. Did you, sweetheart?” Herman shook his head frantically side to side, as much to try to clear his eyes from the dripping honey as anything else. Cindy put down the bottle of lemon juice and walked to the door.
“Who is it?” she called sweetly through the door.
“NYPD.” It was a strong male voice. Herman almost soiled himself in gratitude. He would get out of this! The police, those fools that he worked so hard to avoid, were going to save his life.
“What can I do for you, Officer?” Cindy kept the saccharine tone to her voice, pressing her entire body against the door jamb.
“There was a suspicious man seen entering the building earlier. One of your neighbors called it in. We need to know if you’ve seen him.”
“I haven’t seen anyone suspicious, Officer. I’ve just been soaking in the bath.” She drew out the last word, painting languorous images of her nakedness with her voice. “Why, I didn’t bother to put on a robe before I answered the door, I’m just standing here. Dripping. Would you like to come in, Officer?” She purred and arched her back. Herman tried not to watch her writhe against the door like a cat in heat, but a stirring rose in his loins nonetheless.
“Um, that’s all right, ma’am. Just be on the lookout for any strange men in the area.”
Herman tried to scream, but it came out as a strangled whimper. Cindy’s head whipped around at him. She had heard him. Maybe the cop heard him, too.
The cop’s voice came through the door. “What was that, ma’am? Maybe I do need to come in there. Could you open the door, please?”
“Certainly, Officer.” Cindy turned the knob and stepped back into the room, pulling the door open. The cop stood in the doorway dumbfounded, staring at her naked body, her tattoo, her pierced nipples, and finally dragging his eyes up to the insane light in her eyes.
“Ma’am, could you please step aside?” The cop came into the room, his hand on the butt of his gun. Cindy closed the door behind him and threw the deadbolt. The cop froze as he saw Herman strapped to the chair, naked, bleeding and trying frantically to get free.
Herman had read about people who said that time slowed down when bad things were happening, but he never believed them. He’d done lots of bad things, and time never slowed down for him. But now, it was like he was watching a movie step forward frame by frame in front of him. He saw the cop’s eyes go wide, the whites almost swallowing his pupils. He saw Cindy throw the deadbolt on the door. He saw the cop begin to draw his gun and turn. He saw Cindy lash out with her X-Acto knife and cut deep into the side of the cop’s neck.
He saw the cop’s left hand go to his neck, watched the man continue to spin around and bring his gun to bear on the naked woman. He saw the silver blade glint in the cheap overhead lighting and flash down again, burying itself in the cop’s chest. He saw the barrel of the gun swing up and flash fire. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Three times. He saw the black holes blossom on Cindy’s chest and watched her lithe body float backward and crash into the locked door. He saw the look of surprise on her face shift to one of pain, then of…amusement? He watched her die.
He watched the cop fall to his knees, then drop onto his back, the X-Acto knife quivering in his chest. He watched the blood spurt from the hole in his neck, strong at first, casting a red arc several feet, then weaker, shorter bursts as the man bled out. He saw the cop turn his head to look at Herman, an almost-apology in his eyes, as though he was leaving something undone. Then he watched the cop die, too.
Herman sat there for a long moment, breathing hard. The gunshots, the stabbing, it had all been too much for him. When the other cops got there to rescue him, he was going to go straight. Get a better job, maybe meet a nice girl. There had always been whores. There would always be whores. Herman didn’t have to be the one to punish them; he saw that now. He even offered up a prayer of thanks to God for showing him the error of his ways. Then he settled in to wait for the police.
And wait.
And wait.
The sun crept over the floor of the apartment, but no other police came. Still Herman waited.
The corpses voided themselves in a last disgusting release of muscles. Still Herman waited.
Night fell, and Herman could hear the distant sounds of lives happening in apartments down the hall, on other flo
ors, but nothing in the units nearby. Still Herman waited.
Eventually Herman realized that the dead cop had probably just been a patrolman, walking a beat in the neighborhood. It would take them longer to find him, but eventually they would. The cops took care of their own. They’d find their fallen brother, rescue Herman, and all would be right with the world. Herman just had to wait. It was uncomfortable, covered in meat and sugar water and honey, but Herman had been uncomfortable before. He was patient. He could wait. After all, people could go for days without food or water. As long as they found him within a few days, he’d be fine.
Then he saw the first mouse scurry out from under the refrigerator and sniff in his direction.
4
The Medical Transcriptionist becomes Lost (and found) in her work
She sits alone
tap-tapping on a dusty Dell laptop,
worn blanket across her knees
as she transforms the doctors’ hieroglyphics
into clumsy diagnoses
like 3 centimeter tumor
metastatic
and advanced dementia.
She sits alone
in the blue-gray glow of an analog television
with an empty dog dish on the floor
beside the sink
(Lucas had to be put to sleep last year
but she can’t bring herself to throw the bowl out today)
and thinks about the people
she never meets
and their secrets
that she knows like family.
Have Spacecat, Will Travel: And Other Tails Page 5
