Something_Violent

by Rufty, Kristopher

  I felt the pressure of Mackey’s boot move away from my back. With his foot gone, I could finally breathe better. Lee got down on her knees beside my head, grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled up my head as her paw had demanded. From the grip she had, I wondered if she was trying to tear off my scalp.

  Cold pressed against my throat. My knife was ready to cut me if I didn’t obey.

  Mackey made his way to the cot, holding his cigarette out to the side. Sinking to a crouch, he walked on his bulgy knees between Jody’s legs. Her naked skin was slick in blood and sweat. When she moved, light glistened in the many puddles on her body.

  “Don’t…” Jody said, shaking her head. There was no conviction in her voice. Just an empty word that she’d spoken, probably because she thought she was supposed to.

  Stop it, I told her in my head. Don’t beg.

  She’d been broken down in my absence. And it angered me. I started to look up at Lee, but she jerked my head back down.

  “I’ll cut you,” she said in my ear. “Then I’ll lick the blood.”

  “You’s recordin’?” Mackey asked.

  “Yep,” said Goober. “Been cordin’ the whole time.”

  “Good.” Putting the cigarette between his lips, Mackey pulled off a long drag. “You know what, Goob?” Smoke curled out of his mouth as he spoke. “I think I might’s try givin’ up the cigs.”

  “Really, Mack?”

  “Yeah.” He held it up, staring at the bullet-shaped cherry tip. “They’s bad for me.” Mackey brought the cigarette down, grinding it out on Jody’s breast above the bite mark.

  No! I wanted to shout, but I bit down on my bottom lip, tasting blood.

  Jody’s screech was high and earsplitting. The ropes kept her from being able to move much, but her head was free to thrash.

  My skin felt hot and tight. I started to look at Lee, but felt a stinging bite under my chin. Warm liquid trickled down my neck. The little bitch had cut me. She pulled my hair, stretching back my neck. Then she shoved my head forward, forcing me to watch.

  Mackey was lighting another cigarette. “You know, Goob? Maybe I don’t wants to quit.”

  “You do likes your smokes,” Goober agreed.

  Mackey nodded as he sucked on the filter. The tip crackled as it brightly lighted up. Then he lowered the cigarette, blowing the smoke through a chimney he’d made in the corner of his mouth. He looked at the cigarette, making a face. “Maybe I just don’t likes this brand.”

  The tip jabbed the slope of Jody’s breast. It made a short sizzle sound, then Mackey pulled it back. Eyes screwed shut, Jody’s chin pushed out as she grunted. But she held back her scream this time. The cigarette hadn’t been completely rubbed out, so Mackey tapped the tip across her chest, leaving a trail of red dots to the other breast. Then he brought it back to the first breast, stabbing the still-burning tip into her nipple.

  This time Jody wailed.

  And I growled.

  Mackey, Goober, and Lee laughed.

  Jody went limp on the bed, her head slowly rolling from side to side. Now she was covered in bites, bruises, and burns.

  Mackey laughed as he unbuckled his belt. My stomach tightened as he pulled the belt out of the loops on his pants.

  “What’ya gunna do now, Mack?”

  “This bitch’s been naughty, don’tcha think, Goob?”

  “Yessir,” Goober said. “She needs a beatin’.”

  “She shore does.”

  I heard Lee mutter something under her breath. The words were quavering and hard to understand. Something like Yeah, Paw, beat her. Make ‘er scream…

  My gun, without the belt’s support, fell out and landed on the floor. It was just a few feet from my hands, but might as well have been on an island with miles of water between us. I couldn’t reach it.

  Putting the belt’s thin tongue in a hole on the strap, Mackey slipped his fingers through the loop it made. Then he pulled it tight around his fingers, leaving a length loose, hanging over his hand like a dead snake.

  Jody’s head was canted to the side, eyes shut. Her breaths had somewhat settled, but were still heavy enough to make her breasts shake.

  Mackey lifted his arm. The belt slunk back, dangling by his face. A sleazy grin curled the corners of his mouth.

  Then he brought the belt down.

  I shut my eyes just as the leather tongue whacked Jody’s belly. Jody’s screams seemed to come from all around me, growing to a wild furor with each sharp smack, overpowering Mackey’s hoots and Goober’s obnoxious chortle. Each slap drained a piece of my life out of me. Hearing how agonizing it was to my wife shattered my heart.

  The lashing seemed endless, going and going. Though the beating didn’t falter, Jody’s wails softened more and more.

  I noticed the knife wasn’t pressed as firmly to my throat as it had been. Daring a peek up, I saw Lee had become enthralled watching Jody’s beating. Thin strings of drool hung from her chin. Drips pattered my forehead.

  My moment had come.

  Grabbing Lee’s wrist, I jerked her down to me. Before she could make a sound, I threw my hand over her mouth. I felt her teeth clicking against my palm as she tried to bite. A quick look at Mackey, I saw his back, like Goober’s, was turned to me. Jody looked unconscious as the belt created a lattice of welts on her skin. I hoped she was unconscious and could no longer feel Mackey’s assault.

  The knife blade suddenly lunged at my face. Dodging the strike, I snatched the knife out of Lee’s hand, brought my arm down and turned my hand up.

  Then I slammed the knife under her chin.

  Lee jerked rigid against me, body trembling in a stiff rhythm. I hadn’t meant to stab her, not really. I guess I knew she’d have to die, but she was still a kid. How wicked and evil she’d been raised to be didn’t change her age.

  Twisting the knife so the sharp half of the blade pointed at her chest, I yanked it down her throat, opening up a valley that spewed hot blood over my hand.

  Then I quietly eased her down to the floor.

  While Mackey continued to assault Jody, I quickly cut the ropes on my wrists. It was awkward, but easily doable, sawing the knife through.

  When my hands were free, I jumped to my feet and ran for the gun.

  23

  Jody

  Explosions shocked me awake. As my eyes cracked open, I saw holes appearing in Goober’s chest and stomach, blood bursting in crimson blooms. A huge crater blew apart his good eye, throwing out brain goop and skull shards.

  Then he dropped.

  Behind him stood Seth, the .41 pointed where Goober had been. Smoke curled from the barrel.

  “Shit,” said Mackey.

  The belt dropped on me, making me jerk. Tight heat spread across my skin, feeling as if I wore melting rubber.

  Mackey, walking backward, held his hands up by his head. Before he had a chance to start begging, Seth snatched the belt off me and started whipping it across the hillbilly’s chubby face. Screaming and pleading, Mackey got down on his knees, face buried in the folds of his arms. He hugged his head to protect it, but Seth didn’t care. He whacked whatever he could.

  After a long time, he threw the belt on the floor. Then he walked over to where Goober lay in a pool of his blood. He picked up the bulky camera, carried it over to Mackey and got down beside him. Holding the camera up with both hands, he brought it down on top of Mackey’s head. The fat hick went limp.

  Seth kept pounding Mackey’s head until the camera had shattered into pieces. With the remaining chunk of wires and plastic in his hand, Seth punched the soppy mound of what was left of Mackey’s skull one more time.

  On his knees, Seth leaned back, legs folded under him. Blood and gloppy bits dripped from his face and arms. Splatters had left dark stains on his shirt.

  Huffing, he slowly turned to me. “You all right?” he asked in a winded voice.

  I shook my head.

  “Didn’t think so.”

  He untied me first, then left me
on the bed while he went to find me some clothes. He was gone longer than I wanted him to be. When he came back, he had a gray dress. Filthy and old, I figured it might’ve belonged to the girls’ mother or some other woman the Wilsons had enjoyed torturing before me. It fit a bit small, a little snug at my hips, but very tight around my breasts, which made my wounds ache. I saw blood soaking through the pale fabric.

  Seth left me alone again to find my sandals. I pretended not to notice Lee’s mangled corpse, though I couldn’t ignore the detail that Seth had viciously killed her. The girl was on her front, chin on the floor so her face pointed right at me. Blood spread in a narrow puddle in front of her. What didn’t leak through the floor slowly crept toward me.

  I stepped back, putting more distance between me and Lee’s blood.

  Seth returned with my sandals, dropping them at my feet. I held on to his shoulders as I slipped my feet in. The whole time, Seth kept scanning the room. I figured he was expecting Ruth and Della to come barging in at any time.

  “I’m ready,” I said.

  Seth held me against him as we made our way to the back door. I realized all he had on him was the .41 and his knife. I didn’t ask about the shotgun or bat. Even if he went back for them, there was no way we could carry them. I could barely lift my arms.

  We left the shack through the back door. Outside, I looked up at the night sky. Stars flickered like sparkling grains of sand and the moon looked low enough to crash into the mountain. The generator was much louder out here. Sounded as if a tank was under the house, spurting out gas fumes that made the air heavy all around us.

  Seth guided me along the side of the shack. I realized we were near the window where I’d first spotted Mackey.

  I think I saw the fire first. The meat was gone, but the fire blazed and crackled around the black shapes of Ruth and Della, sitting in folding chairs with their backs to us, staring at the fire. I wondered why they hadn’t come to help their paw. Then I realized they hadn’t been able to hear anything over the loud generator.

  There was a sudden loud bang beside me. As I jerked away from Seth, screaming, Ruth’s head snapped sideways. Before I could react, another bang caused Della’s head to lurch in the other direction. Both girls slowly slid out of the chairs.

  Turning sideways, I saw Seth pointing the .41 at the fire. He looked at me. His eyes had turned feral and blank. I reached up, taking the gun from his shaking hand.

  “I had to,” he said. He shook his head as if confused by his own words. “I had…to.”

  I shushed him. Then I threw the gun off to the side. Seth watched it go, opening his mouth to say something. But the gun vanished in the dark woods, and he lowered his head.

  “Come on,” I said.

  Together, we made our way to the driveway. It was even darker here with the trees blocking out the moonlight. We found our way back to the car just fine. We realized neither one of us had the keys as Seth was helping me inside the car.

  “We’re not going back there,” I said.

  “No,” said Seth, getting down on his knees beside the front passenger tire. He reached under the wheel well and felt around. When he brought his hand back down, a small case was pinched between his fingers.

  A spare key.

  We were heading away from the Wilsons within minutes.

  Neither of us spoke on the long ride back home.

  24

  Ron

  “Would you stop staring at me while I do this?” Seth asked. “It’s weird.”

  “Sorry,” said Ron, lifting his eyes to the ceiling.

  Though having Seth’s hand aiming his penis into a can wasn’t any more enjoyable than it had been the first time, it was somewhat less uncomfortable. His pee rattled against the inside of the tin tube. He nearly had it filled by the time he finally finished.

  Without saying a word, Seth stood. He walked toward the bathroom, holding the can away from him. He stepped into the curtain of shadows, vanishing. A moment later, the toilet flushed.

  Ron sat in the chair, trying to move. With Seth gone, he had a free moment to check for any ways to escape.

  It was a futile attempt.

  There didn’t seem to be any vulnerable points in the rope for him to slip an arm out. It was bound taut around his hands that had gone from painful tingling to near numb. His fingers felt heavy and thick.

  When the sounds of Seth washing his hands carried through the room, Ron tried to stand up. His legs, tied to the front chair legs, wouldn’t budge. His feet were also numb, and couldn’t support him, so he dropped back down.

  Sweat dripped into his eyes as he panted. That tinge of exertion exhausted him. There had to be some way he could get loose. If they decided to kill him…

  Decided?

  Ron had very little doubt there had ever been any other option. Though they’d acted as if he did his job, they might let him go, Ron didn’t see any positive outcome for him in this situation.

  Escaping would be his only chance. But that didn’t seem possible, either.

  Maybe if I lean forward…

  No luck. His back was flush against the chair. If he tilted forward, he’d just fall on his face. Unless he tried tilting sideways? Maybe the chair would break when it hit the floor.

  Big maybe. I might break when it hit the floor.

  Besides, Seth was in the next room. And Jody was upstairs. Even if he somehow got free and away from Seth, he’d have Jody upstairs to deal with. He still wasn’t convinced there was some kind of door down here. And even if there was, he didn’t have the time to find it.

  Not that I’ll get free.

  Then he wondered why he should worry about it right now. The Covingtons weren’t finished talking yet. He figured they had a bit more to tell him. Plus, though he hated to admit it, he kind of wanted to hear more. Their story was so unique, even wilder than the insane tale he’d endured hearing from Hollywood’s favorite couple, the Sheas.

  The Covingtons’ story was…captivating. How much of what they’d told him was actually true, he had no idea. But he had no reason to doubt any of it. Seemed odd they’d bring him here, only to fill his head full of lies.

  No. Below that horror and carnage, they were a real couple with real problems, and like so many others—they needed his help.

  Would make a damn fine book.

  Again with the book thoughts. No way could he even contemplate it. Unless he wrote it as fiction…

  There’s an idea.

  But Ron didn’t write fiction, he wrote self-help. His books were on the shelves to help others, not entertain them.

  Bullshit. They’re there to help my bank account.

  Of course they helped his bank account. If people bought it, he got a royalty. That’s how he made money. It was a part of his job. Why should he feel guilty about that?

  If that was true, then he’d commit to helping the Covingtons, no matter what might happen afterward.

  Ron dwelled on that for a moment, agreeing. He’d listen to what was left to hear. Give them his summary at the end as he always did.

  Then what?

  Highly unlikely they’d cut the ropes, tell him thank you, and send him on his way.

  Not a chance. I know too much.

  Most likely, when this was done, he would be done too.

  I’ve got to get out of here!

  Ron forgot all about his self-motivating thought process, and flung himself forward. The chair hopped a couple inches on the floor.

  “Still wanting to escape?” Jody’s voice. Above him.

  Looking over his shoulder, Ron spotted Jody leaning over, elbows resting on the railing, which was just a flat piece of wood nailed to the posts. She had an amused look on her face, as if she’d just heard a funny joke.

  Or saw a joke.

  Ron’s clumsy effort to escape. Bet that was funny.

  “Well?” she said, lifting her eyebrows.

  Seth came forward, drying his hands on his pants. There were damp streaks on his legs.
“What’s going on?”

  “The rope,” Ron said, “is uncomfortable, so I was trying to…adjust myself. That’s all.”

  Jody softly laughed.

  “Well, you’ll just have to get over it,” Seth said.

  As Seth moved his chair so he could sit down, Jody came downstairs and joined him. Neither of them spoke. Neither probably had much to say after revisiting such a horrible memory. Both looked drained. Jody had puffy crescents under her eyes. Seth had blanched. His white shirt was wet under the arms.

  Ron cleared his throat. For the first time in his career, he was at a loss on how to get things moving again.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Seth asked.

  “Well…”

  “Hearing about somebody shooting two little girls in the back of their heads, and ripping out a preteen’s throat can do that.”

  Jody rolled her eyes. “If you feel guilty about it, don’t judge somebody if they might judge you for it.”

  “It had to be done,” Seth said.

  “They were kids!” Jody said, leaning toward Seth. She smacked his arm. “Kids!”

  “They were part of it,” he said, face flushing with anger. Before he could say anything else, Ron stopped him.

  “I think I get it,” he said.

  Seth and Jody looked at him. Ron thought about it a few seconds longer, assembling his words in his head. When he felt he had them together enough to be understandable, he said, “They all had to die.”

  Jody’s nose wrinkled, as if she’d been asked to explain quantum physics. But Seth’s eyes filled with water. Ron noticed his bottom lip tremble.

  Ron continued. “If they didn’t die, all of them, then you didn’t truly survive the ordeal. Am I right? The Wilsons can’t hurt you anymore, can’t hurt Jody. Because you, Seth, you killed them all.”

  Jody’s face went slack, bit by bit. Now she understood as well. “My God, Seth,” said Jody. She shook her head.

  “Holy shit,” said Seth. “You might not be so full of shit, after all.”

  Jody hugged Seth. At first, he didn’t return it, but he soon gave in and held her close. They cried together. Ron had never felt so…good in any session before. This was the first time he felt as if he’d done something right.