Twisted Tales Page 2

  As he passed each tract, he looked down the streets to enjoy the view of clean homes. Even though the city had an older Victorian design, the homes were modeled after the stucco abodes commonly found in Arizona. Each had their own tree, which was a laurel, jacaranda, or weeping willow gracing the front lawns.

  Beyond the homes, and as he neared the edge of town, he saw a large warehouse that he hadn’t noticed when he drove through. It looked a little out of place, but was probably the location that served to bottle their water.

  From a distance, he studied the building and the surrounding area. It was an eyesore for such a beautiful town, but as the gas station attendant mentioned, it was necessary to keep the small economy afloat.

  As he closed in on the factory, he saw a gate at the rear. Within the fenced off area, hundreds of cars of all different makes, models, and colors littered the lot. It was an unusual amount of vehicles for such a low population.

  Falling victim to his curiosity, he wandered off the sidewalk and into the surrounding desert. The main gate to the area where the cars were stored was wide-open. As he headed straight for them, someone exited the warehouse.

  Determined not to be seen and arrested for trespassing, he instinctively dodged to the left and hid behind a large dry bush. Since the night was dark, he wasn’t in any danger of being seen, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

  Through its leafless, tumbleweed-like body, he watched the man close and lock the gate. Even though he was half a football field away, Mike could tell it was the hotel manager.

  As Frank walked back to the warehouse, Rudie met up with him. They stood there and talked for a while with mannerisms as if they planned to head back to the warehouse sometime soon.

  Mike set the bag on the ground and withdrew one of the bottled waters. He uncapped it and drank half the contents; the cool crisp water chilled him. He recapped the bottle intending to drink the rest on the walk back.

  After a moment, the hotel manager and waitress returned to the warehouse. Mike waited for a little while in case they decided to double back. When they didn’t, he stood from his hiding place and continued his adventure.

  When he reached the fence, he peered into the lot and saw various license plates from different states, but most were from California.

  Then, he saw it. His old Pontiac was sitting between two cars. At first, he looked all over the body, hoping it was someone else’s, but upon looking at the front bumper, his fear was soon realized for it was dented exactly in the same way as his.

  After finally regaining his composure, he looked around to see if anyone might be watching the front gate. He looked the warehouse up and down for windows, and when he didn’t find any, he followed the fence around to the front.

  As he closed in on the entrance, a flood light switched on. He could feel the heat from its intense beam, and his anxiety soared. His blood began to pump harder, and his heart knocked against his chest as if trying to break free from its cage of bone.

  He couldn’t tell if it was the anxiety or the fear from being caught trespassing, but he started to feel weak. Symptoms began building on each other, and soon he felt a lot like he did at the hotel a few hours ago. In seconds, his vision trimmed—though not as bad as before—and his thoughts clouded.

  Mike fell forward feeling heavier than a slain tree and quickly clung to the fence to keep upright. There were voices and footsteps quickly closing in on him. He hoped he wouldn’t pass out again, but more than that, he hoped it would get over with soon so he could run before being caught.

  He dropped to one knee, and then the other. He grabbed his head as pain surged from lobe to lobe as though each side was hammered like the bells on an old alarm clock. Everything went black before he hit the ground.

  Once again, Mike dreamed. This time, the sprawling streets and buildings were covered in black ash. He saw no one staring at him, and the sky was mottled with darkened thunderheads that slowly crept as though unsure whether to let their fury loose here or there.

  Mike, strangely aware of his surroundings, moved as he would in the waking world. He walked to the center of the street, and as he did so, rain began to pour. The wind picked up and blew with a sour rampage that turned the rain into hardened nails, painfully striking his face.

  At the end of the road, he saw something. He squinted hard, determined to see though the thick veil of water. It was the woman again. Though he was pushed, pulled, and jerked around by the abusive wind, she remained unaffected by it. Her soft golden hair lay flat upon her shoulders, and the white dress she wore made no movement.

  As he powered through the wind in her direction, she lifted her hand and allowed the rain to puddle in her palm. She looked at it and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Then, she looked at him and frowned, but then quickly smiled.

  When he grew closer to her he was able to see her face more clearly, and she was saying something. He thought she might have said “Pipe, keep the pipe.”, but he couldn’t be sure.

  Finally, as sudden as the rain started, it quickly transformed drop by drop into cinder, fire, and molten tar. Standing in the thick of it, he began to burn as well. The pain was excruciating, but it pushed him back into reality.

  The inside of the warehouse was hot, and reeked of the same sweet smell he tasted in the water. His arms were free to move about but his leg was shackled to a ring welded to the ground.

  Four feet ahead, an older man stood with his back to him. The man was reading a folded paper with one hand, and the other was resting on a sidearm. Mike wanted answers, but knew that he was in no position to be demanding anything from them. Instead, he decided to remain as quiet as possible so he could think of a way out.

  He looked at the handcuff. Embossed into the side of each ring was the name of the town’s police department, which meant they were both durable and double locking. He surveyed the area for anything he could use to pry the cuff from the floor. Nearby, he saw a pipe leaning against the wall. It was just within his reach.

  As he stretched to grab the pipe, the metal clinked but the man in front of him seemed to ignore the sound. When he had a firm grasp on it, he moved directly behind the man with the gun. Without hesitation, he clubbed him. Hard.

  Either dead or passed out—Mike didn’t care which—the man went down silent. For a moment, he held his breath and listened to see if anything stirred beyond the boxes. He heard a few voices, but they weren’t near him.

  Mike searched the man’s pockets, and found a ring of keys. He had no experience unlocking handcuffs, so he had a little trouble disengaging them. When he finally freed himself, he considered taking the man’s gun for protection, but he knew even less about guns than he did of handcuffs. Besides, in his dream he recalled the blonde-haired woman telling him about the pipe, which may or may not have been a premonition. Either way, he felt more comfortable with holding onto the pipe and leaving the gun behind.

  As he moved towards the voices and farther into the warehouse, the sweet aroma became sweeter and the air thicker. He started to notice the soft sounds of a well-oiled machine, and nearer still, were the voices he tracked.

  When he reached a corner that poured out into an expansive area, he leaned his head out only far enough to see what lay before him.

  Among pallets of saran wrapped boxes, there was a large machine that encompassed most of the floor. Aside from the conveyor belt on which bottles traveled, the machine seemed to be there for another purpose. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but for some reason the machine made him feel uneasy.

  At the center of the machine, next to a large touch screen monitor, Frank and Rudie talked while a brutish old man stood watch.

  “It’s too early to process him.” She said.

  “We don’t have a choice.” Frank said, “Besides, if we don’t feed the damn thing we’ll all die. How old are you now? 156? God, don’t tell me you forgot what happened last time.”

  Mike couldn’t believe his ears. Either Rudie was full of
it, or something strange was going on in this quiet town. Either way, his curiosity was peaked, and he ducked down even more to listen further.

  “I know. We’ll all die a horrible and painful death if we don’t give it what it wants.” She said rudely. “I just want to make sure it’s done right.”

  “Just let me worry about that.”

  “Whatever. Get it over with.”

  Frank turned and tapped on the monitor. For a moment, nothing happened, then the machine released air and several shutters dropped at the center of it. Behind the shutters was glass, and behind the glass there was a gigantic pumpkin, which was probably the one Frank planned on showing him. He wondered if they intended all along to kidnap him and do whatever sinister things they did to their victims.

  He watched Frank poke at the screen more. After what seemed like thirty seconds more of unnecessary air release, a door opened to a small chamber near the pumpkin. Following that, a heavy-duty ramp ejected from below the chamber and slammed into the floor.

  No longer sidetracked by the strange happenings at the machine, he glanced back to Frank and his band of crazies. Rudie picked up her cell phone and talked to someone in a low voice. Frank looked as though he were monitoring something on the screen. That’s when he heard the breathing.

  Behind him, it sounded as though someone was labored, as if a man had just been running. He looked up and noticed the oversized man was missing. Intuition told him that he only had a moment before he was caught, so he slipped the pipe under his jeans and into the side of his boot.

  As soon as he let the leg of his jeans down, the man-bull huffed behind him and grabbed his arm. Instead of fighting back and surely getting his ass kicked, Mike relinquished command, and allowed the man to lead him to Frank and Rudie.

  “Well, looks like you almost escaped.” Frank said, “What happened to James?”

  Assuming he meant the guy Mike just clubbed he replied, “Fell asleep on the job.”

  Frank laughed and said, “Old bastard can’t do anything right.”

  “Tracy, take him up to the chamber.” Rudie said.

  Mike looked up at the man gripping his arm with machine like force he said, “Tracy?”

  The large man glared at him and huffed. Though given a woman’s name, Tracy was nothing less than a razor-toothed bear with mean eyes. He forced Mike up the stairs and into the chamber.

  “What the hell are you guys doing?” Mike said.

  “Shut it.” Tracy replied.

  Frank tapped on the monitor again and the chamber door started to close. Mike scrambled his pant leg up and quickly pulled the pipe from his boot. After wedging it in the door with little more than an inch to spare, he tried to pry it open.

  “Get that damned door shut.” Frank said to Tracy.

  The man grunted and headed up the ramp.

  Mike pried and tried, but it didn’t budge. When Tracy arrived, the man tried to pull the pipe out, but the door wedged it so tight that he couldn’t get it free.

  “Never mind, get down from there you oaf.” Frank said, “Get away before you break something.”

  “Can’t you just open the door again?” Rudie asked.

  “No, once the process is started, there’s no way to stop it.”

  “Will it still work?”

  “It should.”

  “How much he drink?” Tracy said in a deep gravelly voice that reminded Mike of a caveman.

  “One bottle in the hotel and two more from Larry at the gas station.”

  Rudie sighed. “Good.”

  Mike looked around the chamber hoping to find a way to escape, but could find no other exit. When he double-checked the floor, a small glisten caught his eye. He reached down and picked up a small necklace.

  Attached to the chain was a locket made of silver or white gold, he couldn’t tell which. On the outside, the name Michelle was engraved. He pressed the thumb switch and the spring-loaded door popped open. Inside was a picture of the woman from his dreams, who he finally recognized as the woman he’d seen at the diner.

  It didn’t at all make sense at first, but after a moment, he realized that she must be dead. It was the only logical explanation, because she had disappeared at the diner, and then she invaded his dreams as if she were a ghost. It was possible she’d been killed in this chamber, and perhaps she was trying to warn him away. She had failed, and now he clutched the locket in his fist and waited for the same fate.

  The machine started to make a low grinding sound, and then subdued into a low whir. Inside the chamber, several holes started to glow dark orange. Then, the whirring became louder, but remained deep in pitch.

  Mike started to feel strange. He grew lightheaded, but what was worse is he started to feel like he was burning from the inside. Just like in his dream, his heart pumped hard, as if at any moment it was going to explode. His veins thickened, producing a throb on their own. The pain grew more intense, so much in fact that he couldn’t hold on any longer. He fell to the ground as a powerful headache pounded worse and worse. He screamed.

  After a moment, the machine slowed, and the pain slowly decreased. He remained on his hands and knees, gasping for air. The machine stopped, and the lights dimmed into darkness.

  “What happened?” Rudie said, “What the hell’s wrong?”

  “God damn it, Larry didn’t see him drink the water did he?” Frank said.

  “How should I know?”

  Tracy said, “Can we try it again?”

  “No, fool! They need three full bottles of water or the conversion process won’t work!” Rudie said, and then turned to frank. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”

  As the door slowly slid open, Mike glanced up at the large pumpkin. It writhed as if in pain from the recent accident. Its body moved sinuously as though it didn’t have the hard shell it should, but the soft tissue of a jellyfish.

  He picked the pipe up from the floor and darted from the chamber. He ran as fast as he could. When he looked back, Tracy ignored him, and continued to focus on the argument.

  Mike raced straight to the cars. After tossing the pipe over, he clamored, climbed up, rolled over the fence, and dropped on the other side. With his car in sight, he picked up the pipe and bolted full speed to it.

  Even though car windows were generally hard to break, his adrenaline and the weight of the pipe made it easy to shatter. He reached in, unlocked the door, and then climbed in.

  He looked to the warehouse door as it swung open hard. Frank and Rudie—both out of breath—stammered from the metal building red hot with frustration.

  Mike realized he didn’t have his keys, but when he saw the cold metal hanging from the ignition, he sighed with relief. Frank must have gone into his room and taken them while he was at the gas station.

  The car turned over and started with ease. Mike disengaged the parking brake and hammered the accelerator. The car kicked and stuttered in the dirt for second, but soon caught traction. He broke through the gate with ease, and within moments, he was halfway across the desert, almost to the interstate. He looked in the rearview mirror, and watched as the two continued to argue at each other.

  When he reached the highway, the needle of the speedometer touched and then passed ninety. Though it was an old car, he was thankful it was still powerful.

  As the town’s lights slowly receded and became nothing more than a glow in the distance, Mike realized that he was still tightly clutching the locket. He reached up and put it around his neck so he wouldn’t lose it.

  “Don’t worry Michelle; I’ll tell someone. They won’t hurt anyone else.” He said, and then the fine hairs on the back of his neck pricked as if Michelle were letting him know she heard him. [Back to Contents]

  Righteous Killer

  1

  Kevin tightened his jacket as the wind kissed his lips with venomous enthusiasm. For a second he thought to lick them, but feared they would only dry and leave burning cracks in its wake. Instead, he took a sip of his hot tea and relished the
warm sensation that spread through his chest.

  Though it was still early in the day, he sat outside his home enjoying the cool weather. Normally he would be at the bookstore stacking and counting his inventory, but the day was a special holiday. Therefore, he’d closed the shop at noon to celebrate the one-year anniversary of his wife’s death. One year since he sent her back to hell.

  When he was younger, God gave him a special gift allowing him to tell the difference between demons and ordinary people. It wasn’t as if he could see through its disguise, but instead he could feel the demon. The sensation generally saturated his body and eventually led to a dream identifying them as such.

  Since the first day God whispered into his ear, Kevin never once broke his vow to slay demons. When he met Kim, however, something within the deepest fiber of his being made him reckless. Perhaps it was her unyielding beauty or the guile of a talented demon that caused him to fall victim to temptation. Whatever it was that blinded him, he felt compelled to offer her the chance to work in divinity.

  It didn’t take long for him to gather the courage to speak with her about his work; after all, he loved her. To make the moment perfect, he planned a breathtaking candlelight dinner set under a full moon on the clearest night. It was an amazing backdrop to compliment such an offer, but things didn’t go as expected.

  While doing a little cleaning, Kim found some newspaper articles that he clipped and saved. It was a collection of stories about recent disappearances because of his gift. The only reason he kept them was so he could monitor the police and run if necessary.

  She brought the articles to his attention just before dinner that night. More than furious, she fumed hotter than the boiling sun. She called him a disturbed person and likened him to serial killers and their need for sick trophies.

  If that was how she was going to view him when he told her about his work, then he wanted nothing to do with her. He felt like a fool for trying to change a demon.