Doa Ii Read online

  “Sleep tight, ya sick fuck. We’ll get ya all ready in no time.”

  ~

  Dreams.

  As a boy, standing in the garage of his childhood home. Father working at his cluttered workbench.

  The squeal of the power tool. The smell of electricity, burning saw dust, and sweat. All lingered in the stagnate air.

  Father turned, asking if he wanted to try. Gene stared at the sandblaster in his father’s hands. It looked dangerous. Mommy wouldn’t like that.

  Terrified, he shook his head.

  Father shot him a look of disgust then glanced down to the sandblaster. A sadistic smile rose.

  “Well, if you’re gonna be scared of it, boy,” he said. “Then I might as well give ya a good reason to be that way.” Father revved the sandblaster and moved close to his cowering seven-year-old son.

  Drenched in sweat, Gene snapped awake. Realizing that he wasn’t in the safety of his own bed, the fear from the nightmare remained. And the sandblaster’s squeal wasn’t stopping.

  His head rose, struggling to look in the direction of the God-awful, nerve-shattering sound. He locked eyes with the man at the foot of the table—the man cloaked in plastic, holding a wailing buzz saw, spitting up blood and chunks of gristle from around Gene’s legs.

  The man killed the power tool. “Mamma! He’s awake!”

  A handful of cotton gauze clamped over Gene’s mouth from above. The coppery tang of blood in his throat was quickly replaced by a chemical taste burning his windpipe and Gene’s terror melted away.

  ~

  Covered by a sheet, Gene awoke to find the cute little blonde from the lemonade stand studying him. Her two hands clutched the edge of the table, her chin resting on top. She eyed his freshly shaved pate and the plastic surgical tubing that ran out from behind the white medical tape stuck to his skull.

  “Does it hurt?”

  Gene shrugged, numb from the drugs pumping through his body to even know that there was a large intravenous needle piercing his scalp.

  “You’ve been asleep for a long time,” she said.

  Recalling the vivid nightmare of his legs being butchered, Gene wiggled his digits to verify that all limbs were still rightfully intact. He felt straps across his chest, but nothing restraining his arms or legs. Had they not expected him to wake up so soon?

  Gene moved his lips.

  Bridgette leaned in. “What?”

  Gene continued his inaudible whisper. The girl inched closer.

  Just a bit more, ya little cunt. If he could get his hands around her tiny throat, he’d take her hostage and free himself from this den of insanity.

  Bridgette hovered inches away.

  Gene threw his hands up to throttle her neck.

  But the sheet didn’t move.

  He tried again, hissing between clenched teeth.

  She giggled at his funny face.

  Gene kicked, his legs flailing wildly, and his arms lashed out.

  The sheet remained frozen.

  “My arms…?”

  “They’re okay, silly,” Bridgette said, pointing across the room. “They’re right over there.”

  Gene froze, praying that the little girl was playing a twisted game.

  “And so are your legs.”

  He stared at the bloody countertop for a moment… until the stumps of meat came into focus.

  “Oh Christ Oh Christ Oh Christ…” Gene knew the severed limbs couldn’t be his, he felt his fingers and toes moving. But, for God’s sake, there were indeed somebody’s severed limbs sitting on the counter across from him.

  “Pa had to remove them because It don’t like—”

  “Bridgette!” a girl’s voice yelled from over Gene’s shoulder, startling him. “Get away from there.”

  Gene saw the brunette from the lemonade stand wearing an oversized, brown cowboy hat tilted up.

  Nora glanced at Gene. “Pa! He’s awake!”

  Heavy footsteps clunked on the ceiling then descended a set of creaky stairs around the corner.

  “Why did you drug me?”

  “We already told ya,” Nora said. “Grammie wants us to earn our keep.”

  “But why?” he shouted with all the strength he could muster.

  “’Cause we gotta do our part to catch ya. So It can have you instead of us.”

  Bridgette rapidly flicked her finger over the sole of the bare foot on one of the severed legs. “Tickle, tickle, tickle.” She giggled at Gene.

  Nora smacked her hand. “Stop playing!”

  “Feelin’ better, are we?”

  Gene jumped and looked up at the man, now dressed in a sheriff’s uniform—minus one cowboy hat. “You? You’re the—?”

  “Sure am,” the man said, plucking the hat off his daughter’s head and crowning his own with it. When he straightened the brim, the gold star on front came into view.

  “You—lured me here?!”

  “Nah, I just nudge people in a certain direction. If it’s God’s will, you’ll find yer way here. After all, only the ones that really got something to hide go outta their way to slink away from the police. Am I right?”

  “I never did anything to you!” Gene blurted in desperation. “Never touched your girls!”

  “Nope. But you have touched others.” He nodded to the severed appendages on the counter. “But not anymore.”

  “Those things are NOT mine! I feel my arms and legs just fine!”

  “Phantom limb syndrome. I assure you that’s them over yonder. Here, lemme show ya.” The man ripped back the sheet, revealing Gene’s new makeover. He was completely naked. The four areas where his limbs used to be attached were smoothed over and stitched up like the ends of four baked hams. His genitals were grossly missing. As only a head and torso, he now resembled something like a misshapen center piece to a human jigsaw puzzle.

  Gene struggled to take in his mutilated body.

  “And since ya ain’t got no need for your nuts and pecker, we fed ’em to the dog,” the man said. “Hope ya don’t mind?”

  Gene wailed in horror.

  Mamma entered, whipping a rectal thermometer through the air.

  The man loosened the straps and shifted Gene on his side. “We gotta make sure ya ain’t running a fever before puttin’ ya out back.”

  The woman plugged the thermometer between his ass cheeks.

  Gene’s blubbering was cut short with a grimace of pain.

  “Oh, c’mon, hoss,” the man said. “Hope for yer sake yer tougher than that.”

  Gene locked eyes with the little girls then looked away, mortified. He had never felt so vulnerable in all his life.

  “Ninety-eight point seven,” the crone said.

  “Alrighty! You’re good to go.”

  “Please! Whatever you’re gonna do to me, please—for the love of God—don’t!”

  Nora and Bridgette left the kitchen. Mamma handed the man a knotted handkerchief. “Sorry about this,” the man said, “but we can’t have ya biting us.”

  By the time the girls returned with the wheelbarrow, Gene had been gagged and wrapped in a sheet. The man lifted him off the table as the old woman gathered the IV bag—its other end attached to a tube plugged into the thin skin of Gene’s pate. The tubing pulled taut and Gene’s scalp stretched, nearly ripping the needle out. He hissed in pain until the woman rushed forward to make up the slack.

  Using the wheelbarrow, Gene was rolled out of the house and onto the porch, where a thick sheet of plywood was placed over the steps, providing a makeshift ramp down to the yard.

  The man turned to his daughters, who were curiously looking into the woods out back. “Go back inside, girls. Ain’t nothing else to see.”

  Gene stared wide-eyed into the vast wooded yard, desperately trying to figure out his fate. The area was desolate, not a neighboring house anywhere in sight.

  As he was rolled down the ramp and pushed along the dirt trail snaking through the trees, the old woman clutched the raised IV bag and silently
marched beside the wheelbarrow as if taking part in a funeral procession.

  They approached a mound of dirt next to a large pit. The wheelbarrow stopped and the man walked over to the edge of the hole, solemnly staring down.

  Gene shook his head, snot and tears streamed over the gag.

  The man noticed Gene gawking at the hole. “What? Ya think you’re goin’ in there?” He returned to the wheelbarrow, lifting its handles. “You’d be so lucky,” he calmly stated.

  They started rolling again.

  “No, that was supposed be our new drinking well.” He exhaled and gave the old woman a glance. “Biggest mistake, that was. Should’ve just been happy with that hard mineral water we was drinkin’ beforehand.”

  The old woman nodded in agreement.

  “Ya see, hoss. That’s where It came from. Out of all these acres of land for It to be sleepin’ under all this time, we had to go and choose the exact spot above it to dig a new well.”

  The old woman guffawed.

  “Got my wife first,” the man continued, voice slightly trembling. “The girls were the ones that found what was left of her after she went missin’. When they came back to the house cryin’ hysterically, I went out there alone to investigate. And that’s when it showed itself.” Both he and the old woman shuddered in unison.

  Gene’s bloodshot eyes shifted back and forth, partially trying to figure out where they were taking him, but mostly searching for someone in the woods that might rescue him from this madness.

  “It told me what it needed. How to do it. And that if I refused, it’d get my girls. Even no matter where we went, it’d find them and do something much worse than what it did to their mother.”

  They rounded the bend of the wooded trail and a large, two-story dilapidated barn came into sight. Gene felt a chill snake up his spine. The place simply looked evil.

  “Yep, so that’s why we bring folks here,” the man said, nodding to the barn. “Oh, I know you’re probably wondering how I can do such things after taking a solemn oath to uphold the law. Well, some things are greater than any man-made laws.” He inhaled sharply. “And doing whatever it takes to protect your family is one of ’em.”

  They stopped at a large sliding door secured with three padlocks. The man took the IV bag from the old woman, freeing her hands so she could unlock the barn.

  “Ya know, let’s be honest for a minute here. Meeting you and finding out what ya intended to do with my baby girls…” He shook his head in disgust. “I’m finally able to take some pleasure in doing something that usually strains my conscience.”

  As the barn door slid back, a gut wrenching wave of rotting meat and feces attacked Gene’s nostrils.

  The barn was dark, except for a single shaft of light from a missing board in the roof. It shone down, like a spotlight, illuminating a large wooden table. Gene was pushed to the slab, leather straps and a blood-stained pillow adorned the wooden altar. The tabletop was stained with practically all the major bodily fluids: shit, piss, puke, and blood. Flies buzzed everywhere.

  Lifted from the wheelbarrow, Gene’s head swung from side to side, searching the shadowy barn. Was there movement in the far corner? Gene was spun around and lost track of where he thought he saw something extremely large crouching in the darkness. He was dropped on the sticky table and rolled onto his stomach. The man unfolded the sheet from around Gene’s torso, leaving him naked like a newborn on a changing table. The pillow was wedged under his hips, forcing his bare ass up into the air.

  While the man strapped Gene face-down, the old woman hooked the IV on the metal pole beside the table and made sure the tubing stayed clear of its tainted surface.

  “Ya ever play with one of them Chinese finger cuffs?” the man whispered in Gene’s ear.

  Gene didn’t respond. He was way too occupied with the surrounding darkness and what lurked within it.

  “Ya know how it has one hole in each end that ya stick a finger into? Once they get plugged, your fingers get stuck, and ya pull back and watch the thing stretch? Well, that’s kinda what’s gonna happen here.” He untied the gag and pulled it out of Gene’s mouth. “Face down, ass up. Two openings. That’s what it needs. Anything more just gets ripped off.” He nodded to Gene’s mutilated body. “Hence the little nip tuck job. We can’t have ya bleedin’ out before it’s done with ya.”

  “P-P-Please! Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything. Anything you want!”

  “Ya already are,” the crone grumbled.

  The man stepped back and pointed at the IV bag. “Now the stuff we got pumping through ya will only take the edge off for a bit. But once it’s gone, you’re just gonna have to tough it out.”

  An inhuman snarl sounded from the shadows. All three looked in its direction, staring into the blackness.

  The man spun back to Gene and patted his shoulder. “Whoop. Gotta go. We’re overstayin’ our welcome.” He and the crone scurried toward the exit.

  “Please! No! Don’t leave me!”

  The barn door slammed shut, allowing the darkness to jump closer to the table.

  A guttural growl sounded behind him, somewhere low on the floor.

  Gene froze. He heard something large crawling across the dirt toward him and his naked, upturned ass.

  The front of the table suddenly flew up. Gene yelped and shifted downwards. But the straps caught hold of him, locking him in place.

  The table slammed back to the ground, kicking up dust. Gene whimpered. He knew whatever was down there was trying to tip the table, slide him off, and get him to the floor, but—thank God—the straps were holding him steady.

  If he could just stay on top, maybe that thing below wouldn’t be able to reach him and—

  A set of large, pale taloned hands planted themselves on the wood tabletop beside Gene’s bare shoulders. A hot breath cascaded over his nape. Warm drool dripped onto his back.

  Gene shuddered in terror.

  The thing wasn’t trying to tip him off the table; it was climbing on top of it. And now it was straddling his backside.

  Something warm and flaccid flopped onto the small of his back. As the appendage slid down to his ass crack, it grew rigid, secreting a warm, sticky trail of fluid. Then the beast sounded a deafening roar as something hard, warm, and extremely large penetrated Gene’s upturned ass. The throbbing phallus snaked up his rectum and through his small and large intestine, searching for the best place to deposit its eggs. Gene squealed in agony and tried to scream for help.

  It never sounded. His mouth was immediately plugged with another warm, fleshy rod that traveled down his esophagus until finally stopping in the pit of his stomach to fertilize the eggs that were now being planted through his ass.

  With his belly ballooning, Gene choked and gagged, praying that he’d somehow be saved from this atrocity before it was too late. But any divine intervention had already occurred earlier that day, delivering Gene to a fate that he rightfully deserved: a place where children—once freshly hatched—would be the aggressor and take great delight in preying upon his weak and defenseless state.

  ANOINTED

  D. Lynn Smith

  The Apprentice

  The sins of ordinary people aren’t that big a deal. Maybe you steal a pen from work, or cheat on a test, or lie to your mom and dad. Even fornication isn’t that bad all by itself, though, if you ask my dad about it, you’ll get an hour-long lecture that doesn’t really make any sense. He’s got this God thing going on. The kind where he goes to church and then mixes up all the stuff the preacher says so it fits his own agenda.

  Anyway, sins aren’t so bad taken individually. But roll up all those little sins into a ball and what you end up with is one huge sticky glob of sin. That’s bad stuff. You get slimed with that and, well, you saw the pictures, right?

  My dad could have warned me, you know? None of this would have happened if he’d just told me why he didn’t want to plumb that drain and why it took a Specialist. But he’s always withholding infor
mation. Like, he’s afraid I might turn out to be a better plumber than he is. And I could be, too. He didn’t even make it through high school. I have an AA degree in business. I have some great ideas on how to make his business run more efficiently, but he’s always making out like I’m the idiot; like he took me on as an apprentice because I couldn’t cut it anyplace else.

  I wouldn’t put up with it except I really like plumbing and I want to learn the business from the bottom up. There’s this feeling of accomplishment when you clear a drain. You wouldn’t believe what we’ve pulled out of people’s pipes. Once we had this job where a man tried to flush his wife’s snake down the toilet. It was a six-foot long king snake and it got stuck half in and half out of the trap. When we got there, the back half of that snake was slapping around the bowl and the woman was crying and yelling and trying to grab it. I guess she thought she could just yank it back out. When we finally pulled the toilet, that snake shot out of there like it had a jet-assist. We didn’t stick around to find out if they ever caught it.

  Most drains get plugged up by ordinary things like hair or tree roots or those feminine products that are supposed to be flushable but aren’t. Whatever it is, it’s just a matter of stuff building up in the pipes. Then I show up with my bag of tricks and do my thing. Weird as it may be, when I hear that water gurgling through the drain, clear as can be, it makes me want to sing. I get such a feeling of joy in my heart.

  Anyway, I went to the church thinking this job was no different.

  The Plumber

  So while a shrink talks to my son, you guys question me. I watch those cop shows on TV; I know you’re just trying to see if our stories match up. And they will, because what I have to tell you is the God’s honest truth.

  We got this call to clear a clogged drain out at that church on Main. You know, the one with that big colored window in the front and the steeple that reaches right up to heaven. That is some church, I’ll tell you what. You just know God is going to be listening when you go inside that church. Not that I think God really cares about where a person prays. No siree, Bob. You could be kneeling at an altar or sitting on the pot and he’d hear your prayers, believe you me.