Getaway

  Soon it dawned on him that he had been cheated again. He hadn’t been able to collect any more souls, and he was starting to feel weak. He always got a charge of energy when he killed someone and swallowed his or her soul, and now his energy was running out. He knew that it was only a matter of time before he was discovered missing, and he wanted to be a long way away from here when they figured out that he had escaped, but he desperately needed rest.

  Where were Doc and Slasher? Had they been caught too? If they had been caught, at least they would draw the attention away from him for a while. He got up, but sank to his knees again when dizziness and nausea overcame him. He leaned over and barfed on an ant pile. This didn’t seem to make the ants happy, and they started to march toward him like a tiny army. Diablo stumbled to his feet and lurched through the woods, thinking why is everything out to get me?

  Diablo found a stream and looked at his reflection in it. His face looked gruesome with the empty eye socket. “I’ll have to do something about that,” he said to himself. Diablo looked around for something that might help, and he stumbled upon a chestnut lying on the ground. He rinsed it in the creek and jammed it into the empty eye socket. It fit pretty well, and it was better than nothing, he thought.

  Chapter 27

  Steve and Tom ran toward the farmhouse. As they reached the back door, they heard the sound of smashing glass. They opened the door, shouting “Police,” in unison. Guns drawn, they made their way down the hallway, and encountered two farmers, each holding a shotgun loosely in his right hand. Tom yelled “drop your weapons and walk slowly toward me,” as Steve covered them from Tom’s right flank. Tom had the men raise their hands, turn, one at a time, until they faced away from him, and once they were in a kneeling position, he handcuffed them, as Steve covered them with his gun. They brought both men outside in handcuffs, and sat them down on the back steps of the house.

  “What the hell are you two doing here?” asked Steve. “And what was that sound we heard? Was that breaking glass?”

  “Fred, I thought we told you to quit this nonsense and go home,” Tom said.

  Fred looked rather sheepish, and said: “Come on guys, I had to warn George, and I knew that you wouldn’t make it to him in time.”

  Steve nodded and said “Point well taken.”

  The other farmer, who introduced himself to Steve and Tom as George Green, told Steve and Tom about the weird events that had transpired. Fred chimed in and told them “I came straight here from the barn where you encountered me earlier, because I figured that these clowns would probably end up here.” Fred explained how he had gotten George to send Betty out of the house to safety, and George and Fred walked them through the events, which had transpired.

  “You mean that one of the bad guys is tied up in the bedroom closet?” asked Steve.

  “Yes, sir,” said Fred.

  Steve removed his handcuffs from Fred and George, and told them to stay put, while they checked out their story. He wanted to believe Fred and George’s story, but it sounded too far-fetched to be true. If he hadn’t seen the bizarre events which had already transpired that morning, he would had dismissed the farmers as being nuts, however, under the circumstances, he tended to believe them.

  Steve and Tom moved cautiously to the bedroom. They peeked in the closet, but all they found there was a puddle of blood and a belt on the floor. Tom found the welding mask that Fred and George had described, and there was an axe stuck in the ceiling fan. The axe was going around and around with the fan. “Holy, crap!” said Tom when he saw the bullet indentations and holes in the mask. “I hope this guy realizes how lucky he is to be alive.”

  Steve chuckled at the thought of this moron stumbling blindly into the room and how miserably he had failed. Tom looked out the broken window and saw a guy in crotchless camouflage coveralls disappearing into the trees on the far side of the yard. Tom suddenly imagined a deer stumbling upon this guy, and literally laughing itself to death.

  Steve and Tom headed back outside to talk to Fred and George. They asked Fred if there were any other houses nearby, and Fred told them “There isn’t a soul around here for about twenty miles.”

  “Most of the land around here is owned and maintained by the County, because of the proximity to the dump, and there are monitors scattered throughout the area which measure gasses and seepage from the dump,” said George. “Because of this, nobody is allowed to build a house nearby.”

  Fred said, “George and I have been living here in this area since before the dump was built, so the county allowed us to remain here.”

  Steve turned to Fred and told him that he had found Melissa on the kitchen floor of his house, but that she was still alive. He explained how she had been airlifted to the hospital and the paramedics had stabilized her. Tears of joy welled up in Fred’s eyes, and he asked if he could get a ride to the hospital since, after all, his car was now out of commission.

  Steve called the dispatcher, and asked for a marked police cruiser to take Fred to the hospital. He also suggested to Tom that they let George help them track the trio, because three sets of eyes were better than two. George Told Tom that he kept a couple of hunting dogs in a kennel in his back yard, and that they could probably assist them in tracking the criminals as well. Tom reluctantly agreed, and placed a phone call to his boss, Police Chief Joe Godwin, on his cell phone.

  Chief Godwin told Tom that he would send some Patrol Officers to their location and set up a perimeter. He also said that he would contact Sheriff Butler, and request assistance from him. The Sheriff’s Office had a helicopter and off road vehicles that could assist them. Chief Godwin also said that he would have paramedics on standby and would send a crime scene team to Fred’s house to process the crime scene.

  After Tom got off the phone, he walked around the house to survey the damage. Steve and Tom had to laugh when they saw the rose bush that the fugitives had crashed through when they escaped through the bedroom window. “So,” Steve said, “We are looking for one bowlegged Cyclops in a crotchless pair of camouflage coveralls, a psychotic one-eared bunny with his jaw taped shut who now has a butt full of shotgun pellets, and a toga wearing one-armed fugitive.” All four of the men had to laugh at this.

  Since there were no other houses nearby, and the cavalry was on the way already, so to speak, Tom hiked back to his car, and drove it back to the house. He took the first aid kit out of the trunk, and brought it to Steve, who was sitting on the back steps still rubbing his sore ankle. Steve got a bandage out of the kit, and wrapped his ankle to immobilize it as much as possible. He found that after he took his shoe off, he was unable to put it back on though. He asked George if he had any muck boots he could pull on to cover the bandage. George brought Steve a pair of rubber boots, and Steve gratefully pulled them on.

  Chapter 28

  Doc’s lungs felt like they were going to explode. He had run through the woods carrying Slasher for what he guessed was about a mile. Doc collapsed next to a tree and Slasher went to the ground head first. Doc assessed the situation. If he left Slasher here, he would either bleed out, be eaten by animals, or be caught. If he kept dragging him around the woods, they would both get caught. Maybe he could try to get the pellets out of Slasher’s butt, that way, he might recover enough to walk on his own. Doc knew that he had no way to sterilize the wounds, and he might have to dig the pellets out with his fingers. He heard a stream nearby, so he could at least irrigate the wounds and rinse the dirt off of his hands.

  Doc dragged Slasher to the edge of the stream, and rinsed his hands and the man’s butt with ice-cold water. He felt around the area around the nearest wound, and tried to coax the pellet to the surface. He was able to squeeze the wound enough to reach the pellet and dig it out with the help of a broken stick. Halfway through the fourth pellet, he heard a moan coming from Slasher. “Uh Oh,” said Doc, “Time for more anesthesia.” Doc fumbled around for a river rock. When he found one, he raised it and was about to hit Slasher
with it when he was tackled by Diablo. He looked like a nightmare come true.

  Diablo’s right eye was missing, and in its place, was a buckeye, which he had apparently shoved into the eye socket. He had an enormous furrow in his forehead, which went around the side of his head. Doc could actually see the man’s skull! To make matters worse, he was now bowlegged, and the coveralls he wore were missing the entire crotch area, which caused his privates to dangle out in the open air. The coup de grace was that now this half naked giant Cyclops was on top of him grabbing the rock away from him. Gross, thought Doc. He bucked Diablo off of him, and explained the situation to him.

  Doc told Diablo that the operation would be much more pleasant if Slasher was unconscious, but that if he wanted to hold Slasher down, he would be glad to finish up.

  Diablo decided to hold Slasher down while Doc operated, and it was about as unpleasant as one would imagine. Slasher bucked and thrashed about as Doc tried to dig out the pellets. When Doc finally dug out the last pellet, everyone was spent.

  Slasher lost consciousness again, and stayed that way for three hours. Doc tore up Slasher’s shirt and wrapped the wounds with it. Slasher really looked bizarre now. He looked like he was wearing a big diaper, but at least the bleeding had stopped. Doc had brought the duct tape from the farmer’s barn with him, and he wrapped it around the makeshift bandage. He also replaced the missing bunny ear, and made both ears a little bigger.

  Diablo exclaimed “We need to put some more distance between them and us, and we need to find shelter for the night.” Doc thought this was a great idea, and he told Diablo to carry Slasher for the time being. Diablo threw Slasher over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and they trekked through the woods.

  Chapter 29

  Diablo was reminded of his childhood when he saw Slasher in a diaper. His parents would throw a diaper on him, put him in a dog cage, and set it in front of the television. Occasionally they would throw a candy bar or a bag of chips at him, but he never had a regular meal. They would be gone for days at a time, and on several occasions, the electricity had been shut off for non-payment. When Diablo was seven, he had learned to escape from the cage. He had found some clothes in a closet, and had run away from home.

  Life on the streets had actually been easier for Diablo than living in his own home had been. He learned that he could steal food from restaurants if he sneaked in through the back door and into the kitchen.

  Diablo was picked on and beaten by the homeless people who lived on the streets at first. Hardly a day went by when he didn’t find himself surrounded by gang members or bums who would take whatever he had after beating him down. He learned to run fast, and when he had to, he would let them chase him until only one or two of them were left, and then he would ambush them and beat them to death.

  By his thirteenth birthday, Diablo had killed twenty people on the streets. Since they were the dregs of humanity, nobody came looking for them, and the Police didn’t seem to care. They just chalked it up as street violence as a result of drug deals gone wrong.

  It was during this time period in which he discovered the power he obtained from stealing his victims’ souls. He had just killed one of the bullies who had beaten him so badly when he was younger, when the man let out his last breath as Diablo was staring him in the eyes. The man’s breath had been nasty smelling, but the breath went right up his nostrils. He felt energized that night, and went back to his childhood home and killed everyone in the house. He had dismembered the bodies, and painted the walls with their blood.

  By the time he was an adult, he enjoyed killing so much, he started killing rich people, as well. This got the attention of local politicians and the Police Chief, so the Police started investigating the crimes with a renewed vigor.

  The night when he had been caught, he had killed three families on one street, and when he got to the fourth house, the family’s teenaged daughter had escaped and run to her friend’s house to call the cops. He had been dancing around the yard with the woman’s eviscerated corpse wearing her husband’s scalp like a hat. Yeah, he had gone a little overboard, but every now and then one had to enjoy life’s simple pleasures.

  The trial had lasted two months, and the Jury had found him not guilty by reason of insanity. He had been remanded into the custody of the Department of Corrections to be held at the asylum for the criminally insane for the rest of his natural life.

  Doc told Diablo to look for a shelter, like a cave or a leaning tree or something. Diablo wandered off in search of shelter. When he had gone, Doc checked on Slasher, who was asleep. He hoped that the wounds wouldn’t get infected, but he wasn’t very optimistic about it. Doc imagined having to amputate Slasher’s butt, and chuckled to himself. If that happened, he thought, Slasher would really be afflicted with noassatall.

  Chapter 30

  Slasher was transported back to his childhood in Indiana. He had grown up in a small college town in the 1970’s, where it was safe to walk the streets at night. He and his little brother had been able to ride their bicycles all the way across town in about thirty minutes. Things were so much less complicated back then, he thought. He remembered sitting on the lawn in front of the town hall listening to the hippies playing their guitars. He fondly remembered making candles with his mother and her friends, and bead curtains adorning doorways in people’s houses. He could still smell the melting candle wax and remembered how nice it had been to come home to a warm fire in the fireplace after walking home from school in the snow.

  When he was twelve years old, his family had gone to Cape Hatteras, North Carolina on vacation. His mother and father had walked out on a jetty to take a photograph, when a rogue wave had swept them both off their feet and they had died of massive head trauma when they hit the rocks. He and his brother had been made wards of the state, and had been placed in foster homes.

  Slasher, whose real name was Edward Sonheim found himself in a stranger’s house playing second fiddle to this couple’s children. The couple treated him differently than they treated their children, and he always felt like an outsider. His brother had been ten years old, and had gone to live with a different foster family. The other foster family had been childless, and treated him like he was their child from birth. Slasher was relieved that his brother Billy had a good home, and he was jealous.

  Slasher’s grades had declined and he started skipping school. His resentment grew until he finally dropped out of school and joined the Army at seventeen. His foster parents were glad to be rid of him, and signed the papers to allow him to enlist.

  Slasher hadn’t been fond of authority figures, and being screamed at by Drill Sergeants wasn’t pleasant, but they let him shoot guns and blow things up, which was really fun. The Army taught him a hundred ways to kill someone with his bare hands and with knives, mines, grenades, guns, and other cool weapons.

  After Basic Training, Slasher had gone to Advanced Infantry Training for three months at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. He learned survival techniques, as well as specialized skills. By the time he graduated from A.I.T., he was an explosives expert.

  For his first tour, Slasher had been stationed in Germany. He loved the change of scenery, and the people seemed nice there. He didn’t have a Drill Sergeant breathing down his neck there, so he was much happier. He was assigned to a Combat Engineering Battalion, and spent most of his time clearing areas of trees and boulders, and blowing up bridges and old buildings. He loved this kind of work, and was very good at what he did.

  Slasher also worked at becoming a weapons expert, especially edged weapons, and became a hand-to-hand combat expert. He started practicing knife-fighting techniques with some of his fellow soldiers after hours, and eventually found out about sanctioned knife fighting events. He competed in hundreds of these fights, and was very successful, but they only used shock knives, which simulated real knives, but were non lethal.

  Slasher eventually became bored with this and found out about non-sanctioned fights w
ith real knives. These were much more exciting, and the loser left with scars if they walked away at all. He earned quite a reputation among these clubs, and quickly rose to the top. Unfortunately, word eventually got back to his company commander. One night during a particularly bloody fight, his opponent had sliced Slasher across his left cheek, and Slasher had nearly killed the man. Slasher had gone to the hospital and had gotten twelve stitches in his cheek, and the medics had reported the incident to his C.O.

  The next day, his company commander had called him into his office. Slasher had confessed when confronted with the facts, and had been given an ultimatum. He would either accept a less than honorable discharge for conduct unbecoming a non-commissioned officer and leave the Army effectively immediately, or face a court marshal, and possibly go to Fort Leavenworth for Attempted Murder and Aggravated Battery.

  Slasher had accepted the General Discharge, and left the Army. He travelled back to Indiana, and discovered that his small town had dramatically changed. He had been away for ten years, and didn’t even recognize the town. Everything was dirtier, more crowded, and busier. He found that he could no longer walk across town, and riding a bicycle would have been nearly impossible.

  Slasher rented an apartment in town, and bought a used Ford F-150 pickup truck. He tried to get a job, but found that nobody wanted to hire him. He discovered that without an honorable discharge, he was deemed to be untrustworthy by most employers. The fact that he had not graduated from high school also counted against him.

  Soon, he learned to set his sights lower and lower. He held a job bussing tables for a couple of months, and found that he wasn’t making enough money to pay his bills. He worked as a day laborer for about a year, and discovered that most of the laborers were being replaced with illegal aliens from Mexico who would work for below minimum wage.