Anadeia 39

Susan approached the bedside where my left wrist was tied to a post. She didn’t look threatening but I was still unsure of her intentions as her arms were crossed and she glared deep into my eyes.

“What do you want with Randy?” I asked her.

“What’s your relationship with him?” she retorted.

“I asked you first.”

“You’re the one tied up.”

My head was pounding. In fact, I probably needed medical attention. So I sucked up my pride and played by her rules. “Okay,” I said, “he’s my father.”

“Your father?”

“Yes. He thought I didn’t know but he’s an idiot. It’s always been obvious.”

“That’s interesting,” Susan said.

“Is it? Why are you after him?”

“Are you protecting him?”

“Protecting him?! He had me locked away in a brothel for two months! I only escaped because I shot up the place! I’m not protecting him! I’m going after him!”

Susan said nothing to this. She nervously paced around the room in deep thought while my patience was growing thin. “Now are you going to tell me why you’re onto him?” I demanded to know.

She took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. It took a moment to find her words. “My mother disappeared when I was very young,” she recalled. “It’s only been within the last six months that I learned Randy sold her into sexual slavery. I tracked him down to Norco and that’s when I began following you.”

“So we’re on the same side,” I said.

“I guess,” she said and then blew out a puff of smoke. “What are you gonna do when you catch him?”

“Kill him,” I shrugged.

“Have you ever killed somebody before?”

“Shiiiiiit,” I said. “I guess you don’t know me. Have you?”

“No.”

“Is that your aim?”

“I don’t know.”

“I word of advice,” I cautioned, “it could be a hard path to get off of once you’re on it.”

“I just want to know if my mother is still alive.”

“I’d love to help you out,” I said. “I just hope Dale survived that horrific car crash.”

Susan dabbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and gathered her things. “Look, I need to get some sleep,” she said. “We need to return to the UPS store tomorrow because that’s our only lead.”

“I agree.”

“I’ll get us more supplies in the morning.”

“Sounds good.”

“Be sure to get plenty of rest tonight.”

“Will do,” I said. “Say Susan, do you mind untying me from this bed? I need to piss and I’m reasonably certain that I have a concussion.”

But she slammed the door without saying a word.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 38

Time was a tickin. Between throwing the sign in the air and doing the splits like a goddamn madman, I kept radioing to Dale and Jim. “Do you see anything?” I asked them.

“That’s a negative good buddy,” Dale responded. I could see him munching on pistachios in an air conditioned Porsche.

Jim didn’t understand what was going on. “Who is this?” he would say.

I was growing desperate so I squinted my eyes and scanned my surroundings. There was a yellowish car sitting curiously across the street and I thought I recognized it. I radio to Dale. “Do you see that shitty yellow Pontiac Aztec?” I asked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he radioed back.

“For fuck sake Dale! It’s right next to you!”

From the corner of my eye, I could see him turn his head left. “Oh yeah, that thing,” he said. “It’s been sitting there for awhile.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?!”

“It didn’t look suspicious to me,” he shrugged.

I put down the sign and leave my post in front of the mattress store. I sneak up on the Aztec and noticed a woman sitting in the driver’s seat with sunglasses and reading a newspaper. “Susan fuckin Brucetti!” I uttered.

I pulled out the Colt Python from inside my track pants and climbed into the passenger’s seat. This sudden movement startled her and she jumped and dropped the newspaper.

“JAMES!” she exclaimed.

“Busted!” I said.

“What are you doing here?!”

“I should ask you the same question!”

With the engine running, she shifted the car into drive and slammed on the gas. I flew back in my seat and dropped the Python onto the floorboard. When I tried to reach for it she swerved the vehicle and tossed me to and fro. “You can’t have my organs!” I shouted to her as I attempted to wrestle the steering wheel from her hands. But she grabbed the back of my head and slammed it against the dashboard which caused my fake dreads to fall off. While in a daze, I turned around to see Dale in a hot pursuit.

“You can’t outrun us,” I said to her half concussed.

She weaved in and out of traffic causing other motorists to brake or crash into one another. I fought through my impending CTE and grabbed the wheel but she karate chopped my throat and I feared she broke my larynx. Dale was still in pursuit.

“James, can you hear me?!” he radioed through.

Blood spewed from my mouth as I tried to respond. “I’m being abducted!” I gurgled.

Susan grabbed the walkie talkie from my hands and threw it out the window and then she swerved onto the interstate on-ramp. Dale was on her tail and attempted a t-bone. This worked and the Aztec spun wildly out of control and out of the way of Dale’s Porsche. But Dale, now moving at a tremendous speed, hit a guardrail and launched his car several feet in the air before landing upside down in the middle of the interstate. Susan regained control of the vehicle was headed 90 miles per hour eastbound outside of Reno.

“You killed Dale!” I shouted while holding my neck.

“Where have you been for months?! And why are you now in Reno?!”

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” I said and I reached for her neck. But she did another jujitsu move and knocked me out cold.

When I awoke, I was tied to a bed with my arms and legs splayed out. I was inside yet another motel in the middle of the desert and my head hurt and could feel my brain bleeding on the inside. I tried lifting my head and shouted for Susan. “If you’re gonna kill me then let’s get this over with!” I said.

I could hear her fumbling inside the bathroom and I presumed that she was preparing the bathtub to harvest my organs. It was agony to lay there while I awaited my death. But moments later, she opened the door and gave me a long hard look. “What were you doing outside of that UPS store?” she asked me.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said.

“Were you following me?”

“Following you? Hell! I forgot you existed!”

“Were you going after Madam Joelle?”

I paused. “What’s it to you?” I ask.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“I’m a dead man regardless. I saw you stalking me in Los Angeles. There’s only one reason why someone would stalk me: they want my organs.”

She was genuinely perplexed. “What are you talking about?”

“Why do you think I disappeared for so long eh? I knew you were onto me!”

Susan chuckled and rubbed her forehead. “No. No, James, I was following you because you were connected to Randy.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anadeia 37

The plan was set into motion. Joelle’s PO Box was located inside a UPS store near a Baskin Robins and mattress store in some sleepy suburb of Reno. Dale concealed himself with a fake mustache and sideburns along with a pair of brown shaded aviators; a classic look. With the killing he made at the blackjack tables, he bought a blue Porsche 911 because it was named after his favorite holiday.

“I bought this Porsche so that I will never forget,” Dale said.

“Forget what?” I ask.

“9/11”

Old Jim came around and decided he’d like to participate in the stakeout as well. He shaved off his beard and dyed his hair jet black and it was then I suspected he was much younger than he appeared. “What year did your brother die?” I asked him.

“Nineteen hundred and twelve.”

“Goddamn Jim! How old are you ?!”

“I don’t think I’m that old.”

Dale was to park the brand new Porsche in front of the UPS store and lookout for suspicious passersby. Jim was to observe the whole operation from inside the Baskin Robbins. Meanwhile, I was disguised in fake dreadlocks and tattoos and a Liverpool FC jersey in front of the mattress store while carrying a sign advertising a reduced sale on mattresses. I was going over the plan while Jim ordered some ice cream.

“Vanilla please,” he requested from the server.

“Jim, we have all these flavors and you decide on vanilla?” I asked.

“I’m just a plain ol country boy,” he explained. “When I was a kid growing up in the bayous of Loosieana, an old Cajun man would give us some of his homemade vanilla ice cream. The kids would ask how he made this ice cream and he’d ask us ‘have you ever milked a bull before?’ and then he’d take us into the swamps and drop his pants…”

I cut him off. “I’m sure this is a fascinating story,” I said, “but we must get to work. Do you have your walkie talkie?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

He holds up the walkie talkie. “Just press this button right here?” he said.

“Correct. I’ll be across the street. If you think you see Joelle, just radio through. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

I exit the Baskin Robins carrying the large red sign and proceed to my position in front of the mattress store. As I cross the street, I’m nearly hit by oncoming traffic and a man rolls down his car window and yells at me.

“Cut off them dreads you honky ass mother fucker!” he yells.

“I’ll have you know, sir, that I’m half Pakistani!” I say.

The man speeds off and I finish crossing the road. I look to Dale parked in front of the UPS store and he nods.

The show was on.

I spin the sign with furious passion in front of my body and behind my back. I was a dancing fool. After a few minutes, cars began piling into the mattress store parking lot with customers searching for a great deal. The manager stepped outside and tapped me on the shoulder.

“Excuse me sir,” he said, “but I didn’t hire you and I’m definitely NOT selling mattresses for a $1.99.”

“This is official police business,” I lie. “Now kindly fuck off.”

“Police business?” he asks. “Can I see a warrant?”

“Yeah I have a warrant right here,” I say and I lift my foot and sock him right in the ballsack. While he was writhing on the ground, I give him a final warning. “There’s my warrant,” I say. “And if you have a complaint, you can take it up with the Washoe County Sheriff’s Department. Have a nice day.”

Figuring the Sheriff’s Department would show up at any moment, we didn’t have much time.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 36

I hitchhiked towards I-80 where Old Jim was holed up in a Motel 6. A cabbie picked me up and I climbed into the front seat where the driver tore me a new one. “Are you some sort of dumbass?” he shouted. “Don’t you know how dangerous hitchhiking is? I should beat the hell out you for being a moron!”

“Look brother,” I retorted, “I’ve been hitchhiking all my life and I’ve only been stabbed twice. Furthermore, I am armed with a Colt Python and a crisp $20 bill. So would you like the 20 bucks or a wadcutter to the belly?”

The cabbie shut his trap and put the vehicle in drive and we journeyed towards the interstate in cordial silence. When I arrived, I climbed out the passenger door while the petrified driver was itching to say something. When he did, he asked if he could have the $20.

“I see that the fare came to $19.98,” I said. “Do you have two pennies?”

The cabbie swallowed hard before reaching into his wallet to dig for two golden pieces of useless copper. He found plenty of quarters, dimes, nickels, and Iraqi dinars but only one penny. He held the lone coin silently while sensing his doom.

“I’ll tell you what bucko,” said I, “how about I shut this door and you go about your merry way?”

I took the cabbie’s non-response as an agreement so I closed the door and the cab slowly rolled out of the parking lot. It was another successful hitchhike.

Inside the motel room, I found Jim siting alone in his longjohns with a spit cup and playing solitaire. He left the air conditioning off which under the Nevada heat made the room unbearable. I sat the plastic bag of goods I bought on the dresser; some Rogaine, razors and shaving cream.

“How have you been holding up Jim?” I ask him.

Jim picks up his styrofoam spit cup and spits out a wad of long cut tobacco. “About as well as you could expect,” he said. “Where have you boys been?”

“Dale’s been killing it on the tables. I don’t know why but luck has blessed us here. We stayed in a suite last night.”

“A suite? Well Ain’t that somthin’” he said, spittin another wad.

“Look, I’m gonna need you to shave and dye your hair. We’re going undercover.”

“Shave? Dye?”

“Yes. That’s what all this shit here is for.”

His dead grey eyes hinted at a lack of comprehension. Perhaps being left alone in motel room for days on end resurrected his dementia so I folded on my demand. “You know what, nevermind,” I said. “Is there anything you can tell me about Joelle? Something we’ve never discussed?”

“Joelle?” he asked.

“Yes. The Madam.”

“Oh she’s a darlin’. How’s she doin these days?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her yet.”

“What’s she been up to?”

“Apparently pimping out whores again.”

Jim chuckled. “That madam, she’s a character.”

“What’s her relationship with Randy like?”

“Randy?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I mumbled under my breath. “Anyway, I’m gonna go see her soon”.

“What fur?”

I paused and thought. “I guess the day of judgement comes for all of us,” I said.

“Mmm,” said Jim, spitting again. “You know, I’ve been thinking about my own judgment. I suppose I should be thanking the lord for blessing me with a long life. I’ve watched so many of my friends die. They were good men. And they were evil men too. I think about them a lot. I suppose that’s all I do nowadays. But then I think, maybe there is no god. Why must my brother die of cholera at six years old while I, a man who slayed another for a pack of cigarettes, gets to live a long life? Then I think maybe my brother is the blessed one and that hell lies not below our feet but lasts as long as we breathe. Funny things a man thinks in his old age.”

That night, I made Old Jim stay with us in the suite.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 35

The next morning, I watched the prostitute climb out of bed and put on her black brazier and panties and I laid in bed naked as she lowered her shirt and grabbed her belongings. “Can I know your name?” I ask her.

“No,” she said.

“Well, what if I want to get in touch with your services again?”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a white business card. “Just call this number,” she told me.

Without looking at it, I placed it on the nightstand and crawled out of bed to put on my underwear. “So what do I owe you?” I ask.

“$15,000,” she said.

“Jesus Christ!” I shouted out loud. Strangely, that was the exact amount that the Dr. Phil slot machine spat out the night before. So I handed her $15,000 all in 20 dollar bills and she was on her way.

“Can I at least get you a drink?” I ask her on the way out.

“Fuck no.”

And she closed the door behind her.

Meanwhile, Dale came cackling out of his bedroom door with two other sex workers. I stood in the foyer in only my underwear while that gaggle proceeded to the kitchen while grabbing each other’s asses and I scratched my ass and followed them in there. “Dale, it seems like you had a pretty good night,” I said.

“You’re damn right I did!” he said while pouring champagne into everyone’s glass. “Didn’t you?”

“Yeah well, ya know. I think I had the whiskey dick. $15,000 down the toilet.”

“Ah man, that sucks. Well anyway, this is Danica and Delilah,” Dale said, referring to the two women as they both gave me a flirty wave. “Ladies, I have enjoyed your company but it’s time to bid you adieu.”

The ladies sighed and Dale shoved numerous $50 bills into their bras and sent them on their way. He put on his silk robe and joined me in gaudy living room where the bright Reno skyline shown through the window. He poured himself more champagne then sat down on the couch where he briefly flashed his nutsack before crossing his legs. “All we have to do is maintain this level of luck and we’ll have Randy’s attention in no time! Easy as pie,” he said.

“Yeah,” I shrugged.

“Don’t feel so down,” he told me. “You’ll have your revenge. Maybe we need to call some more hookers tonight to cheer you up! Just don’t drink so much today.”

“Yeah. Yeah!” I tried to convince myself. “More hookers! That’s the ticket!”

I go to the bedroom to retrieve the business card. Before I could hand it to Dale, I catch a glimpse of a name: “For a good time, contact Joelle” it said on the card.

“Fuck,” I uttered.

“What?” asked Dale with his hand out waiting to receive the card.

“Does a name on here ring a bell?”

Dale took the card and tried to make sense of it. “No?” he said.

“Joelle was the name of the madam at the Candyland brothel!”

“And?”

“And? Are you stupid? This might be the same Joelle!”

“Does it have an address on it?”

“Only a PO Box.”

“Should we stake it out?”

“We’ve got to!”

Dale finished his champagne and scratched his nipple. Then a look of consternation fell over his face. “What do we do if we catch her?” he asks.

I hadn’t thought of that so I rubbed my chin and considered our options. “Well, I guess we corner her and question her,” I said.

“I dunno,” Dale said. “I say we tail her and follow her around a bit. We gotta know what we’re getting ourselves into.”

I agreed. “Then we need to find disguises,” I suggested. “We should have done that anyway before we came into town.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dale said. “I’ll go put some pants on.”

“You do that,” I said. “I’m gonna go check on Old Jim.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 34

In these dying days I sat staring at the loud floral carpet on the casino floor which concealed ages of cigarette stains and dried up vomit while the jolly jingles of slot machines and video poker provided a hallowed sense of revelry. Reno was a dime store conception of a good time. I thought my return to civilization after months in the wilderness and endless days in a desolate brothel would restore my joviality and lust for life. Instead it brought forth blitheness and disdain.

Perhaps it was the hidden presence of Randy who remained as a shadow in the streets which ceaselessly haunted me. Somehow I felt that he knew we were here. I wondered what I could say to the man who was the architect of my nightmare.

I dropped a quarter into the slot. The wheels on the “Dr. Phil” machine spun and landed on three mustaches in a row. An endless amount of silver coins spat out into the troth and the voice of Dr. Phil announced in his Texas draw “Congratulations! You won a lot of money! But you’re playing a slot machine in Reno, Nevada. It’s time to make a change in your life!”

Maybe this was a good omen, I told myself. I collect the coins and stop a barmaid. “Excuse me miss,” I say, “I’d like a rum and coke, a tequila, and a Bloody Mary please.” Then I drop a wad of 50s on her tray.

“Your drinks are already paid for sir,” she said.

“By whom?” I ask.

“By that gentleman over there.”

She points to Dale, decked out in a Tom Ford suit and stogie in his mouth, at the blackjack table. I should have known, I thought. The barmaid brought me the drinks and I immediately swallow the tequila and rum and coke and then I stumbled over to the table and take a seat next to Dale.

The croupier drops two kings in front of Dale and he laughs while cigar ash drops on his lap. “Hit me!” he says.

“Dale, you’re fucking insane,” I tell him.

“Yeah but look at all these chips!” he says. Indeed he had thousands of dollars worth of chips stacked on the table.

“But you pushed them all in you idiot!”

The dealer tossed him another card and he flipped it over. To my astonishment it was an ace. “Goddamn I’m unstoppable!” Dale declared. He doubled his earnings and hauled all his chips towards him. “Daddy’s eatin’ good tonight!” he cheers.

We cash out then waltz on over to the casino buffet. I get a bowl of ice cream and Dale slops heaps of mashed potatoes, chicken, and green beans onto multiple plates. We take a seat near the slots and Dale digs in. “You were fucking careless on that last hand!” I tell him.

Dale looks up from his plate. “What? You think I’m stupid?” he asks.

“Frankly, yes.”

He picks up his fork and points up to the ceiling. “Look up there,” he says. I look up and see hundreds if not thousands of cameras pointing down. “See those cameras?” he continues. “They see everything we do. I don’t know how much money I won tonight but it’s damn sure more than what I walked in here with. And the house knows that. At this very second, this establishment is losing money on me and they can’t permit that. Perhaps word will spread about me. Every casino will be looking out for us, which might, god willing, get the attention of Randy. Since we can’t go to Randy, we’ll make Randy come to us. Right now, I suspect management is trying to figure out a way to keep my money in the casino. So in a few minutes, they’ll probably approach us with their finest suite.”

I scratched my head. “So you think that’ll get the attention of Randy?”

“Of course!” he said while shoveling another heap of green beans in his mouth. “If there’s one thing I know is that all these gangster types are in with the casinos.”

“But what if we start losing money?”

“Well, we just have to make sure we never lose to the house,” he shrugged.

I raised one eyebrow.

But minutes later, Dale’s calculations were proven correct. A gaunt fellow with slick backed hair and a bright blue blazer approached our table with a smile and a handshake. “Congratulations gentleman,” he told us, “you two have had a remarkable night at our casino. As a compliment, we would like to welcome you to our hotel as esteemed guests. Our finest suite awaits you with champagne and all the usual refinements.”

Dale looked at me with a victorious expression and we got up from our table and followed the man into the hotel lobby where a porter escorted us to our top floor suite. The porter unlocked the door and we were greeted with all the garishness and extravagance that Reno had to offer. Dale was in awe as he looked around the room and then he looked at me with arms wide open. “What did I tell you? What did I tell you?!” he beamed.

“Is there anything else I can get you gentlemen?” the porter asked.

“Yes. Two whores please,” said Dale.

I looked at the porter wondering if such a request could be granted. Then the porter looked at me. “And for you sir?” he asks.

“Uh, I too would like two whores,” I responded.

The porter nodded. “Four whores coming right up,” he said.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 33

The eyes of the man, our captor, widened in awe at the horrifying and unbridled majesty of Penelope. He was slow to raise arms, not that it would have mattered, and his comrades scrambled to figure a plan of attack. The captor on the right opened fire but the speed of a bullet was no match for Penelope’s supernatural and inhuman powers. She lashed out at her attacker, reaching for his ankles and smashed his body into a bloodied mess on the cavern wall. The captor on the left panicked and attempted to flee but was met with claws burrowing into his belly and bits of stomach and intestines spewed out.

The man was speechless and three of us in the cage were powerless with him. He was alone and Penelope towered over him then hissed and the man fell to his knees to beg forgiveness from a seeming beast that knew no mercy. “Penelope,” he pleaded with tears streaming down his face, “you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever witnessed! I never meant you no harm! Please! Can you find the humanity within yourself to let me go?! Your blood is my blood! You can have all this land! It’s been in my family for generations! It’s all yours! All I’ve ever wanted was a continuation of your kind!”

I looked deep into her glowing yellow eyes and for my sake and the sake of Dale and Old Jim, I prayed that there was a shred of humanity buried deep within her. But if there was, she wasn’t prepared to share it with the man on his knees. She raised her giant right hand and swatted it at the man’s head, knocking it clean off and it rolled towards the cage. When it stopped, it revealed to us that the last sensation that man ever knew was abject terror.

I looked at the head and then at Penelope. She approached the cage and glared at us intensely and it was the first time I had ever gotten a clean look at her face. She didn’t hiss or growl. She looked at me not with malice but with curiosity and while her alien features were apparent, I also saw the human. Though behind a cage and of no threat, I raised my hands in the air. “Penelope, I don’t know if you can understand me,” I said, “but I want to thank you for freeing us. I have a greater understanding of you now. I beg of you to let us be. We will not pursue you or harm you in any way.”

She studied us for what felt like eternity and then she placed her face close to the cage and I lower my hand. She sniffed at it for a bit before blinking then standing straight up and once again revealing her majesty. She blinked once more indicating her farewell then rushed out of the cavern like a fading dream.

I exhaled a sigh of relief and immediately crawled out from the bottom of the cage towards Vic. He was barely alive. His intestines were splayed out on the ground while his legs laid several feet away. I knelt down by his side to give him a sense of comfort before he died.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” I said as I laid my hand on his chest.

But in his dying daze he looked at me and with his last bit of strength, he reached up and grabbed me by my throat and blood spewed from his mouth he uttered his dying words. “I’m dead because of you!” he gurgled.

I struggled to pry his fingers from my neck and Dale rushed to my side to wrestle away his arm. But his strength slowly gave way and his eyes rolled back in his head and his hand fell flatly to the ground. And when he released me, I fell backwards and coughed uncontrollably to regain my breath.

“Christ!” I spat out.

Dale did a Hail Mary to mourn the passing of Vic then laid his hands on his eyes to close them. “Do we bury him?” he asked.

I look around to the cavern to the other bodies splayed about then I stand up to look at the carcass of the dead Scotsman once more. “Leave him,” I said. “This was what he wanted.”

I unlatched the cage to free Jim and the three of us traversed the narrow chambers of the cave and up to the opening where evening greeted us. On the outside we felt like three fallen angels that had escaped our hellish torment. Then each of us mounted one of the three horses deserted by our captors and proceeded down the trail.

We said nothing to each other.

As night fell and the moon hovered gloriously above the mountain tops, I saw Penelope silhouetted against the sky like a lone specter haunting the valley. She watched us trot away and then she disappeared into the darkness.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 32

Vic wiped the blood of the knife on his faded pant leg. The body of the prisoner whitened as the darkened blood flowed from his body and mixed into the sand beneath our feet. Dale, usually calloused to these sights, growled and moaned. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he told Vic.

“I won’t say it again mate,” he warned, “I had little option.”

“You should’ve stabbed me instead,” said Old Jim.

Vic spat and knelt down in front of the bamboo which caged us in. He began sawing away at the hallowed wood and it didn’t take long to break it free. “You see this?” he asked. “This is all that stands in the way between Penelope and us once we unchain her. Do you want to be the next one in her belly?”

We said nothing as he finished the job. He began bending the sticks back to clear an opening then he placed the knife back in his boot. “Alright,” Vic instructed me, “once I’m out, drag the body through and place it as close as you can to Penelope. I’m gonna start pulling up those spikes. I don’t know how deep they go so I might need your help.”

I nodded reluctantly. “Vic, if we make it out of this,” I said, “you and me are through.”

“Just do as I say,” he spat.

Vic crawled through the opening and once on the other side, he stood up and quietly inched toward Penelope. I picked up the prisoner by the armpits and dragged his body towards the opening. I went through and reached back inside to pull him out. The prisoner, drained of all blood, was light. I finished dragging him as close as I felt comfortable and dropped him limply to the ground.

Meanwhile, Dale and Jim clutched the bamboo bars tightly as they watched the two of us on the outside. Vic was struggling with the spikes so I quietly move towards him and grabbed the top of the spike. While he pulled the chain, I lifted with all my strength. Despite the physical exertion, we tried not to grunt out of fear of disturbing Penelope who continued to rest soundly.

Finally the spike budged. Seconds later it was broken free. “One down, two more to go,” Vic whispered.

“We don’t want to loosen all four of the chains?” I asked.

“We might need a second of resistance,” he suggested.

We broke loose the second spike. Penelope was still undisturbed. But the third and final spike took some doing. With our strength nearly depleted, we started to loudly grunt. When it broke loose, the metal clanged against solid rock which echoed into the cavern. Penelope slightly shifted in her slumber which caused us to stop dead in our tracks. She rolled over and then grunted a loud snore.

“Fuck me, that was close,” Vic whispered.

“What do we do now?”

“We go back into the cage and we wait.”

With only Penelope’s hind leg chained, we tip toe back to Dale and Jim. When we reached the cage, Vic signaled for me to go in first. I bent back the bamboo and crawled inside. Then Vic got on his knees and did the same. When he was halfway through, the bamboo caught on the ass of his pants and broke.

It wasn’t a penetrating sound but it was enough to wake up Penelope. We froze as we watched her stand straight up and glare at us with glowing eyes. “Vic! Hurry the fuck up!” I yell.

But Penelope screamed that ungodly sound then effortlessly broke the last spike and charged toward the cage. Vic attempted to wiggle his way through to no avail. She went right past the prisoner’s body and latched onto Vic’s legs. She bit into his midsection and tossed him to the other side of the cave where he laid there with his torso separated from his lower half and bone and organs were exposed to all.

But Vic, still alive, begged her to eat the corpse of the prisoner. She responded with ear piercing screeches. But before she could finish him, our captors entered the cavern with guns ready.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 29

Dale was planked against a tree with knees bent and pants around his ankles as he desperately tried to shit a dry turd. There was no telling how deep into the mountains we were. The temperature was declining rapidly and thick, cotton-like clouds were forming above. If this day was unsuccessful then we decided to double back to the trail in the morning. Meanwhile, Dale was in immense pain.

“Goddamn,” he kept shouting. “Thank god I won’t have to wipe! My asshole is rubbed raw!”

“Let’s pinch it off Dale,” I said. “We need to keep moving.”

“Alright alright,” he said as he leaned forward and buckled his pants.

Vic returned from his reconnaissance with Jim. They were gone for maybe 30 minutes before climbing out of the brush with urgent news. “I found more blood in the clearing below,” Vic stated. “It’s fresh. We can’t be far off.”

We picked up our things and proceeded down the cliff and into a small opening in the forest where beside a fallen and decaying tree was another spot of yellowish blood. Then we looked for more clues. A few feet deeper into the woods was another fresh batch. “She’s near. I know it,” Vic uttered.

“It can only mean one thing,” said Dale as he pulled out his AK.

It was time to press forward quietly with arms ready. We spread out in a diamond shape formation that we had rehearsed earlier and moved inch by inch. Only the sounds of twigs and brush snapping beneath our feet could be heard. Where are you, you son of a bitch?” Vic whispered.

Then from the left flank, Dale stepped into a shallow pit. A lasso tightened around his feet and he was lifted into the air upside down. “Shit!Goddamnit! Mother fucker!” he yelled. Then we broke formation and rushed towards him. Old Jim was next to fall into a trap. “Ah hell,” he said as he dangled from a tree branch.

In a panic, Vic and I attempted to backtrack away from the two. But like bad fortune, we simultaneously stepped into separate pits then a weighted contraption was triggered and the rope tightened around our ankles. The rope pulled and swept our feet from beneath us and knocking us on our asses and before we knew it all four of us were dangling under trees.

“We can’t be this fucking stupid!” Vic said with beet red face.

“Speak for yourself!” I said. “It’s been nice knowing you fellas! We’re now easy prey for Penelope!”

Vic reached his arms out and ab crunched his hands towards his feet using all his strength in an attempt to loosen the rope. “If I could just get to my knife!” he said.

But a faint laughter interrupted his escape plan. The three roughians from the night before appeared from the brush cackling their heads off.

“I should have known,” I said.

Their antagonistic leader knelt down in front of Vic’s face and laughed some more. “It looks like we caught ourselves some city boys!” he laughed to the others.

“Cut us down!” demanded Vic.

“Now I told you boys that this was private property!” the man retorted.

“You’re full of shit!” said Vic.

The man pulled out a Bowie knife, one not all that dissimilar to Vic’s, and held it in front of his face. “You don’t seem to be in a position to make demands,” he said.

“Fine! Cut us down and we’ll leave!”

The man stood up and resheathed the knife. “Nah I don’t think so,” he said. “Besides, I think I could put y’all into good use.”

He signaled to the other two to cut us down. First, they grabbed our hands and tied them behind our backs. Then they reached above our feet to cut the rope. One by one, we plopped to the ground while our ankles remained lassoed. The man then picked up the Uzi that I dropped in the malaise and held it up. “An Uzi?!” he exclaimed. “Goddamn, you boys were aimin to kill something out here.”

The other two confiscated our weapons and aimed them at us. “Alright,” the man announced, “it might take a little bit but I’m gonna need y’all to start hopping in this direction. Don’t worry, we don’t have far to go.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 27

Around 5pm we packed our shit and exited the hotel room and I threw the room key onto the receptionist’s desk and apologized. “Sorry for destroying the room,” I said. “You should really clean up this shit hole.”

“Get the fuck out,” he ordered.

This was the last man we spoke to for several days. We left the one horse town and trekked back up the mountain slope and towards the pass as the sun fell below the horizon. We passed the Bacardi bottle between us before realizing it wouldn’t last till midnight and we finished drinking it anyway. An hour later we came across the creek where we last encountered Penelope and filled our canteens. Vic wondered along the shoreside looking for her footprints and when he found where he was attacked, he followed her path over a ridge away from the pass. “This way!” he declared. So we went over the ridge and deeper into the mountains before finding a comfortable spot to camp. When we found one, Dale pissed around the perimeter while Vic made a fire.

“Dale, what the fuck are you doing?” I ask.

“Supposedly snakes and scorpions won’t cross over human piss,” he explained.

We all took turns standing watch throughout the night but the mountains were eerily silent. The next morning we packed up and penetrated deeper into the rocky terrain. Our elevation was steadily climbing and the air was harder to breathe. We gnawed on jerky throughout the day which caused massive dehydration yet Vic was pushing forward at breakneck speed.

“We ate all the goddamn jerky!” Dale yelled and threw down the non-biodegradable bag on the ground.

Vic noticed a ridge line of trees and ran ahead of us. We heard a gunshot echo from the that direction and minutes later we saw him peer out of the woods with a coyote carcass. “Here’s some sustenance,” he said and dropped the body.

That night we feasted on coyote meat and in the morning we continued the march. The dry dirt and sun baked rocks eventually gave way to pine needles and evergreens and the air grew crisp and clean. We didn’t know how deep into the mountains we were and only Vic provided any sense of direction. Though I had assumed Old Jim would have tired by then but he seemed reinvigorated. I on the other hand became weary of the purpose of our pursuit. When we came to a bluff overlooking yet another deep valley, I had had enough.

“Are you sure we’re on the right path?” I asked Vic.

“Goddamn you! Of course I’m sure!” he spat back.

Perhaps we should have followed the doctor’s advice and taken Vic to a real hospital. His quest for vengeance was overpowering any good sense left in his mangled brain. We had escaped certain death only days earlier but like a desperate gambler we kept going all in. But finally the gamble paid off. As the alpine winds swept through the valley and threatened to chill us, Vic noticed a yellowish speckle on the ground. He knelt down to rub his finger across it then placed his finger to his lips and licked it.

“It’s her alright,” he said.

The sky darkened and the winds picked up and we sought shelter in the nearby woods. While the rest of the group set up camp, I ventured a little deeper into the wood on a whim. About 50 feet away from camp, sitting alone on a small meadow on top of dead pine was a brown open crowned cowboy hat similar to that of the late Karl’s. To my chagrin I realized that Vic was right: we were on the right path.

I picked up the hat and carried back to camp where the others were roasting the meats of rabbit and vermin captured earlier in the day. I squated down and tossed the hat in the middle for all to see. “Damnit Vic,” I uttered, “you’re right. I don’t know how but you’re right.”

Vic chewed off a hunk of rabbit meat impaled on a stick and spat out the fat. “Aye mate,” he said. “I told ya before that I’ve seen the devil. She’s the foulest and most evil thing in these hills. The devil can run but she can’t hide because I know her face. I know her name. I know what she thinks. And I know where she sleeps. It makes you wonder why she’s called the devil. Maybe I’m the terror that stalks these mountains.”

As nightfall came and the fire died, I covered myself in the stolen nylon blanket and held my Uzi tight. I could barely sleep a wink as I kept one eye on Vic. Five days we had been looking. I chose to give it one more day. It was a morning of blistering cold and I awoke from a flash of sleep to see Vic standing over me.

“Good morning,” he greeted.

“Good morning?” I said.

“I have something I want to show you.”

While the others slept and a glimpse of morning skies hovered above, we marched a mile or two into a crowded wooded valley. By yet another creek bed, Vic kicked away a few stones and pointed to a pile of brown excrement. “Do you know what that is?” he asks.

“It’s a pile of shit,” I said.

“Aye. It hasn’t hardened.”

“So?”

“So, it means we’re close.”

“You think it’s Penelope’s shit?”

“No. In these parts, no other creatures could shit a log that big.”

Indeed, I agreed. The turd was at least a foot long and many inches thick. Vic stood watch while I retrieved the others and packed up camp. We caught up with him and ventured deeper into the mountains and as dusk approached we noticed a small plume of smoke rising from a camp fire above the tree line. Then we climbed higher to get a better look.

“We need to keep moving along the ridge to avoid these guys,” said Vic.

I disagreed. “We’re dangerously low on supplies,” I said. “We need to see if we can trade with these folks.”

“No!” he shouted.

“Vic, I don’t want to die out here!”

“My taint itches and I haven’t slept well in three days!” Dale said. “I need more booze.”

Vic balked and the group threatened to break up. Old Jim became the deciding factor so I asked him plainly, “do you want to approach the campfire?”

With the air of a wise old sage, Jim gazed towards the sky. “What campfire?” he asked.

“How are your eyes?” I ask him.

Jim again pulled out the Browning and twirled it around his finger. “Boys, I can still shoot the pecker off…”

“Alright!” Vic relented. “We’ll go towards the campfire! But be on high alert!”

TO BE CONTINUED…