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…

Anaideia 26

As I laid in the piss reeked bed next to Vic, I watched a cockroach crawl up the wall and towards the mildewed ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. So I drew down the shades as the morning glow peered through the window then I picked up the sticky remote to turn on the old Zenith television set. I sat in a large musty recliner as I perused the porno channels and considered rubbing one out before Jim and Dale returned with supplies. I nearly pulled my dick out when Vic suddenly awoke and grabbed his Colt from the nightstand. He leapt up from the bed and fired one round into the ceiling.

“Aye mate!” he exclaimed. “What is this cursed place?!”

“Chill out Vic!” I said. “We got you stitched up and now we’re just hangin in a seedy hotel room. Jesus fucking Christ! Watch it with that gun!”

Vic looked around the room slightly befuddled. Out of his slumber, he looked deranged with his swollen face covered in gauze and blood crusted scratches. His one good left eye scanned the room and then looked at me. “Penelope,” he said. “We must find her.”

“Yeah you said that already. Are you sure you’re in any condition to go hunting around in the desert?”

He lifted his Colt Python in front of his face and gazed upon it. Penelope must have knocked something loose in his brain. Something wasn’t right and it was probably due to an untreated concussion and lack of good medical attention. “All I see is red, mate,” he said.

“Yeah, your face is covered in blood. You should probably shower.”

“Nae,” he continued. “I will have my vengeance. Gone from my heart is benevolence. I come not to bring love but to bring a sword and Penelope will surely curse the day we crossed. An eye for an eye, thus sayeth the Lord. Only when her eye is taken will me sight be restored and she will know the hate that burns brighter than all the stars in the night sky which harbors in my heart.”

“Vic, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” I said. “Your sight ain’t getting restored. You’ll be half blind for the rest of your life.”

He fired another round into the ceiling. “Don’t misunderstand me mate,” he said. “I will have my blood.”

Jim and Dale bust through the door with weapons drawn. The flimsy piece of wood that counted as a door came completely off its hinges. “Christ! What was that?!” screamed Dale.

“Relax,” I assured them. “Vic’s just having a manic episode.”

“Okay good,” Dale said and re-holstered his weapon. He crossed the threshold into the hotel room and laid all the goods he carried in on the bed which consisted of several rounds of ammunition, beef jerky, and a bottle of Bacardi. He twisted open the rum bottle and poured a glass.

“How much did this cost?” I ask.

“Cost?” said Dale. “We didn’t pay for this shit. We shoplifted fair and square.”

“Fair enough,” I said. Then I turned to Vic. “When do you want to head out?”

Vic looked up to the ceiling where two bullet holes stared back at him. “We leave at night,” he said. “That’s when she stalks her prey.”

“You heard that everyone?” I ask the group. “It’s 10 o’clock in the morning. Nightfall is around 6:30. Get showered and get rested and liquored up. We leave at sundown.”

Jim nodded and Dale downed the rum whole.

“Good,” said Dale. “That gives me plenty of time to skim through the porno channels.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 25

I threw Vic over my shoulder and carried his beaten and battered body back to the dirt road. Dale and Jim tried to keep up. I struggled to stay on my feet with Vic whimpering and only adrenaline kept me going. The small piece of civilization on the desert plain was only a couple miles ahead and when we reached it on swollen feet we discovered it was a one horse town. Down its main street, I went from store front to store front in a desperate search for medical attention. There was a small tin building off to the side that read the name “Dr. Lyle Lester” and I busted in through the front door.

“Help! My friend is dying!” I shout.

The lone doctor stood up from behind the reception desk and shrugged. “But I’m just a simple chiropractor,” he said.

“Goddamnit! You’re a doctor! Do something!”

“But I don’t have the medical training to help a wounded man!”

I laid Vic down on the stained corduroy couch and pulled out my Uzi. “You can do something and you WILL do something!” I said.

The doctor complied.

Dale and Jim caught up to me and we carried Vic into an operating room and laid him on the table. “All I have is this gauze to stop the bleeding,” the doctor said.

“Good enough,” I said. “What about some painkillers?”

The doctor stated to stammer. “Uh, all I got is some methadone,” he said.

“Do chiropractors usually carry methadone?” asked Dale.

The doctor said nothing.

Vic was pumped full of the medicine and his head was stitched up with the bleeding stopped. Within minutes he appeared to be in a daze. The doctor cleaned up his hands and gave us advice. “You need to take him to a hospital,” he said, “like, right now.”

I nodded and started to lift Vic’s body. But he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me close. “Don’t take me to the hospital,” he ordered.

“Vic, it’s alright…”

“No,” he interrupted, “I’m going after Penelope. Tonight!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” I said. “We got out of there alive! No need to test fate!”

Then he pulled me closer. “If you take me to the hospital, I will KILL YOU!” he uttered. He gurgled a few more unintelligible words then passed out.

“Get him the fuck out of my office,” the doctor ordered.

“But doc,” I pleaded, “we’ve got nowhere to go…”

“Shut up and get out.”

Dale and I carried a limp Vic to a nearby no-tell motel and the receptionist looked at us sideways. “We don’t get too many of your kind,” he said.

“Just give us a goddamn room,” I said.

“Alright, that’ll be $39.99 an hour.”

“What?! I can find rent cheaper than that in Los Angeles!” I argued.

Dale took me aside and calmed me. “Relax,” he said, “let me handle this.” From under his trench coat, he pulled out the AK-47 and pointed it at the receptionist. “Will it be 39 bucks or 39 bullets bucko?” he asked.

The receptionist soiled himself and handed us a key. “Check out is at 11am,” he said.

I grabbed the key then picked up Vic by his feet while Dale took his arms and we dragged his body to the suite door. I unlocked it and inside reeked of bleach like old and crusted semen. “I feel right at home,” Dale said as he plopped down on the bed. I laid Vic next to him.

“I’ll stay here with Vic,” I said. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you Dale, but I need you to do one more thing. Find a way to get back to Los Angeles and take Old Jim with you. See if he has any family and…”

“I ain’t goin nowheres,” Old Jim declared.

“Jim, be reasonable…,” I said.

“If you’re gonna go huntin for Penelope, I’m goin with ya.”

“But it’s too dangerous…”

“I can handle my own out there. I know what I’m doin. I may be old but I can still shoot the pecker off a bull…”

“Alright, alright…,” I interrupted. “But we’re gonna need some supplies before we head back out there. Dale, what are you gonna do?”

Dale laid on the bed with arms folded behind his head. He contemplated for a moment before lifting his leg to release a massive ass fart. “Well, I reckon I don’t have much else to do since my wife left me and I got laid off at the toilet factory. I suppose I’ll go back out there with y’all.”

I shook my head and rubbed my face. “I guess that settles it then,” I said.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 24

I was the first to rush out of the van and I sprinted 80 or so yards past the dirt road and took position. Next up was Dale and he posted up slightly behind me to the right on the other side of the road. Vic soon followed and escorted Jim as quickly as possible to the far right flank.

“I’ll take point,” offered Old Jim.

“Don’t be stupid! I’m an experienced hunter! I’ll take point!” said Vic.

“I’m an old man,” said Jim. “I know Penelope better than anyone.”

With little time to argue, Vic reluctantly agreed and took his position on the far right. Jim proceeded to the front in the middle of the dirt road and we pushed forward. In actuality, we were all on point. Our diamond or rugged ‘S’ shaped formation was designed specifically so that if one of us was jeopardized then each position would have an open shot without having to adjust. This was our “net” to catch and kill Penelope.

At least that was the theory.

As we slowly pushed through the darkness and towards the pass, Dale shouted from the rear. “Hey Jim! How big of a bitch is Penelope?!” he asked.

Jim casually strolled forward and nonchalantly answered. “Oh, about seven to nine feet,” he said.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Dale responded. “I once banged a seven foot whore in Tajikistan. She had a big ol pair…”

“Keep your voice down Dale!” I ordered.

Vic shouted from the right flank “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “She knows we’re out here. She’s probably watching our every move.”

Despite this reasoning, we pushed forward silently. A few miles down the road we reached the pass. This was the pinch point. Our formation had little choice but to grow in tighter as the walls of a former river nearly engulfed us. It was as dark as dark could be. Not having laid eyes on the pass in daylight, I called out to Vic. “How high are the walls?” I shout.

“About 30 to 40 feet,” he said.

“Jim, how are your eyes?” I say.

“Good enough to see a gnats pecker,” he said.

“Keep your eyes open to the front,” I order. “Dale, you cover the rear. Vic and I will watch the top of the walls.”

In total darkness, all we could look out for was silhouettes against a night sky. As we penetrated deeper into the pass, it appeared our strategy was working. Despite the immense distance between the former Candyland tavern and the other side of the pass, the hours merely felt like minutes in a way that only the fear of death could provide. Sunup was nearing. The night skies were blueing and the opening of the pass was in sight.

“We made it!” Dale cheerfully declared.

This was the first time I had been on this side of the mountain range in over two months. The dirt road leading into the pass reappeared and gently sloped down into a small town in the faraway distance. We collectively breathed a sigh of relief as the morning sun illuminated the desert horizon.

“Unbelievable!” Vic shouted.

“I’ll be goddamned,” chimed in Dale. “Maybe there’s a god after all.”

Old Jim continued to lead the way forward to a small creek flowing down the slope. With the end in sight, the mood of the group shifted and we laid down our weapons. Vic knelt beside the creek to refill his canteen. When he topped it off, he stood up and did a panoramic view of his surroundings. “We should keep moving,” he said as he took a swig.

“I agree,” Dale said as he pissed a heavy stream into the creek.

“Don’t piss for too long,” Old Jim spoke. “Penelope might grab your pecker.”

“Nonsense,” said Vic. “Penelope is very territorial. She keeps a limited range. We almost certainly escaped her clutches. Besides she’s mostly nocturnal.” He then lifted his cattleman to wipe sweat from his brow. But without warning, a cool wind swept across the creek and a grayish blur latched itself onto Vic. The large creature pulled him to the ground and the two tussled with Penelope quickly gaining the upper hand. Painful grunting and piercing screeches filled the air as the rest of us scrambled to react. I emptied an entire Uzi clip into the ground as I struggled to gain aim and Dale pissed on himself then fell into the water. Only Jim maintained composure as he fired the Browning skillfully into Penelope’s hardened skin. But Vic seemingly fought futility as he was dwarfed by the enormous creature. Finally, blinded by a bloodied face, Vic resorted to his only proven method of defense against Penelope as he reached for his Bowie knife and plowed it into her neck and causing copious amount of yellowish blood to splatter on the ground. She loudly screeched before Dale climbed out of the water and fired his AK-47 indiscriminately into her direction. Penelope scampered away towards a nearby ridge as bullets flew.

“Welcome to earth WHORE!” Dale shouted thinking he saved the day.

But Vic was writhing on the ground and with Penelope well out of sight, I rush to his side. “Vic! Vic! Are you okay?” I screamed. I finally gained control of him and while he screamed in agony I noticed his right eyeball was pulled cleanly from its socket.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 23

Dale’s ass tormented us in the minutes after Karl’s fatal abduction. The van already reeked of sardine cans and discarded piss cups and his unceasing flatulence only compounded the issue. I couldn’t think straight. An unholy demon was stalking us and my judgement was clouded by the stench of funk ass.

“Dale have you ever considered getting on simethicone?” I ask.

“Poppycock,” he retorted. “God gave me this ass! And by golly! I plan to use it!”

But on more serious matters, in the front seat Vic and I concocted a plan of escape. It was once again a moonless sky and we were shrouded in deep and total darkness. “Are you certain that it’s Penelope you saw out there?” he asked me.

“Absolutely! It’s hard to mistake a bigass naked woman.”

“Christ,” Vic uttered the slammed the edge of his Bowie knife into the floorboard.

“What? You don’t believe me?” I ask.

“Oh I believe you mate,” he said. “I’ve seen her before. I thought I’d never see her again.”

“You’ve seen her before?”

“Aye. I was bear huntin’ near San Gabriel when I saw her standing on a ridge naked as the day she was born. I thought me eyes were deceiving me, mate. I was meters away but her eyes haunted me. They glowed like the fires of Antares and I knew she was fixin to kill me. I raised me rifle but like a flash she appeared in front of me and knocked me to the ground and tore into me flesh like a rabid wolf. Me mind knew I was as good as dead but my body didn’t give in. My arm lurched forward and grabbed her by the neck n’ with me knife in the other hand I stabbed her in the eye and she shrieked a noise I could never forget. She crawled away and ran off into the brush. And like that she was gone like a phantom in broad daylight. Gone as quickly as she appeared. I knew that I was the only man who lived to tell the tale. I swore from that day forth that I if I saw her again that I would kill her.”

“Vic, for all we know that could have been a different Penelope altogether. That was in California. This is Utah.”

“Nae mate,” he said. “Some things in this world cannot be explained. I’m the only man who ever ripped away certain death from her clutches. I know she’s coming for me.”

“I think we’re losing the thread here,” I said. “Our primary focus should be getting out of this basin alive. After that you can return and strangle Penelope til you’re blue in the face. But until then we need to make it through the pass.”

“Aye,” agreed Vic, “each man will need to carry a weapon.”

“What about Old Jim?”

I turn to Jim in the backseat who was still cool as a cucumber as he quietly hummed A Mighty Fortress is our God. I turn back to Vic. “Do you think we should leave Jim here and retrieve him in daylight hours after we make it into town?”

“Nae mate,” he said. “He’ll never survive the night.”

“Young pup,” Jim said in a rare moment of lucidity, “I may be an old man and shit my pants every night but I can still shoot the dick off a gnat. If you’re going up against Penelope, you’ll need every help you can get.”

“That’s settles it then,” I nodded. I shout to Dale in the back who was occupying himself with Pokémon on Gameboy. “Dale, have you ever shot a gun before?”

Dale looked up and thought. “No,” he said. “I’ve held one to my temple a few times but I never fired it.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” I said.

Vic pulled a black duffel bag from under the passenger seat and unzipped it. Inside was Stewart Rhodes’ wet dream: mortar rounds, grenades, an AK, a few Uzis, and everything to fight off a small army.

“How do you find this shit, Vic?” I ask.

“One can never be too prepared,” he said.

We distributed the weapons around to the four of us. “Remember,” I warned Dale when handing him the AK-47, “make sure it’s pointed away from you before firing.” I naturally took an Uzi and gave the Jim the Browning. Then we set out a game plan: we’d stagger out of the van and fan out a few meters away from the other to form a ‘net’. There was no guarantee of survival for everyone. But if Penelope snatched one of us up, she’d be caught in the line of fire.

Before opening the sliding door, I had one more line of encouragement. “Remember, she’s quick as lightening so keep your eyes sharp,” I said. “Also, thank you all for rescuing me. I didn’t think I had so many friend in the world.”

I looked into the eyes of the three: Vic was determined and ready; Old Jim was at peace with the situation; Dale couldn’t have given less of a shit.

I put my hand on the lever and pulled. “Good hunting gentlemen,” I said.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 21

The stranger came in like a desert apparition and approached the bar in his faded brown duster and spurred boots; his face was concealed by a dark gaiter and folded cattleman shielding his eyes. Silence befell the saloon as patrons quietly clutched their drinks. Burl the barman stood statuesque as ever with arms remaining crossed waiting for the stranger to speak. The words never came.

“What can I do you for, friend?” Randy shouted from the other side of the bar.

All eyes were on the stranger. He removed his cattleman revealing a magnificent mane of hair then lowered the gaiter. His chiseled features awed the women and whores. “I’m looking for James,” Vic spoke. His Scottish accent was recognizable from anywhere.

“Well it seems like you found him,” Randy said, resting his hand on my shoulder.

Vic reached into his duster and placed a six inch .357 Colt Python on the bar. “He’s coming with me,” he ordered.

Randy nervously chuckled. “Sir, I should remind you that weapons aren’t allowed on the premises,” he said.

“Aye, I know,” said Vic, “let him go and we’ll walk out of this establishment peacefully.”

Eyes shifted to Randy. Knowing his hand has been called, he leaned his head back and smiled. “Sure thing stranger,” he says. “Far be it from me to hold someone against their will.”

I clutch the Browning pistol tightly. I back away from Randy and inch closer to Vic on the other side of the bar. As I did, I see the Madam exit her room and tightening her robe while watching the unfolding scene from the balcony. Vic notices her too. With eyes distracted, Randy silently signals to Burl. The barman reaches below and pulls out a 12 gauge and aims it at Vic. With milliseconds to spare, the agile Scotsman grabs the Colt Python from the bartop and drops to the ground. Burl unleashes the shotgun which resulted in an explosion of shattered glass and splintered wood. I lift the Browning at Burl and fired. The bullet struck the barman in the left arm and he shrieked as blood splattered on whiskey bottles behind him. Then, like a bolt of lightning, Vic leapt over the bar and grabbed the barrel of the shotgun and deflected a second round. Vic pushed the shotgun back into Burl’s ribs then ripped the weapon away and smacked the butt onto the barman’s nose.

Burl lay pathetically on the ground with hands in front of his face and nose bloodied. Vic stood over him, dropped the 12 gauge, and took out the Colt. While staring down the barrel, Burl began to shake and cry. “Marka odpusť mi,” the barman uttered in a foreign tongue. Vic pulled the trigger and the bullet lodged into the artery of his neck and the Madam screamed an ungodly sound from the balcony as blood pooled around the Scotsman’s boots.

Randy was petrified in awe. Patrons rushed quickly out of the saloon and with the barman dead, Vic and I aim our guns at the beleaguered bar owner. Only Jim remained sitting in the back, blissfully unaware of the commotion surrounding him while the Madam wept uncontrollably above.

“Is this how this is gonna go?” asked Randy with hands in the air.

“It seems like you left us with little option,” I said.

Randy was seeming remorseful and he closed his eyes and shook his head. “You’re right,” he said. “I should have known it would end this way. I should have told you the truth sooner.”

“I suppose it’s a little late for truths now,” I say.

“Is it?” he asks, opening his eyes. “Haven’t you ever wondered why I’ve kept you close all these years?”

I did know. I’ve always known. “Because you’re my father,” I say.

Randy was flabbergasted. “Well shit,” he said. “I guess I have no more tricks up my sleeve. Sorry James. I know I could have been a better father to you. You probably think you’re a better person than me. But it would take a real sicko to shoot ME, your own flesh and blood.”

I could hear Vic cocking his Colt. “I guess that makes me a humanitarian,” the Scotsman said.

But before he could get a shot off, a rifle round whizzed from the balcony and grazed Vic on the shoulder. The three of us drop to the ground and I could hear Karl shouting from above. “Get some of this you cocksuckers!” he yelled and aimlessly fired another round.

“Are you okay Vic?!” I shout from the other side of the bar.

“Aye!” he yelled. “I’m only knicked!”

“Karl, so help me god, I’m gonna feed you to Penelope!” I threatened.

“Come and get me mother fucker!” he retorted. He fired another round and shattered glass fell all around. I crawled to the other end of the bar to catch a glimpse of Karl’s whereabouts and noticed Randy escaped to god knows where.

“Where’s he coming from?!” Vic shouts at me.

“He’s on the balcony but I can’t see him!” I say. The Madam’s constant weeping also stopped.

“I’m gonna smoke him out!” says Vic. I could hear the flick of a lighter and within seconds Molotov Cocktails were thrown from behind the bar.

“Jim, you better get the fuck out of here!” I shout.

Noticing the few scattered flames, Old Jim looks up from his cards and doesn’t bat an eye. “I’m comin’ home pa!” he says.

“Goddamnit,” I say from under my breath. I leap to my feet and rush past the burgeoning flames to grab the old man. But this blew my cover and shots rang out from Karl’s rifle.

“Gotcha asshole!” Karl shouted.

But Vic sprang up from behind the bar to find Karl knelt down sniper-wise on the balcony. He fired one shot into his shin which caused him to drop the weapon and scream out. “Fuck me!” he cried. Then he fell forward through the frail wooden railings and onto Old Jim’s table. While he writhed in pain, I give an order to Vic.

“Grab him!” I say.

The inferno engulfed the once proud Candyland Saloon. It was safe to assume that both whores and Johns, along with Madam Joelle and Randy, safely escaped the fire with the parking area deserted. Vic and I watched from a safe distance, along with Old Jim and an injured Karl in tow, as the hellish flames overran the compound and we marveled. Then an old friend appeared from the shadows; the stem of a lolly pop jutting from his mouth.

“Hey guys!” said Dale. “Did something happen?”

“Dale, you’ve been here the entire time?” I say.

“Of course,” he replied nonchalantly. “How else would Vic have found this place?“

“Did you not hear the gunshots?”

“Oh, is that what that was?”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 20

After sex, I’d leap up from the bed with cock swinging to look out the Madam’s second floor window. Though the horizon was clear blue and the dull orange meridian was hovering over the mountains, I knew calvary was coming. But the Madam would lay in bed naked as a mole rat and mock my good cheer.

“Well I’m glad YOU’RE satisfied,” she’d tell me.

I turned around bare assed and grabbed my sun-faded britches. “If I don’t satisfy you,” I said, “there are dozens of paying customers downstairs that would be willing to try.”

She sits up in bed and pulls a cigarette from an old wooden box. “Don’t give me any ideas,” she says as she lights a match.

“Well here’s another idea: I’m sure Karl would like a piece of ass too,” I said.

The Madam exhales a puff of smoke and glares at me. “What’s with you lately?” she asks.

“What do you mean?” I say coyly as I button my shirt.

“You don’t seem so…,” she trails off to find the right word.

“Suicidal?” I suggest.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I decided that the best way to accept my life here is to not let you win by being miserable all the time. Randy was right; I have everything a man needs here at Candyland. So fuck it. I’m gonna be happy!”

The Madam dismissively puffs away. “Maybe I SHOULD start fucking Karl,” she said.

I wave her off and exit the room. Nightfall was approaching and I needed to prep for the evening ahead. Dale left two days earlier. He clogged the saloon toilet before his departure and the bathroom still reeked of his wretched shit. I proceed down the balcony steps to behind the bar. Inside the utility closet, I grab a mop and various smell-goods in my certain futile attempt to make the toilet presentable.

In the saloon, Old Jim was sitting in his usual spot shuffling the same deck of playing cards. I grab a Natty from behind the bar, drop a few coins in the register, and join Jim for a few moments of banter. “How are you doing Jim?” I ask.

His eyes were glazed and his stringy grey hair was unkempt. He struggled to place me as I took a seat. “When I was just a young-un,” he said, “there was a bridge we crossed to look for bullfrogs on the prairie. We’d find em and stick firecrackers up their ass and watch em blow up. Anyway, we’d walk across and piss over the edge into the Pawnee River. It was burned down in nineteen hundred and thirty seven by Pretty Boy Floyd when he was on the run from Hoover for the Valentine’s Day massacre. Those were rough times. No one knew right from wrong in them days. I sure do miss my pa. He was shot dead tryin to cross that bridge ya know? He was caught fuckin the pig farmer’s wife and they blew his brains out right then and there. I was born two years later. My pa would say to me ‘son, if you’re gonna fuck a pig farmer’s wife, fuck the pig instead.’ I never forgot that. Too bad that bridge ain’t there no more. I’d sure like to cross it.”

Karl strolled up in his spurs and shit kickers and joined us. He flipped the chair around and sat down in it backwards like he was about to drop some wisdom 90s-style. “How ya doin Jim?” he asked.

“I’d rather be dead, Karl,” he said without looking up.

Karl looked at me and grinned like he always does when there’s bad news. “You better finish cleaning up that shit,” he said. “Randy’s upstairs fuckin one of them whores. If he comes down and sees a turd floatin around he’ll be fixin to shoot ya.”

“Randy’s here?!” I exclaimed.

“You better believe it.”

Fuck, I thought. I scrambled to my feet with all the cleaning goods. But before I could move an inch, Randy was shouting from the top of the stairs. “James!” he said. He was wearing his usual grey and bluish blazer without a shirt underneath. His gut jutted out over his unbuttoned pants. “I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am to see you,” he continued as he marched down the steps.

“Likewise,” I lied.

“I would have figured you would run off long ago.”

“I had a change of heart.”

“Good,” he said. He reached the bottom of the staircase and placed his hand on my shoulder. “I have a proposal for you.”

“What that?” I ask.

“I want you to join me on a new business venture in Reno.”

“Reno?”

“Absolutely. It’s a wide open world out there. There’s money to be made by any sucker willing to reach his hand out and take it! But I’m gonna need some muscle.”

“Now’s not a good time Randy.”

“Not a good time?” he asks. He stretches his arms out and looks around the saloon. “What do you mean now is not a good time? What the hell else do you have to do?”

“I’m starting to enjoy my time here,” I said, struggling to find a satisfying answer.

“Yeah, okay pal,” Randy said sardonically.

Burl from behind the bar slings him another tequila sunrise. Randy picks up the glass and swishes it around. “I’m gonna need you to be a tough SOB out there,” he tells me. “I need to know your heart is in it.”

“I don’t know what else you want me to do,” I say.

Randy leans in and lowers his voice. “Old Jim there,” he whispers, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but his mind is – well – slipping.”

“So?”

“So…,” Randy reaches into his blazer pocket and pulls out a small 1931 Baby Browning and sets it on the bar. “Do it quietly,” he says.

“Randy, I may be clinically insane but I’m not a monster.”

“A monster?!” he indigently says. “James, I need you to be a cold-hearted savage in Reno. You’re an apex predator. You have what it takes.” He places the pistol in my hand and wraps my fingers around the butt. “Do whats necessary,” he says.

I held the pistol in paralyzing fear. I was unable to declutter my mind and make a clear decision. One way or another, I knew a shot would be fired. I just didn’t know who would take the bullet: Old Tom or Randy or myself.

Then a flutter of breeze filled the saloon. From behind me I could hear the entrance doors swing open and boots clatter on the old wooden floor. I turn around and my heart leapt. The Calvary had arrived.

TO BE CONTINUED…