Horror Stories Part 10

The man's chest rose and fell. "Kill me," he said.

"Who are you?"

"Please...kill me. I tried to...kill myself...by breaking open my head...but I always knock myself out first."

The bleeding man lifted his head then rammed it viciously into the floor, making a hollow pinging sound.

"Are we on an alien ship?" Jimmy Bob asked.

The man's eyes opened, startlingly white compared to the redness of his body. His eyes locked on Jimmy Bob.

"I'm begging you...kill me..."

Jimmy Bob crawled over to the man.

"Answer my questions."

"I want to die."

Jimmy Bob slapped him. The man howled like a dog with a toothache.

"Keep it together. I need to know what's going on."

Rather than reply, the man began to sob. Jimmy Bob slapped him once more. And a few times after that. It was like hitting a wet fish.

"d.a.m.n it, tell me what's going on! Answer me!"

"I'll...I'll tell you...if you promise to kill me after."

Jimmy Bob considered it. He'd never killed a man before, but if anyone needed killing, this poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d did. He figured he could snap his neck, if'n he got a good hold of it. Couldn't be any harder than breaking hog necks, which he did with tasty regularity.

"Deal. Now tell me what's happening."

"Appealing. It's appealing."

The man began to sob again, and Jimmy Bob smacked him on the chest to get his attention.

"What's appealing?"

"They...pulled them all off."

"You're not making sense. Start at the beginning."

"They...caught me when I was in the woods...hunting c.o.o.n. Ship. A big white light. At first I didn't know where I was...didn't know what had happened. They left me in this room. I don't know...for how long. But then...they came."

"Who?"

"Aliens. Short...like midgets. Big heads and tiny mouths. Scales instead of skin. They took me...took me to the room and..."

The man began to cry again. Jimmy Bob dug his fingernails into the man's shoulder to help him focus.

"And what?"

"And they put me...in the machine. It...it sc.r.a.ped my skin off."

"But why? Why torture you? Did they ask you questions?"

"No."

"Were you," Jimmy Bob winced, "probed?"

"They...they kept me in there...just long enough."

"Long enough for what?"

"For me to bleed. Then they took me here. I thought it was over. But they came back. They always come back."

"For what? What do they want?"

The buzzing sound began again, and the pinpoint light on the wall began to grow.

"Kill me! You promised!"

Jimmy Bob backed up to the other side of the room, fear oozing out of every pore. Two figures stepped through the light. They were short, green, with heads like watermelons and tiny little black eyes. True to form, they wore little silver suits, and held little silver ray guns.

"Get away from me, you stinking s.p.a.ce iguanas!" yelled Jimmy Bob.

They shot their little guns, and Jimmy Bob was paralyzed where he stood, his muscles locked by an unpleasant tingle of electricity. s.p.a.ce tasers. He strained to move but couldn't.

The aliens approached, walking in a strange, waddling gait, as if their oversized heads were threatening to tip them over. Jimmy Bob noticed childlike, almost delicate, noses and mouths on their broad faces, and their black rat eyes had a glint of red to them. He watched as they went to Earl, poked him with their clawed fingers, and then spoke rapidly to each other in some foreign s.p.a.ce language that sounded a lot like that singing chipmunk cartoon. They didn't look happy.

Jimmy Bob tried to speak, but his jaw felt like it had been wired shut and he could only manage a few grunts. If only he could talk, maybe he could get out of this. Reason with them. Or bribe them. Maybe they'd like Jimmy Bob's complete collection of state quarters, each coin in mint condition and sealed in a protective plastic case. Or maybe they'd want his grandma's antique sterling silver serving set, complete except for a single salad fork that he broke adjusting the carb on his Chevy.

Jimmy Bob tried to say, "Silverware," but only a grunt came out. They didn't seem impressed. Their little iguana claws latched onto his wrists and pulled him forward with amazing ease. Jimmy Bob noticed for the first time that he was floating a few inches about the floor, and they tugged him along as if he were a balloon. The aliens maneuvered him through the opening, and he caught a last glimpse of his bleeding cellmate, who had resumed bashing his own head into the floor.

Jimmy Bob was pulled through a large metal tube, first right, then left, then down a gradual incline sort of like those tube slides at Chuck E. Cheese. The aliens kept chittering to each other, and one of them patted Jimmy Bob on the thigh and smiled.

Maybe this will be okay, Jimmy Bob thought. Maybe they won't hurt me.

A few seconds later, Jimmy Bob was placed into a large upright box, which closed around him like a coffin and dipped him into complete darkness.

Then, agony.

At first, it felt like being burned alive. But there wasn't any heat. The pain was the same, though, every nerve in his body firing at once. It was as if someone was using a power sander on his body, sc.r.a.ping every inch from head to toe. There was even a probe, but it felt more like a giant drill bit, coring out his unhappy place. Jimmy Bob screamed in his throat, screamed until he was sure it bled like the rest of him.

After an unknown amount of time, Jimmy Bob pa.s.sed out.

He came to while being pulled back through the hallway, and then shot, like a rocket, back through the doorway and back into the original room. He hit the floor with a wet splat, and rolled onto his belly, the pain driving him mad, eating him alive. He was no longer frozen by the ray gun taser, but he dared not twitch because even the slightest movement was torture.

"Kill me," someone said.

He glanced right, his eyes already crusting with dried blood, and saw his cellmate.

Jimmy Bob asked, "Why are they doing this?" but it came out garbled - even his tongue had been sc.r.a.ped raw.

"Been here...weeks...maybe months. They use...an IV...so we don't die..."

"Why?" Jimmy Bob asked again.

"Snacks."

Jimmy Bob wasn't sure he heard right.

"What?"

"We're snacks."

"How? They suck our blood?"

His cellmate sobbed.

"Scabs. They wait until we heal, then peel off the scabs and eat them. Like beef jerky."

Jimmy Bob moaned. Those little iguana b.a.s.t.a.r.ds were going to wait until his scoured body began to scab over, and then tear off the scabs? He couldn't bear it.

"A dozen of them come in with pliers," the man said, even though Jimmy Bob didn't want to hear no more, "They peel off every last piece. They're slow eaters, too."

"Jesus, no."

"And..." the man became full blown hysterical, "they dip us in salt and vinegar so we taste better!"

Jimmy Bob squeezed his eyes shut. He could already feel the sores on his body begin to heal, begin to clot. The light on the wall appeared, and began to get bigger.

"You promised to kill me!" the man shrieked at Jimmy Bob.

A bunch of s.p.a.ce iguanas filed in, chirping at each other like Alvin and the band, snapping gleaming metal pincers. One of them held up a bottle of hot sauce.

"NOOOOOO!" Jimmy Bob began to scream before the s.p.a.ce taser froze his vocal parts.

Then the snacking began.

Jimmy Bob hadn't thought his pain could get any worse.

But it did.

I wrote this when I turned thirty. I never was able to sell it, perhaps because it's a bit too obvious. This is also one of the few shorts I've ever written with an omniscient narrator, popping into the heads of more than one person in the same scene.

"Were you nervous your first time?"

Robby didn't break stride. He could clearly remember that smelly hotel room, Father paying the money, the girl naked and waiting.

"A little," he answered his brother. "Everyone's nervous the first time."

"I guess I am too. A little."

Pete looked it. Thirteen and small for his age, lost in one of Robby's old T-shirts. But that's how Robby was at thirteen, walking into that room. And ten minutes later, he walked out a man, ready to take on the whole d.a.m.n world. Robby wished their father was there, then cursed himself for the thought. He was the man of the family now, since Father had gone away. It was his job to initiate Pete.

"How long do I have?" Pete asked.

"Long as it takes. Once you pay, you're there 'till it's done."

"Is it a lot different from animals?" They lived on a farm, so both boys had a lot of experience with animals.

"A lot different. Think about it. A real woman, like in one of those magazines. Naked and all yours. Maybe I'll even do one too."

"Really?" Robby knew he wouldn't. They didn't have enough money for two. Besides, Robby did it enough at home. He was eighteen, and picked up women whenever he liked. His boyish good looks, just this side of full-blown manhood, attracted girls like flies to compost. Robby was a real lady killer.

"Are we almost there Robby?"

"Almost."

The neighborhood was seedy, all cracked sidewalks and graffiti and urine soaked winos. It hadn't changed at all since Father brought him here, those years ago. He could still picture the face of his first girl - oval, with high cheek bones and bright red lipstick that made her mouth look like a wound. Her eyes were vacant, wasted on some drug, but not so wasted that she didn't moan when he stuck it in.

You never forget your first.

The boys cut through an alley, rats scurrying out of their path. Pete moved a little closer to his brother. He was nervous, but didn't want to show it. Robby was his hero. He wanted to make him proud. He relished every story Robby told him about his times with women, forever caught between awe and envy. Now it was his turn.

"Did Father watch you?" Robby asked.

"Yeah. He watched. Afterward he said he was real proud of how I gave it to her."

Pete's face bunched up.

"I don't remember Father so good. Before they took him away."

"Father's a great man. We'll see him again some day. Don't worry."

Pete looked up at his older brother. "Will you watch me, Robby?"

"If you want me too."

"I want you too."

"I will then. Here we are."

The alley door was brown and rotten. Robby kicked it twice.

"I got money!" That was what Father had said five years ago, and Robby's chest swelled saying the same words. After a moment the door inched open. A red eye peered through the crack.