Hair of the Bitch - A Twisted Suspense Thriller (16 page)

I slowly took my hand off her throat and lowered my fist. We stared at each other; that new gaze of hers louder than her pleading had ever been.

Gene from above: “
Calvin! Let’s go, mate!
”

(
What are you going to do?
)

Aloud, I said: “I don’t know.”

The girl frowned, looked at me quizzically.

(
Go up there and end this.
)

“How?”

The girl frowned some more, even looked over both shoulders to be sure someone else wasn’t below deck.

“
How?
” I said again.

The girl tried talking through her gag, an upward inflection in her tone, likely asking me what the hell I was talking about.

(
You can do this, man.
)

“Yeah.”

(
You can still make it right.
)

“Yeah.”

Gene’s heavy feet suddenly thundering down the cabin stairs. “
For fuck’s sake!
”

He shoved me to one side, untied the girl, and heaved her over his shoulder. She began screaming and kicking at once. He thundered back upstairs. I followed.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at mate,” he began, furiously attaching the girl’s harness to the series of thick ropes hanging from the wheeled-end of the pole, her struggles and swipes against his work futile, a child fighting an adult. “But you better pay attention right fucking now…”

Gene stomped towards the cabin, towards the cranks that operated the pole. He flipped a large metallic latch and began operating one of the cranks. The girl’s feet left the deck as she began to rise. Desperate kicks and screams during the ascent. 

“You watching?” he asked me.

The girl was now several feet above deck, legs constantly flailing, muffled screams relentless. Gene flipped another latch and began working the second crank, this one extending the segmented pole, guiding the girl out to sea.

Before long she was truly a worm on a hook, dangling overboard, her toes ten feet from the water. She looked down and screeched—a shrill, piercing sound, like blasts from a whistle. Streams of urine started down her bare legs and dripped into the sea. 

I don't know what she saw, I couldn't see from where I stood. Maybe it was the shark. Maybe ten sharks. Or maybe none. Maybe none was worse. Looking down into the chum-red water, knowing your darkest nightmare lurked somewhere below, waiting for you.

(
Unless you stop it.
) 

Gene turned back to me. “Were you watching? Were you fucking watching me do it?”

I nodded.

(
You were watching—watching the fucking movie. Make it right, Calvin.
)

Gene spun. “Andrew! Camera ready?”

Andrew gave a thumbs up.

Gene spun back to me. “Right, when he starts filming, you lower her into the water like I showed you. Let her toes skim the surface, but no deeper. Try and tease the bastard if you can. If it looks like he’s about to take a nibble, jerk her up; let her keep seeing what’s waiting below. We want to milk this fear shit as much as we can. If the big cunt
does
manage a bite then bring what’s left of her back up—we want to get all the gory bits on camera. I’ll let you know when we drop her for good. Where’s your mask?”

I took the hood from my back pocket and showed it to him.

“I’ll tell you something else, mate,” he said, “no fucking way are we getting equal splits when this is done. You’ve done fuck all this whole time.”

He backed away, left me to the cranks. Turned to Andrew and screamed: “Stand by!”

I didn’t move.

Gene screamed at me: “Put ya fucking mask on!”

I looked at the girl on the hook. Her face was a sickly white, fear syphoning all blood. Her body convulsed as if in the throes of a seizure. More urine flowed down her legs. Over and over again she cried: "
Leez, God! Leez, God! Leez, God!
" 

I dropped the hood.

Gene stormed over, shoved me back. “You weak fucking cunt.”

He picked up the hood and put it on. Began operating the cranks.

"
LEEZ, GOD!!! LEEZ, GOD!!!
"

(
Do something.
)

The girl started to descend. 

(
DO something.
)

"
OH GOD, LEEEEEEEEEEEZZZZ!!!
"

(
DO SOMETHING, YOU GUTLESS FUCKING—
)

I hit Gene with the hardest punch I’d ever thrown. The hood made it hard to get my accuracy right; I prayed I got his jaw.

He flew backwards, landing heavily onto the deck.

The girl’s descent came to a jarring halt. She dangled a good five feet from the water. Still safe.

Gene sat up, removed the hood and smiled. “I see,” he said, rubbing his chin. Apparently I
had
hit him on the jaw, but the tough bastard took it like a slap. “This is how you want it then, yeah?”

He got to his feet and removed his shirt, fanning out his massive torso. He grinned and started forward, fists clenching and unclenching, dying to get a hold of me.

I backed up, frantically looking around for anything I could get my hands on.

“No one’s helping ya, mate,” he said, grin widening. “You’ve made your fucking bed…”

Unbelievably, Gene’s size became an asset for me. He was slow. I could see him angling his body sideways to load up with a big right hand. I beat him to the punch and fired a quick jab with my fingertips into his eyes. I didn’t actually get my fingers
into
his eyes, but I did swipe the general area, causing him to flinch and giving me the precious second I needed to punt his nuts up into his throat. He doubled over and groaned, but as I moved in for a second punt to his head, the big fucker lunged forward and caught my leg, lifting me up over his shoulder.

I struggled like a cat on a leash as I believed I would be heaved overboard, but to my relief (sort of) I was slammed back down onto the deck with Gene’s full weight on top of me. My breath vanished and for a second I saw black.

I fought to regain consciousness and instantly covered my head. Gene drew his fist back like a club and hammered it into my guard. The impact was so great it drove my forearms into my face, jarring me as much as any decent shot I’d taken over the years. One or two more of those and he’d break through my defense and put me out.

I started bucking my hips wildly, but he was just too big; he wasn’t going anywhere and neither was I. He reared back, the second sledgehammer ready to come down.

And then he stopped.

Giant fist suspended in the air, head now turned to the left, Gene was staring at Andrew…who was filming us.

Gene screamed: “
What the fuck ya doing!?
”

Still filming, Andrew said, “This is awesome!”

“
Don’t film my face, ya fucking dickhead!
”

Gene’s outrage at Andrew’s idiocy had momentarily taken his attention off of me, and I used that moment to frantically search for a means of escape. I had felt this means all along but had failed to register its presence as the worry of Gene’s fists superseded all. Now, that means was presenting itself with wonderful clarity as it continued its constant jabbing into my leg. It was Gene’s machete. Why he never pulled the thing out and used it himself I’ll never know and I didn’t care, but it was there, dangling on his hip, poking me in the leg, and the blessed thing was even unfastened.

In one swift motion, I jerked the machete free. Gene immediately took his eyes off of Andrew and looked down at me. Before he could react I gripped the machete handle with both hands and plunged the big blade deep into his belly.

Gene grimaced and groaned as if taking a painful shit. He rolled off of me and lay on his back, grimacing and groaning some more, periodically clutching at the machete standing tall from his abdomen.

I wasted no time. I scrambled to my feet, yanked the machete from his gut, and brought the thing whistling down into his skull.

I stood panting, staring down at Gene, the machete stuck in his skull, eyes open and lifeless, blood beginning to pool beneath his head. One of his massive legs twitched involuntarily.

I then felt something thud into the back of my head. It wasn’t too hard, more annoying. I turned to find Andrew squared up to me in a lame fighting stance, his pigeon chest heaving with fear. The scrawny prick had taken a cheap shot at me.

I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure I was smiling when I cracked him. One shot, a right cross on the point of the chin, launched him off his feet and onto the deck in an unconscious heap. His body went rigid as it seized, and he made that gurgling sound the recently-knocked-the-fuck-out often make, the one that sounds like a snore.

I rushed towards the edge of the boat. The girl was still on the hook, still dangling a good five feet from the water.

“I’m going to help you!” I shouted. It felt good to say. I said it again. “I’m going to help you! Just hold on, okay?”

She nodded eagerly.

I hurried to the cranks. I flipped the lever, gripped the handle with both hands and glanced over my shoulder at her. “You ready?”

She nodded eagerly again.

I turned back and completed one full crank.

An explosion of water, the screeching sound of wrenching metal, and the handle jerked violently from my hands, knocking me back a step. I immediately spun towards the girl. Only the top half remained.

“
No
,” I whispered to no one.

I ran to the edge of the boat. Chunks of flesh and blood fell from the girl’s severed torso, splashing lightly into the sea. I peered over the boat’s edge. The ocean was already turning a dark red. A huge dorsal fin sliced the red water.

“No!” I screamed at the water, as though it had betrayed me.

I looked at the girl again. Her head now lolled to one side, eyes still open but seeing nothing. The color of her skin was already beginning to gray from the rapid blood loss.

I knew I had to dump her remains overboard, but I took my time about it. Crazy as it may sound, the longer she hung from that harness, the less I felt I had completely

(
what?
)

failed.

(
You did fail.
)

No, I—

(
You waited too long.
)

I brought both hands to my head as though trying to crush it, screamed “
FUCK
” until my throat seized.

Quickly, blocking every thought banging on the door to get in, I turned my back on the girl, went to Gene, pulled the machete from his head, went to the cranks, and chopped the connecting ropes that supported the girl. The splash of her torso into the sea behind me was like a gut kick. I heard more splashing shortly after, and I suspected (knew) what it was, and a second gut kick was my prize.

I glanced at Gene.

What had he said about working them into a frenzy? Keeping them interested until they get a proper meal?

I rolled Gene’s big body overboard. “A proper meal,” I said to his floating corpse. “How’s that for a slice of irony, ya big fuck?”

I heard a sudden moaning behind me. I spun and saw Andrew coming to. I couldn’t remember if I’d smiled when I’d knocked him out, but I am absolutely positive I was smiling—no,
grinning
—when I grabbed the scrawny prick by his hair, dragged him towards the edge of the boat, and pitched him overboard. Couple that with the fact that he’d regained his senses by the time he hit the water, and I was all but giggling as I watched him scream and flail in that sea of red.

“
Dun-dun-dun-dun…!
” I called to him. I then bent, snatched his camera, smashed it repeatedly on the deck, and tossed it overboard. “Here’s your camera, man.”

Andrew’s fear was electric. He bobbed and choked, head whipping in all directions, desperate to locate the monster beneath.

“Oh he’s down there, man,” I said. “He’s down there.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want!” he cried. “
Anything!
”

I resumed singing as I turned my back on him. “
Dun-dun-dun-dun…
”

Fortunately, I did eventually find a dock in some obscure spot behind someone’s palatial home. I didn’t even bother trying to tie the fucker up, just hopped off while it was still moving. This, of course, resulted in the boat colliding with the dock and its supporting structures, which, in turn, resulted in a very pissed off homeowner storming out of said palatial home and towards yours truly.

The man approached, screaming and hollering. “
What the hell do you think you’re doing, you dumb son of a—
”

Without missing a stride, I knocked the guy clean out with a left hook and kept on walking. Dick move, I know, but I was in no mood.

“How’d it go?” she answered.

“Not too good.”

“Why, what happened?”

“I couldn’t do it.”

“So who did?”

“Nobody.”

“Nobody?”

“That’s right—it didn’t get done.”

“I see. And Gene and Andrew were okay with that?”

“Gene seemed a little upset. It’s irrelevant now though.”

“Irrelevant, huh?” A pause. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”

“Yup.”

“You killed them?”

“Yup.”

“What about the girl?”

I clenched my teeth and took a deep breath through my nose to steady myself. God, how I wished she was still alive. Alive and sitting next to me. I’d put her on the goddamn phone. Have her say hello to the old ringmaster herself.

“She’s dead,” I eventually said.

“So something
did
happen?”

“No—not like you think. It was an accident.”