The Mutilation Machination (3 page)

Daniel looked around, hoping someone would notice that his
companion was armed, but no one seemed to look across. “I think you should put
the knife away.”

Soul’s expression said otherwise. Behind Soul’s shoulder, Daniel
noticed an old man with calloused hands look up from his newspaper, glance
across, frown distractedly, and then hide back behind the headlines.

Feeling all alone despite the customers’ presence, he pushed the
drink and food away.

After a moment, Soul said, “Time to hit the road. My sacks are fit
to burst.”

Daniel cringed. He couldn’t let this filthy beast anywhere near
his wife. He stood too quickly, the room spun. He staggered, reached to the
table for support and knocked his cup over. It hit the ground and shattered,
sending hot coffee and shrapnel flying in all directions.

The girl behind the counter blew a bubble of gum that popped
loudly. She stood with a sigh, her breasts jiggling as she moved from around
the counter. Soul stepped aside to let her pass. He winked at Daniel and
brandished the knife behind her back.

Oblivious, the girl crouched down and mopped at the floor with a
cloth before picking the pieces up. Daniel crouched beside her. “I’m in
trouble,” he whispered.

The girl looked across at him, masticated chewing gum sheathing
her tongue as she blew another bubble.

The bubble popped and she worked the gum back into her mouth.
“Don’t worry, plenty of cups get broken,” she said before standing and walking
away.

Daniel stood and followed her across, hoping to more eloquently
express the seriousness of his situation. At the counter, he dropped the
crockery in the rubbish bin and turned to the girl, but she was busy serving
another customer. About to turn away, Daniel noticed the knives in the cutlery
tray. He licked his lips. Could he sneak one into his pocket without Soul
seeing?

Thinking it worth the risk, he reached out, grabbed a knife and
slid it into his front pocket, covering it quickly with his jumper. The knives
weren’t especially sharp, their design not that of a weapon, but with enough
force behind the blade, he knew it would puncture flesh.

“Time to leave,” Soul said in his ear.

Daniel jumped and turned, felt his face flush with colour. Had
Soul seen?

He cast a last, hopeful glance at the customers, but none of them
looked across. Then he walked toward the door and exited the building.

The temperature seemed to have dropped dramatically since he
entered the café, and his breath misted the air. He rubbed his hands and
hurried across to the truck, hoping he might be able to start it and drive away
before Soul could stop him, but Soul reached the truck ahead of him. He stood
beside it, a knowing grin on his face.

“We’re not so different, you and me,” he said.

Daniel snorted. “I think you’ll find we are.” He fumbled with his
keys and unlocked the vehicle. Soul slid inside and shuffled across, pulling
Daniel behind him.

“No, really,” Soul said. “I can tell you have thoughts, man. You
know, dark thoughts.”

Daniel tried not to listen and started driving,

“So how long’s it going to take to get there?” Soul asked. “I can
only maintain a boner for so long unless I get a little help.”

Daniel glanced down at Soul’s lap. The intermittent flash of
streetlights illuminated a tented protuberance in his trousers, and he turned
quickly away, his face draining of colour.

He swallowed. Licked his lips. After a moment he said, “It’ll take
another hour at least.”

“Man, that’s a long time to sit with a hard on. They had better be
worth it; you know what I’m saying.” A sliver of light reflected off the blade,
made it seem to smile in the darkness.

Either the taste of bitter coffee lingered in Daniel’s mouth, or
fear took a firmer grip.

Daniel pulled into the driveway, the headlights chasing shadows
along the hedge lined gravel. He felt his heart pound, his breaths coming in
short, uncontrolled bursts.

Light radiated from a downstairs window and a face appeared at the
glass and then disappeared.

As he switched the engine off, the front door opened and two
figures emerged, bathed in a rectangle of light.

“Well let’s get this party started,” Soul said before he exited
the vehicle.

Daniel stepped from the truck and took a deep breath that chilled
his nostrils.

“Daniel, is that you? What are you doing here?” one of the figures
shouted.

Daniel struggled to reply. He didn’t want Soul to misinterpret
anything he said and fly off the handle.

The tip of the stolen knife prodded his thigh, a physical pain. He
resisted the urge to use it.

“Emily, I erm …”

“Wow, they’re both lookers,” Soul whispered, nudging Daniel in the
ribs. “Winner, winner, stick it in her,” he chuckled.

Both women had brown hair. Emily’s was long, Julie’s medium
length. The family resemblance carried through into their blue eyes, their heart
shaped faces and slim figures. Personality wise, Daniel knew they stood poles
apart. His wife was more maternal, his sister-in-law hard faced and bossy,
which was why he didn’t particularly like her, and probably why her husband
divorced her.

“Who’s that with you?” Emily asked.

“Careful what you say,” Soul whispered in Daniel’s ear.

“It’s a colleague,” Daniel said as they reached the porch.

Both women frowned. He couldn’t blame them. Soul looked like a
vagrant.

He saw Soul’s lecherous eyes admiring the two women.

“What are you doing here?” Emily asked.

“I thought I would surprise the two of you.”

“Any chance we could discuss this inside,” Soul said, offering a
crocodile smile, “only my toes are going cold.”

Julie stepped aside. “Of course. Just didn’t expect you, that’s
all.” She stared at Daniel with a quizzical expression.

Daniel bit his lip; hesitated a moment before Soul jabbed the tip
of the knife into his back. He winced and then stepped inside.

His sister-in-laws house had the trappings of her inherited
wealth, from the plush carpet to the rich furnishings. Even the air seemed
tainted by the smell of money.

Daniel led the way through to the living room. Once they were all
inside, Soul shut the door. It sounded almost funereal.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, just fuck it,” Soul said
as he produced the knife.

“Daniel, what’s going on?” Emily asked, her voice shaking.

Daniel grimaced. “If we just do as Soul asks, everything will be
okay.”

“Do what?” Julie asked.

Soul grinned. “Well, for a start, I want you all to strip.”

“Is this some sort of joke, because if it is, then it’s not
funny,” Julie snapped.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Soul said.

Daniel clenched his fists. “Just do what he says.”

“This is ridiculous. I’m not taking my clothes off,” Julie said.

Soul grinned. “Feisty, just the way I like ‘em.” He stepped
towards Daniel and grabbed him around the waist and put the knife to his
throat. “If you aren’t bare ass naked in twenty seconds, Daniel here is gonna
be sliced from ear to ear.”

Both women exchanged fearful glances. Emily started crying.

“Times ticking,” Soul said. As if to emphasise his point, he drew
the blade across Daniel’s throat enough to break the skin. Daniel winced, felt
warm blood trickle down his throat.

His wife started stripping first. All colour drained from her
face. She grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head to
reveal a red lacy bra. She looked at her sister, who cast a defiant look at
Soul before starting to remove her clothes. 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Daniel started to feel
aroused. His reaction made him feel ashamed.

“Now this is what it’s all about,” Soul said as both women tried
to cover themselves as best they could with strategically placed hands. “What
do you say, Danny boy? Ready to get it on?” He removed the knife from Daniel’s
throat. “Now which one of you is the delectable Julie?” he asked.

Julie stared at him defiantly and said, “I am.”

“Nice taste, Danny boy. Now Julie, get over here.”

Julie shook her head.

“I’m not going to say it twice,” Soul said.

“Julie, please,” Emily said. “Just do as he says.”

Julie stared at her sister and pursed her lips. Daniel could see
she was fighting to hold back the tears. After a moment, she walked towards
Soul.

“Right, now you and me are going to sit here on this nice leather
settee and watch while Daniel fucks your sister.”

“You’re crazy,” Julie said.

Emily shook her head. “Please … don’t do this.”

Soul dragged Julie onto the settee beside him and pushed the tip
of the knife into the soft flesh of her right breast. “Unless you want me to
perform a mastectomy on her, I’d suggest you cut the chat and get down and
dirty.”

Daniel approached Emily and put his arm around her. “It’s going to
be okay,” he said. “Trust me.”

She looked at him for a moment and then closed her eyes. Then she
nodded almost imperceptibly.

As he expected, Emily was drier than a desert, the intercourse
painful. She kept wincing, unable to look at him during the act. He felt guilty
that one part of him found it pleasurable. He glanced across at Soul and Julie,
watched as Soul made her perform lewd acts. Despite trying not to, seeing them
together heightened his pleasure until moments later, he came.

“That’s my boy,” Soul said. “Now I don’t like long goodbyes, so
I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut the party short.” Without warning, he
sliced the knife across Julie’s throat, spraying the settee with blood. Julie
gagged, clutched at her neck. Blood gushed between her fingers and she slumped to
the ground, her hands dropping away as her last breath gurgled through the
ragged wound.

Soul stood and approached Emily. She screamed and scuttled across
the floor.

Daniel lunged for his trousers, fumbled for the knife and withdrew
it from his pocket. Preoccupied with Emily, Soul failed to notice as Daniel
leapt towards him and plunged the knife into his back. Unable to disguise his
surprise and pain, Soul gasped. He spun, waving his knife in the air, but
Daniel jumped aside.

Soul collapsed; hit the floor with a thud.

Emily looked up, eyes wide with shock and fear.

“It’s okay,” Daniel said as he grabbed Emily’s clothes and helped
her dress.

Soul was right. Knowing someone’s name does give you power over
them. He took Emily’s hand, squeezed, and then led his wife out of the room.

We’re not so different, you and me.

Daniel grinned; wondered if his sister-in-law had made a will.

Phantasmagoria

The television screen flickered through myriad images that painted
the walls of the living room in rainbow patterns.

Tara Stone reclined in the armchair, unblinking as she stared at
the screen. Each picture merged with the next in a succession of subliminal
images.

The tribal drumbeats that accompanied the images made her heart
beat fast, made her unaware of anything but the here and now.

Seconds later, the phantasmagoria of images came to a stop and the
screen turned white with static.

Tara blinked and wiped her eyes. She felt as though she was
waking from a dream.

She stood up and turned the television off. Then she removed the
disc from the DVD player and returned it to its case.

She felt wonderful.

Invigorated.

She walked through to the kitchen and stared at the box of matches
on the table. Without hesitating, she snatched the box up, removed a match and
struck it. The flame flared and she stared at it for a moment, and then blew it
out.

Now for the ultimate test.

The wind blustered outside, so she plucked a coat from the hook
behind the door, dropped the matches into her pocket and left the house.

Outside the sky was clear of clouds, and the setting sun painted
an orange band across the horizon.

Inhaling the crisp air, she headed toward the town centre. The box
of matches rattled in her pocket with each step.

Up ahead the tower block was lit up like a beacon.

When she reached the base of the tower, she wandered around until
she found a door into the service bay. The lock was broken, and the walls
either side of the entrance were daubed with the modern day hieroglyphics of
graffiti artists.

Once inside the building, she waited until her eyes grew
accustomed to the lack of light. Shapes materialised from the darkness: old
electrical appliances skulked in the corner, opposite which a pile of old
newspapers had been stacked in a haphazard mountain. Tins of paint sat atop the
electrical appliances, and she walked across and inspected them. As well as the
paint, she found a half-full tub of white spirits and a rusty screwdriver. She
couldn't have wished for more.

Smiling to herself, she prised the lids off the paint, and sloshed
the contents over the mountain of paper. When that was done, she poured the
white spirits over the pile and then took the matches out of her pocket.

There was a momentary flicker of doubt on her face, but then she
looked at the multicoloured rivers of paint that flowed over the paper and it
triggered something in her subconscious.

She struck a match, marvelled at the flame for a moment, and then
flung it onto the paper. She continued to throw burning matches until the paper
mountain was ablaze, the rivers of paint bubbling like molten lava.

The heat warmed her cheeks, and when it became unbearable she
retreated outside and walked a safe distance away.

It didn't take long before tongues of flame licked out of the
doorway, and it wasn't much longer until the flames began to devour the lower
floors.

People appeared at windows, screaming, their clothes and hair
alight. Glass exploded as people jumped in an attempt to save themselves.

Tara watched from the bus shelter down the road, mesmerised
by the flames pirouetting around the structure, painting the sky in ribbons of
fire. It was only the sound of approaching sirens that broke the spell.

With a final look at her handiwork, she stood up and made her way
home.

Once inside her house, she looked out of the window and watched
the flames light up the horizon like a living painting. It looked marvellous.

She glimpsed at the disc she had played earlier and read the
title: 
Fire and how to beat the phobia. A self help guide.

She smiled to herself and wondered which of her many phobias she
should overcome next.